Search the Perseus Catalog for:

View: By Card

← Previous Next →

BOOK II.

ARGUMENT.

THE COUNCIL OF ITHACA.

Telemachus, in the assembly of the lords of Ithaca, complains of the injustice done him by the suitors, and insists upon their departure from his palace; appealing to the princes, and exciting the people to declare against them. The suitors endeavour to justify their stay, at least till he shall send the queen to the court of Icarius her father; which he refuses. There appears a prodigy of two eagles in the sky, which an augur expounds to the ruin of the suitors. Telemachus then demands a vessel to carry him to Pylos and Sparta, there to inquire of his father's fortunes. Pallas, in the shape of Mentor (an ancient friend of Ulysses), helps him to a ship, assists him in preparing necessaries for the voyage, and embarks with him that night; which concludes the second day from the opening of the poem.

The scene continues in the palace of Ulysses, in Ithaca.

Now, reddening from the dawn, the morning ray

Glow'd in the front of heaven, and gave the day.

The youthful hero, with returning light,

Rose anxious from th' inquietudes of night.

A royal robe he wore with graceful pride,

A two-edged faulchion threaten'd by his side,

Embroider'd sandals glitter'd as he trod,

And forth he moved majestic as a god.

Then by his heralds, restless of delay,

To council calls the peers: the peers obey.

Soon as in solemn form th' assembly sate,

From his high dome himself descends in state.

Bright in his hand a ponderous javelin shin'd;

Two dogs, a faithful guard, attend behind;

Pallas with grace divine his form improves,

And gazing crowds admire him as he moves.

His father's throne he fill'd: while distant stood

The hoary peers, and aged wisdom bow'd.

'Twas silence all. At last Aegyptius spoke;

Aegyptius, by his age and sorrows broke:

A length of days his soul with prudence crown'd,

A length of days had bent him to the ground.

His eldest hope¹ in arms to Ilion came,

By great Ulysses taught the path to fame;

But (hapless youth) the hideous Cyclops tore

His quivering limbs, and quaff'd his spouting gore.

Three sons remain'd: to climb with haughty fires

The royal bed, Eurynomus aspires;

The rest with duteous love his griefs assuage,

And ease the sire of half the cares of age.

Yet still his Antiphus he loves, he mourns,

And, as he stood, he spoke and wept by turns:

AeGYPTIUS

'Since great Ulysses sought the Phrygian plains,

'Within these walls inglorious silence reigns.

'Say then, ye peers! by whose commands we meet?
35

'Why here once more in common council sit!

'Ye young, ye old, the weighty cause disclose :

'Arrives some message of invading foes?

'Or say, does high necessity of state

'Inspire some patriot, and demand debate?
40

'The present synod speaks its author wise;

'Assist him, Jove, thou regent of the skies!'

He spoke. Telemachus with transport glows,

Embraced the omen, and majestic rose;

(His royal hand th' imperial sceptre sway'd:)

Then thus, addressing to Aegyptius, said:

TELEMACHUS

39

'Reverend old man! lo here confess'd he stands

'By whom ye meet; my grief your care demands.

'No story I unfold of public woes,

'Nor bear advices of impending foes:
50

'Peace the blest land, and joys incessant crown:

'Of all this happy realm, I grieve alone.

'For my lost sire continual sorrows spring,

'The great, the good; your father and your king.

'Yet more; our house from its foundation bows,
55

'Our foes are powerful, and your sons the foes;

'Hither, unwelcome to the queen, they come;

'Why seek they not the rich Icarian² dome?

'If she must wed, from other hands require

'The dowry: is Telemachus her sire?
60

'Yet through my court the noise of revel rings,

'And wastes the wise frugality of kings.

'Scarce all my herds their luxury suffice;

'Scarce all my wine their midnight hours supplies.

'Safe in my youth, in riot still they grow,
65

'Nor in the helpless orphan dread a foe.

'But come it will, the time when manhood grants

'More powerful advocates than vain complaints.

'Approach that hour! insufferable wrong

'Cries to the gods, and vengeance sleeps too long.
70

'Rise then, ye peers! with virtuous anger rise;

'Your fame revere, but most th' avenging skies.

'By all the deathless powers that reign above,

'By righteous Themis and by thundering Jove,

'(Themis, who gives to councils, or denies
75

'Success; and humbles, or confirms the wise,)

'Rise in my aid! suffice the tears that flow

'For my lost sire, nor add new woe to woe.

'If e'er he bore the sword to strengthen ill,

'Or, having power to wrong, betray'd the will,
80

TELEMACHUS

'On me, on me your kindled wrath assuage,

'And bid the voice of lawless riot rage.

'If ruin to your royal race ye doom,

'Be you the spoilers, and our wealth consume.

'Then might we hope redress from juster laws,
85

'And raise all Ithaca to aid our cause:

'But while your sons commit th' unpunish'd wrong,

'You make the arm of violence too strong.'

While thus he spoke, with rage and grief he frown'd,

And dash'd th' imperial sceptre to the ground.

The big round tear hung trembling in his eye:

The synod griev'd, and gave a pitying sigh,

Then silent sate. At length Antinoüs burns

With haughty rage, and sternly thus returns:

ANTINOUS

'O insolence of youth! whose tongue affords
95

'Such railing eloquence, and war of words.

'Studious thy country's worthies to defame,

'Thy erring voice displays thy mother's shame.

'Elusive of the bridal day, she gives

'Fond hopes to all, and all with hopes deceives.
100

'Did not the sun, through heaven's wide azure roll'd,

'For three long years the royal fraud behold?

'While she, laborious in delusion, spread

'The spacious loom, and mix'd the various thread,

'Where as to life the wondrous figures rise,
105

'Thus spoke th' inventive queen, with artful sighs:

'"Though cold in death Ulysses breathes no more,

'"Cease yet awhile to urge the bridal hour;

'"Cease, till to great Laërtes I bequeath

'"A task of grief, his ornaments of death.³
110

'"Lest, when the Fates his royal ashes claim,

'"The Grecian matrons taint my spotless fame;

'"When he, whom living mighty realms obey'd,

'"Shall want in death a shroud to grace his shade."'

'Thus she: at once the generous train complies,
115

'Nor fraud mistrusts in virtue's fair disguise.

ANTINOUS

'The work she plied; but, studious of delay,

'By night revers'd the labours of the day.

'While thrice the sun his annual journey made,

'The conscious lamp the midnight fraud survey'd;
120

'Unheard, unseen, three years her arts prevail;

'The fourth, her maid unfolds th' amazing tale.

'We saw, as unperceiv'd we took our stand,

'The backward labours of her faithless hand.

'Then urg'd, she perfects her illustrious toils;
125

'A wondrous monument of female wiles!

'But you, O peers! and thou, O prince! give ear:

'(I speak aloud that every Greek may hear ;)

'Dismiss the queen; and, if her sire approves,

'Let him espouse her to the peer she loves:
130

'Bid instant to prepare the bridal train,

'Nor let a race of princes wait in vain.

'Though with a grace divine her soul is bless'd,

'And all Minerva breathes within her breast,

'In wondrous arts than woman more renown'd,
135

'And more than woman with deep wisdom crown'd;

'Though Tyro nor Mycenè match her name,

'Nor great Alcmena⁴ (the proud boasts of fame);

'Yet thus by heaven adorn'd, by heaven's decree

'She shines with fatal excellence, to thee:
140

'With thee, the bowl we drain, indulge the feast,

'Till righteous heaven reclaim her stubborn breast.

'What though from pole to pole resounds her name!

'The son's destruction waits the mother's fame:

'For, till she leaves thy court, it is decreed,
145

'Thy bowl to empty, and thy flock to bleed.'

TELEMACHUS

129

While yet he speaks, Telemachus replies:

'Ev'n nature starts, and what ye ask denies.

'Thus, shall I thus repay a mother's cares,

'Who gave me life, and nurs'd my infant years?
150

'While sad on foreign shores Ulysses treads,

'Or glides a ghost with unapparent shades,

TELEMACHUS

'How to Icarius in the bridal hour

'Shall I, by waste undone, refund the dower? ⁵

'How from my father should I vengeance dread!
155

'How would my mother curse my hated head!

'And while in wrath to vengeful fiends she cries,

'How from their hell would vengeful fiends arise!

'Abhorr'd by all, accurs'd my name would grow,

'The earth's disgrace, and human-kind my foe.
160

'If this displease, why urge ye here your stay?

'Haste from the court, ye spoilers, haste away :

'Waste in wild riot what your land allows,

'There ply the early feast, and late carouse.

'But if, to honour lost, 'tis still decreed
165

'For you my bowl shall flow, my flocks shall bleed;

'Judge and assert my right, impartial Jove!

'By him, and all th' immortal host above,

'(A sacred oath,) if heaven the power supply,

'Vengeance I row, and for your wrongs ye die.'
170

With that, two eagles from a mountain's height

By Jove's command direct their rapid flight;

Swift they descend, with wing to wing conjoin'd,

Stretch their broad plumes, and float upon the wind.

Above th' assembled peers they wheel on high,

175

And clang their wings, and hovering beat the sky;

With ardent eyes the rival train they threat,

And, shrieking loud, denounce approaching fate.

They cuff, they tear; their cheeks and necks they rend,

And from their plumes huge drops of blood descend:

180

Then, sailing o'er the domes and towers, they fly

Full toward the east, and mount into the sky.

The wondering rivals gaze with cares oppress'd,

And chilling horrors freeze in every breast.

Till, big with knowledge of approaching woes,

185

The prince of augurs, Halitherses, rose :

Prescient he view'd th' aërial tracks, and drew

A sure presage from every wing that flew.

HALITHERSES

'Ye sons (he cried) of Ithaca give ear;

'Hear all! but chiefly you, O rivals! hear.
190

'Destruction sure o'er all your heads impends;

'Ulysses comes, and death his steps attends.

'Nor to the great alone is death decreed;

'We and our guilty Ithaca must bleed.

'Why cease we then the wrath of heaven to stay?
195

'Be humbled all, and lead, ye great! the way.

'For lo! my words no fancied woes relate :

'I speak from science, and the voice is fate.

'When great Ulysses sought the Phrygian shores,

'To shake with war proud Ilion's lofty towers,
200

'Deeds then undone my faithful tongue foretold :

'Heav'n seal'd my words, and you those deeds behold.

'I see (I cried) his woes, a countless train;

'I see his friends o'erwhelm'd beneath the main;

'How twice ten years from shore to shore he roams;
205

'Now twice ten years are past, and now he comes!'

EURYMACHUS

177

To whom Eurymachus: 'Fly, dotard, fly,

'With thy wise dreams, and fables of the sky.

'Go prophesy at home, thy sons advise :

'Here thou art sage in vain-I better read the skies.
210

'Unnumber'd birds glide through the aërial way,

'Vagrants of air, and unforeboding stray.

'Cold in the tomb, or in the deeps below,

'Ulysses lies; oh wert thou laid as low!

'Then would that busy head no broils suggest,
215

'Nor fire to rage Telemachus's breast.

'From him some bribe thy venal tongue requires,

'And interest, not the god, thy voice inspires.

'His guideless youth if thy experienced age

'Mislead fallacious into idle rage,
220

'Vengeance deserv'd thy malice shall repress,

'And but augment the wrongs thou would'st redress:

'Telemachus may bid the queen repair

'To great Icarius, whose paternal care

'Will guide her passion, and reward her choice,
225

'With healthy dower, and bridal gifts of price.

'Till she retires, determin'd we remain,

'And both the prince and augur threat in vain :

EURYMACHUS

'His pride of words, and thy wild dream of fate,
230

'Move not the brave, or only move their hate.

'Threat on, O prince! elude the bridal day,

'Threat on, till all thy stores in waste decay.

'True, Greece affords a train of lovely dames,

'In wealth and beauty worthy of our flames:
235

'But never from this nobler suit we cease;

'For wealth and beauty less than virtue please.'

TELEMACHUS

To whom the youth: 'Since then in vain I tell

'My numerous woes, in silence let them dwell.

'But heaven, and all the Greeks, have heard my wrongs:
240

'To heaven, and all the Greeks, redress belongs.

'Yet this I ask, (nor be it asked in vain,)

'A bark to waft me o'er the rolling main;

'The realms of Pyle and Sparta to explore,

'And seek my royal sire from shore to shore:
245

'If, or to fame his doubtful fate be known,

'Or to be learn'd from oracles alone.

'If yet he lives, with patience I forbear,

'Till the fleet hours restore the circling year:

'But if already wandering in the train
250

'Of empty shades, I measure back the main,

'Plant the fair column o'er the mighty dead,

'And yield his consort to the nuptial bed.'

224

He ceas'd; and, while abash'd the peers attend,

Mentor arose, Ulysses' faithful friend:

255

(When fierce in arms he sought the scenes of war,

'My friend,' (he cried), 'my palace be thy care;

'Years roll'd on years my godlike sire decay,

'Guard thou his age, and his behests obey.')

Stern as he rose, he cast his eyes around,

260

That flash'd with rage; and, as he spoke, he frown'd:

MENTOR

'O never, never more, let king be just,

'Be mild in power, or faithful to his trust!

'Let tyrants govern with an iron rod,

'Oppress, destroy, and be the scourge of God;
265

'Since he who like a father held his reign,

'So soon forgot, was just and mild in vain!

'True, while my friend is griev'd, his griefs I share;

'Yet now the rivals are my smallest care:

MENTOR

'They, for the mighty mischiefs they devise,
270

'Ere long shall pay-their forfeit lives the price.

'But against you, ye Greeks! ye coward train!

'Gods! how my soul is mov'd with just disdain!

'Dumb ye all stand, and not one tongue affords

'His injur'd prince the little aid of words.'
275

LEOCRITUS

While yet he spoke, Leocritus rejoin'd:

'O pride of words, and arrogance of mind!

'Would'st thou to rise in arms the Greeks advise?

'Join all your powers! in arms, ye Greeks, arise!

'Yet would your powers in vain our strength oppose:
280

'The valiant few o'ermatch a host of foes.

'Should great Ulysses stern appear in arms,

'While the bowl circles, and the banquet warms;

'Though to his breast his spouse with transport flies,

'Torn from her breast, that hour Ulysses dies.
285

'But hence retreating to your domes repair:

'To arm the vessel, Mentor! be thy care,

'And Halitherses! thine: be each his friend;

'Ye lov'd the father: go, the son attend.

'But yet, I trust, the boaster means to stay
290

'Safe in the court, nor tempt the watery way.'

Then, with a rushing sound, th' assembly bend

Diverse their steps: the rival rout ascend

The royal dome; while sad the prince explores

The neighbouring main, and sorrowing treads the shores.

295

There, as the waters o'er his hands he shed,

The royal suppliant to Minerva pray'd:

TELEMACHUS

'O goddess! who, descending from the skies,

'Vouchsaf'd thy presence to my wondering eyes,

'By whose commands the raging deeps I trace,
300

'And seek my sire through storms and rolling seas,

'Hear from thy heavens above, O warrior maid!

'Descend once more, propitious, to my aid.

'Without thy presence, vain is thy command:

'Greece, and the rival train, thy voice withstand.'
305

267

Indulgent to his prayer, the goddess took

Sage Mentor's form, and thus like Mentor spoke:

MINERVA

'O prince, in early youth divinely wise,

'Born the Ulysses of thy age to rise!

MINERVA

'If to the son the father's worth descends,
310

'O'er the wide waves success thy ways attends:

'To tread the walks of death he stood prepar'd;

'And what he greatly thought, he nobly dar'd.

'Were not wise sons descendant of the wise,

'And did not heroes from brave heroes rise,
315

'Vain were my hopes: few sons attain the praise

'Of their great sires, and most their sires disgrace.

'But since thy veins paternal virtue fires,

'And all Penelope thy soul inspires,

'Go, and succeed! the rivals' aims despise;
320

'For never, never, wicked man was wise.

'Blind they rejoice, though now, ev'n now they fall;

'Death hastes amain: one hour o'erwhelms them all!

'And lo, with speed we plough the watery way;

'My power shall guard thee, and my hand convey:
325

'The winged vessel studious I prepare,

'Through seas and realms companion of thy care.

'Thou to the court ascend; and to the shores

'(When night advances) bear the naval stores;

'Bread, that decaying man with strength supplies,
330

'And generous wine, which thoughtful sorrow flies.

'Meanwhile the mariners, by my command,

'Shall speed aboard, a valiant chosen band.

'Wide o'er the bay, by vessel vessel rides ;

'The best I choose, to waft thee o'er the tides.'
335

She spoke: to his high dome the prince returns,

And, as he moves, with royal anguish mourns.

'Twas riot all, among the lawless train;

Boar bled by boar, and goat by goat lay slain.

Arriv'd, his hand the gay Antinoüs press'd,

340

And thus, deriding, with a smile address'd:

ANTINOUS

'Grieve not, O daring prince! that noble heart:⁶

'Ill suits gay youth the stern heroic part.

'Indulge the genial hour, unbend thy soul,

'Leave thought to age, and drain the flowing bowl.
345

ANTINOUS

'Studious to ease thy grief, our care provides

'The bark, to waft thee o'er the swelling tides.'

TELEMACHUS

309

'Is this' (returns the prince) 'for mirth a time?

'When lawless gluttons riot, mirth's a crime;

'The luscious wines, dishonour'd, lose their taste;
350

'The song is noise, and impious is the feast.

'Suffice it to have spent with swift decay

'The wealth of kings, and made my youth a prey.

'But now the wise instructions of the sage,

'And manly thoughts inspir'd by manly age,
355

'Teach me to seek redress for all my woe,

'Here, or in Pyle-in Pyle, or here, your foe.

'Deny your vessels, ye deny in vain :

'A private voyager I pass the main.

'Free breathe the winds, and free the billows flow;
360

'And where on earth I live, I live your foe.'

He spoke and frown'd, nor longer deign'd to stay,

Sternly his hand withdrew, and strode away.

Meantime, o'er all the dome, they quaff, they feast,

Derisive taunts were spread from guest to guest,

365

And each in jovial mood his mate address'd:

A SUITOR

'Tremble ye not, O friends, and coward fly,

'Doom'd by the stern Telemachus to die?

'To Pyle or Sparta to demand supplies,

'Big with revenge, the mighty warrior flies:
370

'Or comes from Ephyré⁷ with poisons fraught,

'And kills us all in one tremendous draught!'

ANOTHER SUITOR

'Or who can say' (his gamesome mate replies)

'But, while the dangers of the deeps he tries,

'He, like his sire, may sink depriv'd of breath,
375

'And punish us unkindly by his death?

'What mighty labours would he then create,

'To seize his treasures, and divide his state,

'The royal palace to the queen convey,

'Or him she blesses in the bridal day!'
380

Meantime the lofty rooms the prince surveys,

Where lay the treasures of th' Ithacian race:

Here ruddy brass and gold refulgent blazed;

There polished chests embroider'd vestures graced;

Here jars of oil breath'd forth a rich perfume,

385

There casks of wine in rows adorn'd the dome;

(Pure flavorous wine, by gods in bounty given,

And worthy to exalt the feasts of heaven.)

Untouch'd they stood, till, his long labours o'er,

The great Ulysses reach'd his native shore.

390

A double strength of bars secur'd the gates:

Fast by the door the wise Euryclea waits:

Euryclea, who, great Ops! thy lineage shar'd,

And watch'd all night, all day, a faithful guard.

TELEMACHUS

To whom the prince: 'O thou, whose guardian care
395

'Nurs'd the most wretched king that breathes the air!

'Untouch'd and sacred may these vessels stand,

'Till great Ulysses views his native land.

'But by thy care twelve urns of wine be fill'd;

'Next these in worth, and firm those urns be seal'd;
400

'And twice ten measures of the choicest flour

'Prepar'd, ere yet descends the evening hour.

'For when the favouring shades of night arise,

'And peaceful slumbers close my mother's eyes,

'Me from our coast shall spreading sails convey,
405

'To seek Ulysses through the watery way.'

361

While yet he spoke, she fill'd the walls with cries,

And tears ran trickling from her aged eyes.

EURYCLEA

'Oh whither, whither flies my son?' (she cried)

'To realms, that rocks and roaring seas divide ?
410

'In foreign lands thy father's days decay'd,

'And foreign lands contain the mighty dead.

'The watery way ill-fated if thou try,

'All, all must perish, and by fraud you die!

'Then stay, my child! storms beat, and rolls the main;
415

'Oh, beat those storms, and roll the seas in vain!'

TELEMACHUS

'Far hence' (replied the prince) 'thy fears be driven :

'Heaven calls me forth; these counsels are of Heaven.

'But, by the powers that hate the perjur'd, swear

'To keep my voyage from the royal ear,
420

'Nor uncompell'd the dangerous truth betray,

'Till twice six times descends the lamp of day;⁸

TELEMACHUS

'Lest the sad tale a mother's life impair,

'And grief destroy what time awhile would spare.'

Thus he. The matron with uplifted eyes

425

Attests th' all-seeing sovereign of the skies.

Then studious she prepares the choicest flour,

The strength of wheat, and wines an ample store.

While to the rival train the prince returns,

The martial goddess with impatience burns;

430

Like thee, Telemachus, in voice and size,

With speed divine from street to street she flies,

She bids the mariners, prepar'd, to stand,

When night descends, embodied on the strand.

Then to Noëmon⁹ swift she runs, she flies,

435

And asks a bark: the chief a bark supplies.

388

And now, declining with his sloping wheels,

Down sunk the sun behind the western hills.

The goddess shov'd the vessel from the shores,

And stow'd within its womb the naval stores.

440

Full in the openings of the spacious main

It rides; and now descends the sailor-train.

Next, to the court, impatient of delay,

With rapid step the goddess urged her way:

There every eye with slumberous chains she bound,

445

And dash'd the flowing goblet to the ground.

Drowsy they rose, with heavy fumes oppress'd,

Reel'd from the palace, and retir'd to rest.

Then thus, in Mentor's reverend form array'd,

Spoke to Telemachus the martial maid:

450

MINERVA

'Lo! on the seas prepar'd the vessel stands ;

'Th' impatient mariner thy speed demands.'

Swift as she spoke, with rapid pace she leads;

The footsteps of the deity he treads.

Swift to the shore they move; along the strand

455

The ready vessel rides, the sailors ready stand.

He bids them bring their stores; th' attending train

Load the tall bark, and launch into the main.

The prince and goddess to the stern ascend;

To the strong stroke at once the rowers bend.

460

Full from the west she bids fresh breezes blow;

The sable billows foam and roar below.

The chief his orders gives; th' obedient band

With due observance wait the chief's command:

With speed the mast they rear, with speed unbind

465

The spacious sheet, and stretch it to the wind.

High o'er the roaring waves the spreading sails

Bow the tall mast, and swell before the gales;

The crooked keel the parting surge divides,

And to the stern retreating roll the tides.

470

And now they ship their oars, and crown with wine

The holy goblet to the powers divine:

Imploring all the gods that reign above,

But chief the blue-ey'd progeny of Jove.

Thus all the night they stem the liquid way,

475

And end their voyage with the morning ray.

Odyssey. Homer. London. 1858.

Sponsored by Perseus Project, Tufts University.

Current edition Experimental

English (Alexander Pope, 1726, ed. Watson, 1858) (OCR draft) (English) (English (Alexander Pope, 1726, ed. Watson, 1858))

Provisional text from uncorrected OCR; expect errors.

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.) — 2.1 focus

ἦμος δʼ ἠριγένεια φάνη ῥοδοδάκτυλος Ἠώς,

ὤρνυτʼ ἄρʼ ἐξ εὐνῆφιν Ὀδυσσῆος φίλος υἱὸς

εἵματα ἑσσάμενος, περὶ δὲ ξίφος ὀξὺ θέτʼ ὤμῳ,

ποσσὶ δʼ ὑπὸ λιπαροῖσιν ἐδήσατο καλὰ πέδιλα,

βῆ δʼ ἴμεν ἐκ θαλάμοιο θεῷ ἐναλίγκιος ἄντην.

αἶψα δὲ κηρύκεσσι λιγυφθόγγοισι κέλευσε

κηρύσσειν ἀγορήνδε κάρη κομόωντας Ἀχαιούς.

οἱ μὲν ἐκήρυσσον, τοὶ δʼ ἠγείροντο μάλʼ ὦκα.

αὐτὰρ ἐπεί ῥʼ ἤγερθεν ὁμηγερέες τʼ ἐγένοντο,

βῆ ῥʼ ἴμεν εἰς ἀγορήν, παλάμῃ δʼ ἔχε χάλκεον ἔγχος,

οὐκ οἶος, ἅμα τῷ γε δύω κύνες ἀργοὶ ἕποντο.

θεσπεσίην δʼ ἄρα τῷ γε χάριν κατέχευεν Ἀθήνη.

τὸν δʼ ἄρα πάντες λαοὶ ἐπερχόμενον θηεῦντο·

ἕζετο δʼ ἐν πατρὸς θώκῳ, εἶξαν δὲ γέροντες.

τοῖσι δʼ ἔπειθʼ ἥρως Αἰγύπτιος ἦρχʼ ἀγορεύειν,

ὃς δὴ γήραϊ κυφὸς ἔην καὶ μυρία ᾔδη.

καὶ γὰρ τοῦ φίλος υἱὸς ἅμʼ ἀντιθέῳ Ὀδυσῆι

Ἴλιον εἰς ἐύπωλον ἔβη κοίλῃς ἐνὶ νηυσίν,

Ἄντιφος αἰχμητής· τὸν δʼ ἄγριος ἔκτανε Κύκλωψ

ἐν σπῆι γλαφυρῷ, πύματον δʼ ὡπλίσσατο δόρπον.

τρεῖς δέ οἱ ἄλλοι ἔσαν, καὶ ὁ μὲν μνηστῆρσιν ὁμίλει,

Εὐρύνομος, δύο δʼ αἰὲν ἔχον πατρώια ἔργα.

ἀλλʼ οὐδʼ ὣς τοῦ λήθετʼ ὀδυρόμενος καὶ ἀχεύων.

τοῦ ὅ γε δάκρυ χέων ἀγορήσατο καὶ μετέειπε·

κέκλυτε δὴ νῦν μευ, Ἰθακήσιοι, ὅττι κεν εἴπω·

οὔτε ποθʼ ἡμετέρη ἀγορὴ γένετʼ οὔτε θόωκος

ἐξ οὗ Ὀδυσσεὺς δῖος ἔβη κοίλῃς ἐνὶ νηυσί.

νῦν δὲ τίς ὧδʼ ἤγειρε; τίνα χρειὼ τόσον ἵκει

ἠὲ νέων ἀνδρῶν ἢ οἳ προγενέστεροί εἰσιν;

ἠέ τινʼ ἀγγελίην στρατοῦ ἔκλυεν ἐρχομένοιο,

ἥν χʼ ἡμῖν σάφα εἴποι, ὅτε πρότερός γε πύθοιτο;

ἦέ τι δήμιον ἄλλο πιφαύσκεται ἠδʼ ἀγορεύει;

ἐσθλός μοι δοκεῖ εἶναι, ὀνήμενος. εἴθε οἱ αὐτῷ

Ζεὺς ἀγαθὸν τελέσειεν, ὅτι φρεσὶν ᾗσι μενοινᾷ.

ὣς φάτο, χαῖρε δὲ φήμῃ Ὀδυσσῆος φίλος υἱός,

οὐδʼ ἄρʼ ἔτι δὴν ἧστο, μενοίνησεν δʼ ἀγορεύειν,

στῆ δὲ μέσῃ ἀγορῇ· σκῆπτρον δέ οἱ ἔμβαλε χειρὶ

κῆρυξ Πεισήνωρ πεπνυμένα μήδεα εἰδώς.

πρῶτον ἔπειτα γέροντα καθαπτόμενος προσέειπεν·

ὦ γέρον, οὐχ ἑκὰς οὗτος ἀνήρ, τάχα δʼ εἴσεαι αὐτός,

ὃς λαὸν ἤγειρα· μάλιστα δέ μʼ ἄλγος ἱκάνει.

οὔτε τινʼ ἀγγελίην στρατοῦ ἔκλυον ἐρχομένοιο,

ἥν χʼ ὑμῖν σάφα εἴπω, ὅτε πρότερός γε πυθοίμην,

οὔτε τι δήμιον ἄλλο πιφαύσκομαι οὐδʼ ἀγορεύω,

ἀλλʼ ἐμὸν αὐτοῦ χρεῖος, ὅ μοι κακὰ ἔμπεσεν οἴκῳ

δοιά· τὸ μὲν πατέρʼ ἐσθλὸν ἀπώλεσα, ὅς ποτʼ ἐν ὑμῖν

τοίσδεσσιν βασίλευε, πατὴρ δʼ ὣς ἤπιος ἦεν·

νῦν δʼ αὖ καὶ πολὺ μεῖζον, ὃ δὴ τάχα οἶκον ἅπαντα

πάγχυ διαρραίσει, βίοτον δʼ ἀπὸ πάμπαν ὀλέσσει.

μητέρι μοι μνηστῆρες ἐπέχραον οὐκ ἐθελούσῃ,

τῶν ἀνδρῶν φίλοι υἷες, οἳ ἐνθάδε γʼ εἰσὶν ἄριστοι,

οἳ πατρὸς μὲν ἐς οἶκον ἀπερρίγασι νέεσθαι

Ἰκαρίου, ὥς κʼ αὐτὸς ἐεδνώσαιτο θύγατρα,

δοίη δʼ ᾧ κʼ ἐθέλοι καί οἱ κεχαρισμένος ἔλθοι·

οἱ δʼ εἰς ἡμέτερον πωλεύμενοι ἤματα πάντα,

βοῦς ἱερεύοντες καὶ ὄις καὶ πίονας αἶγας

εἰλαπινάζουσιν πίνουσί τε αἴθοπα οἶνον

μαψιδίως· τὰ δὲ πολλὰ κατάνεται. οὐ γὰρ ἔπʼ ἀνήρ,

οἷος Ὀδυσσεὺς ἔσκεν, ἀρὴν ἀπὸ οἴκου ἀμῦναι.

ἡμεῖς δʼ οὔ νύ τι τοῖοι ἀμυνέμεν· ἦ καὶ ἔπειτα

λευγαλέοι τʼ ἐσόμεσθα καὶ οὐ δεδαηκότες ἀλκήν.

ἦ τʼ ἂν ἀμυναίμην, εἴ μοι δύναμίς γε παρείη.

οὐ γὰρ ἔτʼ ἀνσχετὰ ἔργα τετεύχαται, οὐδʼ ἔτι καλῶς

οἶκος ἐμὸς διόλωλε. νεμεσσήθητε καὶ αὐτοί,

ἄλλους τʼ αἰδέσθητε περικτίονας ἀνθρώπους,

οἳ περιναιετάουσι· θεῶν δʼ ὑποδείσατε μῆνιν,

μή τι μεταστρέψωσιν ἀγασσάμενοι κακὰ ἔργα.

λίσσομαι ἠμὲν Ζηνὸς Ὀλυμπίου ἠδὲ Θέμιστος,

ἥ τʼ ἀνδρῶν ἀγορὰς ἠμὲν λύει ἠδὲ καθίζει·

σχέσθε, φίλοι, καί μʼ οἶον ἐάσατε πένθεϊ λυγρῷ

τείρεσθʼ, εἰ μή πού τι πατὴρ ἐμὸς ἐσθλὸς Ὀδυσσεὺς

δυσμενέων κάκʼ ἔρεξεν ἐυκνήμιδας Ἀχαιούς,

τῶν μʼ ἀποτινύμενοι κακὰ ῥέζετε δυσμενέοντες,

τούτους ὀτρύνοντες. ἐμοὶ δέ κε κέρδιον εἴη

ὑμέας ἐσθέμεναι κειμήλιά τε πρόβασίν τε.

εἴ χʼ ὑμεῖς γε φάγοιτε, τάχʼ ἄν ποτε καὶ τίσις εἴη·

τόφρα γὰρ ἂν κατὰ ἄστυ ποτιπτυσσοίμεθα μύθῳ

χρήματʼ ἀπαιτίζοντες, ἕως κʼ ἀπὸ πάντα δοθείη·

νῦν δέ μοι ἀπρήκτους ὀδύνας ἐμβάλλετε θυμῷ.

ὣς φάτο χωόμενος, ποτὶ δὲ σκῆπτρον βάλε γαίῃ

δάκρυʼ ἀναπρήσας· οἶκτος δʼ ἕλε λαὸν ἅπαντα.

ἔνθʼ ἄλλοι μὲν πάντες ἀκὴν ἔσαν, οὐδέ τις ἔτλη

Τηλέμαχον μύθοισιν ἀμείψασθαι χαλεποῖσιν·

Ἀντίνοος δέ μιν οἶος ἀμειβόμενος προσέειπε·

Τηλέμαχʼ ὑψαγόρη, μένος ἄσχετε, ποῖον ἔειπες

ἡμέας αἰσχύνων· ἐθέλοις δέ κε μῶμον ἀνάψαι.

σοὶ δʼ οὔ τι μνηστῆρες Ἀχαιῶν αἴτιοί εἰσιν,

ἀλλὰ φίλη μήτηρ, ἥ τοι πέρι κέρδεα οἶδεν.

ἤδη γὰρ τρίτον ἐστὶν ἔτος, τάχα δʼ εἶσι τέταρτον,

ἐξ οὗ ἀτέμβει θυμὸν ἐνὶ στήθεσσιν Ἀχαιῶν.

πάντας μέν ῥʼ ἔλπει καὶ ὑπίσχεται ἀνδρὶ ἑκάστῳ

ἀγγελίας προϊεῖσα, νόος δέ οἱ ἄλλα μενοινᾷ.

ἡ δὲ δόλον τόνδʼ ἄλλον ἐνὶ φρεσὶ μερμήριξε·

στησαμένη μέγαν ἱστὸν ἐνὶ μεγάροισιν ὕφαινε,

λεπτὸν καὶ περίμετρον· ἄφαρ δʼ ἡμῖν μετέειπε·

κοῦροι ἐμοὶ μνηστῆρες, ἐπεὶ θάνε δῖος Ὀδυσσεύς,

μίμνετʼ ἐπειγόμενοι τὸν ἐμὸν γάμον, εἰς ὅ κε φᾶρος

ἐκτελέσω, μή μοι μεταμώνια νήματʼ ὄληται,

Λαέρτῃ ἥρωι ταφήιον, εἰς ὅτε κέν μιν

μοῖρʼ ὀλοὴ καθέλῃσι τανηλεγέος θανάτοιο,

100

μή τίς μοι κατὰ δῆμον Ἀχαιϊάδων νεμεσήσῃ.

αἴ κεν ἄτερ σπείρου κεῖται πολλὰ κτεατίσσας.

ὣς ἔφαθʼ, ἡμῖν δʼ αὖτʼ ἐπεπείθετο θυμὸς ἀγήνωρ.

ἔνθα καὶ ἠματίη μὲν ὑφαίνεσκεν μέγαν ἱστόν,

νύκτας δʼ ἀλλύεσκεν, ἐπεὶ δαΐδας παραθεῖτο.

105

ὣς τρίετες μὲν ἔληθε δόλῳ καὶ ἔπειθεν Ἀχαιούς·

ἀλλʼ ὅτε τέτρατον ἦλθεν ἔτος καὶ ἐπήλυθον ὧραι,

καὶ τότε δή τις ἔειπε γυναικῶν, ἣ σάφα ᾔδη,

καὶ τήν γʼ ἀλλύουσαν ἐφεύρομεν ἀγλαὸν ἱστόν.

ὣς τὸ μὲν ἐξετέλεσσε καὶ οὐκ ἐθέλουσʼ ὑπʼ ἀνάγκης·

110

σοὶ δʼ ὧδε μνηστῆρες ὑποκρίνονται, ἵνʼ εἰδῇς

αὐτὸς σῷ θυμῷ, εἰδῶσι δὲ πάντες Ἀχαιοί·

μητέρα σὴν ἀπόπεμψον, ἄνωχθι δέ μιν γαμέεσθαι

τῷ ὅτεῴ τε πατὴρ κέλεται καὶ ἁνδάνει αὐτῇ.

εἰ δʼ ἔτʼ ἀνιήσει γε πολὺν χρόνον υἷας Ἀχαιῶν,

115

τὰ φρονέουσʼ ἀνὰ θυμόν, ὅ οἱ πέρι δῶκεν Ἀθήνη

ἔργα τʼ ἐπίστασθαι περικαλλέα καὶ φρένας ἐσθλὰς

κέρδεά θʼ, οἷʼ οὔ πώ τινʼ ἀκούομεν οὐδὲ παλαιῶν,

τάων αἳ πάρος ἦσαν ἐυπλοκαμῖδες Ἀχαιαί,

Τυρώ τʼ Ἀλκμήνη τε ἐυστέφανός τε Μυκήνη·

120

τάων οὔ τις ὁμοῖα νοήματα Πηνελοπείῃ

ᾔδη· ἀτὰρ μὲν τοῦτό γʼ ἐναίσιμον οὐκ ἐνόησε.

τόφρα γὰρ οὖν βίοτόν τε τεὸν καὶ κτήματʼ ἔδονται,

ὄφρα κε κείνη τοῦτον ἔχῃ νόον, ὅν τινά οἱ νῦν

ἐν στήθεσσι τιθεῖσι θεοί. μέγα μὲν κλέος αὐτῇ

125

ποιεῖτʼ, αὐτὰρ σοί γε ποθὴν πολέος βιότοιο.

ἡμεῖς δʼ οὔτʼ ἐπὶ ἔργα πάρος γʼ ἴμεν οὔτε πῃ ἄλλῃ,

πρίν γʼ αὐτὴν γήμασθαι Ἀχαιῶν ᾧ κʼ ἐθέλῃσι.

τὸν δʼ αὖ Τηλέμαχος πεπνυμένος ἀντίον ηὔδα·

Ἀντίνοʼ, οὔ πως ἔστι δόμων ἀέκουσαν ἀπῶσαι

130

ἥ μʼ ἔτεχʼ, ἥ μʼ ἔθρεψε· πατὴρ δʼ ἐμὸς ἄλλοθι γαίης,

ζώει ὅ γʼ ἦ τέθνηκε· κακὸν δέ με πόλλʼ ἀποτίνειν

Ἰκαρίῳ, αἴ κʼ αὐτὸς ἑκὼν ἀπὸ μητέρα πέμψω.

ἐκ γὰρ τοῦ πατρὸς κακὰ πείσομαι, ἄλλα δὲ δαίμων

δώσει, ἐπεὶ μήτηρ στυγερὰς ἀρήσετʼ ἐρινῦς

135

οἴκου ἀπερχομένη· νέμεσις δέ μοι ἐξ ἀνθρώπων

ἔσσεται· ὣς οὐ τοῦτον ἐγώ ποτε μῦθον ἐνίψω.

ὑμέτερος δʼ εἰ μὲν θυμὸς νεμεσίζεται αὐτῶν,

ἔξιτέ μοι μεγάρων, ἄλλας δʼ ἀλεγύνετε δαῖτας

ὑμὰ κτήματʼ ἔδοντες ἀμειβόμενοι κατὰ οἴκους.

140

εἰ δʼ ὑμῖν δοκέει τόδε λωίτερον καὶ ἄμεινον

ἔμμεναι, ἀνδρὸς ἑνὸς βίοτον νήποινον ὀλέσθαι,

κείρετʼ· ἐγὼ δὲ θεοὺς ἐπιβώσομαι αἰὲν ἐόντας,

αἴ κέ ποθι Ζεὺς δῷσι παλίντιτα ἔργα γενέσθαι.

νήποινοί κεν ἔπειτα δόμων ἔντοσθεν ὄλοισθε.

145

ὣς φάτο Τηλέμαχος, τῷ δʼ αἰετὼ εὐρύοπα Ζεὺς

ὑψόθεν ἐκ κορυφῆς ὄρεος προέηκε πέτεσθαι.

τὼ δʼ ἕως μέν ῥʼ ἐπέτοντο μετὰ πνοιῇς ἀνέμοιο

πλησίω ἀλλήλοισι τιταινομένω πτερύγεσσιν·

ἀλλʼ ὅτε δὴ μέσσην ἀγορὴν πολύφημον ἱκέσθην,

150

ἔνθʼ ἐπιδινηθέντε τιναξάσθην πτερὰ πυκνά,

ἐς δʼ ἰδέτην πάντων κεφαλάς, ὄσσοντο δʼ ὄλεθρον·

δρυψαμένω δʼ ὀνύχεσσι παρειὰς ἀμφί τε δειρὰς

δεξιὼ ἤιξαν διά τʼ οἰκία καὶ πόλιν αὐτῶν.

θάμβησαν δʼ ὄρνιθας, ἐπεὶ ἴδον ὀφθαλμοῖσιν·

155

ὥρμηναν δʼ ἀνὰ θυμὸν ἅ περ τελέεσθαι ἔμελλον.

τοῖσι δὲ καὶ μετέειπε γέρων ἥρως Ἁλιθέρσης

Μαστορίδης· ὁ γὰρ οἶος ὁμηλικίην ἐκέκαστο

ὄρνιθας γνῶναι καὶ ἐναίσιμα μυθήσασθαι·

ὅ σφιν ἐὺ φρονέων ἀγορήσατο καὶ μετέειπε·

160

κέκλυτε δὴ νῦν μευ, Ἰθακήσιοι, ὅττι κεν εἴπω·

μνηστῆρσιν δὲ μάλιστα πιφαυσκόμενος τάδε εἴρω·

τοῖσιν γὰρ μέγα πῆμα κυλίνδεται· οὐ γὰρ Ὀδυσσεὺς

δὴν ἀπάνευθε φίλων ὧν ἔσσεται, ἀλλά που ἤδη

ἐγγὺς ἐὼν τοῖσδεσσι φόνον καὶ κῆρα φυτεύει

165

πάντεσσιν· πολέσιν δὲ καὶ ἄλλοισιν κακὸν ἔσται,

οἳ νεμόμεσθʼ Ἰθάκην ἐυδείελον. ἀλλὰ πολὺ πρὶν

φραζώμεσθʼ, ὥς κεν καταπαύσομεν· οἱ δὲ καὶ αὐτοὶ

παυέσθων· καὶ γάρ σφιν ἄφαρ τόδε λώιόν ἐστιν.

οὐ γὰρ ἀπείρητος μαντεύομαι, ἀλλʼ ἐὺ εἰδώς·

170

καὶ γὰρ κείνῳ φημὶ τελευτηθῆναι ἅπαντα,

ὥς οἱ ἐμυθεόμην, ὅτε Ἴλιον εἰσανέβαινον

Ἀργεῖοι, μετὰ δέ σφιν ἔβη πολύμητις Ὀδυσσεύς.

φῆν κακὰ πολλὰ παθόντʼ, ὀλέσαντʼ ἄπο πάντας ἑταίρους,

ἄγνωστον πάντεσσιν ἐεικοστῷ ἐνιαυτῷ

175

οἴκαδʼ ἐλεύσεσθαι· τὰ δὲ δὴ νῦν πάντα τελεῖται.

τὸν δʼ αὖτʼ Εὐρύμαχος Πολύβου πάϊς ἀντίον ηὔδα·

ὦ γέρον, εἰ δʼ ἄγε νῦν μαντεύεο σοῖσι τέκεσσιν

οἴκαδʼ ἰών, μή πού τι κακὸν πάσχωσιν ὀπίσσω·

ταῦτα δʼ ἐγὼ σέο πολλὸν ἀμείνων μαντεύεσθαι.

180

ὄρνιθες δέ τε πολλοὶ ὑπʼ αὐγὰς ἠελίοιο

φοιτῶσʼ, οὐδέ τε πάντες ἐναίσιμοι· αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσεὺς

ὤλετο τῆλʼ, ὡς καὶ σὺ καταφθίσθαι σὺν ἐκείνῳ

ὤφελες. οὐκ ἂν τόσσα θεοπροπέων ἀγόρευες,

οὐδέ κε Τηλέμαχον κεχολωμένον ὧδʼ ἀνιείης,

185

σῷ οἴκῳ δῶρον ποτιδέγμενος, αἴ κε πόρῃσιν.

ἀλλʼ ἔκ τοι ἐρέω, τὸ δὲ καὶ τετελεσμένον ἔσται·

αἴ κε νεώτερον ἄνδρα παλαιά τε πολλά τε εἰδὼς

παρφάμενος ἐπέεσσιν ἐποτρύνῃς χαλεπαίνειν,

αὐτῷ μέν οἱ πρῶτον ἀνιηρέστερον ἔσται,

190

πρῆξαι δʼ ἔμπης οὔ τι δυνήσεται εἵνεκα τῶνδε·

σοὶ δέ, γέρον, θωὴν ἐπιθήσομεν, ἥν κʼ ἐνὶ θυμῷ

τίνων ἀσχάλλῃς· χαλεπὸν δέ τοι ἔσσεται ἄλγος.

Τηλεμάχῳ δʼ ἐν πᾶσιν ἐγὼν ὑποθήσομαι αὐτός·

μητέρα ἣν ἐς πατρὸς ἀνωγέτω ἀπονέεσθαι·

195

οἱ δὲ γάμον τεύξουσι καὶ ἀρτυνέουσιν ἔεδνα

πολλὰ μάλʼ, ὅσσα ἔοικε φίλης ἐπὶ παιδὸς ἕπεσθαι.

οὐ γὰρ πρὶν παύσεσθαι ὀίομαι υἷας Ἀχαιῶν

μνηστύος ἀργαλέης, ἐπεὶ οὔ τινα δείδιμεν ἔμπης,

οὔτʼ οὖν Τηλέμαχον μάλα περ πολύμυθον ἐόντα,

200

οὔτε θεοπροπίης ἐμπαζόμεθʼ, ἣν σύ, γεραιέ,

μυθέαι ἀκράαντον, ἀπεχθάνεαι δʼ ἔτι μᾶλλον.

χρήματα δʼ αὖτε κακῶς βεβρώσεται, οὐδέ ποτʼ ἶσα

ἔσσεται, ὄφρα κεν ἥ γε διατρίβῃσιν Ἀχαιοὺς

ὃν γάμον· ἡμεῖς δʼ αὖ ποτιδέγμενοι ἤματα πάντα

205

εἵνεκα τῆς ἀρετῆς ἐριδαίνομεν, οὐδὲ μετʼ ἄλλας

ἐρχόμεθʼ, ἃς ἐπιεικὲς ὀπυιέμεν ἐστὶν ἑκάστῳ.

τὸν δʼ αὖ Τηλέμαχος πεπνυμένος ἀντίον ηὔδα·

Εὐρύμαχʼ ἠδὲ καὶ ἄλλοι, ὅσοι μνηστῆρες ἀγαυοί,

ταῦτα μὲν οὐχ ὑμέας ἔτι λίσσομαι οὐδʼ ἀγορεύω·

210

ἤδη γὰρ τὰ ἴσασι θεοὶ καὶ πάντες Ἀχαιοί.

ἀλλʼ ἄγε μοι δότε νῆα θοὴν καὶ εἴκοσʼ ἑταίρους,

οἵ κέ μοι ἔνθα καὶ ἔνθα διαπρήσσωσι κέλευθον.

εἶμι γὰρ ἐς Σπάρτην τε καὶ ἐς Πύλον ἠμαθόεντα

νόστον πευσόμενος πατρὸς δὴν οἰχομένοιο,

215

ἤν τίς μοι εἴπῃσι βροτῶν ἢ ὄσσαν ἀκούσω

ἐκ Διός, ἥ τε μάλιστα φέρει κλέος ἀνθρώποισιν·

εἰ μέν κεν πατρὸς βίοτον καὶ νόστον ἀκούσω,

ἦ τʼ ἄν, τρυχόμενός περ, ἔτι τλαίην ἐνιαυτόν·

εἰ δέ κε τεθνηῶτος ἀκούσω μηδʼ ἔτʼ ἐόντος,

220

νοστήσας δὴ ἔπειτα φίλην ἐς πατρίδα γαῖαν

σῆμά τέ οἱ χεύω καὶ ἐπὶ κτέρεα κτερεΐξω

πολλὰ μάλʼ, ὅσσα ἔοικε, καὶ ἀνέρι μητέρα δώσω.

ἦ τοι ὅ γʼ ὣς εἰπὼν κατʼ ἄρʼ ἕζετο, τοῖσι δʼ ἀνέστη

Μέντωρ, ὅς ῥʼ Ὀδυσῆος ἀμύμονος ἦεν ἑταῖρος,

225

καί οἱ ἰὼν ἐν νηυσὶν ἐπέτρεπεν οἶκον ἅπαντα,

πείθεσθαί τε γέροντι καὶ ἔμπεδα πάντα φυλάσσειν·

ὅ σφιν ἐὺ φρονέων ἀγορήσατο καὶ μετέειπεν·

κέκλυτε δὴ νῦν μευ, Ἰθακήσιοι, ὅττι κεν εἴπω·

μή τις ἔτι πρόφρων ἀγανὸς καὶ ἤπιος ἔστω

230

σκηπτοῦχος βασιλεύς, μηδὲ φρεσὶν αἴσιμα εἰδώς,

ἀλλʼ αἰεὶ χαλεπός τʼ εἴη καὶ αἴσυλα ῥέζοι·

ὡς οὔ τις μέμνηται Ὀδυσσῆος θείοιο

λαῶν οἷσιν ἄνασσε, πατὴρ δʼ ὣς ἤπιος ἦεν.

ἀλλʼ ἦ τοι μνηστῆρας ἀγήνορας οὔ τι μεγαίρω

235

ἔρδειν ἔργα βίαια κακορραφίῃσι νόοιο·

σφὰς γὰρ παρθέμενοι κεφαλὰς κατέδουσι βιαίως

οἶκον Ὀδυσσῆος, τὸν δʼ οὐκέτι φασὶ νέεσθαι.

νῦν δʼ ἄλλῳ δήμῳ νεμεσίζομαι, οἷον ἅπαντες

ἧσθʼ ἄνεῳ, ἀτὰρ οὔ τι καθαπτόμενοι ἐπέεσσι

240

παύρους μνηστῆρας καταπαύετε πολλοὶ ἐόντες.

τὸν δʼ Εὐηνορίδης Λειώκριτος ἀντίον ηὔδα·

Μέντορ ἀταρτηρέ, φρένας ἠλεέ, ποῖον ἔειπες

ἡμέας ὀτρύνων καταπαυέμεν. ἀργαλέον δὲ

ἀνδράσι καὶ πλεόνεσσι μαχήσασθαι περὶ δαιτί.

245

εἴ περ γάρ κʼ Ὀδυσεὺς Ἰθακήσιος αὐτὸς ἐπελθὼν

δαινυμένους κατὰ δῶμα ἑὸν μνηστῆρας ἀγαυοὺς

ἐξελάσαι μεγάροιο μενοινήσειʼ ἐνὶ θυμῷ,

οὔ κέν οἱ κεχάροιτο γυνή, μάλα περ χατέουσα,

ἐλθόντʼ, ἀλλά κεν αὐτοῦ ἀεικέα πότμον ἐπίσποι,

250

εἰ πλεόνεσσι μάχοιτο· σὺ δʼ οὐ κατὰ μοῖραν ἔειπες.

ἀλλʼ ἄγε, λαοὶ μὲν σκίδνασθʼ ἐπὶ ἔργα ἕκαστος,

τούτῳ δʼ ὀτρυνέει Μέντωρ ὁδὸν ἠδʼ Ἁλιθέρσης,

οἵ τέ οἱ ἐξ ἀρχῆς πατρώιοί εἰσιν ἑταῖροι.

ἀλλʼ ὀίω, καὶ δηθὰ καθήμενος ἀγγελιάων

255

πεύσεται εἰν Ἰθάκῃ, τελέει δʼ ὁδὸν οὔ ποτε ταύτην.

ὣς ἄρʼ ἐφώνησεν, λῦσεν δʼ ἀγορὴν αἰψηρήν.

οἱ μὲν ἄρʼ ἐσκίδναντο ἑὰ πρὸς δώμαθʼ ἕκαστος,

μνηστῆρες δʼ ἐς δώματʼ ἴσαν θείου Ὀδυσῆος.

Τηλέμαχος δʼ ἀπάνευθε κιὼν ἐπὶ θῖνα θαλάσσης,

260

χεῖρας νιψάμενος πολιῆς ἁλὸς εὔχετʼ Ἀθήνῃ·

κλῦθί μευ, ὃ χθιζὸς θεὸς ἤλυθες ἡμέτερον δῶ

καί μʼ ἐν νηὶ κέλευσας ἐπʼ ἠεροειδέα πόντον

νόστον πευσόμενον πατρὸς δὴν οἰχομένοιο

ἔρχεσθαι· τὰ δὲ πάντα διατρίβουσιν Ἀχαιοί,

265

μνηστῆρες δὲ μάλιστα κακῶς ὑπερηνορέοντες.

ὣς ἔφατʼ εὐχόμενος, σχεδόθεν δέ οἱ ἦλθεν Ἀθήνη,

Μέντορι εἰδομένη ἠμὲν δέμας ἠδὲ καὶ αὐδήν,

καί μιν φωνήσασʼ ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα·

Τηλέμαχʼ, οὐδʼ ὄπιθεν κακὸς ἔσσεαι οὐδʼ ἀνοήμων,

270

εἰ δή τοι σοῦ πατρὸς ἐνέστακται μένος ἠύ,

οἷος κεῖνος ἔην τελέσαι ἔργον τε ἔπος τε·

οὔ τοι ἔπειθʼ ἁλίη ὁδὸς ἔσσεται οὐδʼ ἀτέλεστος.

εἰ δʼ οὐ κείνου γʼ ἐσσὶ γόνος καὶ Πηνελοπείης,

οὐ σέ γʼ ἔπειτα ἔολπα τελευτήσειν, ἃ μενοινᾷς.

275

παῦροι γάρ τοι παῖδες ὁμοῖοι πατρὶ πέλονται,

οἱ πλέονες κακίους, παῦροι δέ τε πατρὸς ἀρείους.

ἀλλʼ ἐπεὶ οὐδʼ ὄπιθεν κακὸς ἔσσεαι οὐδʼ ἀνοήμων,

οὐδέ σε πάγχυ γε μῆτις Ὀδυσσῆος προλέλοιπεν,

ἐλπωρή τοι ἔπειτα τελευτῆσαι τάδε ἔργα.

280

τῶ νῦν μνηστήρων μὲν ἔα βουλήν τε νόον τε

ἀφραδέων, ἐπεὶ οὔ τι νοήμονες οὐδὲ δίκαιοι·

οὐδέ τι ἴσασιν θάνατον καὶ κῆρα μέλαιναν,

ὃς δή σφι σχεδόν ἐστιν, ἐπʼ ἤματι πάντας ὀλέσθαι.

σοὶ δʼ ὁδὸς οὐκέτι δηρὸν ἀπέσσεται ἣν σὺ μενοινᾷς·

285

τοῖος γάρ τοι ἑταῖρος ἐγὼ πατρώιός εἰμι,

ὅς τοι νῆα θοὴν στελέω καὶ ἅμʼ ἕψομαι αὐτός.

ἀλλὰ σὺ μὲν πρὸς δώματʼ ἰὼν μνηστῆρσιν ὁμίλει,

ὅπλισσόν τʼ ἤια καὶ ἄγγεσιν ἄρσον ἅπαντα,

οἶνον ἐν ἀμφιφορεῦσι, καὶ ἄλφιτα, μυελὸν ἀνδρῶν,

290

δέρμασιν ἐν πυκινοῖσιν· ἐγὼ δʼ ἀνὰ δῆμον ἑταίρους

αἶψʼ ἐθελοντῆρας συλλέξομαι. εἰσὶ δὲ νῆες

πολλαὶ ἐν ἀμφιάλῳ Ἰθάκῃ, νέαι ἠδὲ παλαιαί·

τάων μέν τοι ἐγὼν ἐπιόψομαι ἥ τις ἀρίστη,

ὦκα δʼ ἐφοπλίσσαντες ἐνήσομεν εὐρέι πόντῳ.

295

ὣς φάτʼ Ἀθηναίη κούρη Διός· οὐδʼ ἄρʼ ἔτι δὴν

Τηλέμαχος παρέμιμνεν, ἐπεὶ θεοῦ ἔκλυεν αὐδήν.

βῆ δʼ ἰέναι πρὸς δῶμα, φίλον τετιημένος ἦτορ,

εὗρε δʼ ἄρα μνηστῆρας ἀγήνορας ἐν μεγάροισιν,

αἶγας ἀνιεμένους σιάλους θʼ εὕοντας ἐν αὐλῇ.

300

Ἀντίνοος δʼ ἰθὺς γελάσας κίε Τηλεμάχοιο,

ἔν τʼ ἄρα οἱ φῦ χειρί, ἔπος τʼ ἔφατʼ ἔκ τʼ ὀνόμαζε·

Τηλέμαχʼ ὑψαγόρη, μένος ἄσχετε, μή τί τοι ἄλλο

ἐν στήθεσσι κακὸν μελέτω ἔργον τε ἔπος τε,

ἀλλά μοι ἐσθιέμεν καὶ πινέμεν, ὡς τὸ πάρος περ.

305

ταῦτα δέ τοι μάλα πάντα τελευτήσουσιν Ἀχαιοί,

νῆα καὶ ἐξαίτους ἐρέτας, ἵνα θᾶσσον ἵκηαι

ἐς Πύλον ἠγαθέην μετʼ ἀγαυοῦ πατρὸς ἀκουήν.

τὸν δʼ αὖ Τηλέμαχος πεπνυμένος ἀντίον ηὔδα·

Ἀντίνοʼ, οὔ πως ἔστιν ὑπερφιάλοισι μεθʼ ὑμῖν

310

δαίνυσθαί τʼ ἀκέοντα καὶ εὐφραίνεσθαι ἕκηλον.

ἦ οὐχ ἅλις ὡς τὸ πάροιθεν ἐκείρετε πολλὰ καὶ ἐσθλὰ

κτήματʼ ἐμά, μνηστῆρες, ἐγὼ δʼ ἔτι νήπιος ἦα;

νῦν δʼ ὅτε δὴ μέγας εἰμὶ καὶ ἄλλων μῦθον ἀκούων

πυνθάνομαι, καὶ δή μοι ἀέξεται ἔνδοθι θυμός,

315

πειρήσω, ὥς κʼ ὔμμι κακὰς ἐπὶ κῆρας ἰήλω,

ἠὲ Πύλονδʼ ἐλθών, ἢ αὐτοῦ τῷδʼ ἐνὶ δήμῳ.

εἶμι μέν, οὐδʼ ἁλίη ὁδὸς ἔσσεται ἣν ἀγορεύω,

ἔμπορος· οὐ γὰρ νηὸς ἐπήβολος οὐδʼ ἐρετάων

γίγνομαι· ὥς νύ που ὔμμιν ἐείσατο κέρδιον εἶναι.

320

ἦ ῥα, καὶ ἐκ χειρὸς χεῖρα σπάσατʼ Ἀντινόοιο

ῥεῖα· μνηστῆρες δὲ δόμον κάτα δαῖτα πένοντο.

οἱ δʼ ἐπελώβευον καὶ ἐκερτόμεον ἐπέεσσιν.

ὧδε δέ τις εἴπεσκε νέων ὑπερηνορεόντων·

ἦ μάλα Τηλέμαχος φόνον ἡμῖν μερμηρίζει.

325

ἤ τινας ἐκ Πύλου ἄξει ἀμύντορας ἠμαθόεντος

ἢ ὅ γε καὶ Σπάρτηθεν, ἐπεί νύ περ ἵεται αἰνῶς·

ἠὲ καὶ εἰς Ἐφύρην ἐθέλει, πίειραν ἄρουραν,

ἐλθεῖν, ὄφρʼ ἔνθεν θυμοφθόρα φάρμακʼ ἐνείκῃ,

ἐν δὲ βάλῃ κρητῆρι καὶ ἡμέας πάντας ὀλέσσῃ.

330

ἄλλος δʼ αὖτʼ εἴπεσκε νέων ὑπερηνορεόντων·

τίς δʼ οἶδʼ, εἴ κε καὶ αὐτὸς ἰὼν κοίλης ἐπὶ νηὸς

τῆλε φίλων ἀπόληται ἀλώμενος ὥς περ Ὀδυσσεύς;

οὕτω κεν καὶ μᾶλλον ὀφέλλειεν πόνον ἄμμιν·

κτήματα γάρ κεν πάντα δασαίμεθα, οἰκία δʼ αὖτε

335

τούτου μητέρι δοῖμεν ἔχειν ἠδʼ ὅς τις ὀπυίοι.

ὣς φάν, ὁ δʼ ὑψόροφον θάλαμον κατεβήσετο πατρὸς

εὐρύν, ὅθι νητὸς χρυσὸς καὶ χαλκὸς ἔκειτο

ἐσθής τʼ ἐν χηλοῖσιν ἅλις τʼ ἐυῶδες ἔλαιον·

ἐν δὲ πίθοι οἴνοιο παλαιοῦ ἡδυπότοιο

340

ἕστασαν, ἄκρητον θεῖον ποτὸν ἐντὸς ἔχοντες,

ἑξείης ποτὶ τοῖχον ἀρηρότες, εἴ ποτʼ Ὀδυσσεὺς

οἴκαδε νοστήσειε καὶ ἄλγεα πολλὰ μογήσας.

κληισταὶ δʼ ἔπεσαν σανίδες πυκινῶς ἀραρυῖαι,

δικλίδες· ἐν δὲ γυνὴ ταμίη νύκτας τε καὶ ἦμαρ

345

ἔσχʼ, ἣ πάντʼ ἐφύλασσε νόου πολυϊδρείῃσιν,

Εὐρύκλειʼ, Ὦπος θυγάτηρ Πεισηνορίδαο.

τὴν τότε Τηλέμαχος προσέφη θαλαμόνδε καλέσσας·

μαῖʼ, ἄγε δή μοι οἶνον ἐν ἀμφιφορεῦσιν ἄφυσσον

ἡδύν, ὅτις μετὰ τὸν λαρώτατος ὃν σὺ φυλάσσεις

350

κεῖνον ὀιομένη τὸν κάμμορον, εἴ ποθεν ἔλθοι

διογενὴς Ὀδυσεὺς θάνατον καὶ κῆρας ἀλύξας.

δώδεκα δʼ ἔμπλησον καὶ πώμασιν ἄρσον ἅπαντας.

ἐν δέ μοι ἄλφιτα χεῦον ἐϋρραφέεσσι δοροῖσιν·

εἴκοσι δʼ ἔστω μέτρα μυληφάτου ἀλφίτου ἀκτῆς.

355

αὐτὴ δʼ οἴη ἴσθι· τὰ δʼ ἁθρόα πάντα τετύχθω·

ἑσπέριος γὰρ ἐγὼν αἱρήσομαι, ὁππότε κεν δὴ

μήτηρ εἰς ὑπερῷʼ ἀναβῇ κοίτου τε μέδηται.

εἶμι γὰρ ἐς Σπάρτην τε καὶ ἐς Πύλον ἠμαθόεντα

νόστον πευσόμενος πατρὸς φίλου, ἤν που ἀκούσω.

360

ὣς φάτο, κώκυσεν δὲ φίλη τροφὸς Εὐρύκλεια,

καί ῥʼ ὀλοφυρομένη ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα·

τίπτε δέ τοι, φίλε τέκνον, ἐνὶ φρεσὶ τοῦτο νόημα

ἔπλετο; πῇ δʼ ἐθέλεις ἰέναι πολλὴν ἐπὶ γαῖαν

μοῦνος ἐὼν ἀγαπητός; ὁ δʼ ὤλετο τηλόθι πάτρης

365

διογενὴς Ὀδυσεὺς ἀλλογνώτῳ ἐνὶ δήμῳ.

οἱ δέ τοι αὐτίκʼ ἰόντι κακὰ φράσσονται ὀπίσσω,

ὥς κε δόλῳ φθίῃς, τάδε δʼ αὐτοὶ πάντα δάσονται.

ἀλλὰ μένʼ αὖθʼ ἐπὶ σοῖσι καθήμενος· οὐδέ τί σε χρὴ

πόντον ἐπʼ ἀτρύγετον κακὰ πάσχειν οὐδʼ ἀλάλησθαι.

370

τὴν δʼ αὖ Τηλέμαχος πεπνυμένος ἀντίον ηὔδα·

θάρσει, μαῖʼ, ἐπεὶ οὔ τοι ἄνευ θεοῦ ἥδε γε βουλή.

ἀλλʼ ὄμοσον μὴ μητρὶ φίλῃ τάδε μυθήσασθαι,

πρίν γʼ ὅτʼ ἂν ἑνδεκάτη τε δυωδεκάτη τε γένηται,

ἢ αὐτὴν ποθέσαι καὶ ἀφορμηθέντος ἀκοῦσαι,

375

ὡς ἂν μὴ κλαίουσα κατὰ χρόα καλὸν ἰάπτῃ.

ὣς ἄρʼ ἔφη, γρῆυς δὲ θεῶν μέγαν ὅρκον ἀπώμνυ.

αὐτὰρ ἐπεί ῥʼ ὄμοσέν τε τελεύτησέν τε τὸν ὅρκον,

αὐτίκʼ ἔπειτά οἱ οἶνον ἐν ἀμφιφορεῦσιν ἄφυσσεν,

ἐν δέ οἱ ἄλφιτα χεῦεν ἐϋρραφέεσσι δοροῖσι.

380

Τηλέμαχος δʼ ἐς δώματʼ ἰὼν μνηστῆρσιν ὁμίλει.

ἔνθʼ αὖτʼ ἄλλʼ ἐνόησε θεά, γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη.

Τηλεμάχῳ ἐικυῖα κατὰ πτόλιν ᾤχετο πάντῃ,

καί ῥα ἑκάστῳ φωτὶ παρισταμένη φάτο μῦθον,

ἑσπερίους δʼ ἐπὶ νῆα θοὴν ἀγέρεσθαι ἀνώγει.

385

ἡ δʼ αὖτε Φρονίοιο Νοήμονα φαίδιμον υἱὸν

ᾔτεε νῆα θοήν· ὁ δέ οἱ πρόφρων ὑπέδεκτο.

δύσετό τʼ ἠέλιος σκιόωντό τε πᾶσαι ἀγυιαί,

καὶ τότε νῆα θοὴν ἅλαδʼ εἴρυσε, πάντα δʼ ἐν αὐτῇ

ὅπλʼ ἐτίθει, τά τε νῆες ἐύσσελμοι φορέουσι.

390

στῆσε δʼ ἐπʼ ἐσχατιῇ λιμένος, περὶ δʼ ἐσθλοὶ ἑταῖροι

ἁθρόοι ἠγερέθοντο· θεὰ δʼ ὤτρυνεν ἕκαστον.

ἔνθʼ αὖτʼ ἄλλʼ ἐνόησε θεά, γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη.

βῆ ῥʼ ἰέναι πρὸς δώματʼ Ὀδυσσῆος θείοιο·

ἔνθα μνηστήρεσσιν ἐπὶ γλυκὺν ὕπνον ἔχευε,

395

πλάζε δὲ πίνοντας, χειρῶν δʼ ἔκβαλλε κύπελλα.

οἱ δʼ εὕδειν ὤρνυντο κατὰ πτόλιν, οὐδʼ ἄρʼ ἔτι δὴν

ἥατʼ, ἐπεί σφισιν ὕπνος ἐπὶ βλεφάροισιν ἔπιπτεν.

αὐτὰρ Τηλέμαχον προσέφη γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη

ἐκπροκαλεσσαμένη μεγάρων ἐὺ ναιεταόντων,

400

Μέντορι εἰδομένη ἠμὲν δέμας ἠδὲ καὶ αὐδήν·

Τηλέμαχʼ, ἤδη μέν τοι ἐυκνήμιδες ἑταῖροι

ἥατʼ ἐπήρετμοι τὴν σὴν ποτιδέγμενοι ὁρμήν·

ἀλλʼ ἴομεν, μὴ δηθὰ διατρίβωμεν ὁδοῖο.

ὣς ἄρα φωνήσασʼ ἡγήσατο Παλλὰς Ἀθήνη

405

καρπαλίμως· ὁ δʼ ἔπειτα μετʼ ἴχνια βαῖνε θεοῖο.

αὐτὰρ ἐπεί ῥʼ ἐπὶ νῆα κατήλυθον ἠδὲ θάλασσαν,

εὗρον ἔπειτʼ ἐπὶ θινὶ κάρη κομόωντας ἑταίρους.

τοῖσι δὲ καὶ μετέειφʼ ἱερὴ ἲς Τηλεμάχοιο·

δεῦτε, φίλοι, ἤια φερώμεθα· πάντα γὰρ ἤδη

410

ἁθρόʼ ἐνὶ μεγάρῳ. μήτηρ δʼ ἐμὴ οὔ τι πέπυσται,

οὐδʼ ἄλλαι δμωαί, μία δʼ οἴη μῦθον ἄκουσεν.

ὣς ἄρα φωνήσας ἡγήσατο, τοὶ δʼ ἅμʼ ἕποντο.

οἱ δʼ ἄρα πάντα φέροντες ἐυσσέλμῳ ἐπὶ νηὶ

κάτθεσαν, ὡς ἐκέλευσεν Ὀδυσσῆος φίλος υἱός.

415

ἂν δʼ ἄρα Τηλέμαχος νηὸς βαῖνʼ, ἦρχε δʼ Ἀθήνη,

νηὶ δʼ ἐνὶ πρυμνῇ κατʼ ἄρʼ ἕζετο· ἄγχι δʼ ἄρʼ αὐτῆς

ἕζετο Τηλέμαχος. τοὶ δὲ πρυμνήσιʼ ἔλυσαν,

ἂν δὲ καὶ αὐτοὶ βάντες ἐπὶ κληῖσι καθῖζον.

τοῖσιν δʼ ἴκμενον οὖρον ἵει γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη,

420

ἀκραῆ Ζέφυρον, κελάδοντʼ ἐπὶ οἴνοπα πόντον.

Τηλέμαχος δʼ ἑτάροισιν ἐποτρύνας ἐκέλευσεν

ὅπλων ἅπτεσθαι· τοὶ δʼ ὀτρύνοντος ἄκουσαν.

ἱστὸν δʼ εἰλάτινον κοίλης ἔντοσθε μεσόδμης

στῆσαν ἀείραντες, κατὰ δὲ προτόνοισιν ἔδησαν,

425

ἕλκον δʼ ἱστία λευκὰ ἐυστρέπτοισι βοεῦσιν.

ἔπρησεν δʼ ἄνεμος μέσον ἱστίον, ἀμφὶ δὲ κῦμα

στείρῃ πορφύρεον μεγάλʼ ἴαχε νηὸς ἰούσης·

ἡ δʼ ἔθεεν κατὰ κῦμα διαπρήσσουσα κέλευθον.

δησάμενοι δʼ ἄρα ὅπλα θοὴν ἀνὰ νῆα μέλαιναν

430

στήσαντο κρητῆρας ἐπιστεφέας οἴνοιο,

λεῖβον δʼ ἀθανάτοισι θεοῖς αἰειγενέτῃσιν,

ἐκ πάντων δὲ μάλιστα Διὸς γλαυκώπιδι κούρῃ.

παννυχίη μέν ῥʼ ἥ γε καὶ ἠῶ πεῖρε κέλευθον.

Translations (8)

Odyssey Perseus (Homer. The Odyssey, Volume 1-2. Murray, A. T. (Augustus Taber), translator. London: William Heinmann; New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1919.) — 2.1 focus

1 Soon as early Dawn appeared, the rosy-fingered, up from his bed arose the dear son of Odysseus and put on his clothing. About his shoulder he slung his sharp sword, and beneath his shining feet bound his fair sandals, 5 and went forth from his chamber like a god to look upon. Straightway he bade the clear-voiced heralds to summon to the assembly the long-haired Achaeans. And the heralds made the summons, and the Achaeans assembled full quickly. Now when they were assembled and met together, 10 Telemachus went his way to the place of assembly, holding in his hand a spear of bronze—not alone, for along with him two swift hounds followed; and wondrous was the grace that Athena shed upon him, and all the people marvelled at him as he came. But he sat down in his father's seat, and the elders gave place. 15 Then among them the lord Aegyptius was the first to speak, a man bowed with age and wise with wisdom untold. Now he spoke, because his dear son had gone in the hollow ships to Ilius, famed for its horses, in the company of godlike Odysseus, even the warrior Antiphus. But him the savage Cyclops had slain 20 in his hollow cave, and made of him his latest meal. Three others there were; one, Eurynomus, consorted with the wooers, and two ever kept their father's farm. Yet, even so, he could not forget that other, mourning and sorrowing; and weeping for him he addressed the assembly, and spoke among them: 25 “Hearken now to me, men of Ithaca , to the word that I shall say. Never have we held assembly or session since the day when goodly Odysseus departed in the hollow ships. And now who has called us together? On whom has such need come either of the young men or of those who are older? 30 Has he heard some tidings of the army's return,¹ which he might tell us plainly, seeing that he has first learned of it himself? Or is there some other public matter on which he is to speak and address us? A good man he seems in my eyes, a blessed man. May Zeus fulfil unto him himself some good, even whatsoever he desires in his heart.” 35 So he spoke, and the dear son of Odysseus rejoiced at the word of omen; nor did he thereafter remain seated, but was fain to speak. So he took his stand in the midst of the assembly, and the staff was placed in his hands by the herald Peisenor, wise in counsel.

Then he spoke, addressing first the old man: 40 “Old man, not far off, as thou shalt soon learn thyself, is that man who has called the host together—even I; for on me above all others has sorrow come. I have neither heard any tidings of the army's return, which I might tell you plainly, seeing that I had first learned of it myself, nor is there any other public matter on which I am to speak and address you. 45 Nay, it is mine own need, for that evil has fallen upon my house in two-fold wise. First, I have lost my noble sire who was once king among you here, and was gentle as a father; and now there is come an evil yet greater far, which will presently altogether destroy my house and ruin all my livelihood. 50 My mother have wooers beset against her will, the sons of those men who are here the noblest. They shrink from going to the house of her father, Icarius, that he may himself exact the bride-gifts for his daughter, and give her to whom he will, even to him who meets his favour, 55 but thronging our house day after day they slay our oxen and sheep and fat goats, and keep revel, and drink the sparkling wine recklessly; and havoc is made of all this wealth. For there is no man here, such as Odysseus was, to ward off ruin from the house. 60 As for me, I am no-wise such as he to ward it off. Nay verily, even if I try I shall be found a weakling and one knowing naught of valor. Yet truly I would defend myself, if I had but the power; for now deeds past all enduring have been wrought, and past all that is seemly has my house been destroyed. Take shame upon yourselves, 65 and have regard to your neighbors who dwell roundabout, and fear the wrath of the gods, lest haply they turn against you in anger at your evil deeds.² I pray you by Olympian Zeus, and by Themis who looses and gathers the assemblies of men, 70 forbear, my friends,³ and leave me alone to pine in bitter grief—unless indeed my father, goodly Odysseus, despitefully wrought the well-greaved Achaeans woe, in requital whereof ye work me woe despitefully by urging these men on. For me it were better 75 that ye should yourselves eat up my treasures and my flocks. If ye were to devour them, recompense would haply be made some day; for just so long should we go up and down the city, pressing our suit and asking back our goods, until all was given back. But now past cure are the woes ye put upon my heart.” 80 Thus he spoke in wrath, and dashed the staff down upon the ground, bursting into tears; and pity fell upon all the people. Then all the others kept silent, and no man had the heart to answer Telemachus with angry words.

Antinous alone answered him, and said: 85 “Telemachus, thou braggart, unrestrained in daring, what a thing hast thou said, putting us to shame, and wouldest fain fasten reproach upon us! Nay, I tell thee, it is not the Achaean wooers who are anywise at fault, but thine own mother, for she is crafty above all women. For it is now the third year and the fourth will soon pass,⁴ 90 since she has been deceiving the hearts of the Achaeans in their breasts. To all she offers hopes, and has promises for each man, sending them messages, but her mind is set on other things. And she devised in her heart this guileful thing also: she set up in her halls a great web, and fell to weaving— 95 fine of thread was the web and very wide; and straightway she spoke among us: “‘Young men, my wooers, since goodly Odysseus is dead, be patient, though eager for my marriage, until I finish this robe—I would not that my spinning should come to naught—a shroud for the lord Laertes, against the time when 100 the fell fate of grievous⁵ death shall strike him down; lest any of the Achaean women in the land should be wroth with me, if he, who had won great possessions, were to lie without a shroud.’ “So she spoke, and our proud hearts consented. Then day by day she would weave at the great web, 105 but by night would unravel it, when she had let place torches by her. Thus for three years she by her craft kept the Achaeans from knowing, and beguiled them; but when the fourth year came as the seasons rolled on, even then one of her women who knew all told us, and we caught her unravelling the splendid web. 110 So she finished it against her will, perforce. Therefore to thee the wooers make answer thus, that thou mayest thyself know it in thine heart, and that all the Achaeans may know. Send away thy mother, and command her to wed whomsoever her father bids, and whoso is pleasing to her. 115 But if she shall continue long time to vex the sons of the Achaeans, mindful in her heart of this, that Athena has endowed her above other women with knowledge of fair handiwork and an understanding heart, and wiles, such as we have never yet heard that any even of the women of old knew, of those who long ago were fair-tressed Achaean women— 120 Tyro and Alcmene and Mycene of the fair crown—of whom not one was like Penelope in shrewd device; yet this at least she devised not aright. For so long shall men devour thy livelihood and thy possessions, even as long as she shall keep the counsel which 125 the gods now put in her heart. Great fame she brings on herself, but on thee regret for thy much substance. For us, we will go neither to our lands nor else whither, until she marries that one of the Achaeans whom she will.”

Then wise Telemachus answered him, and said: 130 “Antinous, in no wise may I thrust forth from the house against her will her that bore me and reared me; and, as for my father, he is in some other land, whether he be alive or dead. An evil thing it were for me to pay back a great price to Icarius, as I must, if of my own will I send my mother away. For from her father's hand shall I suffer evil, and heaven 135 will send other ills besides, for my mother as she leaves the house will invoke the dread Avengers; and I shall have blame, too, from men. Therefore will I never speak this word. And for you, if your own heart is wroth here at, get you forth from my halls and prepare you other feasts, 140 eating your own substance and changing from house to house. But if this seems in your eyes to be a better and more profitable thing, that one man's livelihood should be ruined without atonement, waste ye it. But I will call upon the gods that are forever, if haply Zeus may grant that deeds of requital may be wrought. 145 Without atonement then should ye perish within my halls.” So spoke Telemachus, and in answer Zeus, whose voice is borne afar,⁶ sent forth two eagles, flying from on high, from a mountain peak. For a time they flew swift as the blasts of the wind side by side with wings outspread; 150 but when they reached the middle of the many-voiced assembly, then they wheeled about, flapping their wings rapidly, and down on the heads of all they looked, and death was in their glare. Then they tore with their talons one another's cheeks and necks on either side, and darted away to the right across the houses and the city of the men. 155 But they were seized with wonder at the birds when their eyes beheld them, and pondered in their hearts on what was to come to pass. Then among them spoke the old lord Halitherses, son of Mastor, for he surpassed all men of his day in knowledge of birds and in uttering words of fate. 160 He with good intent addressed their assembly, and spoke among them: “Hearken now to me, men of Ithaca , to the word that I shall say; and to the wooers especially do I declare and announce these things, since on them a great woe is rolling. For Odysseus shall not long be away from his friends, but even now, methinks, 165 he is near, and is sowing death and fate for these men, one and all. Aye, and to many others of us also who dwell in clear-seen Ithaca will he be a bane. But long ere that let us take thought how we may make an end of this—or rather let them of themselves make an end, for this is straightway the better course for them. 170 Not as one untried do I prophesy, but with sure knowledge. For unto Odysseus I declare that all things are fulfilled even as I told him, when the Argives embarked for Ilios and with them went Odysseus of many wiles. I declared that after suffering many ills and losing all his comrades he would come home in the twentieth year 175 unknown to all; and lo, all this is now being brought to pass.”

Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered him, and said: “Old man, up now, get thee home and prophesy to thy children, lest haply in days to come they suffer ill. 180 In this matter I am better far than thou to prophesy. Many birds there are that fare to and fro under the rays of the sun, and not all are fateful. As for Odysseus, he has perished far away, as I would that thou hadst likewise perished with him. Then wouldst thou not prate so much in thy reading of signs, 185 or be urging Telemachus on in his wrath, hoping for some gift for thy house, if haply he shall give it. But I will speak out to thee, and this word shall verily be brought to pass. If thou, wise in the wisdom of old, shalt beguile with thy talk a younger man, and set him on to be wroth, 190 for him in the first place it shall be the more grievous, and he will in no case be able to do aught because of these men here, and on thee, old man, will we lay a fine which it will grieve thy soul to pay, and bitter shall be thy sorrow. And to Telemachus I myself, here among all, will offer this counsel. 195 His mother let him bid to go back to the house of her father, and they will prepare a wedding feast and make ready the gifts full many,—aye, all that should follow after a well-loved daughter. For ere that, methinks, the sons of the Achaeans will not cease from their grievous wooing, since in any case we fear no man,— 200 no, not Telemachus for all his many words,—nor do we reck of any soothsaying which thou, old man, mayest declare; it will fail of fulfillment, and thou shalt be hated the more. Aye, and his possessions shall be devoured in evil wise, nor shall requital ever be made, so long as she shall put off the Achaeans 205 in the matter of her marriage. And we on our part waiting here day after day are rivals by reason of her excellence, and go not after other women, whom each one might fitly wed.” Then wise Telemachus answered him: “Eurymachus and all ye other lordly wooers, 210 in this matter I entreat you no longer nor speak thereof, for now the gods know it, and all the Achaeans. But come, give me a swift ship and twenty comrades who will accomplish my journey for me to and fro. For I shall go to Sparta and to sandy Pylos 215 to seek tidings of the return of my father that has long been gone, if haply any mortal man may tell me, or I may hear a voice from Zeus, which oftenest brings tidings to men. 220 If so be I shall hear that my father is alive and coming home, then verily, though I am sore afflicted, I could endure for yet a year. But if I shall hear that he is dead and gone, then I will return to my dear native land and heap up a mound for him, and over it pay funeral rites, full many, as is due, and give my mother to a husband.”

So saying he sat down, and among them rose 225 Mentor, who was a comrade of noble Odysseus. To him, on departing with his ships, Odysseus had given all his house in charge, that it should obey the old man and that he should keep all things safe. He with good intent addressed their assembly, and spoke among them: “Hearken now to me, men of Ithaca , to the word that I shall say. 230 Never henceforth let sceptred king with a ready heart be kind and gentle, nor let him heed righteousness in his heart, but let him ever be harsh and work unrighteousness, seeing that no one remembers divine Odysseus of the people whose lord he was; yet gentle was he as a father. 235 But of a truth I begrudge not the proud wooers that they work deeds of violence in the evil contrivings of their minds, for it is at the hazard of their own lives that they violently devour the house of Odysseus, who, they say, will no more return. Nay, rather it is with the rest of the folk that I am wroth, that ye all 240 sit thus in silence, and utter no word of rebuke to make the wooers cease, though ye are many and they but few.” Then Leocritus, son of Euenor, answered him:“Mentor, thou mischief-maker,⁷ thou wanderer in thy wits, what hast thou said, bidding men make us cease? Nay, it were a hard thing 245 to fight about a feast with men that moreover outnumber you. For if Ithacan Odysseus himself were to come and be eager at heart to drive out from his hall the lordly wooers who are feasting in his house, then should his wife have no joy 250 at his coming, though sorely she longed for him, but right here would he meet a shameful death, if he fought with men that outnumbered him.⁸ Thou hast not spoken aright. But come now, ye people, scatter, each one of you to his own lands. As for this fellow, Mentor and Halitherses will speed his journey, for they are friends of his father's house from of old. 255 But methinks he will long abide here and get his tidings in Ithaca , and never accomplish this journey.” So he spoke, and hastily broke up the assembly. They then scattered, each one to his own house; and the wooers went to the house of divine Odysseus. 260 But Telemachus went apart to the shore of the sea, and having washed his hands in the grey seawater, prayed to Athena: “Hear me, thou who didst come yesterday as a god to our house, and didst bid me go in a ship over the misty deep to seek tidings of the return of my father, that has long been gone. 265 Lo, all this the Achaeans hinder, but the wooers most of all in their evil insolence.”

So he spoke in prayer, and Athena drew near to him in the likeness of Mentor, both in form and invoice; and she spoke, and addressed him with winged words: 270 “Telemachus, neither hereafter shalt thou be a base man or a witless, if aught of thy father's goodly spirit has been instilled into thee, such a man was he to fulfil both deed and word. So then shall this journey of thine be neither vain nor unfulfilled. But if thou art not the son of him and of Penelope, 275 then I have no hope that thou wilt accomplish thy desire. Few sons indeed are like their fathers; most are worse, few better than their fathers. But since neither hereafter shalt thou be a base man or a witless, nor has the wisdom of Odysseus wholly failed thee, 280 there is therefore hope that thou wilt accomplish this work. Now then let be the will and counsel of the wooers—fools, for they are in no wise either prudent or just, nor do they know aught of death or black fate, which verily is near at hand for them, that they shall all perish in a day. 285 But for thyself, the journey on which thy heart is set shall not be long delayed, so true a friend of thy father's house am I, who will equip for thee a swift ship, and myself go with thee. But go thou now to the house and join the company of the wooers; make ready stores, and bestow all in vessels— 290 wine in jars, and barley meal, the marrow of men, in stout skins;—but I, going through the town, will quickly gather comrades that go willingly. And ships there are full many in sea-girt Ithaca , both new and old; of these will I choose out for thee the one that is best, 295 and quickly will we make her ready and launch her on the broad deep.” So spoke Athena, daughter of Zeus, nor did Telemachus tarry long after he had heard the voice of the goddess, but went his way to the house, his heart heavy within him. He found there the proud wooers in the halls, 300 flaying goats and singeing swine in the court. And Antinous with a laugh came straight to Telemachus, and clasped his hand, and spoke, and addressed⁹ him: “Telemachus, thou braggart, unrestrained in daring, let no more any evil deed or word be in thy heart. 305 Nay, I bid thee, eat and drink even as before. All these things the Achaeans will surely provide for thee—the ship and chosen oarsmen—that with speed thou mayest go to sacred Pylos to seek for tidings of thy noble father.”

Then wise Telemachus answered him: 310 “Antinous, in no wise is it possible for me in your overweening company to sit at meat quietly and to make merry with an easy mind. Is it not enough, ye wooers, that in time past ye wasted many goodly possessions of mine, while I was still a child? But now that I am grown, 315 and gain knowledge by hearing the words of others, yea and my spirit waxes within me, I will try how I may hurl forth upon your evil fates, either going to Pylos or here in this land. For go I will, nor shall the journey be in vain whereof I speak, though I voyage in another's ship, since I may not be master of ship or oarsmen. 320 So, I ween, it seemed to you to be more to your profit.” He spoke, and snatched his hand from the hand of Antinous without more ado, and the wooers were busy with the feast throughout the hall. They mocked and jeered at him in their talk; and thus would one of the proud youths speak: 325 “Aye, verily Telemachus is planning our murder. He will bring men to aid him from sandy Pylos or even from Sparta , so terribly is he set upon it. Or he means to go to Ephyre, that rich land, to bring from thence deadly drugs, 330 that he may cast them in the wine-bowl, and destroy us all.” And again another of the proud youths would say: “Who knows but he himself as he goes on the hollow ship may perish wandering far from his friends, even as Odysseus did? So would he cause us yet more labour; 335 for we should have to divide all his possessions, and his house we should give to his mother to possess, and to him who should wed her.” So they spoke, but Telemachus went down to the high-roofed treasure-chamber of his father, a wide room where gold and bronze lay piled, and raiment in chests, and stores of fragrant oil. 340 There, too, stood great jars of wine, old and sweet, holding within them an unmixed divine drink, and ranged in order along the wall, if ever Odysseus should return home even after many grievous toils. Shut were 345 the double doors, close-fitted; and there both night and day a stewardess abode, who guarded all in wisdom of mind, Eurycleia, daughter of Ops, son of Peisenor. To her now Telemachus, when he had called her to the treasure-chamber, spoke, and said: “Nurse, draw me off wine in jars, 350 sweet wine that is the choicest next to that which thou guardest ever thinking upon that ill-fated one, if haply Zeus-born Odysseus may come I know not whence, having escaped from death and the fates. Fill twelve jars and fit them all with covers, and pour me barley meal into well-sewn skins, 355 and let there be twenty measures of ground barley meal. But keep knowledge hereof to thyself, and have all these things brought together; for at evening I will fetch them, when my mother goes to her upper chamber and bethinks her of her rest. For I am going to Sparta and to sandy Pylos 360 to seek tidings of the return of my dear father, if haply I may hear any.”

So he spoke, and the dear nurse, Eurycleia, uttered a shrill cry, and weeping spoke to him winged words:“Ah, dear child, how has this thought come into thy mind? Whither art thou minded to go over the wide earth, 365 thou who art an only son and well-beloved? But he hath perished far from his country, the Zeus-born Odysseus, in a strange land; and these men, so soon as thou art gone, will devise evil for thee hereafter, that thou mayest perish by guile, and themselves divide all these possessions. Nay, abide here in charge of what is thine; thou hast no need 370 to suffer ills and go a wanderer over the unresting sea.” Then wise Telemachus answered her: “Take heart, nurse, for not without a god's warrant is this my plan. But swear to tell naught of this to my dear mother until the eleventh or twelfth day shall come, 375 or until she shall herself miss me and hear that I am gone, that she may not mar her fair flesh with weeping.” So he spoke, and the old woman swore a great oath by the gods to say naught. But when she had sworn and made an end of the oath, straightway she drew for him wine in jars, 380 and poured barley meal into well-sewn skins; and Telemachus went to the hall and joined the company of the wooers. Then the goddess, flashing-eyed Athena, took other counsel. In the likeness of Telemachus she went everywhere throughout the city, and to each of the men she drew near and spoke her word, 385 bidding them gather at even beside the swift ship. Furthermore, of Noemon, the glorious son of Phronius, she asked a swift ship, and he promised it to her with a ready heart.

Now the sun set and all the ways grew dark. Then she drew the swift ship to the sea and 390 put in it all the gear that well-benched ships carry. And she moored it at the mouth of the harbor, and round about it the goodly company was gathered together, and the goddess heartened each man. Then again the goddess, flashing-eyed Athena, took other counsel. She went her way to the house of divine Odysseus, 395 and there began to shed sweet sleep upon the wooers and made them to wander in their drinking, and from their hands she cast the cups. But they rose to go to their rest throughout the city, and remained no long time seated, for sleep was falling upon their eyelids. But to Telemachus spoke flashing-eyed Athena, 400 calling him forth before the stately hall, having likened herself to Mentor both in form and in voice: “Telemachus, already thy well-greaved comrades sit at the oar and await thy setting out. Come, let us go, that we may not long delay their journey.” 405 So saying, Pallas Athena led the way quickly, and he followed in the footsteps of the goddess. Now when they had come down to the ship and to the sea, they found on the shore their long-haired comrades, and the strong and mighty¹⁰ Telemachus spoke among them: 410 “Come, friends, let us fetch the stores, for all are now gathered together in the hall. My mother knows naught hereof, nor the handmaids either: one only heard my word.” Thus saying, he led the way, and they went along with him. So they brought and 415 stowed everything in the well-benched ship, as the dear son of Odysseus bade. Then on board the ship stepped Telemachus, and Athena went before him and sat down in the stern of the ship, and near her sat Telemachus, while the men loosed the stern cables and themselves stepped on board, and sat down upon the benches. 420 And flashing-eyed Athena sent them a favorable wind, a strong-blowing West wind that sang over the wine-dark sea. And Telemachus called to his men, and bade them lay hold of the tackling, and they hearkened to his call. The mast of fir 425 they raised and set in the hollow socket, and made it fast with fore-stays, and hauled up the white sail with twisted thongs of ox-hide. So the wind filled the belly of the sail, and the dark wave sang loudly about the stem of the ship as she went, and she sped over the wave accomplishing her way. 430 Then, when they had made the tackling fast in the swift black ship, they set forth bowls brim full of wine, and poured libations to the immortal gods that are forever, and chiefest of all to the flashing-eyed daughter of Zeus. So all night long and through the dawn the ship cleft her way.

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.) — 2.1 focus

1 Now when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, Telemakhos rose and dressed himself. He bound his sandals on to his comely feet, girded his sword about his shoulder, and left his room looking like an immortal god. He at once sent the criers round to call the people in assembly, so they called them and the people gathered thereon; then, when they were got together, he went to the place of assembly spear in hand - not alone, for his two hounds went with him. Athena endowed him with a presence of such divine comeliness [ kharis] that all marveled at him as he went by, and when he took his place in his father's seat even the oldest councilors made way for him.

15 Aigyptios, a man bent double with age, and of infinite experience, was the first to speak His son Antiphos had gone with Odysseus to Ilion , land of noble steeds, but the savage Cyclops had killed him when they were all shut up in the cave, and had cooked his last dinner for him. He had three sons left, of whom two still worked on their father's land, while the third, Eurynomos, was one of the suitors; nevertheless their father could not get over the loss of Antiphos, and was still weeping for him when he began his speech.

25 "Men of Ithaca ," he said, "hear my words. From the day Odysseus left us there has been no meeting of our councilors until now; who then can it be, whether old or young, that finds it so necessary to convene us? Has he got wind of some host approaching, and does he wish to warn us, or would he speak upon some other matter of public moment? I am sure he is an excellent person, and I hope Zeus will grant him his heart's desire."

35 Telemakhos took this speech as of good omen and rose at once, for he was bursting with what he had to say. He stood in the middle of the assembly and the good herald Pisenor brought him his staff. Then, turning to Aigyptios, "Sir," said he, "it is I, as you will shortly learn, who have convened you, for it is I who am the most aggrieved. I have not got wind of any host approaching about which I would warn you, nor is there any matter of public moment on which I would speak. My grievance is purely personal, and turns on two great misfortunes which have fallen upon my house. The first of these is the loss of my excellent father, who was chief among all you here present, and was like a father to every one of you; the second is much more serious, and ere long will be the utter ruin of my estate. The sons of all the chief men among you are pestering my mother to marry them against her will. They are afraid to go to her father Ikarios, asking him to choose the one he likes best, and to provide marriage gifts for his daughter, but day by day they keep hanging about my father's house, sacrificing our oxen, sheep, and fat goats for their banquets, and never giving so much as a thought to the quantity of wine they drink. No estate can stand such recklessness; we have now no Odysseus to ward off harm from our doors, and I cannot hold my own against them. I shall never all my days be as good a man as he was, still I would indeed defend myself if I had power to do so, for I cannot stand such treatment any longer; my house is being disgraced and ruined. Have respect, therefore, to your own consciences and to public opinion. Fear, too, the wrath [ mênis] of the gods, lest they should be displeased and turn upon you. I pray you by Zeus and Themis, who is the beginning and the end of councils, [do not] hold back, my friends, and leave me singlehanded - unless it be that my brave father Odysseus did some wrong to the Achaeans which you would now avenge on me, by aiding and abetting these suitors. Moreover, if I am to be eaten out of house and home at all, I had rather you did the eating yourselves, for I could then take action against you to some purpose, and serve you with notices from house to house till I got paid in full, whereas now I have no remedy."

80 With this Telemakhos dashed his staff to the ground and burst into tears. Every one was very sorry for him, but they all sat still and no one ventured to make him an angry answer, save only Antinoos, who spoke thus:

85 "Telemakhos, insolent braggart that you are, how dare you try to throw the blame upon us suitors? We are not the ones who are responsible [ aitioi] but your mother is, for she knows many kinds of kerdos. This three years past, and close on four, she has been driving us out of our minds, by encouraging each one of us, and sending him messages that say one thing but her noos means other things. And then there was that other trick she played us. She set up a great tambour frame in her room, and began to work on an enormous piece of fine fabric. ‘Sweet hearts,’ said she, ‘Odysseus is indeed dead, still do not press me to marry again immediately, wait - for I would not have skill in weaving perish unrecorded - till I have completed a shroud for the hero Laertes , to be in readiness against the time when death shall take him. He is very rich, and the women of the dêmos will talk if he is laid out without a shroud.’

103 "This was what she said, and we assented; whereon we could see her working on her great web all day long, but at night she would unpick the stitches again by torchlight. She fooled us in this way for three years and we never found her out, but as time [ hôra] wore on and she was now in her fourth year, one of her maids who knew what she was doing told us, and we caught her in the act of undoing her work, so she had to finish it whether she would or no. The suitors, therefore, make you this answer, that both you and the Achaeans may understand - ‘Send your mother away, and bid her marry the man of her own and of her father's choice’; for I do not know what will happen if she goes on plaguing us much longer with the airs she gives herself on the score of the accomplishments Athena has taught her, and because she knows so many kinds of kerdos. We never yet heard of such a woman; we know all about Tyro, Alkmene, Mycene, and the famous women of old, but they were nothing to your mother, any one of them. It was not fair of her to treat us in that way, and as long as she continues in the mind [ noos] with which heaven has now endowed her, so long shall we go on eating up your estate; and I do not see why she should change, for she gets all the honor and glory [ kleos], and it is you who pay for it, not she. Understand, then, that we will not go back to our lands, neither here nor elsewhere, till she has made her choice and married some one or other of us."

129 Telemakhos answered, "Antinoos, how can I drive the mother who bore me from my father's house? My father is abroad and we do not know whether he is alive or dead. It will be hard on me if I have to pay Ikarios the large sum which I must give him if I insist on sending his daughter back to him. Not only will he deal rigorously with me, but some daimôn will also punish me; for my mother when she leaves the house will call on the Erinyes to avenge her; besides, it will result in nemesis for me among men, and I will have nothing to say to it. If you choose to take offense at this, leave the house and feast elsewhere at one another's houses at your own cost turn and turn about. If, on the other hand, you elect to persist in sponging upon one man, heaven help me, but Zeus shall reckon with you in full, and when you fall in my father's house there shall be no man to avenge you."

146 As he spoke Zeus sent two eagles from the top of the mountain, and they flew on and on with the wind, sailing side by side in their own lordly flight. When they were right over the middle of the assembly they wheeled and circled about, beating the air with their wings and glaring death into the eyes of them that were below; then, fighting fiercely and tearing at one another, they flew off towards the right over the town. The people wondered as they saw them, and asked each other what an this might be; whereon Halitherses, who was the best seer and reader of omens among them, spoke to them plainly and in all honesty, saying:

161 "Hear me, men of Ithaca , and I speak more particularly to the suitors, for I see mischief brewing for them. Odysseus is not going to be away much longer; indeed he is close at hand to deal out death and destruction, not on them alone, but on many another of us who live in Ithaca . Let us then be wise in time, and put a stop to this wickedness before he comes. Let the suitors do so of their own accord; it will be better for them, for I am not prophesying without due knowledge; everything has happened to Odysseus as I foretold when the Argives set out for Troy , and he with them. I said that after going through much hardship and losing all his men he should come home again in the twentieth year and that no one would know him; and now all this is coming true."

177 Eurymakhos son of Polybos then said, "Go home, old man, and prophesy to your own children, or it may be worse for them. I can read these omens myself much better than you can; birds are always flying about in the sunshine somewhere or other, but they seldom mean anything. Odysseus has died in a far country, and it is a pity you are not dead along with him, instead of prating here about omens and adding fuel to the anger of Telemakhos which is fierce enough as it is. I suppose you think he will give you something for your family, but I tell you - and it shall surely be - when an old man like you, who should know better, talks a young one over till he becomes troublesome, in the first place his young friend will only fare so much the worse - he will take nothing by it, for the suitors will prevent this - and in the next, we will lay a heavier fine, sir, upon yourself than you will at all like paying, for it will bear hardly upon you. As for Telemakhos, I warn him in the presence of you all to send his mother back to her father, who will find her a husband and provide her with all the marriage gifts so dear a daughter may expect. Till then we shall go on harassing him with our suit; for we fear no man, and care neither for him, with all his fine speeches, nor for any fortune-telling of yours. You may preach as much as you please, but we shall only hate you the more. We shall go back and continue to eat up Telemakhos' estate without paying him, till such time as his mother leaves off tormenting us by keeping us day after day on the tiptoe of expectation, each vying with the other in his suit for a prize of such rare perfection [ aretê]. Besides we cannot go after the other women whom we should marry in due course, but for the way in which she treats us."

208 Then Telemakhos said, "Eurymakhos, and you other suitors, I shall say no more, and entreat you no further, for the gods and the people of Ithaca now know my story. Give me, then, a ship and a crew of twenty men to take me hither and thither, and I will go to Sparta and to Pylos to inquire about the nostos of my father who has so long been missing. Some one may tell me something, or (and people often hear kleos in this way) some heaven-sent message may direct me. If I can hear of him as alive and achieving his homecoming [ nostos] I will put up with the waste you suitors will make for yet another twelve months. If on the other hand I hear of his death, I will return at once, celebrate his funeral rites with all due pomp, build a grave marker [ sêma] to his memory, and make my mother marry again."

224 With these words he sat down, and Mentor who had been a friend of Odysseus, and had been left in charge of everything with full authority over the servants, rose to speak. He, then, plainly and in all honesty addressed them thus:

229 "Hear me, men of Ithaca , I hope that you may never have a kind and well-disposed ruler any more, nor one who will govern you equitably; I hope that all your chiefs henceforward may be cruel and unjust, for there is not one of you but has forgotten Odysseus, who ruled you as though he were your father. I am not half so angry with the suitors, for if they choose to do violence in the naughtiness of their minds [ noos], and wager their heads that Odysseus will not return, they can take the high hand and eat up his estate, but as for you others I am shocked at the way in which you the rest of the population [ dêmos] all sit still without even trying to stop such scandalous goings on - which you could do if you chose, for you are many and they are few."

242 Leiokritos, son of Euenor, answered him saying, "Mentor, what folly is all this, that you should set the people to stay us? It is a hard thing for one man to fight with many about his victuals. Even though Odysseus himself were to set upon us while we are feasting in his house, and do his best to oust us, his wife, who wants him back so very badly, would have small cause for rejoicing, and his blood would be upon his own head if he fought against such great odds. There is no sense in what you have been saying. Now, therefore, do you people go about your business, and let his father's old friends, Mentor and Halitherses, speed this boy on his journey, if he goes at all - which I do not think he will, for he is more likely to stay where he is till some one comes and tells him something."

257 On this he broke up the assembly, and every man went back to his own abode, while the suitors returned to the house of Odysseus.

260 Then Telemakhos went all alone by the sea side, washed his hands in the gray waves, and prayed to Athena.

262 "Hear me," he cried, "you god who visited me yesterday, and bade me sail the seas in search of the nostos of my father who has so long been missing. I would obey you, but the Achaeans, and more particularly the wicked suitors, are hindering me that I cannot do so."

267 As he thus prayed, Athena came close up to him in the likeness and with the voice of Mentor. "Telemakhos," said she, "if you are made of the same stuff as your father you will be neither fool nor coward henceforward, for Odysseus never broke his word nor left his work half done. If, then, you take after him, your voyage will not be fruitless, but unless you have the blood of Odysseus and of Penelope in your veins I see no likelihood of your succeeding. Sons are seldom as good men as their fathers; they are generally worse, not better; still, as you are not going to be either fool or coward henceforward, and are not entirely without some share of your father's wise discernment, I look with hope upon your undertaking. But mind you never make common cause [ noos] with any of those foolish suitors, for they are neither sensible nor just [ dikaioi], and give no thought to death and to the doom that will shortly fall on one and all of them, so that they shall perish on the same day. As for your voyage, it shall not be long delayed; your father was such an old friend of mine that I will find you a ship, and will come with you myself. Now, however, return home, and go about among the suitors; begin getting provisions ready for your voyage; see everything well stowed, the wine in jars, and the barley meal, which is the staff of life, in leathern bags, while I go round the dêmos and round up volunteers at once. There are many ships in Ithaca both old and new; I will run my eye over them for you and will choose the best; we will get her ready and will put out to sea without delay."

296 Thus spoke Athena daughter of Zeus, and Telemakhos lost no time in doing as the goddess told him. He went moodily and found the suitors flaying goats and singeing pigs in the outer court. Antinoos came up to him at once and laughed as he took his hand in his own, saying, "Telemakhos, my fine fire-eater, bear no more ill blood neither in word nor deed, but eat and drink with us as you used to do. The Achaeans will find you in everything - a ship and a picked crew to boot - so that you can set sail for Pylos at once and get news of your noble father."

309 "Antinoos," answered Telemakhos, "I cannot eat in peace, nor take pleasure of any kind with such men as you are. Was it not enough that you should waste so much good property of mine while I was yet a boy? Now that I am older and know more about it, I am also stronger, and whether here among this people [ dêmos], or by going to Pylos , I will do you all the harm I can. I shall go, and my going will not be in vain though, thanks to you suitors, I have neither ship nor crew of my own, and must be passenger not leader."

321 As he spoke he snatched his hand from that of Antinoos. Meanwhile the others went on getting dinner ready about the buildings, jeering at him tauntingly as they did so.

325 "Telemakhos," said one youngster, "means to be the death of us; I suppose he thinks he can bring friends to help him from Pylos , or again from Sparta , where he seems bent on going. Or will he go to Ephyra as well, for poison to put in our wine and kill us?"

331 Another said, "Perhaps if Telemakhos goes on board ship, he will be like his father and perish far from his friends. In this case we should have plenty to do, for we could then divide up his property amongst us: as for the house we can let his mother and the man who marries her have that."

337 This was how they talked. But Telemakhos went down into the lofty and spacious store-room where his father's treasure of gold and bronze lay heaped up upon the floor, and where the linen and spare clothes were kept in open chests. Here, too, there was a store of fragrant olive oil, while casks of old, well-ripened wine, unblended and fit for a god to drink, were ranged against the wall in case Odysseus should come home again after all. The room was closed with well-made doors opening in the middle; moreover the faithful old house-keeper Eurykleia, daughter of Ops the son of Pisenor, was in charge of everything both night and day. Telemakhos called her to the store-room and said:

349 "Nurse, draw me off some of the best wine you have, after what you are keeping for my father's own drinking, in case, poor man, he should escape death, and find his way home again after all. Let me have twelve jars, and see that they all have lids; also fill me some well-sewn leathern bags with barley meal - about twenty measures in all. Get these things put together at once, and say nothing about it. I will take everything away this evening as soon as my mother has gone upstairs for the night. I am going to Sparta and to Pylos to see if I can hear anything about the nostos of my dear father.

361 When Eurykleia heard this she began to cry, and spoke fondly to him, saying, "My dear child, what ever can have put such notion as that into your head? Where in the world do you want to go to - you, who are the one hope of the house? Your poor father is dead and gone in some foreign country [ dêmos] nobody knows where, and as soon as your back is turned these wicked ones here will be scheming to get you put out of the way, and will share all your possessions among themselves; stay where you are among your own people, and do not go wandering and worrying your life out on the barren ocean."

371 "Fear not, nurse," answered Telemakhos, "my scheme is not without heaven's sanction; but swear that you will say nothing about all this to my mother, till I have been away some ten or twelve days, unless she hears of my having gone, and asks you; for I do not want her to spoil her beauty by crying."

377 The old woman swore most solemnly that she would not, and when she had completed her oath, she began drawing off the wine into jars, and getting the barley meal into the bags, while Telemakhos went back to the suitors.

382 Then Athena bethought her of another matter. She took his shape, and went round the town to each one of the crew, telling them to meet at the ship by sundown. She went also to Noemon son of Phronios, and asked him to let her have a ship - which he was very ready to do. When the sun had set and darkness was over all the land, she got the ship into the water, put all the tackle on board her that ships generally carry, and stationed her at the end of the harbor. Presently the crew came up, and the goddess spoke encouragingly to each of them.

393 Furthermore she went to the house of Odysseus, and threw the suitors into a deep slumber. She caused their drink to fuddle them, and made them drop their cups from their hands, so that instead of sitting over their wine, they went back into the town to sleep, with their eyes heavy and full of drowsiness. Then she took the form and voice of Mentor, and called Telemakhos to come outside.

402 "Telemakhos," said she, "the men are on board and at their oars, waiting for you to give your orders, so make haste and let us be off."

405 On this she led the way, while Telemakhos followed in her steps. When they got to the ship they found the crew waiting by the water side, and Telemakhos said, "Now my men, help me to get the stores on board; they are all put together in the room, and my mother does not know anything about it, nor any of the maid servants except one."

413 With these words he led the way and the others followed after. When they had brought the things as he told them, Telemakhos went on board, Athena going before him and taking her seat in the stern of the vessel, while Telemakhos sat beside her. Then the men loosed the hawsers and took their places on the benches. Athena sent them a fair wind from the West, that whistled over the seething deep waves whereon Telemakhos told them to catch hold of the ropes and hoist sail, and they did as he told them. They set the mast in its socket in the cross plank, raised it, and made it fast with the forestays; then they hoisted their white sails aloft with ropes of twisted ox hide. As the sail bellied out with the wind, the ship flew through the seething deep water, and the foam hissed against her bows as she sped onward. Then they made all fast throughout the ship, filled the mixing-bowls to the brim, and made drink offerings to the immortal gods that are from everlasting, but more particularly to the gray-eyed daughter of Zeus.

434 Thus, then, the ship sped on her way through the watches of the night from dark till dawn.

English (Butler, rev. Nagy et al., 2020) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Butler, rev. Nagy et al., 2020)) — 2 focus

Rhapsody 2

1 Now when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, dear Telemachus rose and dressed himself. He bound his sandals on to his comely feet, girded his sword about his shoulder, [5] and left his room looking like an immortal god. He at once sent the criers round to call the people in assembly, so they called them and the people gathered there; then, when they were got together, [10] he went to the place of assembly spear in hand—not alone, for his two hounds went with him. Athena endowed him with a presence of such divine gracefulness [ kharis] that all marveled at him as he went by, and when he took his place in his father’s seat even the oldest councilors made way for him.

[15] Aigyptios, a man bent double with age, and of infinite experience, was the first to speak. His son Antiphos the spearman had gone with Odysseus to Ilion, land of noble steeds, but the savage Cyclops had killed him [20] when they were all shut up in the cave, and had cooked his last dinner for him. He had three sons left, of whom two still worked on their father’s land, while the third, Eurynomos, was one of the suitors; nevertheless their father could not get over the loss of Antiphos, and was still weeping for him when he began his speech.

[25] “Men of Ithaca,” he said, “hear my words. From the day great Odysseus left us there has been no meeting of our councilors until now; who then can it be, whether old or young, that finds it so necessary to convene us? [30] Has he got wind of some enemy force approaching, and does he wish to warn us, or would he speak upon some other matter of public moment? I am sure he is an excellent person, and I hope Zeus will grant him his heart’s desire.”

[35] 39 Telemachus took this speech as of good omen and rose at once, for he was bursting with what he had to say. He stood in the middle of the assembly and the good herald Peisenor, a man of deep discretion, brought him his staff. Then, turning to Aigyptios, [40] “Sir,” said he, “it is I, as you will shortly learn, who have convened you, for it is I who am the most aggrieved. I have not got wind of any enemy force approaching about which I would warn you, nor is there any matter of public moment on which I would speak. [45] My grievance is purely personal, and turns on two great misfortunes which have fallen upon my house. The first of these is the loss of my excellent father, who was chief among all you here present, and was like a father to every one of you; the second is much more serious, and before long will be the utter ruin of my estate. [50] The sons of all the chief men among you are pestering my mother to marry them against her will. They are afraid to go to her father Ikarios, asking him to choose the one he likes best, and to provide marriage gifts for his daughter, [55] but day by day they keep hanging about my father’s house, sacrificing our oxen, sheep, and fat goats for their banquets, and never giving so much as a thought to the quantity of wine they drink. No estate can stand such recklessness; we have now no Odysseus to ward off harm from our doors, [60] and I cannot hold my own against them. I shall never all my days be as good a man as he was, still I would indeed defend myself if I had power to do so, for I cannot stand such treatment any longer; my house is being disgraced and ruined. Have respect, therefore, to your own consciences [65] and to public opinion. Fear, too, the wrath [ mēnis] of the gods, lest they should be displeased and turn upon you. I pray you by Zeus the Olympian and Themis, who is the beginning and the end of councils, [70] [do not] hold back, my friends, and leave me single-handed—unless it be that my brave father Odysseus did some wrong to the strong-greaved Achaeans which you would now avenge on me, by aiding and abetting these suitors. Moreover, if I am to be eaten out of house and home at all, [75] I had rather you did the eating yourselves, for I could then take action against you to some purpose, and serve you with notices from house to house till I got paid in full, whereas now I have no remedy.”

[80] With this Telemachus dashed his staff to the ground and burst into tears. 84 Every one was very sorry for him, but they all sat still and no one ventured to make him an angry answer, save only Antinoos, who spoke thus:

[85] “Telemachus, insolent braggart that you are, how dare you try to throw the blame upon us suitors? We are not the ones who are responsible [ aitioi] but your mother is, for she knows many kinds of craftiness [ kerdos]. This three years past, and close on four, [90] she has been driving us out of our minds, by encouraging each one of us, and sending him messages that say one thing but her mind [ noos] means other things. And then there was that other trick she played us. She set up a great loom in her room, and began to weave [95] an enormous fine web. ‘Sweet hearts,’ said she, ‘Great Odysseus is indeed dead, still do not press me to marry again immediately, wait—for I would not have skill in weaving perish unrecorded—till I have completed a shroud for the hero Laertes, to be in readiness against the time when [100] death shall take him. He is very rich, and the women of the district [ dēmos] will talk if he is laid out without a shroud.’

This was what she said, and we assented; whereon we could see her working on her great web all day long, [105] but at night she would undo it again by torchlight. She fooled us in this way for three years and we never found her out, but as time [ hōrā] wore on and she was now in her fourth year, one of her maids who knew what she was doing told us, and we caught her in the act of undoing her work, [110] so she had to finish it whether she would or no. The suitors, therefore, make you this answer, that both you and the Achaeans may understand—‘Send your mother away, and bid her marry the man of her own and of her father’s choice’; [115] for I do not know what will happen if she goes on plaguing us much longer with the airs she gives herself on the score of the accomplishments Athena has taught her, and because she knows so many kinds of kerdos. We never yet heard of such a woman; we know all about [120] Tyro, Alkmene, Mycenae, wearer of garlands, and the famous women of old. 121 Of all these women, not one knew thoughts equal to [ homoia] the thoughts 122 knew, but they were nothing to your mother, any one of them. It was not fair of her to treat us in that way, and as long as she continues in the mind [ noos] with which the gods have now endowed her, so long shall we go on eating up your estate; [125] and I do not see why she should change, for she gets all the honor and glory [ kleos], and it is you who pay for it, not she. Understand, then, that we will not go back to our lands, neither here nor elsewhere, till she has made her choice and married some one or other of us.”

129 The spirited Telemachus answered, [130] “Antinoos, how can I drive the mother who bore me from my father’s house? My father is abroad and we do not know whether he is alive or dead. It will be hard on me if I have to pay Ikarios the large sum which I must give him if I insist on sending his daughter back to him. Not only will he deal rigorously with me, but some superhuman force [ daimōn] will also [135] punish me; for my mother when she leaves the house will call on the Furies [ Erinyes] to avenge her; besides, it would not be a creditable thing to do [= “it will result in nemesis for me among men”], and I will have nothing to say to it. If you choose to take offence at this, leave the house and feast elsewhere [140] at one another’s houses at your own cost turn and turn about. If, on the other hand, you elect to persist in sponging upon one man, may the gods help me, but Zeus shall reckon with you in full, [145] and when you fall in my father’s house there shall be no man to avenge you.”

As he spoke Zeus sent two eagles from the top of the mountain, and they flew on and on with the wind, sailing side-by-side in their own lordly flight. [150] When they were right over the middle of the assembly they wheeled and circled about, beating the air with their wings and glaring death into the eyes of them that were below; then, fighting fiercely and tearing at one another, they flew off towards the right over the town. [155] The people wondered as they saw them, and asked each other what all this might be; whereon the aged warrior Halitherses, who was the best prophet and reader of omens among them, [160] spoke to them plainly and in all honesty, saying:

“Hear me, men of Ithaca, and I speak more particularly to the suitors, for I see mischief brewing for them. Odysseus is not going to be away much longer; indeed [165] he is close at hand to deal out death and destruction, not on them alone, but on many another of us who live in Ithaca. Let us then be wise in time, and put a stop to this wickedness before he comes. Let the suitors do so of their own accord; it will be better for them, [170] for I am not prophesying without due knowledge; everything has happened to resourceful Odysseus as I foretold when the Argives set out for Troy, and he with them. I said that after going through much hardship and losing all his men [175] he should come home again in the twentieth year and that no one would know him; and now all this is coming true.”

177 Eurymakhos, son of Polybos, then said, “Go home, old man, and prophesy to your own children, or it may be worse for them. I can read these omens myself [180] much better than you can; birds are always flying about in the sunshine somewhere or other, but they seldom mean anything. Odysseus has died in a far country, and it is a pity you are not dead along with him, instead of prating here about omens [185] and adding fuel to the anger of Telemachus which is fierce enough as it is. I suppose you think he will give you something for your family, but I tell you—and it shall surely be—when an old man like you, who should know better, talks a young one over till he becomes troublesome, [190] in the first place his young friend will only fare so much the worse—he will take nothing by it, for the suitors will prevent this—and in the next, we will lay a heavier fine, sir, upon yourself than you will at all like paying, for it will bear hardly upon you. As for Telemachus, I warn him in the presence of you all [195] to send his mother back to her father, who will find her a husband and provide her with all the marriage gifts so dear a daughter may expect. Till then we shall go on harassing him with our suit; for we fear no man, [200] and care neither for him, with all his fine speeches, nor for any fortune-telling of yours. You may preach as much as you please, but we shall only hate you the more. We shall go back and continue to eat up Telemachus’ estate without paying him, till such time as his mother leaves off tormenting us [205] by keeping us day after day on the tiptoe of expectation, each vying with the other in his suit for a prize of such rare perfection [ aretē]. Besides we cannot go after the other women whom we should marry in due course, but for the way in which she treats us.”

Then the spirited Telemachus said, “Eurymakhos, and you other haughty suitors, [210] I shall say no more, and entreat you no further, for the gods and the people of Ithaca now know my story. Give me, then, a ship and a crew of twenty men to take me here and there, and I will go to Sparta and to Pylos [215] to inquire about the nostos of my father who has so long been missing. Some one may tell me something, or (and people often hear kleos in this way) some message sent from the gods may direct me. If I can hear of him as alive and achieving his homecoming [ nostos] I will put up with the waste you suitors will make for yet another [220] twelve months. If on the other hand I hear of his death, I will return at once, celebrate his funeral rites with all due pomp, build a grave marker [ sēma] to his memory, and make my mother marry again.”

224 With these words he sat down, [225] and Mentor who had been a friend of stately Odysseus, and had been left in charge of everything with full authority over the servants, rose to speak. He, then, plainly and in all honesty addressed them thus:

“Hear me, men of Ithaca, [230] I hope that you may never have a kind and well-disposed ruler any more, nor one who will govern you equitably; I hope that all your chiefs henceforward may be cruel and unjust, for there is not one of you but has forgotten godlike Odysseus, who ruled you as though he were your father. [235] I am not half so angry with the suitors, for if they choose to do violence in the naughtiness of their minds [ noos], and wager their heads that Odysseus will not return, they can take the high hand and eat up his estate, but as for you others I am shocked at the way [240] in which you the rest of the population [ dēmos] all sit still without even trying to stop such scandalous goings on—which you could do if you chose, for you are many and they are few.”

Leiokritos, son of Euenor, answered him saying, “Mentor, what folly is all this, that you should set the people to stay us? It is a hard thing [245] for one man to fight with many about his victuals. Even though Odysseus himself were to set upon us while we are feasting in his house, and do his best to oust us, his wife, who wants him back so very badly, would have small cause for rejoicing, [250] and his blood would be upon his own head if he fought against such great odds. There is no sense in what you have been saying. Now, therefore, do you people go about your business, and let his father’s old friends, Mentor and Halitherses, speed this boy on his journey, if he goes at all— [255] which I do not think he will, for he is more likely to stay where he is till some one comes and tells him something.”

Then he broke up the assembly, and every man went back to his own abode, while the suitors returned to the house of godlike Odysseus.

[260] Then Telemachus went all alone by the sea side, washed his hands in the gray waves, and prayed to Athena. “Hear me,” he cried, “you god who visited me yesterday, and bade me sail the seas in search of the nostos of my father [265] who has so long been missing. I would obey you, but the Achaeans, and more particularly the wicked suitors, are hindering me that I cannot do so.”

267 As he thus prayed, Athena came close up to him in the likeness and with the voice of Mentor. [270] “Telemachus, you will not be weak or resourceless in the future 271 if truly the goodly power [ menos] of your father has been instilled in you, for Odysseus never broke his word nor left his work half done. If, then, you take after him, your voyage will not be fruitless, but unless you have the blood of Odysseus and of Penelope in your veins [275] I see no likelihood of your succeeding. Sons are seldom as good men as their fathers; they are generally worse, not better; still, as you are not going to be either fool or coward henceforward, and are not entirely without some share of your father’s wise discernment, [280] I look with hope upon your undertaking. But mind you never have thoughts [ noos] like those of any of those foolish suitors, for they are neither sensible nor just [ dikaioi], and give no thought to death and to the doom that will shortly fall on one and all of them, so that they shall perish on the same day. [285] As for your voyage, it shall not be long delayed; your father was such an old friend of mine that I will find you a ship, and will come with you myself. Now, however, return home, and go about among the suitors; begin getting provisions ready for your voyage; see everything well stowed, [290] the wine in jars, and the barley meal, which is the staff of life, in leather bags, while I go round the district [ dēmos] and round up volunteers at once. There are many ships in Ithaca both old and new; I will run my eye over them for you and will choose the best; [295] we will get her ready and will put out to sea without delay.”

Thus spoke Athena, daughter of Zeus, and Telemachus lost no time in doing as the goddess told him. He went moodily and found the suitors [300] flaying goats and singeing pigs in the outer court. Antinoos came up to him at once and laughed as he took his hand in his own, saying, “Telemachus, my fine fire-eater, bear no more ill blood neither in word [305] nor deed, but eat and drink with us as you used to do. The Achaeans will find you in everything—a ship and a picked crew to boot—so that you can set sail for sacred Pylos at once and get news of your noble father.”

309 “Antinoos,” answered the spirited Telemachus, [310] “I cannot eat in peace, nor take pleasure of any kind with such men as you are. Was it not enough that you should waste so much good property of mine while I was yet a boy? Now that I am older and [315] know more about it, I am also stronger, and whether here among this people [ dēmos], or by going to Pylos, I will do you all the harm I can. I shall go, and my going will not be in vain though, thanks to you suitors, I have neither ship nor crew of my own, and must be passenger not captain.”

[320] As he spoke he snatched his hand from that of Antinoos. Meanwhile the others went on getting dinner ready about the buildings, jeering at him tauntingly as they did so.

[325] “Telemachus,” said one youngster, “means to be the death of us; I suppose he thinks he can bring friends to help him from Pylos, or again from Sparta, where he seems bent on going. Or will he go to Ephyra as well, for poison [330] to put in our wine and kill us?”

Another said, “Perhaps if Telemachus goes on board ship, he will be like his father and perish far from his friends. In this case we should have plenty to do, [335] for we could then divide up his property amongst us: as for the house we can let his mother and the man who marries her have that.”

This was how they talked. But Telemachus went down into the lofty and spacious store-room where his father’s treasure of gold and bronze lay heaped up upon the floor, and where the linen and spare clothes were kept in open chests. Here, too, there was a store of fragrant olive oil, [340] while casks of old, well-ripened wine, unblended and fit for a god to drink, were ranged against the wall in case Odysseus should come home again after all. The room was closed with well-made doors [345] opening in the middle; moreover the faithful old house-keeper Eurykleia, daughter of Ops, the son of Peisenor, was in charge of everything both night and day. Telemachus called her to the store-room and said: “Nurse, draw me off some [350] of the best wine you have, after what you are keeping for my father’s own drinking, in case, poor man, he should escape death, and find his way home again after all. Let me have twelve jars, and see that they all have lids; also fill me some well-sewn leather bags with barley meal [355] —about twenty measures in all. Get these things put together at once, and say nothing about it. I will take everything away this evening as soon as my mother has gone upstairs for the night. I am going to Sparta and to Pylos, and [360] I am going to find out about the nostos of my father, if I should hear.”

361 When dear Eurykleia heard this she began to cry, and spoke fondly to him, saying, “My dear child, what ever can have put such notion as that into your head? Where in the world do you want to go to— [365] you, who are the one hope of the house? Your poor illustrious father is dead and gone in some foreign locale [ dēmos] nobody knows where, and as soon as your back is turned these wicked ones here will be scheming to get you put out of the way, and will share all your possessions among themselves; stay where you are among your own people, [370] and do not go wandering and worrying your life out on the barren ocean.”

“Fear not, nurse,” answered the spirited Telemachus, “my scheme is not without the sanction of the gods; but swear that you will say nothing about all this to my mother, till I have been away some ten or twelve days, [375] unless she hears of my having gone, and asks you; for I do not want her to spoil her beauty by crying.”

The old woman swore most solemnly that she would not, and when she had completed her oath, she began drawing off the wine into jars, [380] and getting the barley meal into the bags, while Telemachus went back to the suitors.

Then owl-vision Athena turned her thoughts to another matter. She took his shape, and went round the town to each one of the crew, telling them [385] to meet at the ship by sundown. She went also to Noemon, glorious son of Phronios, and asked him to let her have a ship—which he was very ready to do. 388 When the sun had set and darkness was over all the land, she got the ship into the water, put [390] all the tackle on board her that ships generally carry, and stationed her at the end of the harbor. Presently the crew came up, and the owl-vision goddess spoke encouragingly to each of them.

Furthermore she went to the house of godlike Odysseus, [395] and threw the suitors into a deep slumber. She caused their drink to fuddle them, and made them drop their cups from their hands, so that instead of sitting over their wine, they went back into the town to sleep, with their eyes heavy and full of drowsiness. [400] Then she took the form and voice of Mentor, and called Telemachus to come outside.

“Telemachus,” said she, “the strong-greaved men are on board and at their oars, waiting for you to give your orders, so make haste and let us be off.” [405] Then she led the way, while Telemachus followed in her steps. When they got to the ship they found the crew waiting by the water side, and the hallowed prince, Telemachus said, [410] “Now my men, help me to get the stores on board; they are all put together in the hall, and my mother does not know anything about it, nor any of the maid servants except one.”

With these words he led the way and the others followed after. [415] When they had brought the things as he told them, dear son of Odysseus, Telemachus went on board, Athena going before him and taking her seat in the stern of the vessel, while Telemachus sat beside her. Then the men loosed the hawsers and took their places on the benches. [420] Owl-vision Athena sent them a fair wind from the West, that whistled over the deep blue waves whereon Telemachus told them to catch hold of the ropes and hoist sail, and they did as he told them. They set the mast in its socket in the cross plank, raised it, [425] and made it fast with the forestays; then they hoisted their white sails aloft with ropes of twisted ox-hide. As the sail bellied out with the wind, the ship flew through the deep blue water, and the foam hissed against her bows as she sped onward. [430] Then they made all fast throughout the ship, filled the mixing-bowls to the brim, and made drink offerings to the immortal gods that are from everlasting, but more particularly to the owl-vision daughter of Zeus.

Thus, then, the ship sped on her way through the watches of the night from dark till dawn.

English (William Cullen Bryant, 1873) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (William Cullen Bryant, 1873)) — 2 focus

BOOK II.

NOW when the Morning, child of Dawn, appeared,

The dear son of Ulysses left his bed

And put his garments on. His trenchant sword

He hung upon his shoulders, and made fast

His shapely sandals to his shining feet,

And issued from his chamber like a god.

At once he bade the clear-voiced heralds call

The long-haired Greeks to council. They obeyed;

Quickly the chiefs assembled, and when all

Were at the appointed place, Telemachus

Went to the council, bearing in his hand

A brazen spear, yet went he not alone.

Two swift dogs followed him, while Pallas shed

A heavenly beauty over him, and all

Admired him as he came. He took the seat

Of his great father, and the aged men

Made way for him. And then Ægyptius spake, -

A hero bowed with age, who much had seen

And known. His son, the warlike Antiphus,

Went with the great Ulysses in his fleet

To courser-breeding Troy, and afterward

The cruel Cyclops, in the vaulted cave,

Slew him for his last meal. Three other sons

There were, and one of these, Eurynomus,

Was of the suitor train; the others took

Charge of their father's acres. Never yet

Had he forgotten his lost son or ceased

To grieve for him, and as he spoke he wept.

"Hear, men of Ithaca, what I shall say.

No council, no assembly, have we held

Since great Ulysses in his roomy ships

Departed from our isle. Who now is he

That summons us? On which of our young men

Or elders presses this necessity?

Is it belike that one of you has heard

Of an approaching foe, and can declare

The tidings clearly? Or would he propose

And urge some other matter which concerns

The public weal? A just and generous mind

I deem is his, and 't is my hope that Jove

Will bring to pass the good at which he aims."

As thus he spake Ulysses' son rejoiced

In his auspicious words, nor longer kept

His seat, but, yielding to an inward force,

Rose midst them all to speak, while in his hand

Pisenor, the sagacious counsellor

And herald, placed the sceptre.

Then he turned

To the old man, Ægyptius, speaking thus:

"O aged man, not far from thee is he

Who called this council, as thou soon shalt know.

Mine chiefly is the trouble; I have brought

No news of an approaching foe, which I

Was first to hear, and would declare to all,

Nor urge I other matters which concern

The public weal; my own necessity

The evil that has fallen on my house -

Constrains me; it is twofold. First, that I

Have lost an excellent father, who was king

Among you, and ruled o'er you with a sway

As gentle as a father's. Greater yet

Is the next evil, and will soon o'erthrow

My house and waste my substance utterly.

Suitors, the sons of those who, in our isle,

Hold the chief rank, importunately press

Round my unwilling mother. They disdain

To ask her of Icarius, that the king

Her father may endow her, and bestow

His daughter on the man who best may gain

His favor, but with every day they come

Into our palace, sacrificing here

Oxen and sheep and fatling goats, and hold

High festival, and drink the purple wine

Unstinted, with unbounded waste; for here

Is no man like Ulysses to repel

The mischief from my house. Not such are we

As he was, to resist the wrong. We pass

For weaklings, immature in valor, yet

If I had but the power, assuredly

I would resist, for by these men are done

Insufferable things, nor does my house

Perish with honor. Ye yourselves should feel

Shame at these doings; ye should dread reproach

From those who dwell around us, and should fear

The offended gods, lest they repay these crimes

With vengeance. I beseech you, O my friends,

Both by Olympian Jove, and her by whom

Councils of men are summoned and dissolved, -

The goddess Themis, that ye all refrain,

And leave me to my grief alone, unless

Ulysses, my great father, may have done

Wrong in his anger to the gallant Greeks,

Which ye, by prompting men to acts like these,

Seek to avenge on me. Far better 't were,

Should ye yourselves destroy our goods and slay

Our herds, since, were it so, there might in time

Be some requital. We, from street to street,

Would plead continually for recompense,

Till all should be restored. But now ye heap

Upon me wrongs for which is no redress."

Thus angrily he spake, and dashed to earth

100

The sceptre, shedding tears. The people felt

Compassion; all were silent for a space,

And there was none who dared with railing words

Answer Telemachus, save one alone,

Antinoüs, who arose and thus replied: -

105

"Telemachus, thou youth of braggart speech

And boundless in abuse, what hast thou said

To our dishonor? Thou wouldst fix on us

A brand of shame. The blame is not with us,

The Achaian suitors; 't is thy mother's fault,

110

Skilled as she is in crafty shifts. 'Tis now

Already the third year, and soon will be

The fourth, since she began to cozen us.

She gives us all to hope, and sends fair words

To each by message, yet in her own mind

115

Has other purposes. This shrewd device

She planned; she laid upon the loom a web,

Delicate, wide, and vast in length, and said

Thus to us all: 'Young princes, who are come

To woo me, since Ulysses is no more,

120

My noble husband, - urge me not, I pray,

To marriage, till I finish in the loom -

That so my threads may not be spun in vain

A funeral vesture for the hero-chief

Laertes, when his fatal hour shall come

125

With death's long sleep. Else some Achaian dame

Might blame me, should I leave without a shroud

Him who in life possessed such ample wealth!'

Such were her words, and easily they wrought

Upon our generous minds. So went she on,

130

Weaving that ample web, and every night

Unravelled it by torchlight. Three full years

She practised thus, and by the fraud deceived

The Grecian youths; but when the hours had brought

The fourth year round, a woman who knew all

135

Revealed the mystery, and we ourselves

Saw her unravelling the ample web.

Thenceforth, constrained, and with unwilling hands,

She finished it. Now let the suitors make

Their answer to thy words, that thou mayst know

140

Our purpose fully, and the Achaians all

May know it likewise. Send thy mother hence,

Requiring that she wed the suitor whom

Her father chooses and herself prefers.

But if she still go on to treat the sons

145

Of Greece with such despite, too confident

In gifts which Pallas has bestowed on her

So richly, noble arts, and faculties

Of mind, and crafty shifts, beyond all those

Of whom we ever heard that lived of yore,

150

The bright-haired ladies of the Achaian race,

Tyro, Alcmena, and Mycenè, famed

For glossy tresses, none of them endowed

As is Penelope, though this last shift

Be ill devised, - so long will we consume

155

Thy substance and estate as she shall hold

Her present mood, the purpose which the gods

Have planted in her breast. She to herself

Gains great renown, but surely brings on thee

Loss of much goods. And now we go not hence

160

To our affairs nor elsewhere, till she wed

Whichever of the Greeks may please her most."

129

And then rejoined discreet Telemachus : -

"Antinoüs, grievous wrong it were to send

Unwilling from this palace her who bore

165

And nursed me. Whether he be living yet

Or dead, my father is in distant lands;

And should I, of my own accord and will,

Dismiss my mother, I must make perforce

Icarius large amends, and that were hard.

170

And he would do me mischief, and the gods

Would send yet other evils on my head.

For then my mother, going forth, would call

On the grim Furies, and the general curse

Of all men would be on me. Think not I

175

Will ever speak that word. But if ye bear

A sense of injury for what is past,

Go from these halls; provide for other feasts,

Consuming what is yours, and visiting

Each other's homes in turn. But if it seem

180

To you the wiser and the better way

To plunder one man's goods, go on to waste

My substance. I shall call the eternal gods

To aid me, and, if Jupiter allow

Fit retribution for your crimes, ye die

185

Within this very palace unavenged."

So spake Telemachus. The Thunderer, Jove,

Sent flying from a lofty mountain-top

Two eagles. First they floated on the wind

Close to each other, and with wings outspread;

190

But as they came to where the murmuring crowd

Was gathered just beneath their flight, they turned

And clapped their heavy pinions, looking down

With deadly omen on the heads below,

And with their talons tore each other's cheeks

195

And necks, and then they darted to the right

Away through Ithaca among its roofs.

All who beheld the eagles were amazed,

And wondered what event was near at hand.

Among the rest an aged hero spake,

200

Named Halitherses, Mastor's son. He knew,

More truly than the others of his age,

To augur from the flight of birds, and read

The will of fate, and wisely thus he spake :-

"Hear, men of Ithaca, what I shall say.

205

I speak of what most narrowly concerns

The suitors, over whom already hangs

Great peril, for Ulysses will not be

Long at a distance from his home and friends.

Even now he is not far, and meditates

210

Slaughter and death to all the suitor train;

And evil will ensue to many more

Of us, who dwell in sunny Ithaca.

Now let us think what measures may restrain

These men, - or let them of their own accord

215

Desist, - the soonest were for them the best.

For not as one untaught do I foretell

Events to come, but speak of what I know.

All things that I predicted to our chief,

What time the Argive troops embarked for Troy,

220

And sage Ulysses with them, are fulfilled;

I said that after many hardships borne,

And all his comrades lost, the twentieth year

Would bring him back, a stranger to us all,

And all that then I spake of comes to pass.”

225

177

Eurymachus, the son of Polybus,

Answered the seer: "Go to thy house, old man,

And to thy boys, and prophesy to them,

Lest evil come upon them. I can act,

In matters such as these, a prophet's part

230

Better than thou. True, there are many birds

That fly about in sunshine, but not all

Are ominous. Ulysses far away

Has perished; well it would have been if thou

Hadst perished with him; then thou wouldst not prate

235

Idly of things to come, nor wouidst thou stir

Telemachus to anger, in the hope

Of bearing to thy house some gift from him.

Now let me say, and be assured my words

Will be fulfilled: experienced as thou art,

240

If thou by treacherous speeches shalt inflame

A younger man than thou to violent deeds,

The sharper punishment shall first be his,

But we will lay on thee a penalty,

Old man, which thou shalt find it hard to bear,

245

And bitterly wilt thou repent. And now

Let me persuade Telemachus to send

His mother to her father. They will make

A marriage for her there, and give with her

A liberal dowry, such as may become

250

A favorite daughter on her wedding-day,

Else never will the sons of Greece renounce,

I think, the difficult suit. We do not fear

Telemachus himself, though glib of speech,

Nor care we for the empty oracle

255

Which thou, old man, dost utter, making thee

Only more hated. Still will his estate

Be wasted, nor will order e'er return

While she defers her marriage with some prince

Of the Achaians. We shall urge our suit

260

For that most excellent of womankind

As rivals, nor withdraw to seek the hand

Of others, whom we fitly might espouse."

To this discreet Telemachus replied: -

"Eurymachus, and ye, the illustrious train

265

Of suitors, I have nothing more to ask,

No more to say, - - for now the gods and all

The Achaians know the truth. But let me have

A gallant bark, and twenty men to make

From coast to coast a voyage, visiting

270

Sparta and sandy Pylos, to inquire

For my long-absent father, and the chance

Of his return, if any of mankind

Can tell me aught, or if some rumor come

From Jove, since thus are tidings often brought

275

To human knowledge. Should I learn that yet

He lives and may return, I then would wait

A twelvemonth, though impatient. Should I hear

That he no longer lives, I shall return

Homeward, and pile his monument on high

280

With funeral honors that become the dead,

And give my mother to a second spouse."

224

He spake and took his seat, and then arose

Mentor, once comrade of the excellent chief

Ulysses, who, departing with his fleet,

285

Consigned his household to the aged man,

That they should all obey him, and that he

Should safely keep his charge. He rose amid

The assembly, and addressed them wisely thus:-

"Hear and attend, ye men of Ithaca,

290

To what I say. Let never sceptred king

Henceforth be gracious, mild, and merciful,

And righteous; rather be he deaf to prayer

And prone to deeds of wrong, since no one now

Remembers the divine Ulysses more,

295

Among the people over whom he ruled

Benignly like a father. Yet I bear

No envy to the haughty suitors here,

Moved as they are to deeds of violence

By evil counsels, since, in pillaging

300

The substance of Ulysses, who they say

Will nevermore return, they risk their lives.

But I am angry with the rest, with all

Of you who sit here mute, nor even with words

Of stern reproof restrain their violence,

305

Though ye so many are and they so few."

Leiocritus, Evenor's son, rejoined :

"Malicious Mentor, foolish man! what talk

Is this of holding us in check? 'T were hard

For numbers even greater than our own

310

To drive us from a feast. And should the prince

Of Ithaca, Ulysses, come himself,

Thinking to thrust the illustrious suitors forth

That banquet in these palace halls, his queen

Would have no cause for joy at his return,

315

Greatly as she desired it. He would draw

Sure death upon himself in strife with us

Who are so many. Thou hast spoken ill.

Now let the people who are gathered here

Disperse to their employments. We will leave

320

Mentor and Halitherses, who were both

His father's early comrades, to provide

For the youth's voyage. He will yet remain

A long time here, Ithink, to ask for news

In Ithaca, and never will set sail."

325

Thus having said, he instantly dismissed

The people; they departed to their homes;

The suitors sought the palace of the prince.

Then to the ocean-side, apart from all,

Went forth Telemachus, and washed his hands

330

In the gray surf, and prayed to Pallas thus : —

"Hear me, thou deity who yesterday,

In visiting our palace, didst command

That I should traverse the black deep to learn

News of my absent father, and the chance

335

Of his return! The Greeks themselves withstand,

My purpose; the proud suitors most of all."

267

Such was his prayer, and straightway Pallas stood,

In form and voice like Mentor, by his side,

And thus accosted him with winged words :

340

"Telemachus, thou henceforth shalt not lack

Valor or wisdom. If with thee abides

Thy father's gallant spirit, as he was

In deed and word, thou wilt not vainly make

This voyage. But if thou be not in truth

345

The son of him and of Penelope,

Then I rely not on thee to perform

What thou dost meditate. Few sons are like

Their fathers: most are worse, a very few

Excel their parents. Since thou wilt not lack

350

Valor and wisdom in the coming time,

Nor is thy father's shrewdness wanting quite

In thee, great hope there is that happily

This plan will be fulfilled. Regard not then

The suitor train, their purposes and plots.

355

Senseless are they, as little wise as just,

And have no thought of the black doom of death

Now drawing near to sweep them in a day

To their destruction. But thy enterprise

Must suffer no delay. So much am I

360

Thy father's friend and thine, that I will cause

A swift bark to be fitted out for sea,

And will myself attend thee. Go now hence

Among the suitors, and make ready there

The needful stores, and let them all be put

365

In vessels, - wine in jars, and meal, the strength

Of man, in close thick skins, - while I engage,

Among the people here, a willing crew.

Ships are there in our sea-girt Ithaca

Full many, new and old, and I will choose

370

The best of these, and see it well equipped.

Then will we drag it down to the broad sea."

Thus Pallas spake, the child of Jupiter.

Telemachus obeyed the heavenly voice,

And stayed not; home he hastened, where he saw

375

Sadly the arrogant suitors in the hall,

Busily flaying goats and roasting swine.

Antinoüs, laughing, came to meet the youth,

And fastened on his hand, and thus he spake :

"Telemachus, thou youth of lofty speech

380

And boundless in abuse, let neither word

Nor deed that may displease thee vex thy heart,

But gayly eat and drink as thou wert wont.

The Achaians generously will provide

Whatever thou requirest, ship and men, -

385

All chosen rowers, that thou mayst arrive

Sooner at sacred Pylos, there to learn

Tidings of thy illustrious father's fate."

309

Then spake discreet Telemachus in turn :

"Antinoüs, never could I sit with you,

390

Arrogant ones! in silence nor enjoy

The feast in quiet. Is it not enough,

O suitors, that while I was yet a child

Ye wasted on your revelries my large

And rich possessions? Now that I am grown,

395

And, when I hear the words of other men,

Discern their meaning, now that every day

Strengthens my spirit, I will make the attempt

To bring the evil fates upon your heads,

Whether I go to Pylos or remain

400

Among this people. I shall surely make

This voyage, and it will not be in vain.

Although I go a passenger on board

Another's ship, since neither ship have I

Nor rowers, - ye have judged that so were best."

405

He spake, and quickly from the suitor's hand

Withdrew his own. The others who prepared

Their banquet in the palace scoffed at him,

And flung at him their bitter taunts, and one

Among the insolent youths reviled him thus:

410

"Telemachus is certainly resolved

To butcher us. He goes to bring allies

From sandy Pylos or the Spartan coast,

He is so bent on slaughter. Or perhaps

He visits the rich land of Ephyrè

415

In search of deadly poisons to be thrown

Into a cup and end us all at once."

Then said another of the haughty youths : -

" Who knows but, wandering in his hollow bark,

He too may perish, far from all his friends,

420

Just as Ulysses perished? This would bring

Increase of labor; it would cast on us

The trouble to divide his goods, and give

His palace to his mother, and to him

Who takes the woman as his wedded wife."

425

So spake they, but Telemachus went down

To that high-vaulted room, his father's, where

Lay heaps of gold and brass, and garments store

In chests, and fragrant oils. And there stood casks

Of delicate old wine and pure, a drink

430

For gods, in rows against the wall, to wait

If ever, after many hardships borne,

Ulysses should return. Upon that room

Close-fitting double doors were shut, and there

Was one who night and day kept diligent watch,

435

A woman, Eurycleia, child of Ops,

Peisenor's son. Telemachus went in

And called her to him, and bespake her thus : -

"Nurse, let sweet wine be drawn into my jars,

The finest next to that which thou dost keep

440

Expecting our unhappy lord, if yet

The nobly born Ulysses shall escape

The doom of death and come to us again.

Fill twelve, and fit the covers close, and pour

Meal into well-sewn skins, and let the tale

445

Be twenty measures of the flour of wheat.

This none but thou must know. Let all these things

Be brought together; then, as night shuts in,

When to her upper chamber, seeking rest,

My mother shall withdraw, I come and take

450

What thou providest for me. I am bound

For Sparta and for Pylos in the sands,

To gather news concerning the return

Of my dear father, if I haply may."

361

So spake the youth, and his beloved nurse

455

Sobbed, wept aloud, and spake these winged words:

"Why should there come, dear child, a thought like this

Into thy heart. Why wouldst thou wander forth

To distant regions, - thou an only son

And dearly loved? Ulysses, nobly born,

460

Has perished, from his native land afar,

'Mid a strange race. These men, when thou art gone,

At once will lay their plots to take thy life,

And share thy wealth among them. Stay thou here

Among thy people; need is none that thou

465

Shouldst suffer, roaming o'er the barren deep."

Then spake discreet Telemachus again : -

"Be of good cheer, O nurse, for my design

Is not without the sanction of a god;

But swear thou not to let my mother know

470

Of my intent until the eleventh day

Or twelfth shall pass, or till, in missing me,

She learn of my departure, lest she weep

And stain with tears the beauty of her face."

He spake; the ancient woman solemnly

475

Swore by the gods, and when the rite was o'er

Drew wine into the jars, and poured the meal

Into the well-sewn skins. Telemachus

Entered the hall and joined the suitor train.

Then did the blue-eyed goddess turn her thoughts

480

To other plans, and taking on herself

The semblance of Telemachus, she ranged

The city, speaking to each man in turn,

And bidding him at nightfall to repair

To where the good ship lay. That gallant ship

485

She begged of the renowned Noëmon, son

Of Phronius, who with cheerful grace complied.

388

The sun went down, the city streets lay all

In shadow. Then she drew the good ship down

Into the sea, and brought and put on board

490

The appointments every well-built galley needs,

And moored her at the bottom of the port,

Where, in a throng, obedient to the word

Of Pallas, round her came her gallant crew.

With yet a new device the blue-eyed maid

495

Went to the palace of the godlike chief

Ulysses, where she poured a gentle sleep

Over the suitors. As they drank she made

Their senses wander, and their hands let fall

The goblets. Now no longer at the board

500

They sat, but sallied forth, and through the town

Went to their slumbers, for the power of sleep

Had fallen heavily upon their lids.

Then blue-eyed Pallas from those sumptuous halls

Summoned Telemachus. She took the form

505

And voice of Mentor, and bespake him thus:-

"Telemachus, already at their oars

Sit thy well-armed companions and await

Thy coming; let us go without delay."

Thus having spoken, Pallas led the way

510

With rapid footsteps which he followed fast;

Till having reached the galley and the sea

They found their long-haired comrades at the beach,

And thus the gallant prince Telemachus

Bespake them : "Hither, comrades, let us bring

515

The sea-stores from the dwelling where they lie;

My mother knows not of it, nor her maids;

The secret has been told to one alone."

He spake, and went before them. In his steps

They followed. To the gallant bark they brought

520

The stores, and, as the well-beloved son

Of King Ulysses bade, they laid them down

Within the hull. Telemachus went up

The vessel's side, but Pallas first embarked,

And at the stern sat down, while next to her

525

Telemachus was seated. Then the crew

Cast loose the fastenings and went all on board,

And took their places on the rowers' seats,

While blue-eyed Pallas sent a favoring breeze,

A fresh wind from the west, that murmuring swept

530

The dark-blue main. Telemachus gave forth

The word to wield the tackle; they obeyed,

And raised the fir-tree mast, and, fitting it

Into its socket, bound it fast with cords,

And drew and spread with firmly twisted ropes

535

The shining sails on high. The steady wind

Swelled out the canvas in the midst; the ship

Moved on, the dark sea roaring round her keel,

As swiftly through the waves she cleft her way.

And when the rigging of that swift black ship

540

Was firmly in its place, they filled their cups

With wine, and to the ever-living gods

Poured out libations, most of all to one,

Jove's blue-eyed daughter. Thus through all that night

And all the ensuing morn they held their way.

545

English (Thomas Hobbes, 1667, ed. Molesworth 1843) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Thomas Hobbes, 1667, ed. Molesworth 1843)) — 2 focus

ODYSSEY.

LIB. II.

Telemachus complains in vain, and borrowing a ship goes secretly to Pyle by night and how he was there received.

SOON as the rosy morning did appear,

Telemachus himself array'd and shod,

Puts on his sword, and takes in hand his spear

And out he went appearing like a God.

And straight unto the criers gave command,

To call the people to the public place.

The people met. And then with spear in hand

He to them takes his way; and followed was

By two white dogs. Then takes his father's throne ;

His elders gave him way; all on him gaze.

For why; the Goddess Pallas of her own

Had set authority upon his face.

The first that spake was old AEgyptius,

Stooping with age, of great experience:

One son of his, whose name was Antiphus,

Went to the siege of Troy, but coming thence

He died in the savage Cyclops' jaws,

When with Ulysses he was in his den:

Euronymus one of the suitors was,

The others with their father dwelled then.

But still he grieved was for Antiphus.

The tears ran down his cheeks, and weeping he

Rose up and said unto th' assembly thus:

Ye men of Ithaca, I pray hear me;

Since we to Troy Ulysses sent with ships,

We ne'er convoked were to Parliament,

What need have young or old men of our lips ?

And who is he that now doth us convent ?

Has he informed been of some invasion,

And unto us the same would first report ?

Or on some other public great occasion

Would give us counsel ? The Gods bless him for't.

Telemachus then presently upstands,

Though well contented with his father's praise.

The crier puts the sceptre in his hands.

And to Ægyptius first he speaks, and says,

Here am I, that the people have convok'd.

Nor do I any news or counsel bring,

But by my private sufferings am provok'd;

Which here I offer t' your considering.

Is it not grief enough, my father's loss,

That ruled like a father to us all,

But that I must yet bear a greater cross,

To see his house to utter ruin fall ?

My mother's house the suitors daily fill,

And of the best of you they children are.

She wedded must be with her father's will,

But to her father go they do not dare.

But in my house continually they stay,

And sacrifice my beeves, and goats, and sheep,

My wine exhaust, and much they cast away.

For why, Ulysses lost is on the deep,

And I myself unable to defend.

But shall I so be still, or once be able

To bring upon these men unjust their end,

Whose injuries no more are tolerable ?

Take it to heart. Think how 'twill taken be

By other states. Fear from the Gods some change,

That are not pleased with such iniquity,

And may in closer order make you range.

By Jove I you adjure, and Themis, who

Convokes assemblies, and revokes again,

Forbear these evil deeds yourselves to do,

And of your sons the liberty restrain.

Leave me to suffer misery alone.

Hurt none but me. Unless my father have

In hatred of you some great evil done,

And for revenge these men such power you gave.

But better 'twere for me, that you than they

Should spend my treasure and my comings in.

For if among so many men it lay,

Begging I might from them the value win.

But for my case no help can now be found.

said Telemachus in choler high,

And from him threw the sceptre to the ground.

Nor could forbear to let fall tears and sigh.

The people pitied him, but silent sat;

None but Antinous durst answer make.

Telemachus, said he, too passionate

You are, and too much liberty you take.

The people's hatred you would very fain

Draw to the suitors, and procure them shame.

But from your mother cometh all your pain;

And therefore her, not us, you ought to blame.

Three years are gone and past, the fourth is this,

Since she her suitors baffled has with art,

Putting each one in hopes by messages,

And promises that he had gain'd her heart.

Moreover, setting up a beam to weave,

Suitors, said she, since dead Ulysses is,

Stay yet a little while, and give me leave

To make an end but of one business.

I must for old Laertes make a cloth,

Which in his sepulchre he is to wear.

T' offend the wives of Greece I should be loth;

For to accuse me they will not forbear,

But say I very hasty was to wed,

If I go hence and not provide a shroud

Wherein Laertes may be buried

Out of such wealth, that might have been allow'd.

100

Her suitors all were well content. And then

All day she wove, but ere she went to bed,

What she had wov'n, she ravell'd out again.

Three years her suitors thus she frustrated,

In the fourth year her woman her betrayed,

105

And in we came, whilst she the web undid,

And then to end it she could not avoid,

Since now her purpose could no more be hid.

To your complaint the suitors answer thus ;

Take notice of it, you and all the rest:

110

Send back your mother to Icarius,

There let her marry whom they both think best.

But if she think to vex us longer yet,

Caring for nothing but for Pallas' gifts,

To have the reputation for wit,

115

And skilfulness in curious work and shifts,

Wherein th' Achaean wives she doth excel,

Both old and young, Tiro, Alcmen', Micen',

Although with us she hath not dealed well;

But if to use us so she longer mean,

120

So much the longer with you we shall eat,

Which to Penelope will be a glory.

But we consume shall so much of your meat,

If long we stay there, that you will be sorry.

For so long as she dodges with us thus,

125

No whither from your house will we depart.

129

Then to him answered Telemachus:

Antinous, I ne'er shall have the heart

To send my mother hence against her will.

Abroad my father is, alive or dead.

130

That I her father should repay, were ill,

For forcing her to leave her husband's bed.

And from the Furies I shall suffer worse,

For if I force her from my house to go,

Whether she will or not, she will me curse,

135

And men will of me be revenged too.

If it displease you that she stayeth here,

You have your remedy ; you may go home,

And ev'ry one make all the rest good cheer

By turns, and into my house never come.

140

But if you needs will feed on me alone,

I can but to the Gods for vengeance call,

And reparation for what is done,

Which may enough be to destroy you all.

This said, two eagles coming were in sight,

145

And when they were the market-place just o'er,

Th' assembled heads surveying, stopp'd their flight,

And on their broad and levell'd wings they soar;

Then, having torn themselves both neck and cheek,

They to their right wing rise and fly away.

150

What this should mean th' assembly was to seek,

And to them thus did Alitherses say :

Hear me, ye men of Ithaca, said he,

And you, the suitors, that are most concern'd.

Destruction is rolling toward ye,

155

Although it be not by yourselves discerned.

Ulysses from his friends will not be long,

And now from Ithaca far off is not,

Seeing what daily done is in the throng,

And how to kill the suitors lays his plot;

160

Nay, many more besides the suitors may

Of their misfortune chance to have their part.

If they desist not soon, and come away.

I speak not this at random, but on art;

For all must come to pass I told him then,

165

When with the Argive lords he went to Troy:

That after twenty years he should again

Return with pain, his men all cast away.

177

Then said Eurymachus, Old man, go home,

And there to your own children prophecy,

170

Lest to them any harm hereafter come;

A better prophet for these things am L

Under the sun be many birds that fly,

And yet not all of them do fortunes tell;

Ulysses, far hence, dead is certainly,

175

I know not where. I would thou wert as well.

For then you would give over to inflame

Telemachus, who but too angry is;

In hope to get some present for the same,

If he will give it. But I tell you this.

180

If any old man, with his wisdom, dare

To set against us any young man here,

He shall be sure himself the worse to fare,

And when 'tis done he shall be ne'er the near;

We'll set a fine upon your head so wise,

185

Which you to pay will not be well content.

I myself will Telemachus advise

His mother may be to her father sent

To make the match, and on the dower agree,

Such as becomes him, to his daughter dear ;

190

Till that be done, no hope at all I see

The suitors should desist. For they not fear

Telemachus, as haughty as he is,

And full of words; and much less do they care

For such deceitful prophecies as this,

195

For which you only the more hated are.

Meanwhile Telemachus his goods decay,

And he shall never make them up again,

While she persists her suitors to delay,

And makes us all expect her love in vain.

200

And 'tis her virtue makes us thus to strive

Amongst ourselves who shall her favour win;

For many other ladies we could wive,

And be sufficiently delighted in.

Then said Telemachus, No more will I

205

This matter to you press, or to the woo'rs.

You and the Gods know all I do not lie;

But I demand a bark of twenty oars,

For I intend to travel for awhile,

To hear what men can of my father say.

210

To Lacedaemon I will go, and Pyle.

Or seek from Jove some notice of his way,

And if alive he be, and coming home,

Though to my cost, I'll stay another year.

If dead he be, then back again I'll come,

215

And rites of burial will give him here,

Splendid, and well becoming his estate,

And let my mother her own liking take.

Having thus spoken, down again he sate.

224

And then Ulysses' old friend Mentor spake,

220

With whom Ulysses left his house in trust.

Hear me, ye Ithacesians, said he;

Let no king ever be hereafter just,

Nor to his people soft and gentle be,

Since you Ulysses have so soon forgot,

225

That ever rul'd us like a father kind.

But I the suitors so much accuse not,

Although on force and fraud they set their mind,

(For 'gainst Ulysses' goods, which they devour,

They stake their heads in hope he'll ne'er come home)

230

And you that many are, and have the power

To check them, sit as if you all were dumb.

And then rose up Leocritus and spake:

Mentor, said he, more busy much than wise,

That would about a supper quarrel make,

235

Ulysses, were he here, I'd not advise

To seek by force the suitors to remove.

For though he much be wish'd for by his wife,

She would not of his coming well approve,

But he the sooner be depriv'd of life.

240

And you, the people, now may hence retire;

Mentor and Alitherses will provide

A bark for what place ever he'll desire ;

And if at Ithaca he mean t' abide,

No news he will hear of him a great while.

245

But never t' Ithaca shall come again,

If he to Lacedaemon go, or Pyle.

This said, dismiss'd and scatter'd were the men ;

And to Ulysses' house the suitors went,

Telemachus to the sea-side, and pray'd:

250

O God, that gavest me commandement

To pass the seas, canst not now be obey'd,

I am both by the town and woo'rs delay'd.

267

Then in the form of Mentor, Pallas came,

And standing by Telemachus, she said,

255

With such a voice as Mentor's seem'd the same,

If in you you retain the spirit brave

Your father had, to make his word his deed,

Then also the assurance I shall have,

To tell you in your voyage you shall speed ;

260

But if Ulysses* son you be not right,

For aught I know you may this labour spare;

Few sons exceed or reach their father's might,

But commonly inferior they are.

But since in you I see your father's wit,

265

I hope your voyage shall have good success;

Therefore, no more with th' woo'rs in council sit,

Expect from fools to have no more redress,

That see not their own end that is so nigh.

Nor shall you long be forced here to stay,

270

For with a good ship furnish you will I,

And with you will myself go all the way.

Meanwhile go you into your house again,

And put up store of wine, and of cold meat,

And good bread, which the marrow is of men;

275

I'll for you mariners together get.

In Ithaca are good ships, old and new,

Good store, of which I will go choose you one,

The best of all that come within my view,

And make it ready, that we may be gone.

280

This said, to th' house retum'd Telemachus.

The woo'rs in killing cattle were employ'd,

And straight unto him went Antinous,

And laughing, took him by the hand, and said,

Telemachus, bold and brave orator,

285

Fear from us neither evil word nor deed;

Eat and drink merrily as heretofore,

Well see you furnished with what you need,

Both ship and men, and see you soon convey'd

To Pyle, that of your father you may hear.

290

309

Telemachus then answered, and said,

Antinous, can I be merry here ?

D'ye think that yet too little was the wrong

The suitors did me, my estate to waste,

When I perceiv'd it not, as being young;

295

But since I grown am, and my childhood past,

And somewhat know, and more hear others say,

I'll do my best to bring them to their end,

Whether I go to Pyle, or here do stay.

And yet to go to Pyle I do intend,

300

And think my passage will not be in vain ;

For I go like a merchant, not a guest,

As if to me no ship did appertain.

It must be so; the suitors think it best.

This said, his hand from his hand he snatch'd out;

305

And then the suitors that were in the court,

Some give him evil words, and others flout,

And one another with him made good sport.

He'll come from Pyle with succours, God knows what,

Said one, or Sparta, which shall on us fall,

310

Or poison bring from Ephir6; and that

Put in the temperer shall kill us all.

Who knows, then said another, if he go,

But he his father's fate may also have,

Whilst seeking him he wanders to and fro,

315

Which would to us no little trouble save;

His goods amongst us we should soon divide,

And to his mother leave his houses free,

And him she chooses to lie by her side.

Thus they derided him. Then down went he

320

Into a large and high-roof'd room, where lay,

In chests pack'd up, great store of cloth of gold,

And garments very many, rich and gay,

And many barrels of sweet wine and old,

Which for Ulysses were preserved there,

325

When he returned to his native soil.

In the same room many brass vessels were,

And many barrels of sweet smelling oil,

And double were the locks upon the door,

Whereof the nurse, Euryclea, had the key.

330

Telemachus call'd for her, and says to her,

Come, nurse, this night I am to go away.

Fill me of wine twelve pitchers of the best,

Next to that which you for my father save;

And fine flour, twenty measures at the least,

335

In good thick leather satchels let me have,

Quickly. For when my mother is a-bed,

To Lacedaemon and to Pyle I go,

That of my father, if alive or dead,

There any news be, I the same may know.

340

361

Euryclea then wept and sobb'd, and said,

Dear child, why will you go from hence so far

Alone ? Your mother you will make afraid,

Of whom so dearly you beloved are.

Your father far off is already dead,

345

And by the way the suitors seek to kill you,

And share your goods amongst them by the head.

I pray stay here, and do not go. Why will you ?

Nurse, said Telemachus, be of good cheer;

'Tis by the counsel of a God I go,

350

And I require you solemnly to swear

You'll not my going let my mother know.

Telemachus to the suitors went again,

And Pallas, in his likeness, to the town,

For his transporting to procure him men,

355

From house to house she goeth up and down,

And of Noemon borrowed a bark,

Who not unwillingly it to him lent.

388

And now the sun was down, the streets were dark,

And down to the sea-side the Goddess went,

360

And the good ship into the sea they haul,

And in it stow all that was needful fort;

The mariners were there together all,

And tied the ship at far end of the port.

Meanwhile the suitors merrily carouse,

365

And Pallas then, their fancies to confound,

From the sea-side went back into the house,

And from their hands the cups threw to the ground.

And with the love of sleep possess'd their eyes,

And made them nod, and let their eye-lids down;

370

And not long after from their seats they rise,

And for that night took lodging in the town.

Then, like to Mentor both in form and voice,

Telemachus she called out of doors.

Your men are ready at the port, she says,

375

There they expecting you sit with their oars.

Then out they went, and Pallas led the way,

And found the rowers ready on the beach.

Telemachus then said, Come back, I pray,

To th* house with me, our victual thence to fetch,

380

Which, well put up, I there have ready laid;

But nothing of it does my mother know,

Nor any else but I and one old maid.

Then with Telemachus to th' house they go,

And to the ships at once bring all away,

385

And stow it as Telemachus thought fit.

Pallas and he embark without delay,

And at the stern they both together sit.

And now the mariners their tackle ply;

First, in the midst they set the mast upright,

390

And it unto the ship with strong ropes tie,

And then their sails they hoist up to their height,

Which Pallas, with a lusty gale from west,

Kept full all night. The ship the sea then gores;

The water, swiftly running from her breast

395

By both her sides, wounded and broken roars.

And then unto the Gods they offer wine,

And to them all were praying for awhile,

But specially unto their guide divine;

Then sail'd all night, and were next mom at Pyle.

400

English (George Chapman, 1667, ed. Hooper 1857) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (George Chapman, 1667, ed. Hooper 1857)) — 2 focus

THE SECOND BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEYS.

THE ARGUMENT.

TELEMACHUS to court doth call

The Wooers, and commands them all

To leave his house; and, taking then

From wise Minerva ship and men,

And all things fit for him beside,

That Euryclea could provide

For sea-rites, till he found his sire,

He hoists sail; when Heaven stoops his fire.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

Βῆτα. The old Maid's store

The voyage cheers.

The ship leaves shore,

Minerva steers.

NOW when with rosy fingers, th' early born

And thrown through all the air, appear'd the Morn,

Ulysses' lov'd son from his bed appear'd,

His weeds put on, and did about him gird

His sword that thwart his shoulders hung, and tied

To his fair feet fair shoes, and all parts plied

For speedy readiness; who, when he trod

The open earth, to men show'd like a God.

The heralds then he straight charg'd to consort

The curl'd-head Greeks, with loud calls, to a Court.

They summon'd; th' other came in utmost haste.

Who all assembled, and in one heap plac'd,

He likewise came to council, and did bear

In his fair hand his iron-headed spear.

Nor came alone, nor with men troops prepar'd,

But two fleet dogs made both his train and guard.

Pallas supplied with her high wisdom's grace,

That all men's wants supplies, State's painted face.

His ent'ring presence all men did admire;

Who took seat in the high throne of his sire,

To which the grave peers gave him reverend way.

Amongst whom, an Egyptian heroë

(Crooked with age, and full of skill) begun

The speech to all; who had a loved son

That with divine Ulysses did ascend

His hollow fleet to Troy; to serve which end,

He kept fair horse, and was a man at arms,

And in the cruel Cyclops' stern alarms

His life lost by him in his hollow cave,

Whose entrails open'd his abhorred grave,

And made of him, of all Ulysses' train,

His latest supper, being latest slain;

His name was Antiphus. And this old man,

This crooked grown, this wise Egyptian,

Had three sons more; of which one riotous

A wooer was, and call'd Eurynomus;

The other two took both his own wish'd course.

Yet both the best fates weigh'd not down the worse,

But left the old man mindful still of moan;

Who, weeping, thus bespake the session :

"Hear, Ithacensians, all I fitly say:

Since our divine Ulysses' parting day

Never was council call'd, nor session,

And now by whom is this thus undergone?

Whom did necessity so much compell,

Of young or old? Hath any one heard tell

Of any coming army, that he thus now

May openly take boldness to avow,

First having heard it? Or will any here

Some motion for the public good prefer?

Some worth of note there is in this command;

And, methinks, it must be some good man's hand

That's put to it, that either hath direct

Means to assist, or, for his good affect,

Hopes to be happy in the proof he makes;

And that Jove grant, whate'er he undertakes."

Telemachus (rejoicing much to hear

The good hope and opinion men did bear

Of his young actions) no longer sat,

But long'd t' approve what this man pointed at,

And make his first proof in a cause so good;

And in the council's chief place up he stood;

When straight Pisenor (herald to his sire,

And learn'd in counsels) felt his heart on fire

To hear him speak, and put into his hand

The sceptre that his father did command;

Then, to the old Egyptian turn'd, he spoke:

"Father, not far he is that undertook

To call this Council; whom you soon shall know.

Myself, whose wrongs my griefs will make me show, 70

Am he that author'd this assembly here.

Nor have I heard of any army near,

Of which, being first told, I might iterate,

Nor for the public good can aught relate,

Only mine own affairs all this procure,

That in my house a double ill endure;

One, having lost a father so renown'd,

Whose kind rule once with your command was crown'd;

The other is, what much more doth augment

His weighty loss, the ruin imminent

Of all my house by it, my goods all spent.

And of all this the wooers, that are sons

To our chief peers, are the confusions,

Importuning my mother's marriage

Against her will; nor dares their blood's bold rage

Go to Icarius', her father's, court,

That, his will ask'd in kind and comely sort,

He may endow his daughter with a dower,

And, she consenting, at his pleasure's power

Dispose her to a man, that, thus behav'd,

May have fit grace, and see her honour sav'd;

But these, in none but my house, all their lives

Resolve to spend; slaught'ring my sheep and beeves,

And with my fattest goats lay feast on feast,

My generous wine consuming as they list.

A world of things they spoil, here wanting one,

That, like Ulysses, quickly could set gone

These peace-plagues from his house, that spoil like war;

Whom my powers are unfit to urge so far,

Myself immartial. But, had I the power,

100

My will should serve me to exempt this hour

From out my life-time. For, past patience,

Base deeds are done here, that exceed defence

Of any honour. Falling is my house,

Which you should shame to see so ruinous.

105

Reverence the censures that all good men give,

That dwell about you; and for fear to live

Exposed to heaven's wrath (that doth ever pay

Pains for joys forfeit) even by Jove I pray,

Or Themis, both which powers have to restrain,

110

Or gather, councils, that ye will abstain

From further spoil, and let me only waste

In that most wretched grief I have embrac'd

For my lost father. And though I am free

From meriting your outrage, yet, if he,

115

Good man, hath ever with a hostile heart

Done ill to any Greek, on me convert

Your like hostility, and vengeance take

Of his ill on my life, and all these make

Join in that justice; but, to see abused

120

Those goods that do none ill but being ill used,

Exceeds all right. Yet better 'tis for me,

My whole possessions and my rents to see

Consum'd by you, than lose my life and all;

For on your rapine a revenge may fall,

125

While I live; and so long I may complain

About the city, till my goods again,

Oft ask'd, may be with all amends repaid.

But in the mean space your misrule hath laid

Griefs on my bosom, that can only speak,

130

And are denied the instant power of wreak."

This said, his sceptre 'gainst the ground he threw,

And tears still'd from him; which mov'd all the crew,

The court struck silent, not a man did dare

To give a word that might offend his ear.

135

Antinous only in this sort replied:

"High spoken, and of spirit unpacified,

How have you sham'd us in this speech of yours!

Will you brand us for an offence not ours?

Your mother, first in craft, is first in cause.

140

Three years are past, and near the fourth now draws,

Since first she mock'd the peers Achaian.

All she made hope, and promis'd every man,

Sent for us ever, left love's show in nought,

But in her heart conceal'd another thought.

145

Besides, as curious in her craft, her loom

She with a web charg'd, hard to overcome,

And thus bespake us: 'Youths, that seek my bed,

Since my divine spouse rests amongst the dead,

Hold on your suits but till I end, at most,

150

This funeral weed, lest what is done be lost.

Besides, I purpose, that when th' austere fate

Of bitter death shall take into his state

Laertes the heroë, it shall deck

His royal corse, since I should suffer check

155

In ill report of every common dame,

If one so rich should show in death his shame.'

This speech she used; and this did soon persuade

Our gentle minds. But this a work she made

So hugely long, undoing still in night,

160

By torches, all she did by day's broad light,

That three years her deceit div'd past our view,

And made us think that all she feign'd was true.

But when the fourth year came, and those sly hours

That still surprise at length dames' craftiest powers,

165

One of her women, that knew all, disclos'd

The secret to us, that she still unloosed

Her whole day's fair affair in depth of night.

And then no further she could force her sleight,

But, of necessity, her work gave end.

170

And thus, by me, doth every other friend,

Professing love to her, reply to thee;

That even thyself, and all Greeks else, may see,

That we offend not in our stay, but she.

To free thy house then, send her to her sire,

175

Commanding that her choice be left entire

To his election, and one settled will.

Nor let her vex with her illusions still

Her friends that woo her, standing on her wit,

Because wise Pallas hath given wills to it

180

So full of art, and made her understand

All works in fair skill of a lady's hand.

But (for her working mind) we read of none

Of all the old world, in which Greece hath shown

Her rarest pieces, that could equal her:

185

Tyro, Alcmena, and Mycena, were

To hold comparison in no degree,

For solid brain, with wise Penelope.

And yet, in her delays of us, she shows

No prophet's skill with all the wit she owes;

190

For all this time thy goods and victuals go

To utter ruin; and shall ever so,

While thus the Gods her glorious mind dispose.

Glory herself may gain, but thou shalt lose

Thy longings even for necessary food,

195

For we will never go where lies our good,

Nor any other where, till this delay

She puts on all, she quits with th' endless stay

Of some one of us, that to all the rest

May give free farewell with his nuptial feast."

200

129

The wise young prince replied: "Antinous!

I may by no means turn out of my house

Her that hath brought me forth and nourish'd me.

Besides, if quick or dead my father be

In any region, yet abides in doubt;

205

And 'twill go hard, my means being so run out,

To tender to Icarius again,

If he again my mother must maintain

In her retreat, the dower she brought with her.

And then a double ill it will confer,

210

Both from my father and from God on me,

When, thrust out of her house, on her bent knee,

My mother shall the horrid Furies raise

With imprecations, and all men dispraise

My part in her exposure. Never then

215

Will I perform this counsel. If your spleen

Swell at my courses, once more I command

Your absence from my house; some other's hand

Charge with your banquets; on your own goods eat,

And either other mutually intreat,

220

At either of your houses, with your feast.

But if ye still esteem more sweet and best

Another's spoil, so you still wreakless live,

Gnaw, vermin-like, things sacred, no laws give

To your devouring; it remains that I

225

Invoke each Ever-living Deity,

And vow, if Jove shall deign in any date

Power of like pains for pleasure so past rate,

From thenceforth look, where ye have revelled so

Unwreak'd, your ruins all shall undergo."

230

Thus spake Telemachus; t'assure whose threat,

Far-seeing Jove upon their pinions set

Two eagles from the high brows of a hill,

That, mounted on the winds, together still

Their strokes extended; but arriving now

235

Amidst the Council, over every brow

Shook their thick wings and, threat'ning death's cold fears,

Their necks and cheeks tore with their eager seres;

Then, on the court's right-hand away they flew,

Above both court and city. With whose view,

240

And study what events they might foretell,

The Council into admiration fell.

The old heroë, Halitherses, then,

The son of Nestor, that of all old men,

His peers in that court, only could foresee

245

By flight of fowls man's fixed destiny,

'Twixt them and their amaze, this interpos'd:

"Hear, Ithacensians, all your doubts disclos'd.

The Wooers most are touch'd in this ostent,

To whom are dangers great and imminent;

250

For now not long more shall Ulysses bear

Lack of his most lov'd, but fills some place near,

Addressing to these Wooers fate and death.

And many more this mischief menaceth

Of us inhabiting this famous isle.

255

Let us consult yet, in this long forewhile,

How to ourselves we may prevent this ill.

Let these men rest secure, and revel still;

Though they might find it safer, if with us

They would in time prevent what threats them thus ;

260

Since not without sure trial I foretell

These coming storms, but know their issue well.

For to Ulysses all things have event,

As I foretold him, when for Ilion went

The whole Greek fleet together, and with them

265

Th' abundant-in-all-counsels took the stream.

I told him, that, when much ill he had passed,

And all his men were lost, he should at last,

The twentieth year, turn home, to all unknown;

All which effects are to perfection grown."

270

177

Eurymachus, the son of Polybus,

Opposed this man's presage, and answer'd thus :

"Hence, great in years, go, prophesy at home,

Thy children teach to shun their ills to come.

In these superior far to thee am I.

275

A world of fowls beneath the sun-beams fly

That are not fit t' inform a prophecy.

Besides, Ulysses perish'd long ago;

And would thy fates to thee had destin'd so,

Since so thy so much prophecy had spar'd

280

Thy wronging of our rights, which, for reward

Expected home with thee, hath summon'd us

Within the anger of Telemachus.

But this I will presage, which shall be true:

If any spark of anger chance t' ensue

285

Thy much old art in these deep auguries,

In this young man incensed by thy lies,

Even to himself his anger shall confer

The greater anguish, and thine own ends err

From all their objects; and, besides, thine age

290

Shall feel a pain, to make thee curse presage

With worthy cause, for it shall touch thee near.

But I will soon give end to all our fear,

Preventing whatsoever chance can fall,

In my suit to the young prince for us all,

295

To send his mother to her father's house,

That he may sort her out a worthy spouse,

And such a dower bestow, as may befit

One lov'd, to leave her friends and follow it.

Before which course be, I believe that none

300

Of all the Greeks will cease th' ambition

Of such a match. For, chance what can to us,

We no man fear, no not Telemachus,

Though ne'er so greatly spoken. Nor care we

For any threats of austere prophecy,

305

Which thou, old dotard, vaunt'st of so in vain.

And thus shalt thou in much more hate remain;

For still the Gods shall bear their ill expense,

Nor ever be dispos'd by competence,

Till with her nuptials she dismiss our suits,

310

Our whole lives' days shall sow hopes for such fruits.

Her virtues we contend to, nor will go

To any other, be she never so

Worthy of us, and all the worth we owe."

He answer'd him: "Eurymachus, and all

315

Ye generous Wooers, now, in general,

I see your brave resolves, and will no more

Make speech of these points, and, much less, implore.

It is enough, that all the Grecians here,

And all the Gods besides, just witness bear,

320

What friendly premonitions have been spent

On your forbearance, and their vain event.

Yet, with my other friends, let love prevail

To fit me with a vessel free of sail,

And twenty men, that may divide to me

325

My ready passage through the yielding sea.

For Sparta, and Amathoan Pylos' shore,

I now am bound, in purpose to explore

My long-lack'd father, and to try if fame

Or Jove, most author of man's honour'd name,

330

With his return and life may glad mine ear,

Though toil'd in that proof I sustain a year.

If dead I hear him, nor of more state, here

Retir'd to my lov'd country, I will rear

A sepulchre to him, and celebrate

335

Such royal parent-rites, as fits his state;

And then my mother to a spouse dispose."

224

This said, he sat; and to the rest arose

Mentor, that was Ulysses' chosen friend,

To whom, when he set forth, he did commend

340

His complete family, and whom he will'd

To see the mind of his old sire fulfill'd,

All things conserving safe, till his retreat.

Who, tender of his charge, and seeing to set

In slight care of their king his subjects there,

345

Suffering his son so much contempt to bear,

Thus gravely, and with zeal, to him began :

"No more let any sceptre-bearing man,

Benevolent, or mild, or human be,

Nor in his mind form acts of piety,

350

But ever feed on blood, and facts unjust

Commit, even to the full swing of his lust,

Since of divine Ulysses no man now,

Of all his subjects, any thought doth show.

⁴

All whom he govern'd, and became to them,

355

Rather than one that wore a diadem,

A most indulgent father. But, for all

That can touch me, within no envy fall

These insolent Wooers, that in violent kind

Commit things foul by th' ill wit of the mind,

360

And with the hazard of their heads devour

Ulysses' house, since his returning hour

They hold past hope. But it affects me much,

Ye dull plebeians, that all this doth touch

Your free states nothing; who, struck dumb, afford

365

These Wooers not so much wreak as a word,

Though few, and you with only number might

Extinguish to them the profaned light."

Evenor's son, Leocritus, replied:

"Mentor! the railer, made a fool with pride,

370

What language giv'st thou that would quiet us

With putting us in storm, exciting thus

The rout against us? Who, though more than we,

Should find it is no easy victory

To drive men, habited in feast, from feasts,

375

No not if Ithacus himself such guests

Should come and find so furnishing his Court,

And hope to force them from so sweet a fort.

His wife should little joy in his arrive,

Though much she wants him; for, where she alive

380

Would her's enjoy, there death should claim his rights.

He must be conquer'd that with many fights.

Thou speak'st unfit things. To their labours then

Disperse these people; and let these two men,

Mentor and Halitherses, that so boast

385

⁵

From the beginning to have govern'd most

In friendship of the father, to the son

Confirm the course he now affects to run.

But my mind says, that, if he would but use

A little patience, he should here hear news

390

Of all things that his wish would understand,

But no good hope for of the course in hand."

This said, the Council rose; when every peer

And all the people in dispersion were

To houses of their own; the Wooers yet

395

Made to Ulysses' house their old retreat.

Telemachus, apart from all the prease,

Prepar'd to shore, and, in the aged seas

His fair hands wash'd, did thus to Pallas pray:

"Hear me, O Goddess, that but yesterday

400

Didst deign access to me at home, and lay

Grave charge on me to take ship, and inquire

Along the dark seas for mine absent sire !

Which all the Greeks oppose; amongst whom most

Those that are proud still at another's cost,

405

Past measure, and the civil rights of men,

My mother's Wooers, my repulse maintain."

267

Thus spake he praying; when close to him came

Pallas, resembling Mentor both in frame

Of voice and person, and advised him thus:

410

"Those Wooers well might know, Telemachus,

Thou wilt not ever weak and childish be,

If to thee be instill'd the faculty

Of mind and body that thy father grac'd;

And if, like him, there be in thee enchac'd

415

Virtue to give words works, and works their end.

This voyage, that to them thou didst commend,

Shall not so quickly, as they idly ween,

Be vain, or giv'n up, for their opposite spleen.

But, if Ulysses nor Penelope

420

Were thy true parents, I then hope in thee

Of no more urging thy attempt in hand;

For few, that rightly bred on both sides stand,

Are like their parents, many that are worse,

And most few better. Those then that the nurse

425

Or mother call true born yet are not so,

Like worthy sires much less are like to grow.

But thou show'st now that in thee fades not quite

Thy father's wisdom; and that future light

Shall therefore show thee far from being unwise,

430

Or touch'd with stain of bastard cowardice.

Hope therefore says, that thou wilt to the end

Pursue the brave act thou didst erst intend.

But for the foolish Wooers, they bewray

They neither counsel have nor soul, since they

435

Are neither wise nor just, and so must needs

Rest ignorant how black above their heads

Fate hovers holding Death, that one sole day

Will make enough to make them all away.

For thee, the way thou wishest shall no more

440

Fly thee a step; I, that have been before

Thy father's friend, thine likewise now will be,

Provide thy ship myself, and follow thee.

Go thou then home, and sooth each Wooer's vein,

But under hand fit all things for the main;

445

Wine in as strong and sweet casks as you can,

And meal, the very marrow of a man,

Which put in good sure leather sacks, and see

That with sweet food sweet vessels still agree.

I from the people straight will press for you

450

Free voluntaries; and, for ships, enow

Sea-circled Ithaca contains, both new

And old-built; all which I'll exactly view,

And choose what one soever most doth please;

Which rigg'd, we'll straight launch, and assay the seas."

455

This spake Jove's daughter, Pallas; whose voice heard,

No more Telemachus her charge deferr'd,

But hasted home, and, sad at heart, did see

Amidst his hall th' insulting Wooers flea

Goats, and roast swine. 'Mongst whom, Antinous

460

Careless, discovering in Telemachus

His grudge to see them, laugh'd, met, took his hand,

And said: "High-spoken, with the mind so mann'd!

Come, do as we do, put not up your spirits

With these low trifles, nor our loving merits

465

In gall of any hateful purpose steep,

But eat egregiously, and drink as deep.

The things thou think'st on, all at full shall be

By th' Achives thought on, and perform'd to thee;

Ship, and choice oars, that in a trice will land

470

Thy hasty fleet on heavenly Pylos' sand,

And at the fame of thy illustrous sire."

309

He answer'd: "Men, whom pride did so inspire,

Are not fit consorts for an humble guest;

Nor are constrain'd men merry at their feast.

475

Is't not enough, that all this time ye have

Op'd in your entrails my chief goods a grave,

And, while I was a child, made me partake?

My now more growth more grown my mind doth make,

⁶

And, hearing speak more judging men than you,

480

Perceive how much I was misgovern'd now.

I now will try if I can bring ye home

An ill Fate to consort you; if it come

From Pylos, or amongst the people here.

But thither I resolve, and know that there

485

I shall not touch in vain. Nor will I stay,

Though in a merchant's ship I steer my way;

Which shows in your sights best; since me ye know

Incapable of ship, or men to row."

This said, his hand he coyly snatch'd away

490

From forth Antinous' hand. The rest the day

Spent through the house with banquets; some with jests,

And some with railings, dignifying their feasts.

To whom a jest-proud youth the wit began:

" Telemachus will kill us every man.

495

From Sparta, to the very Pylian sand,

He will raise aids to his impetuous hand.

O he affects it strangely! Or he means

To search Ephyra's fat shores, and from thence

Bring deathful poisons, which amongst our bowls

500

Will make a general shipwrack of our souls."

Another said: “Alas, who knows but he

Once gone, and erring like his sire at sea,

May perish like him, far from aid of friends,

And so he makes us work? For all the ends

505

Left of his goods here we shall share, the house

Left to his mother and her chosen spouse."

Thus they; while he a room ascended, high

And large, built by his father, where did lie

Gold and brass heap'd up, and in coffers were

510

Rich robes, great store of odorous oils, and there

Stood tuns of sweet old wines along the wall,

Neat and divine drink, kept to cheer withall

Ulysses' old heart, if he turn'd again

From labours fatal to him to sustain.

515

The doors of plank were, their close exquisite,

Kept with a double key, and day and night

A woman lock'd within; and that was she

Who all trust had for her sufficiency,

Old Euryclea, one of Opis' race,

520

Son to Pisenor, and in passing grace

With grey Minerva; her the prince did call,

And said: "Nurse! Draw me the most sweet of all

The wine thou keep'st; next that which for my sire

Thy care reserves, in hope he shall retire.

525

Twelve vessels fill me forth, and stop them well.

Then into well-sew'd sacks of fine ground meal

Pour twenty measures. Nor, to any one

But thee thyself, let this design be known.

All this see got together; I it all

530

In night will fetch off, when my mother shall

Ascend her high room, and for sleep prepare.

Sparta and Pylos I must see, in care

To find my father."

361

Out Euryclea cried,

And ask'd with tears: "Why is your mind applied,

535

Dear son, to this course? Whither will you go?

So far off leave us, and beloved so,

So only? And the sole hope of your race?

Royal Ulysses, far from the embrace

Of his kind country, in a land unknown

540

⁷

Is dead; and, you from your lov'd country gone,

The Wooers will with some deceit assay

To your destruction, making then their prey

Of all your goods. Where, in your own y'are strong,

Make sure abode. It fits not you so young

545

To suffer so much by the aged seas,

And err in such a wayless wilderness."

"Be cheer'd, lov'd nurse," said he, "for, not without

The will of God, go my attempts about.

Swear therefore, not to wound my mother's ears

550

With word of this, before from heaven appears

Th' eleventh or twelfth light, or herself shall please

To ask of me, or hears me put to seas,

Lest her fair body with her woe be wore.'

To this the great oath of the Gods she swore;

555

Which having sworn, and of it every due

Perform'd to full, to vessels wine she drew,

And into well-sew'd sacks pour'd foody meal.

In mean time he, with cunning to conceal

All thought of this from others, himself bore

560

In broad house, with the Wooers, as before.

Then grey-eyed Pallas other thoughts did own,

And like Telemachus trod through the town,

Commanding all his men in th' even to be

Aboard his ship. Again then question'd she

565

Noemon, famed for aged Phronius' son,

About his ship; who all things to be done

Assured her freely should.

388

The sun then set,

And sable shadows slid through every street,

When forth they launch'd, and soon aboard did bring

570

All arms, and choice of every needful thing

That fits a well-rigg'd ship. The Goddess then

Stood in the port's extreme part, where her men,

Nobly appointed, thick about her came,

Whose every breast she did with spirit enflame.

575

Yet still fresh projects laid the grey-eyed Dame.

Straight to the house she hasted, and sweet sleep

Pour'd on each Wooer; which so laid in steep

Their drowsy temples, that each brow did nod,

As all were drinking, and each hand his load,

580

The cup, let fall. All start up, and to bed,

Nor more would watch, when sleep so surfeited

Their leaden eye-lids. Then did Pallas call

Telemachus, in body, voice, and all,

Resembling Mentor, from his native nest,

585

And said, that all his arm'd men were addrest

To use their oars, and all expected now

He should the spirit of a soldier show.

"Come then," said she, " no more let us defer

Our honour'd action." Then she took on her

590

A ravish'd spirit, and led as she did leap;

And he her most haste took out step by step.

Arrived at sea and ship, they found ashore

The soldiers that their fashion'd-long hair wore;

To whom the prince said: "Come, my friends, let's bring

595

Our voyage's provision; every thing

Is heap'd together in our court; and none,

No not my mother, nor her maids, but one

Knows our intention." This express'd, he led,

The soldiers close together followed;

600

And all together brought aboard their store.

Aboard the prince went; Pallas still before

Sat at the stern, he close to her, the men

Up hasted after. He and Pallas then

Put from the shore. His soldiers then he bad

605

See all their arms fit; which they heard, and had.

A beechen mast, then, in the hollow base

They put, and hoisted, fix'd it in his place

With cables; and with well-wreath'd halsers hoise

Their white sails, which grey Pallas now employs

610

With full and fore-gales through the dark deep main.

The purple waves, so swift cut, roar'd again

Against the ship sides, that now ran and plow'd

The rugged seas up. Then the men bestow'd

Their arms about the ship, and sacrifice

615

With crown'd wine-cups to th' endless Deities

They offer'd up. Of all yet throned above,

They most observed the grey-eyed seed of Jove;

Who, from the evening till the morning rose,

And all day long, their voyage did dispose.

620

English (William Cowper, 1791, ed. Southey) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (William Cowper, 1791, ed. Southey)) — 2 focus

THE SECOND BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEYS.

ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND BOOK.

Telemachus having convened an assembly of the Greecians,

publicly calls on the Suitors to relinquish the house of Ulysses.

During the continuance of the Council he has much to suffer

from the petulance of the Suitors, from whom having informed

them of his design to undertake a voyage in hope to obtain

news of Ulysses, he asks a ship, with all things necessary

for the purpose. He is refused, but is afterwards furnished

with what he wants by Minerva, in the form of Mentor. He

embarks in the evening without the privity of his mother, and

the Goddess sails with him.

THE ODYSSEY.
BOOK II.

AURORA, rosy daughter of the dawn,

Now tinged the East, when, habited again,

Uprose Ulysses' offspring from his bed.

Athwart his back his faulchion keen he slung,

His sandals bound to his unsullied feet,

And, Godlike, issued from his chamber-door.

At once the clear-voiced heralds he enjoin'd

To call the Greeks to council; they aloud

Gave forth the summons, and the throng began.

When all were gather'd, and the assembly full,

Himself, his hand arm'd with a brazen spear,

Went also; nor alone he went; his hounds

Fleet-footed follow'd him a faithful pair.

O'er all his form Minerva largely shed

Majestic grace divine, and, as he went,

The whole admiring concourse gazed on him.

The seniors gave him place, and down he sat

On his paternal Throne. Then grave arose

The Hero, old Ægyptius; bow'd with age

Was he, and by experience deep-inform'd.

His son had with Ulysses, godlike Chief,

On board his fleet to steed-famed Ilium gone,

The warrior Antiphus, whom in his cave

The savage Cyclops slew, and on his flesh

At evening made obscene his last regale.

Three sons he had beside, a suitor one,

Eurynomus; the other two, employ

Found constant managing their Sire's concerns.

Yet he forgat not, father as he was

Of these, his absent eldest whom he mournm

Ceaseless, and thus his speech, weeping, began.

Hear me, ye men of Ithaca, my friends!

Nor council here nor session hath been held

Since great Ulysses left his native shore.

Who now convenes us? what especial need

Hath urged him, whether of our youth he be,

Or of our senators by age matured?

Have tidings reach'd him of our host's return,

Which here he would divulge? or brings he aught

Of public import on a different theme?

I deem him, whomsoe'er he be, a man

Worthy to prosper, and may Jove vouchsafe

The full performance of his chief desire!

He ended, and Telemachus rejoiced

In that good omen. Ardent to begin,

He sat not long, but moving to the midst,

Received the sceptre from Pisenor's hand,

His prudent herald, and addressing, next,

The hoary Chief Ægyptius, thus began.

Not far remote, as thou shalt soon thyself

Perceive, oh venerable Chief! he stands,

Who hath convened this council. I, am He.

I am in chief the sufferer. Tidings none

Of the returning host I have received,

Which here I would divulge, nor bring I aught

Of public import on a different theme,

But my own trouble, on my own house fallen,

And two-fold fallen. One is, that I have lost

A noble father, who, as fathers rule

Benign their children, govern'd once yourselves ;

The other, and the more alarming ill,

With ruin threatens my whole house, and all

My patrimony with immediate waste.

Suitors, (their children who in this our isle

Hold highest rank,) importunate besiege

My mother, though desirous not to wed;

And rather than resort to her own Sire

Icarius, who might give his daughter dower,

And portion her to whom he most approves,

(A course which, only named, moves their disgust,)

They chuse, assembling all within my gates

Daily to make my beeves, my sheep, my goats

Their banquet, and to drink without restraint

My wine; whence ruin threatens us and ours;

For I have no Ulysses to relieve

Me and my family from this abuse.

Ourselves are not sufficient; we, alas!

Too feeble should be found, and yet to learn

How best to use the little force we own;

Else, had I power, I would, myself, redress

The evil; for it now surpasses far

All sufferance, now they ravage uncontroul'd,

Nor show of decency vouchsafe me more.

Oh be ashamed yourselves; blush at the thought

Of such reproach as ye shall sure incur

From all our neighbour states, and fear beside

The wrath of the Immortals, lest they call

Yourselves one day to a severe account.

I pray you by Olympian Jove, by her

Whose voice convenes all councils, and again

Dissolves them, Themis, that henceforth ye cease,

That ye permit me, oh my friends! to wear

My days in solitary grief away,

Unless Ulysses, my illustrious Sire,

Hath in his anger any Greecian wrong'd

Whose wrongs ye purpose to avenge on me,

Inciting these to plague me. Better far

Were my condition, if yourselves consumed

My substance and my revenue; from you

I might obtain, perchance, righteous amends

100

Hereafter; you I might with vehement suit

O'ercome, from house to house pleading aloud

For recompense, till I at last prevail'd;

But now, with darts of anguish ye transfix

My inmost soul, and I have no redress.

105

He spake impassion'd, and to earth cast down

His sceptre, weeping. Pity at the sight

Seized all the people; mute the assembly sat

Long time, none dared to greet Telemachus

With answer rough, till of them all, at last,

110

Antinoüs, sole arising, thus replied.

Telemachus, intemperate in harangue,

High-sounding orator! it is thy drift

To make us all odious; but the offence

Lies not with us the suitors; she alone

115

Thy mother, who in subtlety excels,

And deep-wrought subterfuge, deserves the blame.

It is already the third year, and soon

Shall be the fourth, since with delusive art

Practising on their minds, she hath deceived

120

The Greecians; message after message sent

Brings hope to each, by turns, and promise fair,

But she, meantime, far otherwise intends.

Her other arts exhausted all, she framed

This stratagem; a web of amplest size

125

And subtlest woof beginning, thus she spake.

Princes, my suitors! since the noble Chief

Ulysses is no more, press not as yet

My nuptials; wait till I shall finish, first,

A funeral robe (lest all my threads decay)

130

Which for the ancient Hero I prepare,

Laertes, looking for the mournful hour

When fate shall snatch him to eternal rest;

Else, I the censure dread of all my sex,

Should he, so wealthy, want at last a shroud.

135

So spake the Queen, and unsuspicious, we

With her request complied. Thenceforth, all day

She wove the ample web, and by the aid

Of torches ravell'd it again at night.

Three years by such contrivance she deceived

140

The Greecians; but when (three whole years elapsed)

The fourth arrived, then conscious of the fraud,

A damsel of her train told all the truth,

And her we found raveling the beauteous work.

Thus, through necessity she hath, at length,

145

Perform'd the task, and in her own despight.

Now therefore, for the information clear

Of thee thyself, and of the other Greeks,

We answer. Send thy mother hence, with charge

That him she wed, on whom her father's choice

150

Shall fall, and whom she shall herself approve.

But if by long procrastination still

She persevere, wearing our patience out,

Attentive only to display the gifts

By Pallas so profusely dealt to her,

155

Works of surpassing skill, ingenious thought,

And subtle shifts, such as no beauteous Greek

(For aught that we have heard) in ancient times

E'er practised, Tyro, or Alcmena fair,

Or fair Mycene, of whom none in art

160

E'er match'd Penelope, although we yield

To this her last invention little praise,

Then know, that these her suitors will consume

So long thy patrimony and thy goods,

As she her present purpose shall indulge,

165

With which the Gods inspire her. Great renown

She to herself insures, but equal woe

And devastation of thy wealth to thee;

For neither to our proper works at home

Go we, of that be sure, nor yet elsewhere,

170

Till him she wed, to whom she most inclines.

129

Him prudent, then, answer'd Telemachus.

Antinoüs! it is not possible

That I should thrust her forth against her will,

Who both produced and rear'd me. Be he dead,

175

Or still alive, my Sire is far remote;

And should I, voluntary, hence dismiss

My mother to Icarius, I must much

Refund, which hardship were and loss to me.

So doing, I should also wrath incur

180

From my offended Sire, and from the Gods

Still more; for she, departing, would invoke

Erynnis to avenge her, and reproach

Beside would follow me from all mankind.

That word I, therefore never will pronounce.

185

No; if ye judge your treatment at her hands

Injurious to you, go ye forth yourselves,

Forsake my mansion; seek where else ye may

Your feasts; consume your own; alternate feed

Each at the other's cost. But if it seem

190

Wisest in your account and best to eat

Voracious thus the patrimonial goods

Of one man, rendering no account of all,

Bite to the roots; but know that I will cry

Ceaseless to the eternal Gods, in hope

195

That Jove in retribution of the wrong,

Shall doom you, where ye have intruded, there

To bleed, and of your blood ask no account.

So spake Telemachus, and while he spake,

The Thunderer from a lofty mountain-top

200

Turn'd off two eagles; on the winds, awhile,

With outspread pinions ample side by side

They floated; but, ere long, hovering aloft,

Right o'er the midst of the assembled Chiefs

They wheel'd around, clang'd all their numerous plumes,

205

And with a downward look eyeing the throng,

Death boded, ominous; then rending each

The other's face and neck, they sprang at once

Toward the right, and darted through the town.

Anazement universal, at that sight,

210

Seized the assembly, and with anxious thought

Each scann'd the future; amidst whom arose

The Hero Halitherses, ancient Seer,

Offspring of Mastor; for in judgement he

Of portents augural, and in forecast

215

Unerring, his coevals all excell'd,

And prudent thus the multitude bespake.

Ye men of Ithaca, give ear! hear all!

Though chief my speech shall to the suitors look,

For, on their heads devolved, comes down the woe.

220

Ulysses shall not from his friends, henceforth,

Live absent long, but, hasting to his home,

Comes even now, and as he comes, designs

A bloody death for these, whose bitter woes

No few shall share, inhabitants with us

225

Of pleasant Ithaca; but let us frame

Effectual means maturely to suppress

Their violent deeds, or rather let themselves

Repentant cease ; and soonest shall be best.

Not inexpert, but well-inform'd I speak

230

The future, and the accomplishment announce

Of all which when Ulysses with the Greeks

Embark'd for Troy, I to himself foretold.

I said that, after many woes, and loss

Of all his people, in the twentieth year,

235

Unknown to all, he should regain his home,

And my prediction shall be now fulfill'd.

177

Him, then, Eurymachus thus answer'd rough

The son of Polybus. Hence to thy house,

Thou hoary dotard! there, prophetic, teach

240

Thy children to escape woes else to come.

Birds numerous flutter in the beams of day,

Not all predictive. Death, far hence remote

Hath found Ulysses, and I would to heaven

That, where he died, thyself had perish'd too :

245

Thou hadst not then run o'er with prophecy

As now, nor provocation to the wrath

Given of Telemachus, in hope to win,

Perchance, for thine some favour at his hands.

But I to thee foretell, skill'd as thou art

250

In legends old, (nor shall my threat be vain,)

That if by artifice thou move to wrath

A younger than thyself, no matter whom,

Woe first the heavier on himself shall fall,

Nor shalt thou profit him by thy attempt;

255

And we will charge thee also with a mulct,

Which thou shalt pay with difficulty, and bear

The burthen of it with an aching heart.

As for Telemachus, I him advise,

Myself, and press the measure on his choice

260

Earnestly, that he send his mother hence

To her own father's house, who shall, himself,

Set forth her nuptial rites, and shall endow

His daughter sumptuously, and as he ought.

For this expensive wooing, as I judge,

265

Till then shall never cease; since we regard

No man—no—not Telemachus, although

In words exuberant; neither fear we aught

Thy vain prognostics, venerable sir!

But only hate thee for their sake the more.

270

Waste will continue and disorder foul

Unremedied, so long as she shall hold

The suitors in suspense, for, day by day,

Our emulation goads us to the strife,

Nor shall we, going hence, seek to espouse

275

Each his own consort suitable elsewhere.

To whom, discrete, Telemachus replied.

Eurymachus, and ye the suitor train

Illustrious, I have spoken; ye shall hear

No more this supplication urged by me.

280

The Gods, and all the Greeks, now know the truth.

But give me instantly a gallant bark

With twenty rowers, skill'd their course to win

To whatsoever haven; for I go

To sandy Pylus, and shall hasten thence

285

To Lacedemon, tidings to obtain

Of my long-absent Sire, or from the lips

Of man, or by a word from Jove vouchsafed

Himself, best source of notice to mankind.

If, there inform'd that still my father lives

290

I hope conceive of his return, although

Distress'd, I shall be patient yet a year.

But should I learn, haply, that he survives

No longer, then, returning, I will raise

At home his tomb, will with such pomp perform

295

His funeral rites, as his great name demands,

And give my mother's hand to whom I may.

224

This said, he sat, and after him arose

Mentor, illustrious Ulysses' friend,

To whom, embarking thence, he had consign'd

300

All his concerns, that the old Chief might rule

His family, and keep the whole secure.

Arising, thus the senior, sage, began.

Hear me, ye Ithacans! be never King

Henceforth, benevolent, gracious, humane

305

Or righteous, but let every sceptred hand

Rule merciless, and deal in wrong alone,

Since none of all his people, whom he sway'd

With such paternal gentleness and love,

Remembers the divine Ulysses more!

310

That the imperious suitors thus should weave

The web of mischief and atrocious wrong,

I grudge not; since at hazard of their heads

They make Ulysses' property a prey,

Persuaded that the Hero comes no more.

315

But much the people move me; how ye sit

All mute, and though a multitude, yourselves,

Opposed to few, risk not a single word

To check the licence of these bold intruders!

Then thus Liocritus, Evenor's son.

320

Injurious Mentor! headlong orator!

How darest thou move the populace against

The suitors? Trust me they should find it hard,

Numerous as they are, to cope with us,

A feast the prize. Or should the King himself

325

Of Ithaca, returning, undertake

To expel the jovial suitors from his house,

Much as Penelope his absence mourns,

His presence should afford her little joy;

For fighting sole with many, he should meet

330

A dreadful death. Thou, therefore, speak'st amiss.

As for Telemachus, let Mentor him

And Halytherses furnish forth, the friends

Long valued of his Sire, with all dispatch;

Though him I judge far likelier to remain

335

Long time contented an enquirer here,

Than to perform the voyage now proposed.

Thus saying, Liocritus dissolved in haste

The council, and the scatter'd concourse sought

Their several homes, while all the suitors flock'd

340

Thence to the palace of their absent King.

Meantime, Telemachus from all resort

Retiring, in the surf of the grey Deep

First laved his hands, then, thus to Pallas pray'd.

O Goddess! who wast yesterday a guest

345

Beneath my roof, and didst enjoin me then

A voyage o'er the sable Deep in quest

Of tidings of my long-regretted Sire!

Which voyage, all in Ithaca, but most

The haughty suitors, obstinate impede,

350

Now hear my suit and gracious interpose!

267

Such prayer he made; then Pallas, in the form,

And with the voice of Mentor, drawing nigh,

In accents wing'd, him kindly thus bespake.

Telemachus! thou shalt hereafter prove

355

Nor base, nor poor in talents. If, in truth,

Thou have received from heaven thy father's force

Instill'd into thee, and resemblest him

In promptness both of action and of speech,

Thy voyage shall not useless be, or vain.

360

But if Penelope produced thee not

His son, I, then, hope not for good effect

Of this design which, ardent, thou pursuest.

Few sons their fathers equal; most appear

Degenerate; but we find, though rare, sometimes

365

A son superior even to his Sire.

And since thyself shalt neither base be found

Nor spiritless, nor altogether void

Of talents, such as grace thy royal Sire,

I therefore hope success of thy attempt.

370

Heed not the suitors' projects; neither wise

Are they, nor just, nor aught suspect the doom

Which now approaches them, and in one day

Shall overwhelm them all. No long suspense

Shall hold thy purposed enterprize in doubt,

375

Such help from me, of old thy father's friend,

Thou shalt receive, who with a bark well-oar'd

Will serve thee, and myself attend thee forth.

But haste, join thou the suitors, and provide,

In separate vessels stow'd, all needful stores,

380

Wine in thy jars, and flour, the strength of man,

In skins close seam'd. I will, meantime, select

Such as shall voluntary share thy toils.

In sea-girt Ithaca new ships and old

Abound, and I will chuse, myself, for thee

385

The prime of all, which without more delay

We will launch out into the spacious Deep.

Thus Pallas spake, daughter of Jove; nor long,

So greeted by the voice divine, remain'd

Telemachus, but to his palace went

390

Distress'd in heart. He found the suitors there

Goats flaying in the hall, and fatted swine

Roasting; when with a laugh Antinoüs flew

To meet him, fasten'd on his hand, and said.

Telemachus, in eloquence sublime,

395

And of a spirit not to be controul'd!

Give harbour in thy breast on no account

To after-grudge or enmity, but eat,

Far rather, cheerfully as heretofore,

And freely drink, committing all thy cares

400

To the Achaians, who shall furnish forth

A gallant ship and chosen crew for thee,

That thou may'st hence to Pylus with all speed,

Tidings to learn of thy illustrious Sire.

To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.

405

309

Antinoüs! I have no heart to feast

With guests so insolent, nor can indulge

The pleasures of a mind at ease, with you.

Is 't not enough, suitors, that ye have used

My noble patrimony as your own

410

While I was yet a child? now, grown mature,

And competent to understand the speech

Of my instructors, feeling, too, a mind

Within me conscious of augmented powers,

I will attempt your ruin, be assured,

415

Whether at Pylus, or continuing here.

I go, indeed, (nor shall my voyage prove

Of which I speak, bootless or vain,) I go

An humble passenger, who neither bark

Nor rowers have to boast my own, denied

420

That honour (so ye judged it best) by you.

He said, and from Antinoüs' hand his own

Drew sudden. Then their delicate repast

The busy suitors on all sides prepared,

Still taunting as they toil'd, and with sharp speech

425

Sarcastic wantoning, of whom a youth,

Arrogant as his fellows, thus began.

I see it plain, Telemachus intends

Our slaughter; either he will aids procure

From sandy Pylus, or will bring them arm'd

430

From Sparta; such is his tremendous drift.

Even to fruitful Ephyre, perchance,

He will proceed, seeking some baneful herb

Which cast into our cup, shall drug us all.

To whom some haughty suitor thus replied.

435

Who knows but that himself, wandering the sea

From all his friends and kindred far remote,

May perish like Ulysses? Whence to us

Should double toil ensue, on whom the charge

To parcel out his wealth would then devolve,

440

And to endow his mother with the house

For his abode whom she should chance to wed.

So sported they; but he, ascending, sought

His father's lofty chamber, where his heaps

He kept of brass and gold, garments in chests,

445

And oils of fragrant scent, a copious store.

There many a cask with season'd nectar fill'd

The grape's pure juice divine, beside the wall

Stood orderly arranged, waiting the hour

(Should e'er such hour arrive) when, after woes

450

Numerous, Ulysses should regain his home.

Secure that chamber was with folding doors

Of massy planks compact, and, night and day,

Within it ancient Euryclea dwelt,

Guardian discrete of all the treasures there,

455

Whom, thither call'd, Telemachus address'd.

Nurse! draw me forth sweet wine into my jars,

Delicious next to that which thou reservest

For our poor wanderer; if escaping death

At last, divine Ulysses e'er return.

460

Fill twelve, and stop them close; pour also meal

Well-mill'd (full twenty measures) into skins

Close-seam'd, and mention what thou dost to none.

Place them together; for at even-tide

I will convey them hence, soon as the Queen,

465

Retiring to her couch, shall seek repose.

For hence to Sparta will I take my course,

And sandy Pylus, tidings there to hear

(If hear I may) of my loved Sire's return.

361

He ceased; then wept his gentle nurse that sound

470

Hearing, and in wing'd accents thus replied.

My child! ah, wherefore hath a thought so rash

Possess'd thee? whither, only and beloved,

Seek'st thou to ramble, travelling, alas!

To distant climes? Ulysses is no more;

475

Dead lies the hero in some land unknown,

And thou no sooner shalt depart, than these

Will plot to slay thee, and divide thy wealth.

No, stay with us who love thee. Need is none

That thou should'st on the barren Deep distress

480

Encounter, roaming without hope or end.

Whom, prudent, thus answer'd Telemachus.

Take courage, nurse! for not without consent

Of the Immortals I have thus resolved.

But swear, that till eleven days be past,

485

Or twelve, or till enquiry made, she learn

Herself my going, thou wilt nought impart

Of this my purpose to my mother's ear,

Lest all her beauties fade by grief impair'd.

He ended, and the ancient matron swore

490

Solemnly by the Gods; which done, she fill'd

With wine the vessels and the skins with meal,

And he, returning, join'd the throng below.

Then Pallas, Goddess azure-eyed, her thoughts

Elsewhere directing, all the city ranged

495

In semblance of Telemachus, each man

Exhorting, at the dusk of eve, to seek

The gallant ship, and from Noëmon, son

Renown'd of Phronius, ask'd, herself, a bark,

Which soon as ask'd, he promised to supply.

500

388

Now set the sun, and twilight dimm'd the ways,

When, drawing down his bark into the Deep,

He gave her all her furniture, oars, arms

And tackle, such as well-built galleys bear,

Then moor'd her in the bottom of the bay.

505

Meantime, his mariners in haste repair'd

Down to the shore, for Pallas urged them on.

And now, on other purposes intent,

The Goddess sought the palace, where with dews

Of slumber drenching every suitor's eye,

510

She fool'd the drunkard multitude, and dash'd

The goblets from their idle hands away.

They through the city reel'd, happy to leave

The dull carousal, when the slumberous weight

Oppressive on their eye-lids once had fallen.

515

Next, Pallas azure-eyed in Mentor's form

And with the voice of Mentor, summoning

Telemachus abroad, him thus bespake.

Telemachus! already at their oars

Sit all thy fellow-voyagers, and wait

520

Thy coming; linger not, but haste away.

This said, Minerva led him thence, whom he

With nimble steps follow'd, and, on the shore

Arrived, found all his mariners prepared,

Whom thus the princely voyager address'd.

525

Haste, my companions! bring we down the stores

Already sorted, and set forth; but nought

My mother knows, or any of her train

Of this design, one matron sole except.

He spake, and led them; they, obedient, brought

530

All down, and, as Ulysses' son enjoin'd,

Within the gallant bark the charge bestow'd.

Then, led by Pallas, went the prince on board,

Where down they sat, the Goddess in the stern,

And at her side Telemachus. The crew

535

Cast loose the hawsers, and embarking, fill'd

The benches. Blue-eyed Pallas from the West

Call'd forth propitious breezes; fresh they curl'd

The sable Deep, and, sounding, swept the waves.

He loud-exhorting them, his people bade

540

Hand, brisk, the tackle; they, obedient, reared

The pine-tree mast, which in its socket deep

They lodged, then strain'd the cordage, and with thongs

Well-twisted, drew the shining sail aloft.

A land-breeze fill'd the canvas, and the flood

545

Roar'd as she went against the steady bark

Ran with even course her liquid way.

The rigging, thus, of all the galley set,

Their beakers crowning high with wine, they hail'd

The ever-living Gods, but above all

550

Minerva, daughter azure-eyed of Jove.

Thus, all night long the galley, and till dawn

Had brighten'd into day, cleaved swift the flood.

English (H. B. Cotterill, 1911) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (H. B. Cotterill, 1911)) — 2 focus

ODYSSEY BOOK II

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

Out of his bed uprising the well-loved son of Odysseus

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

Under his smooth-skinned feet then tying his beautiful sandals

Out of his chamber he came, as a god immortal in presence;

Nor did he further delay, but the clear-voiced heralds he ordered

Unto a council to summon the long-haired sons of Achaea.

These then made proclamation, and quickly they gathered together.

Now when they all had collected together and formed an assembly,

Bearing a bronzen spear in his hand to the council he gat him,

Neither alone did he go—by his fleet-paced dogs he was followed.

Wondrous too was the grace that around him was shed by Athene,

Making the people to marvel that saw him approach; and the elders

Yielded him place, and he sat him adown in the seat of his father.

First then rising the hero Aegyptus began to address them;

Bowed was his body by age, but his mind held infinite knowledge.

One of his well-loved sons with the godlike hero Odysseus

Sailed in the hollow vessels to Ilium famed for its horses,

Antiphus, skilled with the spear: he was slain by the terrible Cyclops,

Caught in his cavern—the last that the monster had roasted and eaten.

Though he possessed three others (the one with the suitors consorted,

Eurynomus, and the two aye tended the fields of the homestead)

Him howbeit he never forgat, but bewailed him and mourned him;

Ay and in tears as he thought of his son he arose to address them:

"Ithacans, listen I pray to the words I am wishful to utter.

Never was yet our meeting of council or session assembled

Since that the noble Odysseus in hollow vessels departed.

Who is it now that hath summoned us here? who found it so urgent?

One of the younger among us perhaps, or one of the elders?

Would he perish some tidings impart of the army returning—

Tidings that first he hath learn'd and of which he can give us assurance?

Or for the weal of the state hath he aught to inform or advise us ?

Sure it is some good man. Fair fortune attend him, and heaven

Grant him a boon, fulfilling whatever his soul desireth!"

Thus did he speak, and rejoicing the well-loved son of Odysseus

Took it as omen, nor seated remained, but intent to harangue them

Forth in the midst of the council he stood; and at once was a sceptre

Placed in his hand by Pisenor, the herald expert and sagacious.

Then to the aged Aegyptus he turned, and first he addressed him:

"Sire, not afar is the man that thou seek'st; right soon shalt thou see him.

He that hath summoned you hither am I—who am foremost in sorrow.

Neither, alas, is it news I impart of the army returning,

News that is come to me first, and of which I can give you assurance;

Nor for the weal of the state is it aught I can tell or advise you.

No—it is mine own need. —On my home is calamity fallen

Twofold: firstly a sire right noble I mourn, who among you,

All of you here, was a monarch and lovingly ruled as a father.

Second, and worse, is an evil that soon on the whole of my homestead

Infinite ruin will bring, and my substance utterly squander :

Suitors I mean, who in spite of the wish of my mother annoy her,

Some of them favourite sons of the noblest here in my presence

Cowards, who fear to betake them at once to the house of her father

Icarius, who alone should settle the gifts for his daughter,

Yea and bestow her at will on the wooer that winneth his favour.

These now every day to the house come flocking, and daily

Slaughtering oxen and sheep and the fat-fed goats of the farmstead

Revel at feasts, and carousing and quaffing the fiery red wine,

Wantonly waste. Nigh all is consumed, nor still is a man there,

Such as Odysseus of yore, to avert this plague from the household.

We, all powerless now to avert it, await for the future

Truly a pitiful lot, and shall know not how to defend us.

Sooth, to defend me I lack not the will, had I only the power,

Since it is not to be borne what I suffer; nor truly I deem it

Fair for my home to be ruined: yourselves should also resent it,

Ay and if only for shame that ye feel of the neighbouring nations

Dwelling around us or else for the dread of the anger of heaven,

Lest in its wrath at the deeds ill done it shall send you reverses.

Now I petition you all by Olympian Zeus and by Justice,

Goddess that gathers together the councils of men and dissolves them,

Spare me, my friends! Nay, leave me alone with my pain and my sorrow!

Leave me to mourn!—unless that my father, the noble Odysseus,

Acting in malice did ill to the well-greaved sons of Achaea,

Which to requite ye are treating me evilly, also in malice,

While these men ye abet. 'Twere verily more to my profit

Were it yourselves that consumed my paternal estate and my cattle!

Were it yourselves, right soon would compensation be offered;

Else, in the streets of the town we had made an appeal and entreaty,

PATTEN WILSON,
PENELOPEIA UNRAVELS HER WEB

Claiming amends, till the whole of the loss were duly repaid us.

Now it is worse—on my heart ye inflict an incurable torture."

These words uttered, the sceptre he dashed to the ground in his anger,

Bursting in tears, and the whole of the council was touched with compassion.

Then did the rest all silent remain, nor was any that ventured

Telemachus to assail and to answer with words of resentment;

Antinous was the one who alone addressed him in answer:

"Telemachus, big boaster, unbridled in temper—what prat'st thou,

Thus to insult us and fasten the blame of the matter upon us?

'Tis not the princely Achaeans that wrong thee by wooing thy mother,

Nay, 'tis that mother of thine, who in guile all women exceedeth.

Past is already the third, and the fourth year soon will be passing,

Since she began deluding the hearts of the noble Achaeans.

All she befooleth with hopes, and she giveth her promise to each one,

Sending them many a message; but things quite other she longs for.

Yea and besides in her heart this crafty device she hath plotted:

Rearing a spacious loom in her hall, she betook her to weaving,

Working a broad and a delicate web; and anon she addressed us :

Princes, who sue for my hand—since dead is the godlike Odysseus—

Patiently wait, though eager to hasten my marriage, till fully

Woven this web—lest vainly I forfeit the fruits of my spinning.

Lo, 'tis a shroud for the hero Laertes, to wrap him, whenever

Bringing his destined doom low-laying death overtakes him;

100

Else in Achaea's land might well some woman reproach me,

Were he to lie, who possessed such riches, lacking a grave-cloth.'

So did she speak and within us the valiant heart was persuaded.

Thus then all of the day at the spacious loom she was weaving;

During the night she unravelled the web with her torches beside her.

105

Three long years with her secret device she befooled the Achaeans;

Till, when the fourth year came, and as season was followed by season,

Then at the last (since one of her women, who knew it, had told us),

While at the loom her magnificent web she unravelled, we caught her.

Thus was she forced, though sorely unwilling, to finish her labour.

110

Thee such answer the suitors return—thou'lt soon understand it

Turning it o'er in thy mind, and likewise all the Achaeans.

Touching this mother of thine—dismiss her, and bid her to marry

Whomsoever her father commands or that pleases her fancy.

Should she however continue insulting the sons of Achaea,

115

Using the arts in the which she is richly endowed by Athene,

Deftness in exquisite work and the talent for cunning invention

—Ay and invention of guile—such guile as we never in old times

Hear of the fair-tressed wives or the daughters of ancient Achaeans,

Tyro or Alcmene or the fair-crowned lady Mycene—

120

None of them all had the clever devices that Penelopeia

Knoweth to practise and here's a device not seemly, not decent!

Well—they will never desist consuming thy living and substance

While this woman retaineth the purpose that powers immortal

Plant in her bosom. A mighty renown for herself she is winning

125

Doubtless but also for thee a regret for thy vanished riches.

Touching us suitors—we mean to betake us nor homeward nor elsewhere,

Till she has married the man that she chooses of all the Achaeans."

Him sage Telemachus addressing in turn made answer:

"Antinous, it is nowise possible thus to eject her;

130

She is the mother that bare me and reared me. My father is absent,

Dead or alive; and amends right heavy—for me a disaster—

Icarius will demand, if I wilfully force her to leave me.

Nor from her father alone shall I suffer, for heaven will surely

Punish me worse when my mother shall call on the awful Erinys,

135

Forced to depart from her home; and of all mankind will the censure

Fall on my head. Thus, never and never the word will I utter.

Now for yourselves if the spirit within you is wroth and indignant,

Well then, quit ye my halls! Ye can seek your junketings elsewhere.

Feed on your own! Go feasting in turn each one with the other!

140

Should it however appear to your minds more pleasant and better

Thus to devour the possessions of others, nor fear the avenger,

Waste as ye will! But the gods everlasting I call to my succour,

Hoping that heaven will grant such deeds to receive retribution:

Then in this selfsame hall shall ye perish—and none shall avenge you."

145

Thus pray'd Telemachus, and the Father who speaketh in thunder

Sent two eagles, that swooped from aloft, from the crest of a mountain.

Swift as the blast of a storm for a while came flying together

Both of them, each by the side of the other outspreading his pinions,

Till right over the place of the council and buzzing assembly

150

Suddenly wheeling they circled around and with many a flapping

Gazed in the faces of all with a glare foreboding destruction.

Then with his claws each clutched at the neck and the cheeks of the other,

Sweeping away to the right straight over the roofs of the city.

All in astonishment stared at the eagles, whenas they beheld them,

155

Wondering much in their hearts what things were destined to happen.

Then stood forth and addressed them the hero, old Halitherses,

Mastor's son, who alone of his age was surpassingly gifted

Birds to discern as a seer and tell the event that was coming.

Moved with a kindly intention he spake and addressed the assembly:

160

"Ithacans, listen I pray to the words I am wishful to utter!

Chiefly I speak to the suitors for them concern my predictions,

Since that on them there rolleth a mighty disaster: Odysseus

Now not long from his friends shall absent him, but even already

Near is at hand and is sowing for these their doom and destruction,

165

All of them ay and on many another he bringeth disaster,

Many of us that inhabit the far-seen Ithaca. Come then,

Ere it befall let us counsel to end their mischief—themselves too,

See that they end it! and truly the sooner they end it, the better.

Not as a fool unpractised I prophesy: sure is my knowledge.

170

Ay, I affirm, in regard to the man, that it all is accomplished,

All that I once foretold, when the Argive leaders embarked them,

Sailing for Troy—and together with these went cunning Odysseus.

'Many a woe shall he suffer, I said, 'and his comrades shall perish.

Then in the twentieth year he shall come, unknown, unexpected,

175

Back to his home.' Lo, all these things are finding fulfilment."

Forthwith Polybus' son, prince Eurymachus, made answer:

"Go to thy home, old gaffer, and prophesy there to thy children,

Lest peradventure on them some mighty disaster is rolling !

Touching this matter, methinks I can prophesy better than thou canst.

180

Many a feathered fowl in the sunlight spaces of heaven

Flutters about—nor do all bring augury. Dead is Odysseus,

Dead in a distant land. Had ye gone to perdition together

Well had it been, for thou ne'er hadst talked such folly as augur,

Nor hadst Telemachus thus further incited to anger,

185

Hoping a gift for thy house, I suppose—if he careth to give one.

Now will I speak to thee plainly a word that shall find a fulfilment:

While that a man like thee that is elder and wiser than others

Leadeth a younger astray with his words and incites him to anger,

First for the youngster himself far worse is the trouble he causeth,

190

(Ay and he ne'er will be able to help him because of the men here)

While for thyself, old man, we shall force thee to pay us a forfeit

Such as shall madden thy soul; and a grievous pain it will cause thee.

Also to Telemachus this counsel I publicly offer :

Straight let him order his mother to go to the house of her father;

195

There can her parents arrange for the wedding and settle the presents,

All of the wealth that is wont with a well-loved daughter to follow;

Ere it be done, we shall never (believe me), we sons of Achaea,

Cease from this forcible wooing; we fear not a mortal that liveth,

Not e'en Telemachus—how fluent soever his tongue be.

200

Nor do we hold divination for aught—of the which in thy dotage

Emptily prating thou makest thyself still more to be hated.

Yea, his estate shall be eaten to nothing, nor any requital

Ever be made, till she cease with delays to befool the Achaeans

Touching her marriage ;—and we meanwhile, all patiently waiting,

205

Still for this fair perfection compete, forgetful of others,

Leaving unsought such wives as a man might willingly wed with."

Him sage Telemachus addressing in turn gave answer:

"Eurymachus and the rest of you high-born nobles and suitors,

Touching this matter I cease to entreat; no more will I utter.

210

Known is already the truth to the gods and to all the Achaeans.

Grant me howbeit a good swift vessel and twenty companions,

Such as shall help to accomplish the voyaging thither and hither,

Since I intend to betake me to Sparta and Pylos the sandy,

Tidings to learn of my father's return who so long is unheard of.

215

Haply an earth-born man shall inform thee, or haply shall Rumour,

Daughter of Zeus, who on earth is the busiest bringer of tidings.

Should I be told of my father as living and homeward returning,

Surely for one more year I can bear with the waste of my substance.

Should they report him as perished and gone from the land of the living,

220

Forthwith quickly regaining the well-loved home of my fathers,

Here I shall build him a tomb and funeral offerings offer,

Many and rich, as is meet, and my mother bestow on a husband."

These words spoken he sat him adown; then rose to address them

Mentor, once of the noble Odysseus a faithful companion.

225

Him, when he sailed, did the hero entrust with the care of his homestead,

Leaving the old man there to command in the house and protect it.

Moved with a kindly intention he spake and addressed the assembly:

"Ithacans, listen I pray to the words I am wishful to utter!

Never be kindly affectioned again, nor loving and gentle,

230

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.

'Tis not the arrogant suitors so much that I view with resentment,

235

Though outrageous the deeds that they do with malicious intention,

Since they imperil their heads, audaciously braving Odysseus,

Eating his wealth, in belief that he ne'er shall return to the homeland.

Nay, I am wroth far more with the rest of the people—with you here

Silently sitting with never a word of rebuke for the suitors,

240

Never attempting to stay these few, though many ye number."

Him addressing replied Leiocritus, son of Euenor:

“Mentor, mischievous fool, where wander thy wits? and what prat'st thou,

Bidding them stop us? Methinks ye will find it a difficult matter

Fighting with men for a feast and with men who exceed you in number.

245

E'en if Odysseus himself, your Ithacan hero, appearing

Found at the feast in his house the illustrious band of the suitors,

Were he to long in his spirit to drive us away from his mansion,

Verily little his wife would joy, despite of her yearnings,

Seeing him safely returned; for a doom disgraceful awaits him

250

Fighting with those that exceed him in number. 'Tis folly thou talkest.

Come now, all of you people, disperse, each man to his farmstead.

Touching this youth, Halitherses and Mentor shall see to his voyage,

Both of them being of yore good friends of the house of his father.

Natheless, long will he linger, I trow, exploring for tidings

255

Only in Ithaca island, and never accomplish the journey."

Thus he addressed them, and hastily all from the council dispersed them,

Scattering hither and thither, and each man went to his homestead,

All but the suitors—who went to the house of the godlike Odysseus.

Meantime Telemachus, to the beach of the ocean withdrawing,

260

Washed in the hoar salt water his hands, and he prayed to Athene:

"List, O thou who as god yestreen to the home of my fathers

Camest, and badest me traverse the mist-bound gulf of the ocean,

Tidings to seek of my father's return, who so long is unheard of:

Yea, thou badest me go, but Achaeans hinder my going,

265

Chiefly of all those men o'erweening and wicked, the suitors."

Thus as he uttered his prayer drew nigh him the goddess Athene,

Likened to Mentor in voice and also in bodily semblance.

Then did she open her lips, and with swift-winged words she addressed him :

"Telemachus, thou'lt prove not in future a fool or a coward,

270

Hast thou within thee a drop of the valiant blood of thy father—

Such was he ever at winning his purpose in word and in action—

Nor shall I fear that thy voyage be vain or be never accomplished;

While if thou beest no son of Odysseus and Penelopeia,

Then can I nowise hope that thy wishes will find a fulfilment.

275

Seldom indeed is a son to be found who can rival his father;

Most are worse—but it happens at times that the child is the better.

Nay but in future, I know, thou'lt prove not a fool or a coward,

Nor is the craft of Odysseus in thee so totally wanting;

Therefore good is my hope thou'lt bring these works to fulfilment.

280

Come, put away from thy mind the designs and the thoughts of the suitors,

Senseless fools that they are—yea, equally foolish and wicked—

Unsuspecting of death and the darkness of doom that is rolling

Nearer, to swallow them all on the selfsame day in perdition.

Touching the journey thou longst to attempt, nought now shall delay it,

285

Such is the friendship I feel for the son, as I felt for the father.

Straight will I get thee a good swift ship, and will come as thy comrade.

Now, I exhort thee, return to thy home and consort with the suitors.

There for the journey prepare thy provision and stow it in vessels,

Wine in the jars, white meal of the barley, the marrow of mortals,

290

Packed in the well-sewn skins. Meantime will I levy as shipmates

Those of the people that offer them gladly; and many a vessel

Lies on the sea-girt island of Ithaca, newer and older;

One of them first I shall choose—whichever appears to be fittest—

Then we can quickly equip her and set her afloat on the ocean."

295

These words uttered Athena, the daughter of Zeus, and incited

Telemachus to depart; who, aware of the voice of the goddess,

Went on his way to the palace with heart that was grievously troubled.

Here in the halls of his home he discovered the arrogant suitors

Busy with flaying of goats and with singeing of swine in the courtyard.

300

Seeing him Antinous with a laugh came forward to meet him,

Clasped him at once by the hand, and with accents of welcome addressed him:

"Telemachus, big boaster, unbridled in temper, I pray thee,

Nourish within no more such anger in word and in action!

Come, let us see thee be merry and feast and carouse as aforetime!

305

All these things, be assured, we Achaeans will duly attend to,

Even a vessel and crew—picked rowers, to carry thee quickly

Tidings to seek of the noble Odysseus in beautiful Pylos."

Him sage Telemachus addressing in turn gave answer :

"Antinous, I can never with boisterous brawlers as you be

310

Peacefully sit at the board and delight me in quiet enjoyment.

Were't not enough in the past to have wasted so many a treasure—

Wasted so much of my riches, ye suitors, in days of my childhood?

Now I am grown to a man, and I listen to all that is spoken,

Listen and learn and, as stronger within me is waxing my spirit,

315

Soon shall I try to excite doom's terrible furies against you,

Whether I journey to Pylos or stay still here in my country.

Nay, I shall go—nor in vain shall I go on the journey I speak of—

Go as a passenger. Ne'er shall I get me a vessel or rowers

Granted by you: it is thus, I am sure, ye determined to treat me."

320

Speaking, he snatched full lightly his hand from the hand of the suitor

Antinous; but the rest, in the palace preparing a banquet,

Seeing it, jeered and with words insulting disdainfully mocked him,

While in their midst thus spake one insolent youth to another:

"Verily Telemachus is devising us death and destruction!

325

Either from Pylos the sandy his friends he will bring to avenge him,

Or from the city of Sparta! He seemeth in terrible earnest !

Else to the fertile fields of the Ephyran land he intendeth

Straight to betake him, and thence some drug right deadly to fetch him,

Poison, to cast in the bowl, that we all of us perish together."

330

Then in the midst made answer an insolent youth to the other:

"Ay, who knoweth? perchance as he sails in his hollow vessel,

Wandering far from his home, he will perish, as perished Odysseus.

Were it to hap, 'twould make our troubles the more and the greater,

Seeing that all of his goods 'twere need to divide, and the homestead

335

Give to his mother to have and to hold with the man that she marries."

Thus did they speak; but he gat him adown to a room of his father's

Vaulted and broad, where piles were lying of gold and of copper,

Garments also in chests and fragrant oil in abundance;

Many a cask moreover of wine sweet-savoured and ancient

340

Stood there, holding within it a liquor divine, undiluted.

Close to the wall and in order they stood, lest haply Odysseus

Back to his home might come, all toils and sufferings ended.

Doors close-fitting and furnished with locks were hung in the portals,

Folding together, and here was a matron by night as by daytime

345

Wont to resort, who it all full wisely and carefully guarded,

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

Her now Telemachus to the store-room called, and addressed her:

"Come, good mother, decant me a wine, I beseech thee, in wine-jars,

Sweet—ay, even the choicest of all but the wine that thou keepest

350

Mindful of him, ill-fated—if haply appearing from somewhere

Godlike Odysseus shall come, escaping from doom and destruction.

Fill me a dozen of jars and fit all closely with covers.

Pour me as well fine barley in well-sewn wallets of leather.

Twenty in all be the measures of meal of the mill-ground barley.

355

Only thyself mayst know it. Let all be collected together.

During the eveningtide I shall fetch it, as soon as my mother

Unto her upper apartment ascends and prepares her for slumber,

Since I intend to betake me to Sparta and Pylos the sandy,

Tidings to hear, if I may, of my well-loved father's returning."

360

Hearing the words he had spoken, the dear nurse Eurycleia

Uttered a woful lament, and with swift-winged words she addressed him :

"Why, ah why, in thy heart, dear child, should such an intention

Ever arise? How canst thou be wishing to wander in far lands,

Thou the belov'd sole son of thy mother? Afar from his country

365

Perished is godlike Odysseus amidst some people of strangers ;

Yea and as soon as thou goest the men will be plotting behind thee

How to destroy thee with guile and divide all these thy possessions.

Stay now quiet at home on thy lands. Sure, ne'er is it needful

Thus to go toiling and wandering off on the wastes of the ocean."

370

Her sage Telemachus addressing in turn gave answer:

"Comfort thee, nurse; not without God's will is the thing that I purpose.

Now come swear to me nought to reveal to my mother belovéd

Ere that of days not less than eleven or twelve shall be ended

(Save that she miss me before and shall ask and shall learn my departure),

375

Lest she lament me with tears and her fair face mar with her weeping."

Then by the oath that is mighty among the immortals she sware it.

So when at last she had given her oath and had finished the plighting,

Straight did the dear old mother decant him the wine in the wine-jars,

Packed him besides fine barley in well-sewn wallets of leather.

380

Telemachus then returned to the house to consort with the suitors.

Other was now the device of the grey-eyed goddess Athene.

Likened to Telemachus through all of the city she hastened

Seeking the men; and each she accosted imparting her orders,

Bidding them come to the good swift ship at the fall of the even.

385

Also to Phronius' son she addressed her, the famous Noëmon,

Begging a swift-winged ship; and he willingly promised to lend one.

So when the even was come and darkened was every roadway,

Down to the salt sea water the vessel they hauled, and aboard her

All of the tackle they shipped that by well-decked vessels is carried.

390

Then was she moored by the point of the bay, and the stalwart rowers

Gathered aboard, each surged to his work by the voice of the goddess.

Planning another device did the grey-eyed goddess Athene

Forthwith go on her way to the palace of godlike Odysseus;

Here a delightsome slumber she shed on the eyes of the suitors,

395

Dazing them so that the wine-cups dropt from the hands of the drinkers.

Soon to the town they departed to lay them to slumber, unable

Still at the banquet to sit, since drowsiness fell on their eyelids.

Calling to Telemachus did the grey-eyed goddess Athene

Summon him forth from the midst of the fair-built halls of the mansion,

400

Likened to Mentor in voice and also in bodily semblance:

"Come now, Telemachus for already thy well-greaved shipmates

Sit at the oar, and for nought are waiting but thee to despatch them.

Come, let us quickly be gone, nor longer delay them from starting."

These words uttered, at once went forward Pallas Athene,

405

Hastily leading the way, and he followed the steps of the goddess.

Now when at last they had gotten them down to the sea and the vessel,

Here on the strand of the ocean the long-haired youths they discovered;

These prince Telemachus as their lord and their leader accosted:

"Hither, my friends! let us fetch the provisions. Already together

410

All at the house is collected. My mother with nought is acquainted,

Neither the others the maids; one only I told of my purpose."

These words uttered, he guided them forward; they following after

Fetched the provisions and bringing them all to the well-decked vessel

Stowed them aboard at the hest of the well-loved son of Odysseus.

415

Then did he mount on the ship, and before him Athena embarking

Sat her adown at the stern of the vessel, and near to the goddess

Telemachus took seat; and the shipmates loosing the cables

Mounted the vessel themselves and sat them adown on the benches.

Sent was a fair stern-wind by the grey-eyed goddess Athene,

420

Blustering Zephyr, that roars as he sweepeth the wine-dark ocean.

Then called Telemachus to his men and exhorted and bade them

Set their hands to the gear; and they set them to work as he surged them.

Raising the pine-wood mast to its height, in the notch of the cross-bar

Firmly they fixed it, and bracing it taut to the prow with the forestays

425

Hoisted the fair white sails with the ropes tight-twisted of oxhide.

Struck was the midst of the sail by the wind, and the purpling billow

Shouted in front of the prow as she moved on her way in the waters

Over the waves of the ocean, rejoicing her course to accomplish.

Now in the swift black vessel when all of the gear they had fastened,

430

Setting them bowls for the mixing of wine full-brimming with liquor

Unto the gods immortal, eternal, they offered libation,

Chiefly the grey-eyed goddess, the daughter of Zeus the Almighty.

Thus then all of the night and into the dawn she was speeding.

Notes on the current edition

Odyssey

1. Antiphus. See ver. 31.

2. See B. i. 361.

3. It was an ancient custom to dedicate the finest pieces of weaving and embroidery to honour the funerals of the dead; and these were usually wrought by the nearest relations in their life-time. Thus, in the twenty-second Iliad, Andromache laments that the body of Hector must be exposed to the air without these ornaments. Pope.

4. Tyro, daughter of Salmoncus, and mother of Pelias and Neleus by Neptune. Mycene, an ancient heroine, who gave name to the city of Mycenae. Alcmena, the mother of Hercules.

5. If a son forced away his mother from his house, he was obliged to restore her dower, and all she brought in marriage to her husband; but If she retired voluntarily to engage in a second marriage, the dower remained with the son as lawful heir. Dacicr.

6. This speech must be understood ironically. By way of derision, Antinous bids Telemachus not trouble his brave spirit in contriving any more orations, or in any bold attempt to find out Ulysses, or to act the orator or hero's part. Pope.

7. See B. i. ver. 337.

8. It may be demanded how it was possible that the departure of Telemachus could be concealed twelve days from the knowledge of so fond a mother as Penelope. It must be allowed that this would be improbable, except in a time of such great disorder as the suitors created. Penelope confined herself almost continually within her own apartment. Dacier.

9. See B. i. 853.

New Alexandria Commentaries

Anita Nikkanen

Telemakhos appeals to the principle of reciprocity in his address to the Ithacans: his speech shows that feasting, such as the suitors are undertaking at Odysseus’ house, is a matter that calls for reciprocation (when correctly conducted; O.2.74-78). Conversely, an evil turn should likewise be reciprocated by an evil turn, another aspect of reciprocity that Telemakhos’ words make clear, and which their chiastic arrangement further underscores (δυσμενέων κάκ’ ἔρεξεν … κακὰ ῥέζετε δυσμενέοντες ‘[if Odysseus,] bearing ill-will, did evil deeds … you are doing evil deeds, bearing ill-will,’ O.2.72-73). The Ithacans’ not stopping the suitors would in Telemakhos’ words be explicable as a return for an earlier bad turn by Odysseus, but if that is not the case, they deserve as punishment the mēnis of gods (O.2.66-67).

As for what mēnis is, let us take a step back and look at some elements in Telemakhos’s speech: he describes the wrongs of the suitors (O.2.63-64), presents a principle for the maintenance of the proper state of affairs – mēnis of gods as the punishment for the outrageous situation in Ithaca (O.2.66-67) – and extends the blame from the culprits proper to their solidarity group (O.2.64-66). As Muellner argues with regards to Telemakhos’ speech, mēnis is a sanction aimed at maintaining the cosmic order and incurring it implies the transgression of fundamental cosmic rules, such as the ones the suitors break in abusing the hospitality of Odysseus’ household. Furthermore, given the role of solidarity in maintaining the continuity of the world order, those in the solidarity group of a transgressor are liable for punishment along with the culprit. Thus the three elements singled out from Telemakhos’ speech conform to the concept of mēnis and its functioning in maintaining social and cosmic order. (Compare the speech of Mentor at O.2.229-241, in my note on which I discuss mēnis and memory, which works towards the same end as mēnis but in a symmetrically opposite manner, and the ethical function of the two further. With regard to reciprocity, Mentor, in contrast to what Telemakhos says here, is clear on the point that there has been no earlier bad turn by Odysseus that would justify the current outrage in Ithaca, and so, the people deserve a punishment as a reciprocation for their actions).

To return to reciprocity: just as mēnis has a moral dimension and a function in upholding the proper social and cosmic order, so, too, is reciprocity involved in morality. Reciprocal exchange is a total social phenomenon in the Maussian sense of the term, such that reciprocal exchange is also an articulation of the social order, of the cosmic hierarchy, and an instance of the working of themis (the rules that enforce cosmic hierarchy and proper social behavior) – it is worth noting here that Telemakhos appeals to Themis in his speech (O.2.68). mēnis in fact protects the rules of exchange and the hierarchy of proper cosmic order, and reciprocity and mēnis are thus interconnected. Telemakhos’ speech neatly illustrates this web of interconnected concepts, and his argument relies on understanding their role within the Homeric society.

See further:

Mauss, Marcel. 1990. The Gift: The form and reason for exchange in archaic societies. Transl. W. D. Halls. London: Routledge.

Muellner, Leonard. 1996. The Anger of Achilles: Mênis in Greek Epic. Ithaca; London: Cornell University Press.

Seaford, Richard. 1994. Reciprocity and Ritual: Homer and Tragedy in the Developing City-State. Oxford: Clarendon Press; New York: Oxford University Press.

source

The wording of Mentor’s address to the assembly demonstrates the ethical dimension of the archaic Greek concept of memory: the failure of the people of Ithaca to respect Odysseus and behave appropriately towards him and his household is attributed to their not remembering him. Conversely, the speech also indicates that such forgetful subjects deserve harsh rulers (O.2.230-234): memory is the principle that maintains good social interactions and proper social order, and its absence brings about the opposite. Mentor’s name, ‘he who reminds,’ ‘he who stirs up’, is not inappropriate to the context, either.

Comparing Mentor’s speech with that of Telemakhos earlier in the assembly (O.2.45-69; some of what I discuss here is also included in my comment on O.2.63-79), we see further dimensions of memory as the principle that maintains proper social order. Telemakhos in his speech describes the wrongs of the suitors (O.2.63-64), presents a principle for the maintenance of the proper state of affairs – in his speech, it is mēnis of gods as the punishment for the outrageous situation in Ithaca (O.2.66-67) – and extends the blame from the culprits proper to their solidarity group (O.2.64-66). As Muellner argues with regards to Telemakhos’ speech, mēnis is a sanction aimed at maintaining the cosmic order and incurring it implies the transgression of fundamental cosmic rules, such as the ones the suitors break in abusing the hospitality of Odysseus’ household. Furthermore, given the role of solidarity in maintaining the continuity of the world order, those in the solidarity group of a transgressor are liable for punishment along with the culprit. Thus the three elements singled out from Telemakhos’ speech conform to the concept of mēnis and its functioning in maintaining social and cosmic order.

Likewise, then, we find all three elements of Telemakhos’ speech in that of Mentor’s, albeit with slight changes: the wrongs of the suitors are there (O.2.235-238) and the blame is extended to their solidarity group, the Ithacans (O.2.239-241, also O.2.233-234). Where there is a notable difference, however, is in the principle for the maintenance of the proper state of affairs: while in Telemakhos’ speech it is mēnis, in Mentor’s it is memory (O.2.233). However, Mentor makes clear that what is being perverted is the sovereign order, that of Odysseus’ position as the king over the Ithacans (O.2.230-234): this complements the role of mēnis in maintaining cosmic order, including the hierarchies of the sovereign order between and among gods and men. To underscore the parallelism of their speeches, at this very point Mentor’s words even echo those of Telemakhos’ (cp. πατὴρ δ’ ὣς ἤπιος ἦεν ‘and how kind a father he was’, Telemakhos at O.2.47 and Mentor at O.2.234). Memory thus appears as the flipside of mēnis: just as the latter’s function is maintaining the cosmic order as a sanction, a punishment for transgressing the rules, memory is the principle that promotes behavior that agrees with cosmic order.

See further:

Muellner, Leonard. 1996. The Anger of Achilles: Mênis in Greek Epic. Ithaca; London: Cornell University Press.

source

Telemakhos’ appeal to Nestor makes use of – and demonstrates – the function of memory in the context of appropriate reciprocation, another instance of the ethical aspect of memory: the typical scenario is one where the speaker asks the addressee to remember an earlier favor, and remembering this, it is implied, results in reciprocation of that favor as is fitting. The formula asking for remembering and reciprocation, τῶν νῦν μοι μνῆσαι καί μοι… ‘remember them for me now and [do something] for me’ (O.3.100) after mentioning the earlier favor(s) is repeated elsewhere in similar contexts, and so appears to be traditional (these exact same lines are repeated in Telemakhos’ appeal to Menelaos at O.4.328-331, and the formula recurs also in Penelope’s prayer to Athena at O.4.762-766).

source

As the cause of Athena’s mēnis here shows, besides failing to remember and therefore to act appropriately, failing to be νοήμων ‘thoughtful,’ ‘intelligent,’ ‘in possession of noos [mind]’ and δίκαιος ‘just’ can also lead to behavior that transgresses against the cosmic order. Words indicating mental qualities such as noos, noēmōn and phrenes are linked to the good kind of mindfulness and memory indicated by words such as mimnēskomai, and lack of them is associated with behavior that incurs mēnis (cp. I.15.128-129). In contrast to the Argives’ failures with respect to their minds and their subsequent punishment, a good mind is given as the reason for unfailing good conduct, for example Eumaios in his sacrifices to the gods on account of his good phrenes (O.14.420-421; cp. also O.24.194-195).

source

These lines repeat O.3.98-101, Telemakhos’ appeal to Nestor. Just as there, so here Telemakhos’ appeal to Menelaos makes use of – and demonstrates – the function of memory in the context of appropriate reciprocation, another instance of the ethical aspect of memory: the typical scenario is one where the speaker asks the addressee to remember an earlier favor, and remembering this, it is implied, results in reciprocation of that favor as is fitting. The formula asking for remembering and reciprocation, τῶν νῦν μοι μνῆσαι καί μοι… ‘remember them for me now and [do something] for me’ (O.4.331) after mentioning the earlier favor(s) is repeated elsewhere in similar contexts, and so appears to be traditional (in addition to Telemakhos’ appeal to Nestor at O.3.98-101, the formula recurs in Penelope’s prayer to Athena at O.4.762-766).

source

This speech by Penelope echoes the themes of those of Telemakhos and Mentor in O.2.63-79, O.2.229-241. When she asks her rhetorical question of whether the suitors listened to their parents tell of Odysseus, Penelope maintains, like Mentor, that it is ignorance or forgetfulness of Odysseus’ kindness as a ruler that explains the suitors’ arrogance. ἀκούετε (O.4.688), “you (pl.) hear,” here corresponds to a function of mimnēskomai, ‘remember’, when the latter denotes the performance of klea andrōn, epic songs about the glory of men: as mimnēskomai marks the activity of the bard, akouō, ‘hear’, is what the audience would do. The applicability of this constellation of concepts to the present passage is supported by Penelope’s insistence that Odysseus’ actions in the past were not only praiseworthy, but in fact also the subject of discourse – we can picture the suitors’ parents performing klea andrōn, specifically the kleos of Odysseus.

She also echoes Mentor, as well as Telemakhos, when she spells out that the suitors’ behavior is no fitting return for Odysseus’ treatment of his fellow men, and that the appropriate kind of reciprocation is manifestly not to be had (O.4.693-695). Where she differs from Mentor and Telemakhos, however, is in articulating the idea of reciprocity by using the term kharis, which here could be translated as ‘gratitude’, though its range of meanings is wider. In her speech, then, a connection is drawn between memory and reciprocity, specifically reciprocity denoted by kharis (see O.22.318-319 and my note there on the conventionality of the idea that good deeds deserve good kharis in return, and when that does not happen, the social system is being perverted).

Looking at how Telemakhos’, Mentor’s, and Penelope’s speeches converge on a topic but use different vocabulary to articulate what is involved makes apparent the connections between these key terms. We perceive the parallelism of mēnis and memory and their association with reciprocity in Telemakhos’ and Mentor’s speeches on the one hand, and the connection between memory and reciprocity denoted by kharis in particular in Penelope’s on the other. In addition, just as we can see that memory and mēnis are closely linked to themis, proper conduct, and upholding the cosmos (e.g. in Telemakhos’ speech in O.2), so the social role of kharis, especially as a force for or indication of proper social order (as in Penelope’s speech here), fits well in this network of concepts. Indeed, since the reciprocation of kharites (plural of kharis) is intended to establish a stable relationship with benefits to both parties, it appears to create an effect similar to that of the fear of mēnis or the positive guidance of memory. Just as mēnis and memory work to maintain the existing world order, so relationships of kharis are a further manifestation of the stability of the cosmos (see further O.24.281-286 and my note there on the connections between kharis and themis). Furthermore, a relationship of kharis involves memory (cp. e.g. dedications such as CEG 332 calling themselves mnāma), which can, in part, explain its similarity – or its kinship – to the purposes of mēnis and memory. The ideal of a remembering relationship of kharis as a manifestation of good behavior, however, is the opposite of what Penelope is talking about: in the scenario she describes, there is no kharis, no good conduct, and no memory of Odysseus. Compare Hesiod Works and Days 182-194 on the disruption of social order, proper reciprocal relationships and lack of kharis.

See further:

CEG = Hansen, P. A. 1983. Carmina Epigraphica Graeca saeculorum viii-v a. Chr. n. Berlin: de Gruyter.

MacLachlan, Bonnie. 1993. The Age of Grace: Charis in Early Greek Poetry. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Nagy, Gregory. 1974. Comparative Studies in Greek and Indic Meter. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. (pp. 244-246 on akouō, ‘hear’, as specifically a verb applied in Homeric diction to the hearing of kleos)

source

Penelope’s prayer to Athena to save Telemakhos in return for the sacrifices Odysseus has made for the goddess is another example of the function of memory in the context of appropriate reciprocation, as seen with Telemakhos with Nestor (O.3.98-101) and Menelaus (O.4.328-331). This scene between Penelope and Athena offers a slight variation in that the addressee is a divinity and the earlier favor a sacrifice; however, the interrelation of memory and proper reciprocation remains the same, including the use of the formula, τῶν νῦν μοι μνῆσαι καί μοι… ‘remember them for me now and [do something] for me’ (O.4.765).

source

Compare Sappho fr. 5.3-7: praying for the wishes of someone to be fulfilled, combined with bringing kharmata to friends and pain to enemies appears to be traditional. Both here and in Sappho, the context is that of achieving a nostos after dangerous seafaring.

source

Odysseus is wishing Nausicaa a marriage like his own: for the likemindedness of Odysseus and Penelope, see e.g. O.18.281-283 on their similarity in cunning and O.24.192-195 on their good minds. Singling out likemindedness as the greatest good for the couple accords also with the Hesiodic representation of the fifth age of men, where the lack of likemindedness is the most prominent sign of the failures of this age (Works and Days 182-184).

source

Odysseus’ contemplation of the ideal feast while visiting the Phaeacians presents us with a picture of the sort of situation where kharis (reciprocal exchange of good turns; see O.24.281-286 and my comment there for this meaning of kharis) points to the upholding of good social order, and the meal can be seen as a manifestation of the good social bond in the community. Here, not only is the ideal meal pleasant, endowed with kharis and euphrosune, ‘good cheer’ – Euphrosyne even being the name of one of the Kharites – but it is orderly (ἑξείης, “in order,” O.9.8) and upheld as the best state of affairs (κάλλιστον, “finest,” “most beautiful,” “best,” O.9.11). The participants in such a meal, then, are morally good, following the principles for good conduct. This ideal meal, endowed with kharis, is in stark contrast with the one foreshadowing the doom of the suitors at O.20.392-394 (where see my comment), described as akharistos, ‘lacking kharis,’ and payback for their evil deeds.

See further:MacLachlan, Bonnie. 1993. The Age of Grace: Charis in Early Greek Poetry. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Seaford, Richard. 1994. Reciprocity and Ritual: Homer and Tragedy in the Developing City-State. Oxford: Clarendon Press; New York: Oxford University Press.

source

Just as memory is the principle that maintains good behavior and keeps one on the right track (cp. O.2.229-241 and see note there), this passage illustrates the power of forgetting in leading people astray from their proper path and failing to do the right thing. Eating lotus makes Odysseus’ men want νόστου τε λαθέσθαι ‘forget return home’ (the same effect of forgetting caused by lotus at O.9.102). Not only do they no longer think about it, but they are unable to act on it either: it takes Odysseus’ using force to bring them back to their ship and carry on. Indeed, forgetting appears to be one of the main obstacles for Odysseus’ reaching home (cp. O.1.57, O.10.236), and Ithaca, or nostos, is one of the two recurring objects of forgetting in the Odyssey (the other object being grief, regularly unforgettable, e.g. Penelope’s unforgettable grief at the loss of Odysseus, O.1.342). In contrast, it is with a call to remember his fatherland that Odysseus’ companions get him to act and make him continue on his way home from Kirke’s island (O.10.472).

source

This attempt by the Cyclops to trick Odysseus illustrates the way lanthanein/lēthein is used in the context of speech in the Odyssey: in such context lanthanein/lēthein consistently indicates deceit. So here, it is in his devious speech (ὣς φάτο) to Odysseus that the Cyclops attempts to escape the notice and so deceive our hero, but the wily man that he is, Odysseus is not taken in (οὐ λάθεν).

source

This passage demonstrates the reciprocity, or complementarity, of memory and mēnis in the context of upholding proper social and cosmic order and the value system based on reciprocal exchange. Elpenor asks Odysseus to remember (μνήσασθαι, O.11.71) him and the funerary rites that are his due so as not to have Elpenor become a mēnima, ‘cause of mēnis’ (O.11.73), of the gods toward Odysseus. If Odysseus remembers and performs the rites, all is well, the cosmic order is maintained; if he forgets, he will incur mēnis as a punishment. Here, too, we can see that memory leads to proper conduct and helps avoid both the wrong courses of action and mēnis; mēnis, in turn, is the punishment when the rules are transgressed, and the fear of mēnis keeps one on the right path. This is central to the complementarity of memory and mēnis and neatly illustrated by the passage: when there is memory, there will be no mēnis, as memory keeps one mindful of the danger of incurring mēnis, and so helps avoid it in the first place. On the contrary, there will only be mēnis when this memory is absent. The relationship between memory and mēnis is thus not of perfectly symmetrical reciprocity, but the provision of one in the absence of the other.

See further:

Watkins, Calvert. 1977. “On Μῆνις.” Indo-European Studies 3:686-722.

source

This phrase about the good mental abilities of a character is here used of Amphinomos, the suitor who appears to be the least rotten of the lot. His better qualities are further brought out in this passage by mentioning that he pleases Penelope the most with words (μύθοισι; O.16.397-398) and that he thinks well (ἐῢ φρονέων, O.16.399), in both cases vocabulary we can see elsewhere in the Odyssey to connect with a good mind and memory. The same formulaic phrase φρεσὶ γὰρ κέχρητ' ἀγαθῇσιν, “for he had good phrenes,” is used of Eumaios and his unforgetful, unfailing observance of the gods (O.14.420-421): the formula indicates the connection between good memory, good phrenes, and respect of the cosmic order. Sharing this formulaic description with Odysseus’ exemplarily upright swineherd, Amphinomos appears to be of this more mindful sort, too. This characterisation is furthermore supported by Amphinomos’ deference to the gods’ will (O.16.402-403). Elsewhere, his exceptionality among the suitors is brought out in his treatment of Odysseus disguised as a beggar (O.18.122-123): he is deferential and kind when all others insult Odysseus.

source

In this passage Penelope appeals to Antinoos in a way that follows the model of the invocational theme. It refers to memory in order to elicit the desirable action, and the usual phrase for the theme is ἦ οὐ μέμνῃ, “or do you not remember” (e.g. O.24.115). Here, however, we have a variation on the formulaic phrase, as Penelope says ἦ οὐκ οἶσθ', “or do you not know,” to introduce a reminiscence on how Odysseus protected Antinoos’ father from the angry people. Penelope’s appeal corresponds to the invocational theme in also including a command: σε παύεσθαι κέλομαι, “I order you to stop” (O.16.433; compare the invocational theme at O.24.114). Furthermore, Penelope introduces a past favor to remember – an appeal to the rules of reciprocity. She has chosen a particularly relevant example, one that allows to draw clear parallels between the situation of Antinoos’ father in the past and what the son himself is doing in the present. Just as the people wanted to kill his father, so now the suitors, with Antinoos spearheading the plans, are plotting to kill Telemakhos (O.4.660-672, and again at O.16.363-392). And just as the people also wanted to eat up Antinoos’ father’s livelihood, so the suitors are eating up that of Odysseus (or Telemakhos). These are correspondences that Penelope herself points out specifically (O.16.431-432). What is more, Penelope refers to a social institution that entails bonds of obligation, which has been established between Odysseus and Antinoos’ father: hiketeia, ‘supplication’, or the relationship between the suppliant and the supplicated created through the ritual (cp. xenia, ‘guest-friendship’) – and these bonds are hereditary. Here Penelope reminds Antinoos of the very institution itself by using a specific term, ἱκέτας, “suppliants,” (Odyssey 16.422; also ἵκετο, “[Antinoos’ father] came [as a suppliant],” O.16.424) to indicate it, and spells out both the origin of this special relationship between his family and that of Odysseus (Odyssey 16.424-430), and how Antinoos is breaking it in the current situation (Odyssey 16.421-22, 431-32).

It should not, then, take much noos, ‘understanding’, ‘intelligence’, ‘mind’, to get the message, but does Anti-noos get it? He does not get a chance to respond as Eurymakhos takes over, assuring Penelope that Telemakhos has nothing to fear – while plotting his demise (O.16.419-448). But neither of the two suitors give an indication that Penelope’s speech has the desirable effect, as Eurymakhos’ immediate response and Antinoos’ subsequent behavior show. He instead proves to be worthy of his name, ‘Counter-noos.’ It is this faculty, noos, which is needed in good working order to avoid transgressing the rules of social and cosmic order, and the lack of which is associated with incurring mēnis, the sanction guaranteeing the maintenance of this order. Memory, in a role complementing that of mēnis, also upholds this order and these rules, and does so by keeping one mindful, in the right way, of the proper course of action. In addition to containing a variation on the invocational theme’s formulaic phrase appealing to memory, then, Penelope’s speech diverges from it also in not eliciting the morally desirable action.

See further:

Gould, John. 1973. “ΗΙΚΕΤΕΙΑ.” The Journal of Hellenic Studies 93:74-103.

Moran, William Stephen. 1975. “Μιμνήσκομαι and ‘Remembering’ Epic Stories in Homer and the Hymns.” Quaderni Urbinati di cultura classica 20:195-211.

Muellner, Leonard. 1996. The Anger of Achilles: Mênis in Greek Epic. Ithaca; London: Cornell University Press.

source

In this speech by Odysseus, words indicating good mental abilities, pepnumenos, ‘being in full possession of one’s senses’, ‘wise’ and epētēs, ‘courteous’, ‘gentle’, or, as Annette Dale argues, ‘very proficient in speech,’ are applied to Amphinomos, the noblest among the suitors. The first of these, pepnumenos, is often applied to Telemakhos to indicate his good sense (e.g. O.1.367, O.2.208, O.4.593), whereas epētēs is used in conjunction with adjectives pointing to good sense: angkhinoos, ‘ready of wit’, ‘shrewd’, and ekhephrōn, ‘sensible’, literally, ‘having phrenes’ – and all three are applied to Odysseus, a prime example of possessing a good mind (O.13.322, the only other occurrence of epētēs in Homer). Furthermore, epētēs, especially in the sense ‘very proficient in speech,’ ties in with Amphinomos’ description at O.16.397-398: that he is most pleasing to Penelope when it comes to speech (see also my comment at O.16.397).

In another passage illustrating Amphinomos’ positive difference from the rest of the suitors, he seconds Telemakhos’ reproach of the suitors’ riotousness at supper and suggestion it is time they go home (O.18.414-421). Amphinomos maintains that Telemakhos is right and proposes a libation before they head home - and here too, his ability at speaking plays a part: what he says is to all ἑαδότα μῦθον, “a pleasing speech” (O.18.422). His good sense not only leads to sensible speech, but his speech is effective, he can persuade his listeners: the suitors leave. So even in one of the suitors – the noblest one – we are shown the connection between good sense and speaking well, and that the first needed for the second.

See further:

Dale, Annette Teffeteller. 1982. “Homeric ἐπητής/ἐπητύς: Meaning and Etymology.” Glotta 60:205-214.

Russo, Joseph, Manuel Fernández-Galiano, and Alfred Heubeck. 1992. A Commentary on Homer’s Odyssey, vol. III. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

source

Penelope’s memory and mindfulness of her marriage to Odysseus are exceptional in the Odyssey: other women, we are told (O.15.20-23), tend to forget their previous marriage and children when remarrying, but Penelope here, in proposing the contest of the bow to determine the successful suitor, presents herself as doing the opposite (these lines are repeated at O.21.77-79 when she actually issues the challenge). Compare O.24.194-198, where Agamemnon singles out Penelope’s memory of Odysseus as that which deserves commemorating as a kleos. Penelope stands out as an example of socially ethical behavior.

source

In this passage we see that the suitors’ lack of kharis in their dealings with Odysseus’ household is repaid by an akharistos meal, one that has no kharis (as the term applies to the reciprocal exchange of good turns; see O.24.281-286 and my comment there for this meaning of kharis). Although the end of the passage, “for they were the first to contrive unseemly things” (O.20.394), appears to explain the meal’s lack of kharis as a result of Athena’s and Odysseus’ initiative in unjust machinations, according to Penelope, the suitors have done ἀεικέα ἔργα, “unseemly deeds,” before this. Furthermore, she connects the suitors’ unseemly deeds directly with a lack of kharis in return for good deeds (O.4.694-695, where see my comment). The lack of kharis in this meal as the reciprocation of the lack of kharis in the suitors’ feasting in Odysseus’ house, therefore, is another manifestation of the interconnections of kharis, reciprocity and social order, and the concerns regarding them that run through the fabric of the Odyssey.

See further:Seaford, Richard. 1994. Reciprocity and Ritual: Homer and Tragedy in the Developing City-State. Oxford: Clarendon Press; New York: Oxford University Press.

source

The inset narrative of how Odysseus came to have the bow that Penelope challenges the suitors to string and shoot with in order to win her hand has (as often for inset narratives in the Homeric poems) layers of meaning relevant to the main narrative. The bow is a gift of friendship from Iphitus, whom Odysseus meets while in Messene to collect a debt owed by the Messenians: they had taken three hundred sheep and their shepherds from Ithaca. Iphitus likewise is in search of twelve lost mares. The situation framing their encounter sets out a model for how reciprocation should work, even if “negative” as here, starting in theft: Odysseus is due recompense for the three hundred sheep and their shepherds. The theft of the sheep and shepherds parallels the suitors’ slaughtering of and feasting on Odysseus’ livestock and abuse of his household.

The suitable recompense for the suitors’ arrogance is foreshadowed in the story of the bow, as well. The twelve mares that Iphitus has come to reclaim turn out to be his undoing when Herakles kills him to keep the mares. Herakles does this while a guest in Iphitus’ house, without regard for the fact that he is offered food there – and without regard for the opis of the gods (O.21.28: σχέτλιος, οὐδὲ θεῶν ὄπιν αἰδέσατ’, “merciless one, and he did not fear the opis of gods”). Watkins (1977) has shown that opis is synonymous with mēnis. In comparing this line with a nearly identical one in Hesiod’s Works and Days (σχέτλιοι, οὐδὲ θεῶν ὄπιν εἰδότες, “merciless ones, and they did not know the opis of gods,” 187) where the transgressions incurring the opis are also listed, it is evident that divine retribution for transgression against the rules that maintain the cosmic order is meant. The scene between Herakles and Iphitus is one of hospitality (O.21.28-29), which parallels the situation between the suitors and Odysseus in the main narrative. Just as Herakles in the inset narrative breaks the rules of hospitality, so in the framing narrative do the suitors. Where the inset narrative contrasts with the main narrative is in the punishment: unlike Herakles, the suitors do not get out scot-free. The instrument of their undoing is the bow, the weapon that gives rise to this inset narrative. It is a gift of friendship (O.21.35), and as Seaford (1994) notes, it embodies the relationship of guest-friendship and the rules of hospitality; as such, it is an appropriate punisher for the abuse of hospitality. I would like to add that we are even told that Odysseus does not take this bow with him when he goes to Troy, but leaves it at home as a μνῆμα ξείνοιο φίλοιο, “a reminder of a dear guest-friend” (O.21.40). Appropriately, in a further way, then, the instrument of the suitors’ punishment embodies also the memory that leads to good conduct as a marker and upholder of a relationship of exchanging kharites, the reciprocal exchange of good turns.

See further:

Muellner, Leonard. 1996. The Anger of Achilles: Mênis in Greek Epic. Ithaca; London: Cornell University Press. (see pp. 36, 40, 187 on opis = mēnis and applications of Watkins’ argument)

Seaford, Richard. 1994. Reciprocity and Ritual: Homer and Tragedy in the Developing City-State. Oxford: Clarendon Press; New York: Oxford University Press.

Watkins, Calvert. 1977. “On Μῆνις.” Indo-European Studies 3:686-722. (see pp. 708-709, where he posits “a virtual semantic identity” between theōn opis and theōn mēnis)

West, Martin Litchfield, ed. 1966. Hesiod, Theogony. Oxford: Clarendon Press. (see p. 230 on Theogony 222 for theōn opis in Hesiod as meaning divine punishment rather than mere divine regard)

source

Compare O.19.576-581, where these same lines occur when Penelope proposes the contest of the bow. As noted there, Penelope’s memory and mindfulness of her marriage to Odysseus are exceptional in the Odyssey: other women, we are told (O.15.20-23), tend to forget their previous marriage and children when remarrying, but Penelope, as she issues the challenge of the bow to the suitors here, presents herself as doing the opposite (these lines are also found at O.19.576-581 where Penelope proposes the contest of the bow to determine the successful suitor). Compare O.24.194-198, where Agamemnon singles out Penelope’s memory of Odysseus as that which deserves commemorating as a kleos. Penelope stands out as an example of socially ethical behavior.

source

This speech of Leiodes the sacrificing priest as he begs Odysseus to spare him during the massacre of the suitors contains a line ending that also appears in Penelope’s speech at O.4.695: οὐδέ τίς ἐστι χάρις μετόπισθ’ εὐεργέων, “and there is no kharis afterwards for good deeds.” Here, Leiodes claims that he has not done anything, but will lie dead beside the suitors, “and there is no kharis afterwards for good deeds” (O.22.318-319). Although Odysseus does not believe him and slays him, Leiodes’ words confirm the conventionality of the thought: good deeds deserve good kharis in return, and when that does not happen, the social system is being perverted.

source

These words of Agamemnon show that the likeminded couple, Penelope and Odysseus (cp. O.6.181-184), is worthy of #kleos, a glorious epic song – and what is more, this kleos is characterized by #kharis. His praise makes the source of kleos in the Odyssey explicit. It is the mind (phrenes, O.24.194) of Penelope and her remembering Odysseus (O.24.195) that is worthy of celebration. And it is, again, a much-contriving Odysseus (O.24.192), his epithet pointing to his mental abilities, who has the luck of having Penelope as his wife. Although what exactly the arēte, ‘excellence’ (O.24.193, O.24.197), that both gives rise to this song and is its subject, is in, is left somewhat ambiguous, or even whether it is the arēte of Penelope or Odysseus – or, as I would like to take it, of the couple together – we can see that mental abilities are central to it, and throughout the Odyssey, the couple standing out for theirs are Penelope and Odysseus.

Further, Agamemnon’s words show the connection between the worthy achievements and their commemoration in song very clearly. Agamemnon speaks specifically of songs and reputation conveyed through them, contrasting Penelope with Klytaimestra. The balance of the comparison of the two women creates an effect of symmetrical opposition. As Penelope is called κούρῃ Ἰκαρίου, “daughter of Ikarios” (O.24.195), so Klytaimestra is Τυνδαρέου κούρη, “daughter of Tyndareos” (O.24.199), both named through their fathers, but with the word order reversed as if to draw out the contrast between them. While Penelope εὖ μέμνητ’ Ὀδυσῆος, / ἀνδρὸς κουριδίου, “well remembered Odysseus, her wedded husband” (O.24.195-196), Klytaimestra κακὰ μήσατο ἔργα, / κουρίδιον κτείνασα πόσιν, “devised her evil deeds, killing her wedded husband” (O.24.199-200). In both cases, the object of the wife’s action is her respective husband, both times qualified by “wedded” (there is perhaps even a suggestion of further parallelism in the alliterative echoing in memnēt’, ‘remembered’, and mēsato, ‘devised’). As Penelope occasions κλέος, “song of glory,” and ἀοιδὴν / […] χαρίεσσαν, “kharis-filled song,” to delight mortals (O.24.196-198), so Klytaimestra gives rise to στυγερὴ […] ἀοιδὴ, “hateful song,” among humans (O.24.200-201), the words and phrases mirroring one another again. The parallelism and even repetitions of specific words and phrases concretely demonstrates the opposition between the two kinds of song, the praise poetry of epic on one hand, and the blame poetry on the other.

Finally, khalepe, ‘grievous’, ‘harsh’, ‘hard to bear’, that qualifies the repute Klytaimestra gives women is the same word as we have seen in Mentor’s speech qualifying the harsh (khalepos, O.2.232) king that he takes the Ithacans to deserve for not remembering Odysseus. Therefore, in the polarities between good, ethical conduct and memory on the one hand and bad behavior and incurrence of mēnis on the other, Klytaimestra’s song would fall on the side of the latter, leading to grief and pain. If we compare this picture with that presented by Odysseus in his wishes for a happy marriage to Nausikaa, we can see that this pain aligns with the algea, ‘griefs’, suffered by the enemies of the ideal likeminded couple (O.6.184). In contrast, the good person’s praise poetry in Agamemnon’s exclamation is characterized by kharis: the kleos is an aoidē khariessa, a ‘kharis-filled song’ (O.24.197-198), just as the likemindedness of the couple in Odysseus’ wishes for Nausikaa is the cause of kharmata, ‘source of joy’ (O.24.185), for their well-wishers. And here we have one such well-wisher, Agamemnon, exclaiming on the happiness of Odysseus and Penelope, and even calling their kleos kharis-filled himself.

See further:

Nagy, Gregory. 1974. Comparative Studies in Greek and Indic Meter. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press.

_. 1979. The Best of the Achaeans: Concepts of the hero in Archaic Greek Poetry. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press. Revised edition, 1999.

source

In this passage, Laertes provides us with more insights on the proper kind of relationship of kharis, of reciprocal exchange of good turns. Most importantly, he specifies what is themis, right in accordance with the rules that enforce cosmic hierarchy and proper social behavior, in relationships of kharis: the ample reciprocal exchange of gifts and hospitality (O.24.285). Both of the key terms for reciprocity, in the form of words connected to kharis (χαρίζεο, “gave freely,” O.24.283) and amoibe (ἀμειψάμενος, “having requited,” O.24.285), are present. In addition, the way the themis of relationships of kharis is phrased, with ὅς τις ὑπάρξῃ, “when one has begun,” (O.24.286), implies that the relationship is continuous, with a potentially infinite number or reciprocations. This confirmation the ongoing nature of kharis also supports its connection to memory, which is necessary for sustaining this continuity. This is the kind of reciprocity, Laertes maintains, that Odysseus would have shown.

Laertes also characterizes the suitors (and by extension, especially given the impreciseness of his words, their solidarity group) as ἀτάσθαλοι ἄνδρες, “wicked men” (O.24.282). This adjective is applied to their behavior elsewhere in the poem, too, and it is the opposite of Odysseus’ conduct according to Penelope (O.4.693). Laertes also characterizes the suitors as ὑβρισταὶ, “men of hubris,” making explicit their status as violators of the rules maintaining the cosmic order (cp. O.24.458 on atasthalia; O.1.368, O.3.206-207, O.4.321, O.4.625-627, O.16.85-86, O.16.410, O.15.328-329 on hubris). The contrast drawn here between the suitors and Odysseus implies that what qualifies the suitors as men of hubris is their failure in matters of kharis in accordance with themis. What Laertes says of the suitors matches what we see in Penelope’s speech at O.4.687-695 (where see my comment).

source

Zeus’ speech here offers a solution to what may appear to be the beginning of a continuous cycle of violence and one of the tensions set up early in the poem. The speech recalls that of Telemakhos’ to the assembly, which forecast the threat of mēnis to the suitors and Ithacans (O.2.63-69). Instead of the extension of the retributive power of mēnis to the suitors’ solidarity group, however, Zeus here proposes to cancel it with the help of divinely inspired total forgetting of the suitors and their killing (ἔκλησιν, O.24.485). We can see that lēthē is opposed not only to memory, but also to its flipside mēnis. Furthermore, by comparing Zeus’ speech with that of Mentor’s in the assembly, another way in which it resolves the tensions set up in the poem becomes apparent: just as Mentor says that the Ithacans deserve a harsh ruler for not remembering how kind a ruler Odysseus was (O.2.230-234), here Zeus promises that Odysseus will in fact continue to rule, and there will be love between him and his subjects. This outcome, too, depends on the eklēsis, and so we can see that the ills resulting from mēnis and not remembering are both countered by this divine forgetting, further underlining their parallelism.

source

David Elmer

This line marks the first occurrence in the Odyssey of a formulaic expression"then he/she thought of other things"(ἔνθ᾽ αὖτ᾽ ἀλλ᾽ ἐνόησε) that occurs, with minor variations, eleven times in the Odyssey and twice in the Iliad. The formula shows interesting patterns of restriction in both poems. In the Odyssey, it is always used with a female subject (Athena [2.382, 2.393, 4.795, 5.382, 6.112, 18.187, 23.242, 23.344], Helen [4.219], Nausikaa [6.251], or Penelope [16.409]). In the Iliad, it is used exclusively of Achilles (23.140, 23.193). See Iliad 23.140 for discussion of the two Iliadic instances; here I concentrate on the formula’s occurrences in the Odyssey.

\r\nFrom a narratological point of view, the expression has an important function: as noted by de Jong 2001:66, it “highlights a new, often sudden or unexpected turn in the story,” in this case “the—abrupt—change of scene from Telemachus to Athena.” In other words, the formula marks the development of the plot in a new direction that is not a mere continuation of what has preceded. (Odyssey 23.242 is a significant exception.) Furthermore, it links this new development with the intervention of some specific agent, who is thus momentarily represented as controlling the plot. De Jong 2001:66 notes that the frequency with which the expression is used of Athena corresponds to the goddess’s “role of ‘director’ of the story of the Odyssey.” Occurrences of the formula with Helen, Nausikaa, and Penelope as subjects extend this plot-making power to other prominent women. In this way, a convenient narrative device serves also to underscore one of the poem’s major thematic concerns, namely, the way in which the story of Odysseus’ homecoming—the plot of the Odyssey—depends upon the favorable disposition of certain women, above all Penelope. The poem has numerous ways of signaling that its plot hinges on female agents (see Odyssey 11.226, Odyssey 11.436-39). This should not, however, be interpreted as a subversive gesture: as stressed by Murnaghan 2005, Athena as “source and sponsor” of the Odyssey’s plot works to uphold the authority of the patriarchal oikos.

\r\n\r\nReferences

\r\nde Jong, Irene J. F. 2001. A Narratological Commentary on the Odyssey. Cambridge and New York.

\r\nMurnaghan, Sheila. 1995. “The Plan of Athena.” In The Distaff Side: Representing the Female in Homer’s Odyssey (ed. B. Cohen) 61-80. New York and Oxford.

source

The so-called “Catalogue of Heroines” is bracketed by references to Persephone’s role in summoning and then dispersing the heroines whose appearances occasion the various entries in the Catalogue. Here, Odysseus stresses that Persephone “bid” the psukhai of the heroines to approach the animals he had slaughtered; at Odyssey 11.385-86, resuming his narration after an “intermezzo” in which he converses with Arete and Alkinoos, Odysseus transitions to the “Catalogue of Heroes” by explaining that Agamemnon appeared “when reverend Persephone scattered in various directions the psukhai of the women.” Odysseus thus presents Persephone as the ‘director’ of this portion of his narrative, a position that corresponds to that of Athena as ‘director’ of the plot of the Odyssey (on Athena as ‘director,’ see Murnaghan 2005, de Jong 2001:66). The emphasis on Persephone, then, is one of several reminders of the fact that the story of Odysseus’ homecoming unfolds as a result of Athena’s active intervention (see note on Odyssey 2.382). It also points to the importance of another female sponsor, Arete, at this particular moment in Odysseus’ story. Odysseus has been advised by Athena that his hopes for a homecoming depend especially on Arete's good will (Odyssey 7.75-9; the importance of Arete in this regard seems to figure the importance of Penelope as the woman on whose good will Odysseus’ homecoming ultimately depends). The “Catalogue of Heroines” has been described as “Odysseus’ gift to Arete” (Pache 1999:28), an effort to appeal to her interests just as the “Catalogue of Heroes” explicitly answers Alkinoos’ request to hear about the psukhai of those who fell at Troy. The appeal is a success: Arete responds by urging the Phaeacians to present Odysseus with additional gifts. By underscoring the importance of Persephone as the one who directs the Catalogue, Odysseus may subtly suggest to his patroness that she has the power to direct the subsequent course of his own story.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nReferences\r\n\r\nde Jong, I. J. F. 2001. A Narratological Commentary on the Odyssey. Cambridge and New York.\r\n\r\nMurnaghan, S. 1995. “The Plan of Athena.” In The Distaff Side: Representing the Female in Homer’s Odyssey (ed. B. Cohen) 61-80. New York and Oxford.\r\n\r\nPache, Corinne. 1999. “Odysseus and the Phaeacians.” In Nine Essays on Homer (eds. M. Carlisle and O. Levaniouk) 21-33. Lanham, MD.

source

Odysseus characterizes the suffering attendant on the Trojan expedition—including the many deaths depicted in the Iliad—as a consequence of Zeus’ displeasure and the “will (βουλαί) of women.” This description substantially modifies the causal framework put forward by the Iliad, which presents the events it describes as the result of “the will of Zeus” (Διὸς βουλή, as in Iliad 1.5) alone. Odysseus’ reconfiguration of Iliadic causality reflects the distinctive vision of the Odyssey, which portrays female figures as exercising considerable control over events: Athena, with the support of Zeus, is the divine sponsor of the plot (see Murnaghan 2005), and the success of Odysseus’ homecoming is repeatedly represented as depending on the goodwill of various women, above all Penelope. (See also Odyssey 2.382, 11.226).\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nReferences\r\n\r\nMurnaghan, S. 1995. “The Plan of Athena.” In The Distaff Side: Representing the Female in Homer’s Odyssey (ed. B. Cohen) 61-80. New York and Oxford.

source

The “he/she thought of other things” (ἄλλ᾽ ἐνόησε) formula ordinarily signals a change of scene or turn of the plot in a substantially new direction (see Odyssey 2.382). Here, exceptionally, it marks a continuation of the current scene: Athena devises a way to avoid a narrative shift. The remarkable reversal of normal usage draws attention to the passage that follows (Odyssey 23.247-343), a passage that is concluded by another instance of the formula, used, as usual, to signal a change of scene engineered by Athena (Odyssey 23.344; this is an instance of “ring composition”). The lines thus enclosed describe the long-awaited reunion of Penelope and Odysseus, and include the verse that Aristophanes of Byzantium and Aristarchus, according to the scholia, designated as the τέλος (the “end” or “fulfillment”—the meaning of this remark is much debated) of the Odyssey (see 23.296). The passage also includes the recapitulation of prior events by both Penelope and Odysseus. The integration of their respective stories (Penelope narrates what has happened on Ithaka in Odysseus’ absence, while Odysseus relates the tale of his wanderings) not only figures the reunion of the lovers; it also reconstitutes in a straightforward, linear fashion the fabula of the Odyssey, which has been presented by the poem’s master narrator in a self-consciously disjointed manner (compare de Jong 2001:563). The bracketing of these signal acts of narration by references to Athena’s agency underscores the goddess’s role as “source and sponsor of the plot” (quotation from Murnaghan 2005:61): it is Athena who makes possible the recapitulation of the plot on this occasion, just as it is she who sets in motion and directs events throughout the poem.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nReferences\r\n\r\nde Jong, I. J. F. 2001. A Narratological Commentary on the Odyssey. Cambridge and New York.\r\n\r\nMurnaghan, S. 1995. “The Plan of Athena.” In The Distaff Side: Representing the Female in Homer’s Odyssey (ed. B. Cohen) 61-80. New York and Oxford.

source

Douglas Frame

use of nḗpioi echoes Od. IX.44-46

source

quoted and translated: analysis of role of Helios in correct understanding of the root *nes-. Earliest meaning is a “return from death and darkness” or “having returned to life and light” whose context is hieratic. Helios takes away from Odysseus’ companions their day of return because only the hero, like the sun, can pass through the regions of death without dying

source

comparison of “foolish” companions to Odysseus, archetype of intelligence. Signifies traditional association of companions’ loss of nóstos with their lack of nóos

source

citation of Zeus’ characterization of Odysseus’ preeminent quality, nóos

source

analysis of Odysseus’ role and function in the Odyssey as expressed by Zeus. His destiny is to “return home,” an idea expressed by the word nóstos – a nominal derivative of néomai

source

Athena announces here her plan to visit Telemachus in order to ‘arouse’ him and ‘put spirit in his mind’. These two expressions mean the same thing. When Athena carries out her plan she disguises herself, in Book 1, as Mentes, a foreign trader, and then, in Books 2 and 3, as Mentor, an old man of Ithaca, and both these names mean the same thing, ‘he who arouses, he who stirs up’. The noun menos, ‘spirit’, in Od. 1.89 contains the same verbal root men- as the names Mentēs and Mentōr, and the occurrence of the noun in Athena’s speech anticipates her two disguises. For the meaning of the name Mentōr, particularly in relation to the name Nestōr, see the essay “Nestor’s Name”. As ‘he who stirs up’ the name Mentōr implies an active verb menō, ‘stir up’, which does not occur in Greek. The active verb with the meaning ‘stir up’ is epotrunō, which is what occurs in Athena’s speech. To make the verbal connection with the names Mentēs and Mentōr the verb epotrunō is glossed in Athena’s speech by the phrase with menos. For more on the verb (ep)otrunō in relation to the name Mentōr*, see Frame 2009:25n37.

Frame, Douglas, 2009. Hippota Nestor. Cambridge, 2009

source

analysis of formulaic variation of Od. XI.114, Od. XII.141. The traditional context of prophesy is preserved without implication of “returning from death,” but Homer substitutes oíkad’ eleústhai for neȋai

source

quoted as evidence that Homer understood neȋai as simply meaning “you will return home”

source

citation of Nestor’s appraisal of Odysseus as the “shrewdest” of the Achaeans. Suggests that whereas Nestor symbolizes nóos, Odysseus makes nóos effective

source

example of relationship between verbs signifying mind as nóstos. Compare to Il. X.509, Od. III.142

source

analysis of Telemachus’ description of Nestor, who appears “immortal.” Suggests that Nestor’s apparent “immortality” is a remnant of his possible former mythological status as a god

source

analysis of an available solution to the imprecise opposition between “escaping death” and “being caught” explored in Od. V.312, Il. XXI.281, Od. XXIV.34

source

reference to Homeric passage where nóos is connected to traditional sense of return.

source

citation of Phaeacian epithet, ankhítheoi, “close to the gods”

source

analysis of the role of Hermes’ staff in suggesting that that the return of Odysseus is a return to consciousness and life

source

analysis of original notion of verb halṓō, “to be seized by death”

source

analysis of Pylos’ (púlai of Hades) possible connection to lost story of Nestor’s cave, which Homer might here allude to: en Pulōi en nekúessin, “in Pylos amongst the dead”

source

analysis of the use of nóēma to describe the Phaeacian ships. The simile “as quick as thought” is unique in Homer

source

analysis of the equation of sleep with death. Argues that details show that sleep is a basic part of the “return” motif

source

analysis of reference to “counsels” as a suggestion that Oydesseus is on his final “return to life,” and that his nóos is ready to emerge. This same theme is seen in the return from Cyclops’ cave (Od. IX.444-445)

source

analysis of lḗthē as the “forgetfulness of death” in the description of the sleeping hero because his nóos is removed by lḗthē

source

citation of the fact that the Phaeacian ship arrives at dawn. Suggests tentative link to the role of the sun in the final voyage of Odysseus

source

This passage, beginning with the expression ho d'asphaleōs agoreuei 'he speaks to the point unfailingly' is remarkably similar, even word-for-word the same, as what the poet Hesiod says in Theogony lines 86 and 91-92 in describing the gift of fair speech which the Muses give to a king when they honor him from birth. The difference is that Hesiod names the context—kings—whereas Odysseus does not, but the reason for this is clear: for Odysseus to do so would require him to identify himself before his dramatic self-disclosure in Book 9. Once the reason for Odysseus’s silence, namely his still hidden identity, is taken into account, the context of the two passages is the same, namely fair speech as the essential quality of a king.

The close correspondence in phrasing between the two passages has raised the question whether one passage imitates the other, but no consensus has ever been reached. The answer seems to lie not in the imitation of one poet by the other, but in a common poetic tradition behind both poets. This tradition has been identified in a perceptive study by Richard Martin as “the instruction of princes,” a wide-spread genre with important examples in Greek, from Hesiod’s Works and Days and the poetry of Theognis, to the lost Instructions of Chiron. The Hesiodic passage fills in for us what is deliberately withheld in Odysseus’s speech, namely that he is speaking about what it is to be a king. The Homeric audience would have understood this, because they, like us, knew that the speaker is not only a king, but, in the Homeric scheme of things, the ideal king.

This is only half the story, however. When Odysseus delivers his piece of princely instruction, he does more than hint at his own identity. He also brings the Homeric audience into the story through a more subtle case of hidden identity than his own. In spite of surface appearances the intended recipient of Odysseus’s instruction is not in fact the young Phaeacian to whom it is overtly addressed: his name, Euryalos, which relates to the sea, does not distinguish him from the other Phaeacians, twenty-one of whom have similar sea-related names. That name is generic, a reflection of the Phaeacians’ mythic function as sea-farers. Odysseus does indeed reprove Euryalos at the start of his speech, saying “you are like a reckless man,” and again at the end, where he acknowledges Euryalos’s fine physical appearance, but censures his lack of understanding (noos). However, the burden of Odysseus’s speech is not this reproof, but a positive portrayal of fair speech and its salutary effects.

The figure who stands most to benefit from this positive instruction is not Euryalos, but the future king of the Phaeacians, who is part of the whole episode from the start. It is Laodamas, the favorite son and heir apparent of king Alcinous, who first sets the episode in motion by inviting—indeed challenging—Odysseus to participate in contests (Odyssey 8.131-151), an invitation which Odysseus turns down with some asperity (Odyssey 8.152-157). This occasions Euryalos’s ill-considered words to Odysseus (Odyssey 8.158-164) and Odysseus’s response. But if Laodamas is the intended recipient of Odysseus’s instruction, why is he not presented as such, but instead kept far enough from the hero’s display of mettle to escape notice entirely? Odysseus himself provides one answer after his mighty rock toss, when he challenges all the Phaeacian youths to compete with him in further contests but excepts Laodamas from his challenge: only a fool would compete with his host, and Odysseus will not do that(Odyssey 8.204-208). This prudent respect for a host can be seen as present in the prior situation as well, in which Euryalos draws a reproof that all but touches Laodamas, but does not in fact touch him.

Now Laodamas' name, which means “he who controls the people,” is well suited to a future king, but that is not its real significance, or not all of it. The last Neleid king of Miletus had this name—Leōdamas in its Ionic form—and, while dates are uncertain, this Leōdamas can easily be placed in the Homeric era. Leōdamas is a good candidate to have been the prime mover of Panionian unity in the late eighth and early seventh century BC. We are fortunate indeed to know something of this Leoōamas beyond his name. His memory has been preserved in fragments of two historians of the Roman era. Leōdamas was successful in a foreign war which benefited Miletus and confirmed him as king, and as king he went on to become much loved by his people. His story ended tragically when he was murdered by a rival for the kingship, and this brought kingship itself to an end in Miletus.

Now the Ionian Greeks of Asia Minor traced their pre-migration origins back to the Bronze Age city of Pylos and its legendary founder, king Neleus. More precisely, the royal family of the Ionian city of Miletus traced their origins back to king Neleus, and they were therefore called Neleidai, “descendants of Neleus.” These Neleids then extended their pedigree to other Ionian cities in the process of forming a greater Ionian community, the so-called Ionian dodecapolis. This union of twelve cities, meeting at its cult center Panionion, gave rise to the two Homeric epics as part of the process of Ionian community formation. It is this Ionian community, as it met at Panionion, that the Phaeacians represent.

In Homer it is not Neleus himself but his son Nestor who plays a great role. It is he who represents the earliest stage in the picture of a common Panionian origin. Alcinous, the Phaeacian king, is a second Nestor, a conscious duplication of the Pylian king. Athena reveals this when she disguises herself as a maiden and meets Odysseus on his way to the Phaeacian palace (Odyssey 7.19-81) . She tells Odysseus about the king and queen he is about to meet inside the palace, and for the king she gives a genealogy extending over four generations, which is in effect Nestor’s genealogy: the names are different but the genealogy’s intricate structure is the same. By her action Athena also identifies the queen, Arete, as a second stage in the picture of a common Panionian origin when she leaves Odysseus and flies to Athens and enters the royal palace, her place of worship. The Neleids were said to have migrated from Pylos to Athens at the end of the Bronze Age, where they became the ruling family; Arete, who is cast in the mold of the Athenian city-goddess, Athena Polias, represents this second stage. It was from Athens that the Neleids next founded Miletus and became its ruling family: the founder of Miletus was named Neleus like his Pylian ancestor, and this gave the Neleid kings of Miletus two ancestors to explain their name.

When Odysseus gives princely instruction in Book 8 of the Odyssey, identifying fair speech as the essential quality of a king, the instruction is really addressed not to his apparent interlocutor, a misbehaved youth, but to a future king who stands by unnoticed. This future king in turn represents an actual king, ruling in the Homeric present. The Phaeacian Laodamas has as yet done nothing to distinguish himself except behave properly to a stranger. He is all future potential. That potential, we are meant to understand, has now been fulfilled in the actual present. The king who rules now is fictively pictured as having been present to hear the ideal king discourse on what it is to be a king. He has heard the lesson of the past—the heroic past—from the very hero of the poem. The Homeric audience is equally honored in this because like their king they also are like the Phaeacians, since they are also listeners to Odysseus' discourse, and as such they also have received the lessons of the heroic past from the hero’s own mouth.

Bibliographical references

Douglas Frame, "New Light on the Homeric Question: the Phaeacians Unmasked,” http://chs.harvard.edu/CHS/article/display/4453. For more details on the argument excerpted above, see this article.

Douglas Frame, "Odysseus and Kingship: Commentary on Odyssey 8.166-177," Classical Inquiries, June 3, 2016, http://classical-inquiries.chs.harvard.edu/odysseus-and-kingship-commentary-on-odyssey-8-166-177. The above comment is excerpted from this article.

Richard P. Martin, “Hesiod, Odysseus, and the Instruction of Princes,” Transactions of the American Philological Association 114 (1984), pp. 29–48.

source

analysis of the role of Phaeacians as sea-faring escorts who have a peculiar status halfway between gods and men

source

citation of Athena’s creation and then removal of the mist upon Odysseus’ arrival. Argues this reinforces the thematic connections between the arrival of Odysseus and the Sun

source

analysis of the use of nóos and nóēma as the proper reappearance of Odysseus’ nóos when he awakens in his homeland

source

example of the appearance of nóos linked to Odysseus’ return

source

example of the appearance of nóos linked to Odysseus’ return. Analysis of Athena as representation of the intelligence of Odysseus

source

citation of Athena’s creation and then removal of the mist upon Odysseus’ arrival. Argues this reinforces the thematic connections between the arrival of Odysseus and the Sun

source

analysis of the verb stugéō and its Stygian (Stúx) connotations

source

analysis of the Phaeacians’ preparation for Odysseus’ sleep. Argues that details show that sleep is a basic part of the “return” motif

source

reference to special pride of the Phaeacians as escorts, same lines appear in Od. VIII.174

source

reference to connection between description of the Phaeacian of ships and nóos and néomai

source

reference to the conventional nature of Homer’s description the sacking of the Ciconian city

source

comparison of the cause of destruction here with the slaughter of the cattle of Helios: the nḗpioi. Mindlessness as a cause of destruction is also emphasized by the suggestion of drunkenness

source

use of nḗpioi echoes Od. I.8-9

source

reference to the conventional nature of the Ciconian warriors who stand closest the world of the Iliad

source

suggestion that the poet who constructed this episode might have still understood the ancient thematic role of the sun. This could explain the peculiar usage of “dawn,” since much has already happened before the battle begins. Compare to Od. XVI.777ff

source

example of similarities between the Laestrygonians and the Cyclopes. Compare to Od. X.112-113, Od. X.120, Od. X.121-122, Od. X.82-183, Od. X.98, Od. X.116, Od. X.124, Od. IX.190-192, Od. IX.482, Od. IX.537, Od. IX.108, Od. IX.167, Od. IX.187-188, Od. IX.291

source

example of similarities between the Laestrygonians and the Cyclopes

source

analysis of Homer’s reinterpretation of the traditional collocation ásmenoi ek thanátoio, as phúgomen thánaton

source

analysis of the collocation ásmenoi ek thanátoio. Proposes ásmenos is derivative of *nes- and suggests collocation originally meant “having returned from death”

source

suggestion that collocation nóstou te lathésthai, “to forget their homecoming,” is related to a loss of “mind”

source

suggestion that collocation nóstoio láthētai, “that he might forget his homecoming,” is related to theme of a loss of “mind”

source

reference to the modification of the traditional full refrain seen at the end of the first, third, and fifth episodes

source

citation of the offshore island as a threshold to the encounter with the Cyclops [MRBTP: 'ff']

source

comparison to Paṇi myth in which a cave dwelling demon keeps flocks he encloses at night and releases by day

source

evidence of the role of Odysseus’ intelligence in the Cyclops episode

source

evidence of the role of Odysseus’ intelligence in the Cyclops episode

source

analysis of the pun between mêtis and the name Oûtis. The equation between the two words, coupled with the latent meaning of death in Oûtis, suggests that Homer has preserved the relation between death and nóos

source

analysis of close connection between the latent “return from death” and words denoting intelligence

source

analysis of Odysseus’ words thanátou lúsin, a “loosening of death,” and hṓs te per psukhēs, “as of for my psukhē,” which equate the Cyclops’ cave with death

source

evidence of the role of Odysseus’ intelligence in the Cyclops episode

source

analysis of phrase pukinà phronéonti as the closest Homer comes to realizing the original sense of nóos. Also suggests connection between “counsels” and the return from the Cyclop’s cave as a manifestation of a “return to life”

source

suggests connection between “counsels” and the return from the Cyclops’ cave as a manifestation of a “return to life.”

source

analysis of another Homeric recasting of the traditional collocation ásmenoi ek thanátoio as phúgomen thánaton. Two observations are made: (1) The traditional “return from death” theme is here, as in the minor episodes, latent. (2) This latent feature is closely connected with the Cyclops’ cave. Traces of the cave’s connection with the realm of the dead remain in Odysseus’ calling himself Oûtis while within the cave

source

analysis of Odysseus’ loss of the anonymity as death, the regaining of his name as a rebirth. Compare to words of Alcinous (Od. VIII.552-553)

source

analysis of formulaic variation of Od. XI.114, Od. XII.141. The context is changed from prophesy to curse, élthoi substituted for traditional neȋai. Dependence of élthoi on previous mention of “home” and “fatherland” shows the secondary nature of this passage

source

citation of the offshore island as a threshold to the encounter with the Cyclops [MRBTP: 'ff']

source

analysis of the location and context of the appearance of the traditional refrain

source

analysis of the collocation ásmenoi ek thanátoio. Proposes ásmenos is derivative of *nes- and suggests collocation originally meant “having returned from death”

source

example of Aeolus adventure as another instance of the “mindlessness” of the companions

source

example of Aeolus adventure as another instance of the “mindlessness” of the companions

source

reference to the modification of the traditional full refrain seen at the end of the first, third, and fifth episodes

source

analysis of the episode that describes the Laestrygonian kingdom. Argues that the phrase “the paths of day and night are close together” refers not to a geographic location (as Thucydides 6.2.1 attests) but rather the latent mythic background of the gates (or threshold) of night and day (as attested by Pamenides Proem 11, Hesiod Theogony 744ff.)

source

description of the Laestrygonian harbor, which is compared to the cave of the Cyclops

source

analysis of why Odysseus alone does not enter the Laestrygonian harbor, the place of death. Argues that Homer’s understanding of what was once a “return from death” as a matter of “escape” means that it is no longer necessary to enter the place of death

source

suggestion that the episode with the Laestrygonian queen shows this episodes original underworld context

source

analysis of Homer’s reinterpretation of traditional ásmenoi as aspasíōs… phúge, which shows that Homer understood ásmenoi to mean “happy”

source

analysis of the collocation ásmenoi ek thanátoio. Proposes ásmenos is derivative of *nes- and suggests collocation originally meant “having returned from death”

source

Homer says Circe was the daughter of Helios

source

Explanation of Odysseus’ odd description Circe’s land as “where the darkness is and where the dawn.” Circe’s land is equated with sunset when Odysseus ventures into “death and darkness” but with the dawn when he “returns to life and light”

source

evidence of “witlessness” of the companions as a negative indication of the thematic presence of nóos

source

evidence for suggestion that collocations utilizing forms of lanthánomai with nóstos are semantically related to theme of a loss of “mind.” Comparison with intended effect of Circe’s drugs: to make the companion forget their homeland

source

analysis of ambiguity about nature of companions who are turned into swine but retain their nóos

source

analysis of Hermes’ role in providing Odysseus the knowledge necessary to “return” from the wiles and dangers of Circe. Thus, nóos is the nóstos of the Circe episode

source

suggests a comparison between pent up companions of Odysseus and the imprisoned beasts of the Sun

source

analysis of Hermes’ role in providing Odysseus the knowledge necessary to “return” from the wiles and dangers of Circe. Thus, nóos is the nóstos of the Circe episode

source

evidence for notion that Hermes as psychopomp leads Odysseus to death and back to life

source

analysis of Hermes’ role in providing Odysseus the knowledge necessary to “return” from the wiles and dangers of Circe. Thus, nóos is the nóstos of the Circe episode

source

analysis of Hermes’ role in providing Odysseus the knowledge necessary to “return” from the wiles and dangers of Circe. Thus, nóos is the nóstos of the Circe episode

source

Description of the phármakon Hermes provides Odysseus, a plant with back root and white blossom – an appropriate symbol of for the underlying meaning of the Circe episode

source

evidence for Circe episode as a “return from death”

source

evidence for Circe episode as a “return from death”

source

evidence for Circe episode as a “return from death”

source

analysis of Homer’s use of the verb nostḗsein

source

analysis of Teiresias’ retention of nóos as the distinguishing characteristic which separates him from the dead

source

analysis of Homer’s emphasis on journey to Hades as a journey “to gain knowledge”

source

analysis of Elpenor (described as oúte phresìn hê̄isin arērṓs) as a survival of the traditional notion that a lack of nóos meant a lack of nóstos

source

analysis of voyage to Cimmerians as Homer’s attempt to add verisimilitude to traditional theme of “death and darkness.” Compare to Hesiod’s description of twilight region (Theogony 758ff.), where the original context is preserved

source

analysis of Homer’s emphasis on journey to Hades as a journey “to gain knowledge”

source

analysis of Homer’s emphasis on journey to Hades as a journey “to gain knowledge”

source

analysis of the Sun’s apparent endowment with an all-embracing consciousness. Compare to Xenophanes frag.20 (Diehl)

source

analysis of mimnḗskeo and médomai, argues they have the same significance for the connection between nóos and néomai as does lanthánomai in Od. X.236, Od. X.472

source

comparison of the formulaic diction of ásmenoi in Od. IX.62-62 and néomai, which elucidates common meaning. Dates probable composition of lines to second millennium B.C.

source

traditionally an essential part of a Nekuomanteίa

source

evidence for connection of prophesy of Teiresias with the theme of “life and death”

source

analysis of mimnḗskeo and médomai, argues they have the same significance for the connection between nóos and néomai as does lanthánomai in Od. X.236, Od. X.472

source

analysis of language used to describe the imprisonment of Melampus

source

analysis of survival of the role of nóos in the story of Melampus, which suggests a the context of prophesy similar to Teiresias’ relationship to the theme of “returning from death”

source

brief analysis of the Dioscuri, who as a combination of immortal and mortal elements, experience an alternation between life and death

source

This passage featuring three Athenian heroines belongs to the Panathenaic version of the catalogue of heroines. It is the final such Athenian expansion of the catalogue, and functions as an "Athenian signature." In the last line of the passage the god Dionysus is mentioned in connection with the third Athenian heroine, Ariadne. The form of his name in Greek is the Athenian form versus the usual Homeric form (Διόνυσος, with a short -o- vs. the usual Epic form Διώνυσος, with -ō-), and this is part of the "signature." If the whole signature is deliberate - if it is asserting its Athenian origin- the phrase containing the name Dionysus may have a double meaning. On the surface of the narrative Ariadne is killed Dionusou marturiēisi "on the evidence of Dionysus." In terms of an "Athenian signature" the "evidence of Dionysus" could suggest a slightly different translation, "the evidence of the word Dionysus."

source

analysis of antithetical fates of Achilles and Odysseus as contrasted by the by the “wits” of Odysseus and Achilles’ fate amongst the “mindless” dead

source

reference to Odysseus’s remarks that Achilles is even a king in the underworld

source

reference to Achilles’ response that he would rather be a serf in life that a king amongst the dead – a reference to Achilles’ juxtaposition with Odysseus (the one who has nóos will return, the one who does not will not)

source

citation of Odysseus’s appraisal of himself and Nestor as the foremost Greek counselors. Suggests that whereas Nestor symbolizes nóos, Odysseus makes nóos effective

source

analysis of Nestor’s battle with the Epeians as latent conveyor of traditional conception of Nestor as leader of his people from the dark night of danger to the daylight of victory

source

analysis of the traditional story in which Nestor alone survived the attack of Heracles on Pylos

source

description of the near extinction of the people of Pylos before Nestor’s cattle raid and battle rout. Evidence for contention that Nestor brings his people back to life

source

quoted and translated: reference to the fact that Nestor, as the only son of Neleus associated with life, is the only one to survive Hercules’ attack on Pylos

source

description of the near extinction of the people of Pylos before Nestor’s cattle raid and battle rout. Evidence for contention that Nestor brings his people back to life

source

description of the near extinction of the people of Pylos before Nestor’s cattle raid and battle rout. Evidence for contention that Nestor brings his people back to life

source

analysis of apparent discrepancy of Odysseus’ and Hesiod’s (Theogony 1011ff.) described location of Circe’s land. Circe’s land is equated with sunset when Odysseus ventures into “death and darkness” but with the dawn when he “returns to life and light”

source

analysis of Circe’s emphatic connection of Nekyia with theme of a “return from death”

source

reference to Circe’s description of the cattle and sheep of Helios. Comparison with the parallel story of Euenius (Hdt. 9.92.2-95), which suggests traditional link between prophesy, intelligence, sleep, and death that lies behind Od. XII. Similar association between cattle and the return from darkness and death is found in Vedic mythology (RV 2.24.3, 6.65.5, 6.13.3), the story of Hercules and cattle of Geryon, and the Homeric Hymn to Apollo (411 ff.)

source

analysis of the name, Néaira, as derivative of néomai, which refers both to the returning light of day and to light in the context of salvation – a name suitable for guardian of the cattle of Helios

source

comparison of the formulaic diction of ásmenoi in Od. IX. 62-62 and néomai, which elucidates common meaning. Dates probable composition of lines to second millennium B.C. Traditionally, essential part of a Nekuomanteίa

source

comparison of the formulaic diction of ásmenoi in Od. IX.62-62 and néomai, which elucidates common meaning. Dates probable composition of lines to second millennium B.C.

source

analysis of the relation between escape and intelligence. Suggests that Homer was “dimly” aware of the relation between “mind” and the “return from death”

source

analysis of the Sun’s apparent endowment with an all-embracing consciousness. Compare to Xenophanes frag.20 (Diehl)

source

interpretation of Helios episode as “return from death.” Sleep, or unconsciousness, is analyzed as the death from which nóstos is the “return”

source

analysis of possible reminiscence of Helios’ descent into Hades as the means by which the companions, who equated with sunset, were put to death

source

analysis of formulaic variation of Od. XI.114, Od. XII.141. Homer substitutes derivative form of νοστήσεις. Context of prophesy almost absent as a result of Homer’s modification of traditional diction

source

example of stock nature of the description of Odysseus’ possessions

source

example of a line which displays the ambiguity of halṓō, meaning either “to be captured” or “to be killed.” Only external evidence makes the meaning clear. However, the opposition between pheúgein and halonai is clear

source

evidence for reading nései instead of anései in Od. XVIII.256-266

source

evidence for contention that Odysseus’ voyage home is a passage through darkness to light, made in the company of one whose presence reflects the original role of nóos

source

analysis of the release of Malampus – ékfuge kêra, he “escaped death,” a phrase similar to phúgomen thánaton

source

evidence for contention that Odysseus’ voyage home is passage through darkness to light

source

comparison of the diction hormaínōn ḗ ken thánaton phúgoi êken halṓēi to the proposed reconstruction of line tō ouk oȋd’ ḗ kén me nései theòs êken halṓō (Od. XVIII.265). Strongly supports the substitution of nései for anései in Od. XVIII.256-266

source

analysis of language used to describe the imprisonment of Melampus.

source

comparison to Od. IX.56-59

source

suggests that transitive force of Nestor’s name could have created new transitive verb néō, which was restricted to hieratic contexts

source

analysis of the verb anései, which is argued in the phrase m’anései stands for original *me nései – a future of the hitherto hypothetical verb néō. This would have the lines read “therefore I do not know whether the god will bring me home or whether I will die in Troy.” Argues that proposed verb néō can mean to “bring back from death”

source

reference to Odysseus’ statement that he did not think all the Achaeans would return home

source

evidence not to postulate sn- initial for etymology of nóos

source

analysis of the close relationship between metis. Suggests that Homer was “dimly” aware of the relation between “mind” and the “return from death”

source

evidence for the description of D.B. Monro’s understanding of the verb anései, as a compound verb meaning “to place” or “set upon”

source

analysis of original notion of verb halṓō, “to be seized by death”

source

evidence for rarity of ἠέ κεν instead of ἤ κεν. Appears to appear only once

source

Gregory Nagy

By saying ‘tell me, Muse’, the Master Narrator is saying that the song that he will perform is something that he hears from a goddess who is invoked here as a singular Mousa ‘Muse’. See also I.01.001, where the Master Narrator likewise calls on a singular Muse. Although ennepein ‘narrate, tell’ here at O.01.001 does not explicitly refer to singing as does aeidein ‘sing’ at I.01.001, the narrative that the Master Narrator narrates is notionally a song in both the Iliad and the Odyssey. See in general the comment on O.01.001–010.

source

We have seen that the epithet polutropos ‘turning-into-many-different-selves’ at O.01.001 describes the narrative subject of the entire performed narration of the Odyssey as designated by the driving word anēr ‘man’ in the accusative, andra at O.01.001, used here as the grammatical object of the verb ennepein ‘narrate, tell’. Now we see that this epithet polutropos ‘turning-into-many-different-selves’ at O.01.001 is immediately followed at O.01.001–002 by a relative clause that outlines the overall narrative of the Odyssey: Odysseus veered many times and in many ways before he achieved a safe homecoming for himself. Similarly, we saw that the epithet oulomenē ‘disastrous’ at I.01.002 describes the narrative subject of the entire performed narration of the Iliad as designated by the driving word mēnis ‘anger’ in the accusative, mēnin at I.01.001, used there as the grammatical object of the verb aeidein ‘sing’. And we saw that this epithet oulomenē ‘disastrous’ is immediately followed at I.01.002 by a relative clause that outlines the overall narrative of the Iliad: the anger of Achilles caused immeasurable suffering. And we will see a further similarity when we consider the epithet lugros ‘disastrous’ at O.01.327, which describes the poetic subject of a performed narration as designated by the driving word nostos ‘homecoming’ in the accusative, noston at O.01.326, used there as the grammatical object of the verb aeidein ‘sing’. This epithet lugros ‘disastrous’ at O.01.327 is then immediately followed in the same verse by a relative clause that outlines the overall narrative there. See the comment on O.01.326–327.

source

The multiplicity to be seen in the shape-shifting figure of Odysseus is poeticized by way of repeating the element pol(l)- ‘many’ of polutropos ‘turning-into-many-different-selves’, spilling over from O.01.001 into O.01.003–004: πολύτροπον…πολλὰ |…|πολλῶν… |πολλά.

source

|1 That man, tell me O Muse the song of that man, the one who-turns-into-many-different-selves [polutropos], who in very many ways |2 veered from his path and wandered off far and wide, after he had destroyed the sacred [hieron] citadel of Troy. |3 Many different cities [astea] of many different people did he see, getting to know different ways of thinking [nóos]. |4 Many were the pains [algea] he suffered in his heart [thūmos] while crossing the sea [pontos], |5 struggling to merit [arnusthai] the saving of his own life [psūkhē] and his own homecoming [nostos] as well as the homecoming of his companions [hetairoi]. |6 But do what he might he could not save his companions [hetairoi], even though he very much wanted to. |7 For they perished through their own deeds-of-recklessness [atasthaliā plural], |8 disconnected [nēpioi] as they were, because of what they did to the cattle of the sun-god Hēlios. |9 They ate them. So, the god [Hēlios] deprived them of their day of-homecoming [nostimon]. |10 Starting-from-any-single-point-of-departure [hamothen], O goddess, daughter of Zeus, tell-me-as-you-have-told-those-who-came-before-me [eipe kai hēmīn].

There are three main points to be made in my comments here.

Point 1. The epic of the Homeric Odyssey begins in a way that resembles closely the beginning of its twin, the epic of the Homeric Iliad. On the term epic, used here for the first time in these comments on the Odyssey, see the inventory of Words and Ideas. The main theme of the Odyssey is signaled right away. On the term theme, see again the inventory. The signaling is accomplished by way of the first word of the very first verse of the epic. This word is the noun andra ‘man’, in the accusative case, which would be anēr in the nominative. The accusative case of anēr ‘man’ here marks this noun as the grammatical object of the verb ennepein ‘narrate, tell’, O.01.001. The Master Narrator is addressing a goddess who is the Muse of the Odyssey, asking the goddess to narrate for him the story of a man who is not yet named as Odysseus. On the term Master Narrator, see the inventory of Words and Ideas. The ‘man’ is the subject of the story. In other words, he is the subject of the narration, or the narrative subject. And this narrative subject is the grammatical object of the verb ennepein, meaning ‘narrate, tell’. Similarly at the beginning of the Homeric Iliad, as analyzed at I.01.001–012, the narrative subject is the first word in the very first verse. That word is the noun mēnin ‘anger’, in the accusative case, which would be mēnis in the nominative. The accusative case of mēnis there marks that noun as the grammatical object of the verb aeidein ‘sing’, I.01.110. There the Master Narrator is addressing a theā ‘goddess’ who is the Muse of the Iliad, asking that goddess to sing for him that anger, I.01.001. The song that will be narrated by the Muse for the Master Narrator will in turn be narrated by the narrator for his listeners. That song is The Song of the Anger, in the sense that the anger is the song. The anger is the narrative subject. Similarly in the Odyssey, the Master Narrator calls on the Muse of the Odyssey to ‘narrate the man’, that is, to ‘tell the song of the man’. Here too the song that will be narrated by the Muse for the Master Narrator will in turn be narrated by the narrator for his listeners. This song is The Song of the Man, in that the man is the song. The man is the narrative subject. And the song captures the total reality of the man.

Point 2. But this reality is not so easy to capture, since the man who is Odysseus is many-sided, as we will now see. Odysseus at O.01.001 is polutropos ‘turning-into-many-different-selves’. This translation makes explicit what is only implied in an alternative way of rendering this elusive word, ‘versatile in many ways’ (H24H 0§21, also 9§4, also 10§2), where the Latin root vert- ‘turn’ of the Latinate word versatile can mean not only ‘turn around’ but also ‘turn into a different self’, as we see most clearly in the Latin word for ‘werewolf’, versi-pellis, which literally means ‘he whose skin has turned’ (Pliny Natural History 8.34; Petronius 62; details in GMP 264–265). Similarly, polutropos applies to a figure who is different at every turn, and who becomes different many times and in many ways. That is why the ultimate shape-shifter, the god Hermes, is polutropos in the Homeric Hymn to Hermes (verses 13, 439). And that is why, in the only other context where Odysseus is described as polutropos, O.10.330, he is associated in that context with his polytropic model, Hermes himself, O.10.331–332. (Further commentary in GMP 34.) Since Odysseus can turn into something different at every turn, the multiplicity of angles to be seen at every turn helps explain why this hero will not yet be named at the beginning of the Odyssey.

Point 3. There is still more to be said about this adjective polutropos ‘turning-into-many-different-selves’ describing Odysseus at O.01.001: it is used here as an epithet for the narrative subject, which in this case is anēr ‘man’. Another such epithet is the adjective oulomenē ‘disastrous’ describing the mēnis ‘anger’ of Achilles at I.01.002. See the comment there.

source

The comments I offer on Odyssey Rhapsody 1 through Rhapsody 24, starting here with Rhapsody 1, were based mostly on details that derive from seven books that I indicate in the Bibliography by way of these abbreviations: BA, GMP, H24H, HC, HPC, HQ, HR, MoM, PasP, PH. Each one of these books has its own index locorum. My colleague Anita Nikkanen, an Associate Editor for this online project, tracked the sequences of Homeric verses as listed in the indices for six of these books and then summarized my comments on those verses. Following up on her meticulous work, I am in the process of converting her summaries into a form of commentary. My comments on the Odyssey as I presented them in Classical Inquiries are merely samplings of the content that I hope to contribute to the overall commentary, to which a number of other colleagues are also contributing their own comments. That said, I now proceed to offer a sampling of comments on Rhapsody 1. At this point, my comments about the beginning of the Odyssey need no further introduction of their own.

draft js image error Zeus, Athena, and Hermes (1810). Drawing by John Flaxman. Image via Wikimedia Commons.

source

Odysseus in the Odyssey gets credit already here, at the very beginning of the epic, for the conquest of Troy. By contrast, Achilles will never get credit for such a deed, even though he is the dominant hero of the Iliad, which means ‘the story of Ilion=Troy’ and which presents itself as the primary epic about the Trojan War. It is made explicit elsewhere in the Odyssey, though not here at the beginning, that mētis ‘mind, intelligence’ was the heroic quality that made it possible for Odysseus to become the conqueror of Troy. This theme is relevant to an epic story about a competition between Achilles and Odysseus centering on this question: who will get credit for conquering Troy? Will it be Achilles, exponent of biē ‘force, violence, strength’, or will it be Odysseus, exponent of mētis ‘mind, intelligence’? The story is reflected in the First Song of Demodokos in Odyssey 8, and it can be argued that the beginning of the Odyssey here alludes to that story. It can also be argued that the beginning of the Iliad also alludes to that same story. See the comment on I.01.001–012. In the end, though, as we know from the story of the Trojan Horse in the Third Song of Demodokos, retold in Odyssey 8, the mētis ‘mind, intelligence’ of Odysseus did succeed. And, by implication, the biē ‘force, violence, strength’ of Achilles had already failed, since Achilles was already dead by the time when Troy was conquered.

source

Etymologically, the noun nóos ‘mind’ indicates consciousness as distinct from the unconsciousness of sleeping, swooning, and death itself. This noun is derived from the verb-root nes*- ‘return, come back’. The root nes- has a deeper meaning: ‘come to’, in the sense of ‘come back to consciousness’. Another noun derived from nes- is nostos ‘homecoming, song of / about homecoming’. This noun nostos also has a deeper meaning: ‘coming back to light and life’. See the comment on O.01.05. Two definitive books on the Greek reflexes of the root nes- ‘return, come back’: Frame 1978 and 2009. I add here a special note on my translation of O.01.003: ‘Many different cities of many different people did he see, getting to know different ways of thinking [nóos]’. I translate nóos* ‘mind’ here as ‘way[s] of thinking’ because the wording says that Odysseus gets to know different ways of thinking by making contact with many different persons in the course of all his travels. Because he gets to know their different ways of thinking, his knowledge now makes it possible for Odysseus himself to think in many different ways. So he is getting to know his own ‘mind’ differently by getting to know the different minds of others.

source

It is announced here, at the very beginning of the Odyssey, that many algea ‘pains’ await Odysseus in this epic, O.01.004. There is a parallel announcement at the beginning of the Iliad: many algea ‘pains’ await the Achaeans in that epic, I.01.002. See further the comment on I.01.002.

source

Etymologically, the noun nostos ‘homecoming’ indicates a ‘return’ or ‘coming-back’, derived from the verb-root nes*- ‘return, come back’. This root nes-, as already noted, has a deeper meaning: ‘come to’, in the sense of ‘come back to consciousness’. The noun nostos itself, meaning ‘homecoming’, also has a deeper meaning: ‘coming back to light and life’. Etymologically related to the noun nostos in the sense of ‘coming back to light and life’ is the noun nóos ‘mind’, which has the deeper meaning of ‘coming to’ in the sense of ‘coming back to consciousness’. Two definitive books on the Greek reflexes of the root nes- ‘return, come back’: Frame 1978 and 2009. As for nostos ‘homecoming’ in the sense of ‘song of homecoming’, see O.01.326–327. On arnusthai in the sense of ‘struggle to merit’ (or ‘struggle to win as a prize’), see also the comment on I.18.121.

source

The companions of Odysseus are destroyed because of their own atasthaliai ‘deeds-of-recklessness’. The narrative emphasizes that the companions must own their mistakes. It is essential to note here that the destruction of the companions here is caused not by the Will of Zeus: rather, they are destroyed because they suffer the consequences of doing what they did of their own free will. I add a further note here: I translated the plural of atasthaliā ‘recklessness’ here as ‘deeds-of-recklessness’ in order to convey the fact that a singular noun expressing an abstraction can refer to concrete examples of the abstraction when it is used in the plural. So for example atasthaliā ‘recklessness’ is an abstraction, but here at O.01.007 the plural atasthaliai refers to concrete examples of recklessness—in this case, the recklessness is exemplified by the killing and eating of the Cattle of the Sun.

source

The Homeric contexts of nēpios, as the work of Edmunds 1990 | 2016 has shown, point to an etymology involving a combination of the negative prefix n̥*- with the root Hp- in the sense of ‘connect’, as in Latin in-eptus ‘non-connected’, not with the root u̯ekw- in the sense of ‘speak’, as in Latin in-fāns ‘non-speaking’. What is at stake in the meaning of nēpios is connectivity with parental models and, by extension, with ancestral models. The connectivity may be merely behavioral, as in the case of young animals that survive by staying connected to the older animals that generated them. In the case of humans, the connectivity that begins at infancy is not only behavioral but also mental, extending into adult patterns of consciously following ancestral models of behavior. Further, such connectedness to models may be not only mental but also emotional and even moral. And to be disconnected from such models runs the risk of being doomed for destruction, as we see here at O.01.008 in the case of the companions who did not heed Odysseus. Their disconnectedness is moral as well as mental.

source

Detail 1. I translate hamothen as ‘starting-from-any-single-point-of-departure’ as a way of differentiating this expression from enthen ‘starting-from-that-[specific-]point-of-departure’ as at O.08.500, where Demodokos starts his narrative at a specific point in the action.

Detail 2. The form theā ‘goddess’ is Aeolic: see the comment at I.01.001.

Detail 3. On the epithet thugatēr (vocative thugater) Dios ‘daughter of Zeus’, see the anchor comment at I.03.374.

Detail 4. I translate eipe kai hēmīn, which means literally ‘tell us also’, as ‘tell-me-as-you-have-told-those-who-came-before-me’ in order to convey the idea that the ‘us’ here refers not only to the ‘me’ of the Master Narrator but also, elliptically, to all the previous master narrators of the Odyssey. In other words, the narration acknowledges not only the horizontal singular ‘me’ of O.01.001 but also the vertical plural succession of performers that led up, in the course of time, to the ultimate ‘me’ of the here-and-now in performance. On ellipsis, the elliptic plural, and the ellipsis of successive ‘I’-s in the ‘we’ of the Master Narrator, see also the comment on I.02.486. On ellipsis in general, see I.04.196; also I.06.209, I.07.015–017.

source

The Olympians habitually go to the realm of the Aethiopians, situated on the banks of the cosmic river Ōkeanos, to dine with them there. The Aethiopians simultaneously inhabit the Far West and the Far East. This simultaneity is a mark of a theme that can best be described as a coincidence of opposites. See the comments on I.01.423–425. Here at O.01.022–026, only Poseidon is visiting the Aethiopians. Unlike other humans, who no longer dine with the gods, the Aethiopians still dine with them. Other humans have been separated from the gods and must therefore sacrifice to them instead of dining with them.

source

Near the beginning of the Iliad, in contemplating the countless algea ‘pains’, I.01.002, suffered in the Trojan War, the Master Narrator declares that his narration is the Will of Zeus in the process of reaching fulfillment, I.01.005. Near the beginning of the Odyssey, by contrast, Zeus himself declares that mortals are unjustified in saying that the algea ‘pains’ that they suffer, O.01.034, are caused by the gods. The god continues: it is of their own free will, O.01.033–034, that mortals commit atasthaliai ‘deeds of recklessness’, O.01.034, and so their pains are huper moron ‘beyond what is fated’, O.01.034. See already the relevant comments at O.01.007. So, mortals are unjustified in trying to hold the gods legally responsible, as expressed by the verb aitiâsthai ‘hold responsible’, O.01.032.

source

Here is the first mention of Peisistratos, son of Nestor, in the Odyssey. (He is not mentioned in the Iliad.) It can be argued that this Peisistratos was claimed to be the ancestor of Peisistratidai, the lineage that dominated Athens in the sixth century BCE. On Peisistratos of Athens, see also I.10.000.

source

(What follows is epitomized from H24H 9§17.) At a council of the gods, the goddess Athena declares her intention to go to Ithaca to become a mentor to the young hero Telemachus, O.01.088–089. Descending from Olympus and landing in Ithaca, the goddess assumes the human form of a fatherly hero named Méntēs, O.01.105, who proceeds to give wise advice to the young hero. In a subsequent intervention, O.02.268, the goddess will assume the human form of another fatherly hero, named Méntōr, and, as in the present intervention, this other father-substitute will likewise proceed to give wise advice to the young hero. These two names Méntēs and Méntōr are both related to the noun menos, which I translate as ‘mental power’. This word, as we can see here at O.01.089, refers to the heroic ‘power’ that the goddess Athena says she will put into Telemachus. The noun menos, usually translated as ‘power’ or ‘strength’, is derived from the verb-root mnē-, meaning ‘mentally connect’ (details in GMP 113). Likewise derived from this verb-root are the agent nouns Méntēs and Méntōr, which both mean ‘he who connects mentally’. When a divinity connects a hero to his heroic mentality, the hero will have menos, that is, ‘power’ or ‘strength’. To have heroic power or strength, you have to have a heroic mentality. See further the comment on O.01.320–322.

source

|88 αὐτὰρ ἐγὼν Ἰθάκηνδε ἐλεύσομαι, ὄφρα οἱ υἱὸν |89 μᾶλλον ἐποτρύνω καί οἱ μένος ἐν φρεσὶ θείω, |90 εἰς ἀγορὴν καλέσαντα κάρη κομόωντας Ἀχαιοὺς |91 πᾶσι μνηστήρεσσιν ἀπειπέμεν, οἵ τέ οἱ αἰεὶ |92 μῆλ’ ἁδινὰ σφάζουσι καὶ εἰλίποδας ἕλικας βοῦς. |93 πέμψω δ’ ἐς Σπάρτην τε καὶ ἐς Πύλον ἠμαθόεντα |94 νόστον πευσόμενον πατρὸς φίλου, ἤν που ἀκούσῃ, |95 ἠδ’ ἵνα μιν κλέος ἐσθλὸν ἐν ἀνθρώποισιν ἔχῃσιν.

|88 As for me, I will go travel to Ithaca, going to his [= Odysseus’] son |89 in order to give him [= Telemachus] more encouragement and to put mental power [menos] into his heart [phrenes]. |90 He is to summon the long-haired Achaeans for a meeting in assembly, |91 and he is to speak out to all the suitors [of his mother Penelope], who persist in |92 slaughtering again and again any number of his sheep and oxen. |93 And I will conduct [pempein] him to Sparta and to sandy Pylos, |94 and thus he will learn [punthanesthai] the return [nostos] of his dear [philos] father, if by chance he [= Telemachus] hears [akouein] it, |95 and thus may genuine glory [kleos] possess him throughout humankind.

Here the nostos of Odysseus, O.01.094, is shown to be not only a ‘homecoming’ but also a ‘song of homecoming’. On the meaning ‘song of homecoming’, see the comment on O.01.326–327. On kleos in the sense of an overall reference to the ‘glory’ of poetry, see the comment on I.02.325. Here at O.01.088–095, we can see that nostos as a ‘song of homecoming’ is a prerequisite for the quest of Odysseus to achieve the kleos ‘glory’ of poetry. Odysseus will receive the kleos ‘glory’ of his own Odyssey only if he achieves a successful nostos ‘homecoming’, and it is the kleos ‘glory’ of poetry that turns his homecoming into a song of homecoming. What the goddess says at O.01.094 is not that Telemachus will learn about the nostos of Odysseus if he is fortunate enough to hear about it. In the original Greek text, the noun nostos is the direct object of both the verb punthanesthai, ‘learn’ and the verb akouein ‘hear’ at O.01.094 here, and that is why I chose to translate the verse this way: ‘and thus he will learn [punthanesthai] the return [nostos] of his dear [philos] father, if by chance he [= Telemachus] hears [akouein] it’. Elsewhere too in the Odyssey, we see nostos as the direct object of punthanesthai ‘learn’: O.02.215, O.02.264, O.02.360, O.04.714—as also of akouein ‘hear’: O.01.287, O.02.218, O.02.360. It is not a question of learning about a homecoming, of hearing about a homecoming. Rather, Telemachus will learn the actual song of the homecoming, the song of nostos, by hearing it. He will actually hear the song from the hero Nestor in Odyssey 3 and from the hero Menelaos along with his divine consort Helen in Odyssey 4. (This formulation is epitomized from H24H 9§20; see also Stone 2016.09.28.)

draft js image error Athena (1810). Drawing by John Flaxman. Image via Wikimedia Commons.

source

The text as transmitted by Aristarchus (see the inventory of Words and Ideas) reads:

πέμψω δ’ ἐς Σπάρτην τε καὶ ἐς Πύλον ἠμαθόεντα

‘I [= Athena] will conduct [pempein]him [= Telemachus] on his way to Sparta and to sandy Pylos’

But the text as transmitted by Zenodotus (see again the inventory of Words and Ideas) reads:

πέμψω δ’ ἐς Κρήτην τε καὶ ἐς Πύλον ἠμαθόεντα

‘I [= Athena] will conduct [pempein] him [= Telemachus] on his way to Crete and to sandy Pylos’

The variant reading that we see transmitted here by Zenodotus (quoted in the scholia for O.03.313) indicates a variant epic tradition to which I will refer hereafter as a Cretan Odyssey. Further details at O.01.284–286, anchor comment on Cretan Odyssey.

source

Here Ithaca is figured as one single dēmos ‘community, district’.

source

The meaning of the name Méntēs, ‘he who connects mentally’, is relevant to the plot of the Odyssey: see the comments on O.01.088–089.

source

The singer of tales here, named Phemios, O.01.154, is ‘singing’ for the suitors as his audience, and the word translated as ‘sing’ here is aeidein at O.01.154 and at O.01.155. Such a singer is not exactly the equivalent of a “court poet,” since Phemios is singing for the suitors against his will, that is, he is singing anankēi ‘by way of constraint’, O.01.154. And what kind of a singer is this Phemios? He sings while accompanying himself on a kind of lyre, designated by the noun kitharis at O.01.153; also, his playing on the lyre is designated by the verb phormizein at O.01.055. In Plato Ion 533b-c, Phemios is described as a rhapsōidos ‘rhapsode’. The description is accurate in the sense that rhapsodes were professional performers of Homeric poetry in the classical period, as we see clearly in the overall context of Plato’s Ion. But this same description is inaccurate in the sense that rhapsodes in the classical period performed Homeric poetry without accompanying themselves on the kitharā ‘lyre’: as we see overall in Plato’s Ion and elsewhere, the rhapsodic form of ‘singing’ Homeric poetry was basically recitative, with reduced melody. By contrast, as we read in Plato Ion 533b-c, performers in the classical period who sang with full-blown melody while accompanying themselves on the kitharā ‘lyre’ were called kitharōidoi ‘citharodes’, that is, ‘kitharā-singers’. In other words, these ‘lyre-singers’ were performers of what we call lyric. At the festival of the Panathenaia in Athens during the classical period, these lyre-singers or citharodes competed with each other in singing lyric, while rhapsodes competed with each other in singing epic. As we can learn from Plato Ion 533b-c, the prototypical citharode was considered to be Orpheus, while the prototypical rhapsode was Phemios. But Phemios, even though he sings epic and not lyric, is not exactly a rhapsode in the classical sense of the term: as I have already pointed out, Phemios sings while accompanying himself on a kind of lyre, designated by the noun kitharis at O.01.153; also, his playing on the lyre is designated by the verb phormizein at O.01.055. Nevertheless, Plato has a point in considering Phemios a prototypical rhapsode, since what he sings is epic, which is what rhapsodes recite in the classical period—and which is not what citharodes any longer sing. On Phemios as a singer of epic, see the comment on O.01.325–327.

source

The theme of abduction by gusts of wind is analyzed at length in the comment at O.15.250-251.

source

The text as transmitted by Aristarchus (see inventory of Words and Ideas) reads:

πρῶτα μὲν ἐς Πύλον ἐλθὲ καὶ εἴρεο Νέστορα δῖον,

κεῖθεν δὲ Σπάρτηνδε παρὰ ξανθὸν Μενέλαον·

ὃς γὰρ δεύτατος ἦλθεν Ἀχαιῶν χαλκοχιτώνων.

‘First you [= Telemachus] go to Pylos and ask radiant Nestor

and then from there to Sparta and to golden-haired Menelaos,

the one who was the last of the Achaeans, wearers of bronze tunics, to come back home.’

But the text as transmitted by Zenodotus (see again the inventory of Words and Ideas) reads:

πρῶτα μὲν ἐς Πύλον ἐλθέ, …

κεῖθεν δ’ ἐς Κρήτην τε παρ’ Ἰδομενῆα ἄνακτα,

ὃς γὰρ δεύτατος ἦλθεν Ἀχαιῶν χαλκοχιτώνων.

‘First go to Pylos …

and then from there to Crete and to king Idomeneus

who was the last of the Achaeans, wearers of bronze tunics, to come back home.’

Here at O.01.284–286, as also already at O.01.093, the variant reading that we see transmitted by Zenodotus (quoted in the scholia for O.03.313) indicates a variant epic tradition to which I have already referred as a Cretan Odyssey in my comment on O.01.093. As I argue in Nagy 2015.09.24§§36–37, what we see in these variant verses is a trace of a Cretan Odyssey as primarily represented in our Odyssey by the “Cretan lies,” which are micro-narratives embedded in the epic macro-narrative of the Homeric Odyssey. In comments forthcoming, there will be more to say about these “Cretan lies.” Here I confine my comments to points that are relevant to what we read at O.01.093 and O.01.284–286. In “our” Odyssey, as Nestor reports at O.03.191–192, Idomeneus after the Trojan War returns to Crete with all his men safe and sound. In the Cretan Odyssey, by contrast, Idomeneus seems to have traveled with Odysseus after the conquest of Troy by the Achaeans, and this king of the Cretans even experienced, together with Odysseus, the horrors of the Cave of the Cyclops: such a story about joint adventures experienced by Idomeneus and Odysseus is attested in a painting on a red-figure stamnos, 480 BCE, featuring the name-tags ΙΔΑΜΕΝΕΥΣ ‘Ida-meneus’ [sic] and ΟΔΥΣΥΣ ‘Odusus’ [sic] appended to images of these two heroes, showing each one of the two clinging to a ram’s underbelly (Levaniouk 2011:105).

source

This expression ep’ anthrōpous ‘throughout humankind’ is conventionally associated with words referring to remembrance by way of song. See the anchor comment at I.10.213.

source

The noun thūmos, which I translate here as ‘heart’, expresses in Homeric diction the human capacity to feel and to think, taken together. In some Homeric contexts, thūmos is used as a synonym of phrenes, which can also be translated as ‘heart’, as in my comment on O.01.089. In other Homeric contexts, on the other hand, thūmos is pictured as the vital force that is contained by the phrenes (details in GMP 113n111). Even in such contexts, both words can be approximated as ‘heart’. In still other contexts, phrenes is best translated as ‘thinking’. Such a meaning is not contradictory, since Homeric diction leaves room for the idea that you can think with your heart.

source

|320 … Into his heart [thūmos] |321 she [= Athena] had placed mental power [menos] and daring, and she had mentally-connected [hupo-mnē-] him with his father |322 even more than before.

(Here I epitomize from H24H 9§§18–19.) The idea of menos as ‘mental power’ is elegantly recapitulated here at O.01.320–321. The goddess Athena has just finished the first phase of her role as mentor to Telemachus. She had initiated this phase at O.01.088–089 after having assumed, as we saw at O.01.105, the human shape of the fatherly Méntēs. This name Méntēs, as I indicated in the comment on O.01.088–089, means ‘he who connects mentally’. Having finished with the role of Méntēs, the goddess now transforms herself into a bird and flies out of the palace through a lightwell on the roof, and what we see here at O.01.320–321 is the wording that describes what Athena had accomplished so far in connecting the mind of Telemachus with the mind of his father. In her role as Méntēs, ‘he who connects mentally’, the goddess has given to the hero Telemachus the menos or ‘mental power’ of connecting with the heroic identity of his father. That act of doing this is expressed here at O.01.321 by the verb hupo-mnē-, which means literally ‘mentally connect’ (details in GMP 113). But the mental connectivity of Telemachus is not yet complete, as we will see in the comment on O.01.346–352.

source

At O.01.325, Phemios is described as the aoidos ‘singer’ who aeidei ‘sings’ epic songs, and the epic song that he sings here is the nostos of the Achaeans, also at O.01.325, where nostos can be translated as not only ‘homecoming’ but also ‘song of homecoming’. Such a song is evidently epic, as we see for example in the title Nostoi ‘Songs of Homecoming’ in the epic Cycle. See under epic and epic Cycle in the inventory of Words and Ideas. See also the comment on O.01.153–155.

source

The syntax here in O.01.326–327 shows that the use of the noun nostos ‘homecoming, song of homecoming’ at O.01.326 as the grammatical object of aeidein ‘sing’ in the same verse makes this same noun the narrative subject of the song that is being sung by the singer Phemios. The nostos ‘homecoming’ is the song that the singer sings, and so the ‘homecoming’ is also a ‘song of homecoming’. My translation ‘song of homecoming’ is meant to show that the homecoming is the song. The placement of the adjective lugros ‘disastrous’ at O.01.327 as an epithet for the narrative subject nostos ‘homecoming’ in the previous verse at O.01.326 is parallel to the placement of the adjective oulomenē ‘disastrous’ at I.01.002 as an epithet for the narrative subject mēnis ‘anger’ in the previous verse at I.01.001. See the comment on I.01.001–002. Another parallel is the placement of the adjective polutropos ‘turning-into-many-different-selves’ at O.01.001 as an epithet for the preceding narrative subject anēr ‘man’ in the same verse. There is further parallelism to be noted here. The epithet lugros ‘disastrous’ at O.01.327 for the narrative subject nostos ‘homecoming, song of homecoming’ at O.01.326 is immediately followed by a relative clause that outlines the overall narrative here: Athena caused misfortune for some of the Achaeans. Similarly, the epithet oulomenē at I.01.002 for the narrative subject mēnis at I.01.001 is immediately followed by a relative clause that outlines the overall narrative of the Iliad: the anger of Achilles caused immeasurable misfortune. See the comment on I.01.002. Also, the epithet polutropos ‘turning-into-many-different-selves’ at O.01.001 for the preceding narrative subject anēr ‘man’ in the same verse is immediately followed by a relative clause that outlines the overall narrative of the Odyssey: the hero Odysseus suffered many misfortunes by veering many times and in many ways before he achieved a safe homecoming for himself.

source

To sing the kind of song that the singer Phemios sings—the song is called nostos ‘homecoming, song of homecoming’ at O.01.326—is described here at O.01.338 as an act of transforming the erga ‘deeds’ of men and gods into the kleos ‘glory’ of poetry. The verb kleiein ‘turn into glory [kleos]’ takes as its direct object the noun erga ‘deeds’.

source

At O.01.326–327, we saw lugros ‘disastrous’ functioning as the epithet of the narrative subject of nostos ‘homecoming, song of homecoming’. The narrative subject nostos as ‘song of homecoming’, O.01.326, was followed by the epithet as the first word in the next verse, lugros ‘disastrous’, O.01.327. So, the epithet was carried over from one verse to the next. Similarly here at O.01.340–341, the word aoidē ‘song’ referring to the song of homecoming, O.01.340, is followed by the epithet lugrē ‘disastrous’ as the first word in the next verse, O.01.341. Once again, the epithet is carried over from one verse to the next. Similarly also at I.01.001–002, the word mēnis referring to the song of the anger of Achilles, I.01.001, is followed by the epithet oulomenē ‘disastrous’ as the first word in the next verse, I.01.002. Yet again, the epithet is carried over from one verse to the next.

source

For Penelope, the song that is sung by the singer Phemios, which is supposed to turn the deeds of men and gods into the kleos ‘glory’ of poetry, as we saw at O.01.338, produces the opposite effect here at O.01.342. The song sung by Phemios reminds her of her missing husband Odysseus, making her feel penthos alaston ‘grief unforgettable’, O.01.342. This expression signals lament, which is presented here as antithetical to the kind of kleos ‘glory’ that is heard by the audience of Phemios, who are the suitors of Penelope. The personal involvement of Penelope in the song of Odysseus is what makes the kleos that she hears different from the kleos that the suitors hear. For her the kleos contains penthos, while for them it does not. Relevant here is the meaning of the “speaking name” (nomen loquens) of Phemios: the adjectival Phēmios is derived from the noun phēmē, which can be interpreted as meaning ‘something said that means more than what is meant by the one who says it’. On phēmē, see the comment at O.02.035. In terms of this interpretation, Phemios is a singer whose songs mean more than what is meant by that singer.

source

Telemachus argues with his mother, defending the song that is sung by the singer Phemios about misfortunes experienced by heroes in the course of seeking a successful homecoming. There is a pleasure in the hearing of such a song, Telemachus says at O.01.346–347. Evidently, he does not yet understand the personal involvement of Penelope in the story of such homecoming—or of course his own involvement—because he does not yet understand that the ultimate character in the ultimate story of homecoming will be Odysseus himself. Telemachus speaks positively about the reception of the song of homecoming as sung by the singer Phemios. He says that the audience gives glory to the song, and the verb that is used in his wording is epi-kleiein at O.01.351, which I translate as ‘turn [deeds] into glory [kleos] and pass it on’. I render the epi- of epi-kleiein here as ‘and pass it on’, in the sense that epi- conveys the idea of ‘in addition to, on top of’, supplementing -kleiein in the sense of ‘turn [deeds] into glory [kleos]’. The wording of Telemachus is justifiable to the extent that the glory of heroes and gods as produced by the singer produces also glory for the song itself as received by the audience. That is to say, this verb epi-kleiein ‘turn [deeds] into glory [kleos] and pass it on’ is reciprocal: there is not only the giving of glory by the audience to the song sung by the singer but there is also the giving of glory by the singer to the song that he sings. Thus it is justifiable for Telemachus to say that the greatest glory goes to the aoidē ‘song‘, O.01.351, that is neōtatē ‘newest’, O.01.352, since the glory to be transmitted must be the latest glory to be received. The reception by the most recent audience must be decisively successful. What Telemachus does not yet understand, however, is that the most recent audience for an ongoing song of homecoming will be not the suitors but the ultimate audience of the Odyssey. The audience of the Odyssey will be the definitive audience for the reception of this ongoing song of homecoming. And, for that ultimate audience of the Odyssey, the ultimate hero of the song of homecoming will be Odysseus himself.

source

Here we see for the first time the leader of the suitors. His name, Anti-noos, is antithetical to the identity of Odysseus as an exponent of nóos ‘mind’, which stands for that hero’s special way of thinking in the Odyssey. On the nóos of Odysseus, see already the comment on O.01.003.

source

This epithet of Ēōs, goddess of the dawn, has a prefix ēri-, meaning ‘early’. See the comment at O.19.320.

source

The mentoring of Telemachus by Athena continues. First the goddess was Méntēs. Now she will become Méntōr to the young hero. Through the mentorship of the goddess, Telemachus modulates into mental connectivity: he will no longer be disconnected from the epic legacy of his father. As he boards the ship that will take him to Pylos, he is ready to connect with the Odyssey in progress.

draft js image error Telemachus with Athena as Mentor (1810). Drawing by John Flaxman. Image via Wikimedia Commons.

source

Thanks to mentoring by the goddess Athena, Telemachus takes the initiative of assembling an assembly.

source

As we see from the context here, the agorē ‘assembly’ that is about to take place now in Ithaca is the first assembly to be assembled since Odysseus had left for Troy twenty years earlier.

source

The verb piphauskesthai ‘say formally’, referring here to what is being spoken in the agorē ‘assembly’, can be compared with the active form of the verb, piphauskein ‘say formally’, as it is used at I.18.500 in the context of describing what is happening at an agorē ‘assembly’, I.18.497, which is the context for the litigation scene as depicted on the Shield of Achilles. Whatever is spoken at an assembly like the one that is now in progress, O.02.032, can qualify as dēmion ‘of the community [dēmos]’ if it is public business, not private business. If whatever is spoken at the assembly qualifies as public business, then it is the business of the dēmos. See also the comment on O.02.080. On dēmos as ‘community, district’, see O.01.103; see also I.05.077–078.

source

The speech of the old man Aiguptios, O.02.025–034, is described by the Master Narrator as a phēmē ‘something said’, O.02.035. This translation ‘something said’ does not fully capture, however, the deeper meaning of the word, which is something like this: something said that means more than what is meant by the one who says it. Such a deeper meaning is made explicit at O.20.100 and O.20.105. See the comment at O.20.098–121, [HR]3§23. This interpretation of the meaning of phēmē is relevant to the meaning of the “speaking name” (nomen loquens) of Phemios the singer: the adjectival Phēmios is a derivative of the noun phēmē. Accordingly, Phemios is a singer whose songs mean more than what is meant by that singer. See the comment on O.01.342.

source

The context here shows that a speaker in an assembly holds the skēptron ‘scepter’ when it is his turn to speak. See I.01.015 and the cross-references there.

source

See the comment on O.02.032.

source

This form is a back-formation from nēpios ‘disconnected’, becoming that negative word’s positive alternative. A typical source of connectivity is the father in relation to his son. Full argumentation by Edmunds 1990 | 2016.

source

Here the word refers generally to the cosmic sanction of the immortals in reaction to injustices committed by mortals. On mēnis ‘anger’ as cosmic sanction in general, I refer to the definitive work of Muellner 1996.

source

The gesture here of throwing the scepter to the ground is comparable with what happens at I.01.233–246. See the comment there.

source

This speech is most noteworthy for its incorporation of the myth about the continual weaving and unweaving of the web of Penelope.

source

The intent of Penelope to outwit the suitors by way of her continual weaving and unweaving of her web is described in terms of her qualities of nóos ‘mind’, O.02.092.

source

The mental feats of Penelope are described here as noēmata ‘feats of the mind [nóos]’ that are incomparable to any other woman’s feats. The comparison is expressed by way of the adjective homoio- ‘similar to, same as’ (further analysis in MoM 2§12). This adjective homoio- ‘similar to, same as’ can be used in comparisons that express rhetorically the incomparability of the referent, as here.

source

The oncoming pēma ‘pain’ is pictured here as a boulder that breaks off from mountainous heights overhead and starts rolling downward from above, ever increasing in speed as it nears ground zero: only when the boulder has reached a level plain does it finally stop ‘rolling’, as expressed by the verb kulindesthai. For other instances of such an image, see the comment on I.11.347.

source

Athena’s idea of conducting Telemachus on a journey to Pylos and Sparta is introduced, as we saw, already at O.01.088–095. See the comment there. Here too at O.02.212–218, as there, nostos in the sense of ‘song of homecoming’ is the direct object of the verb punthanesthai ‘learn’, O.02.215, and also the direct object of the verb akouein ‘hear’, O.02.218. Elsewhere too in the Odyssey, we see nostos as the direct object of punthanesthai ‘learn’: O.02.264, O.02.360, O.04.714. Also of akouein ‘hear’: O.01.094, O.01.287, O.02.360. Further, such nostos as ‘song of homecoming’ is linked with kleos ‘glory’ (of poetry), as at least indirectly at O.02.217 here.

source

Athena speaks as mentor and as Méntōr.

source

The meaning of the name Méntōr, ‘he who connects mentally’, is relevant to the plot of the Odyssey: see the comments on O.01.088–089.

source

On this back-formation from nēpios ‘disconnected’, see again the comment on O.02.047.

source

From the context here, we can see that the dēmos ‘community’ of Ithaca is populated not only by the families of the suitors.

source

In the exchange between Athena and Telemachus here, the role of the goddess as mentor of the young hero converges with her role as the hero Méntōr. Once again here, nostos ‘homecoming, song of homecoming’ is the direct object of punthanesthai ‘learn’ at O.02.264.

source

The idea that menos ‘mental power’, O.02.271, has been instilled into Telemachus by his father is conveyed here by the verb stazein, which literally means ‘drip’. We may compare line 35 of Archilochus F 196A (ed. West), where menos refers explicitly to ejaculated semen. For other references to male arousal by way of words referring to mental power, see Nagy 1974:267–268. [[GN 2017.03.08.]]

menos ‘mental power’

source

We see here at O.02.282 an occurrence that is rare in Homeric diction: dikaios in the sense of ‘righteous’, derived from dikē in the absolutized sense of ‘justice, righteousness’.

source

Telemachus admits here that he had been nēpios ‘disconnected’ in the immediate context of asserting that he is now no longer so. What made him grow up, so to speak? The overall context shows that it was the mentorship of the goddess Athena.

source

The verb lōbeuein ‘say words of insult’ is parallel to kertomeîn ‘say words of insult’, on which see the comment at I.02.256.

source

This word may be related to the name Larikhos: Nagy 2015.10.01 §54.

source

Odysseus’ double frame of reference – unlike Achilles, he gets both kleos and nostos – in the context of analyzing the application of the phrase “best of the Achaeans” to him

source

On nostos ‘homecoming, song of homecoming’ as the direct object of both punthanesthai ‘learn’ and akouein ‘hear’, see again the comment on O.01.088–095.

source

reference to the importance of δέ at the beginning of a rhapsodic performance. Argues that separation of μέν and δέ does not signify that book-divisions are a product of the Hellenistic age but of rhapsodic practices

source

At O.02.434, which is the last verse of Rhapsody 2, there is a clause featuring the particle men (μέν). And now at O.03.001, which is the first verse of Rhapsody 3, there is a clause featuring the particle de (δέ). It can be argued that such divisions are typical of rhapsodic practice, where one performing rhapsode (rhapsōidos) could leave off performing after he finishes with the men-part of a syntactical construction while the next rhapsode, in relay, could take up the performance by restarting with the following de-part. See the comment at I.09.001–003 / anchor comment on a Rhapsody as one of 24 units of performance.

source

Aided by the goddess Athena, young Telemachus becomes an ideal guest for his host, the elderly Nestor. Telemachus dearly needs the diplomatic skills of Athena, since Nestor is a prime devotee of the god Poseidon, who is not only a major rival of the goddess but also a relentless antagonist of Odysseus. Nestor’s stories about the travels of the Achaeans as they try to make their way back home after the Trojan War will help connect Telemachus with the ultimate story of his father’s own homecoming.

draft js image error Nestor’s Sacrifice (1805). Engraving after John Flaxman (1755-1826). Purchased as part of the Oppé Collection with assistance from the National Lottery through the Heritage Lottery Fund 1996. Image released under Creative Commons CC-BY-NC-ND (3.0 Unported).

source

See the comments on I.01.423–425 and I.04.048.

source

The derivation of the noun dais ‘feast; division of portions (of meat); sacrifice’ from the verb daiesthai ‘feast; divide(meat), apportion, distribute’ is re-enacted here by way of a figura etymologica: that is to say, the combination of the verb here with the noun as its direct object actually re-enacts the etymology.

source

On the collocation of kleos ‘glory’ (of poetry) with nostos ‘homecoming, song of homecoming’ in the context of references to the glorification of Odysseus in the Odyssey, see the comments on O.01.088–095; also O.02.212–218 and O.02.360.

source

Here is the first mention of Antilokhos, son of Nestor, in the Odyssey. On the importance of this figure in the Iliad, see I.08.078–117 / anchor comment on Nestor’s entanglement and the poetics of evocation. See also the comments on I.09.057–058.

source

Metaphors of fabric-work can have negative connotations, as here.

source

This adjective homoio- ‘similar to, same as’ and its verb homoioûn ‘compare’ can be used in comparisons that express rhetorically the incomparability of the referent, as here. See also I.02.553–554 and I.10.437.

source

Nestor’s story about the nostos ‘homecoming’ of the Achaeans’ is in and of itself a ‘song of / about homecoming’, as we see from the description of this nostos as lugros ‘disastrous’, an adjective that is used here as an epithet of the narrative subject. See the comment on O.01.326–327, where nostos ‘homecoming, song of homecoming’ at O.01.326 is described as lugros ‘disastrous’ at O.01.327. See also the comment on I.01.002, where the adjective oulomenē ‘disastrous’, describing mēnis ‘anger’ in the previous verse, I.01.001, is likewise an epithet of the narrative subject. In that case, the narrative subject is the mēnis ‘anger’ of Achilles. Similarly in the context of the ‘disastrous [lugros] homecoming [nostos]’ of the Achaeans here at O.03.130, there is a foregrounding of mēnis ‘anger’, at O.03.135. In this case, the anger emanates from the goddess Athena herself.

source

Epitome from Nagy 2015§§69–75:

[§69] In Odyssey O.03.130–183, old Nestor is telling a tale to young Telemachus about the various homecomings of the Achaeans after they succeeded in conquering the city of Troy. (Nestor’s tales of homecoming in Odyssey 3 reflect poetic traditions of great antiquity, which are analyzed most incisively and intuitively by Frame 2009:180–193.) The tale is told from the perspective of Nestor’s own experiences. My point of departure is a detail at O.03.169, where Nestor says that he and a group of his fellow Achaeans stopped over at the island of Lesbos on their way home from Troy, O.03.169. One time before and one time after their stopover at Lesbos, Nestor and his group participated in making sacrifices. The story about the first of these two sacrifices, as we will see [§75], contradicts a story in Song 17 of Sappho, which tells about a single sacrifice that involves Agamemnon and Menelaos.

[§70] The first of the two sacrifices mentioned by Nestor in Odyssey 3 takes place at the island of Tenedos, O.03.159, which is situated directly to the west of Troy. By contrast, the island of Lesbos is further away, to the southwest of the Trojan coastland. In Odyssey 3, the divine recipients of the sacrifice at Tenedos are designated only in general terms, as theoi ‘the gods’, O.03.159. Then, continuing their voyage back home from Troy, Nestor and his group set sail from Tenedos, and their next stopover, as already noted, is the island of Lesbos, O.03.169.

[§71] After their stopover at Lesbos, O.03.169, Nestor and his group continued their sea voyage back home. Next, they sailed over the open sea, with no more stopovers, until they reached the city of Geraistos, at the southern tip of the island of Euboea, O.03.177. By now the homecoming of this group of heroes was nearly complete, since the island of Euboea is situated right next to the European mainland. And here, at Euboea, Nestor participated in the second of the two sacrifices to which I have been referring, O.03.178–179. This second sacrifice involving Nestor was meant as a signal of thanksgiving for the successful homecoming of his group of Achaean voyagers, and the divine recipient of the sacrifice here is specified as the god Poseidon, O.03.178, whom Nestor and his fellow Achaeans honored by slaughtering, according to his tale, a multitude of bulls, O.03.178–179.

[§72] So, the second sacrifice attended by Nestor and his group, which took place on the island of Euboea, was a success. But the first sacrifice, which he had also attended and which had taken place on the island of Tenedos, was a failure. The failure, as narrated by Nestor in Odyssey 3, can be linked with a quarrel that broke out, evidently in the context of the feasting that followed this first sacrifice. The quarrel is marked by the word eris ‘strife’, O.03.160. Compare the words erizein ‘have strife’ at I.01.006 and eris ‘strife’ at I.01.008, with reference to the quarrel between Achilles and Agamemnon. In the case of the eris ‘strife’ at O.03.160, who quarreled with whom? The narrative answers the question: the two heroes who quarreled with each other were Nestor and Odysseus, O.03.161–166.

[§73] This quarrel between Nestor and Odysseus, O.03.161–166, cannot be understood without first considering an earlier quarrel that is central to the narration of Odyssey 3, and the narrator is once again Nestor. According to the tale as Nestor tells it, the two Sons of Atreus, Agamemnon and Menelaos, had quarreled with each other right after their victory at Troy. In this case as well, quarrel is marked by the word eris ‘strife’, O.03.136. And, as a result of this quarrel, all the Achaeans had split into two groups, so that half of them followed Menelaos as he sailed off from Troy to Tenedos while the other half stayed with Agamemnon at Troy, O.03.130–158. In terms of this story, Agamemnon intended to perform a sacrifice of one hundred cattle to the goddess Athena before leaving Troy, O.03.143–144, but Menelaos, leading half of the Achaeans, had sailed off together with Nestor and Odysseus and Diomedes before such a sacrifice could take place, O.03.153–154. It was only after Menelaos and his half of the Achaeans stopped over at the nearby island of Tenedos that they arranged for their own sacrifice there, O.03.159. And it was there at Tenedos that a second quarrel broke out—the quarrel between Nestor and Odysseus, O.03.161–166.

[§74] This second quarrel in the tale told by Nestor in Odyssey 3 resulted in a splitting of the group that had sided with Menelaos after the original splitting of all the Achaeans into one separate group siding with Menelaos and another separate group siding with Agamemnon. What resulted from the new split after the quarrel between Nestor and Odysseus was that Odysseus, together with his followers, now sailed off from Tenedos back to Troy in order to rejoin Agamemnon there, O.03.160–164, while Nestor together with Diomedes sailed on from their stopover at the island of Tenedos and arrived with their followers at the next stopover, at the island of Lesbos, O.03.165–169. When Nestor and Diomedes were already at Lesbos, O.03.169, they were joined there by Menelaos, who arrived later, O.03.168

[§75] And here I stop to highlight the contradiction between the story as told here in the Odyssey and the story as told in Song 17 of Sappho. In the Odyssey, we see that Menelaos came to Lesbos, but there is no mention here of Agamemnon. In Song 17, by contrast, it seems that both brothers came to Lesbos [Nagy 2015§50]:

|1 πλάϲιον δη μ̣[.....]...οιϲ᾿ α̣[ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣]ω |2 πότνι’ Ἦρα, ϲὰ χ[…..]ϲ̣ ̣ἐόρτ[α] |3 τὰν ἀράταν Ἀτρ[έϊδα]ι̣ π̣ό̣ηϲαν |4 τόι βαϲίληεϲ, |5 ἐκτελέϲϲαντεϲ μ[εγά]λ̣οιϲ ἀέθλοιϲ̣ |6 πρῶτα μὲν πὲρ Ἴ̣[λιον]· ἄψερον δέ̣ |7 τυίδ’ ἀπορμάθεν[τεϲ, ὄ]δ̣ο̣ν γὰρ̣ εὔρη̣[ν] |8 οὐκ ἐδ[ύναντο⌋, |9 πρὶν ϲὲ καὶ Δί’ ἀντ[ίαον] π̣εδέλθην̣ |10 καὶ Θυώναϲ ἰμε̣[ρόεντα] π̣αῖδα· |11 νῦν δὲ κ[αί..... …] ]...πόημεν |12 κὰτ τὸ πάλ̣[αιον {464|465} |13 ἄγνα καὶ κα̣[..... ὄ]χλοϲ |14 παρθέ[νων..... γ]υναίκων |15 ἀμφιϲ̣.[…] |16 μετρ’ ὀ̣λ̣[ολύγαϲ].

|1 Close by, …, |2 O Queen [potnia] Hērā, … your […] festival [eortā], |3 which, vowed-in-prayer [arâsthai], the Sons of Atreus did arrange [poieîn] |4 for you, kings that they were, |5 after first having completed great labors [aethloi], |6 around Troy, and, next [apseron], |7 after having set forth to come here [tuide], since finding the way |8 was not possible for them |9 until they would approach you (Hērā) and Zeus lord of suppliants [antiaos] |10 and (Dionysus) the lovely son of Thyone. |11 And now we are arranging [poieîn] [the festival], |12 in accordance with the ancient way […] |13 holy [agna] and […] a throng [okhlos] |14 of girls [parthenoi] […] and women [gunaikes] |15 on either side … |16 the measured sound of ululation [ololūgā].

Sappho Song 17.1–16

On the reading τόι (with the acute accent preserved in P.GC inv. 105 fr. 2) , see Nagy 2015§50.

source

The mēnis ‘anger’ of the goddess Athena, O.03.135, is provoked by a failure, on the part of some of the Argives=Achaeans, to be dikaioi ‘righteous’ and noēmones ‘mindful [= having nóos]’, O.03.133–134. The wording of Nestor is diplomatic in avoiding the mention of specific heroes as deserving blame for a failure in dikē ‘justice, righteousness’ and nóos ‘mind, mindfulness’. Among those heroes who are implicated, even without being named, is Odysseus himself, so that even this hero may be a target here of the mēnis ‘anger’ of Athena.

source

Epitome from Nagy 2017§78:

Here we see that Odysseus together with a sub-group of Achaean followers had already sailed from Tenedos back to Troy in order to rejoin Agamemnon, who was still there, O.03.160–164, while Nestor and Diomedes together with their Achaean followers sailed on from their stopover at the island of Tenedos and arrived at the next stopover, which was the island of Lesbos, O.03.165–169. There, at Lesbos, Nestor and Diomedes were joined by Menelaos, who arrived later, O.03.168–169.

source

|168 ὀψὲ δὲ δὴ μετὰ νῶϊ κίε ξανθὸς Μενέλαος, |169 ἐν Λέσβῳ δ’ ἔκιχεν δολιχὸν πλόον ὁρμαίνοντας|168

He came late, golden-haired [xanthos] Menelaos did, after the two of us [= Nestor and Diomedes]. |169 It was at Lesbos that he [= Menelaos] caught up with us, as we were planning the long part of our sea voyage.

O.03.168–169

Nestor and Diomedes are already at Lesbos, and there they are joined by Menelaos, who arrived later. What follows is an epitome of Nagy 2017§§101–103, 105–106:

[§101] I interpret the wording of O.03.168–169 to mean that Menelaos arrived too late to participate fully in a sacrifice of one hundred cattle at Lesbos. And the place for this sacrifice to happen would have been the precinct of Hērā on that island. From the standpoint of the local myth that originated from Lesbos, as I have argued with reference to Song 17 of Sappho (Nagy 2015§§51–67), both Agamemnon and Menelaos had announced-in-prayer, already at Troy, the arrangement of a festival for Hērā at Lesbos, and what was wished-for in return was to find the best possible way to achieve a safe homecoming from Troy. So, in terms of my argument, what was announced-in-prayer was the performing of a sacrifice as the centerpiece of the festival to be arranged, but only one of the Sons of Atreus did his part in at least trying to make the sacrifice a success. That was Agamemnon. As for the other Son, Menelaos, he somehow failed to do his part. And, in terms of my reconstruction, it was because Menelaos arrived too late for the sacrifice. Similarly, as we will see in Odyssey 4, Menelaos arrived too late in his homecoming: by the time he got home, he was too late to save his brother—and he was too late even to avenge his brother’s death, since Orestes, son of Agamemnon, had already done so by killing Aigisthos, O.04.546–547.

[§102] This theme of failing by being late is an essential piece of my overall reconstruction of the myth about a sacrifice of one hundred cattle at Lesbos—a sacrifice that is featured as the climax of the festival that was announced-in-prayer by Agamemnon and Menelaos in Song 17 of Sappho (again, Nagy 2015§§51–67). In terms of this reconstruction, Agamemnon sailed to the island and arranged to sacrifice one hundred cattle to Hērā there, but Menelaos joined him only after the sacrifice was already in progress, since he did not arrive at Lesbos on time. In terms of this reconstruction, the quarrel between the Sons of Atreus, Agamemnon and Menelaos, must have happened during the feast that followed the sacrifice at Lesbos, just as the quarrel between Nestor and Odysseus happened at the feast that followed the sacrifice at Tenedos.

[§103] Menelaos seems to be idiosyncratic in his arrivals at sacrifices. For a striking example, see the comment on I.02.402–429. In that passage, we see a mental link between Menelaos and Agamemnon, allowing one brother to read the mind of the other.

[§105] At Lesbos, by contrast, it seems that the mental link between the brothers has somehow been broken. That is why Menelaos fails to arrive in time for the festival. And now the quarrel between Menelaos and Agamemnon ensues. So, who is to blame? Perhaps it was Menelaos, who was late. Or perhaps it was Agamemnon, who might have forgotten to invite Menelaos, assuming that his brother was still reading his mind.

[§106] But what was the quarrel about, anyway? Here I must add one last relevant detail to be found in Odyssey 3. As Nestor is recounting the moment when Menelaos arrives late at Lesbos, O.03.168–169, he himself adds the detail that I have in mind here: the fact is, Nestor and Diomedes and the other Achaeans who were there at Lesbos were already ‘deliberating’, O.03.169 (ὁρμαίνονταϲ), about two alternative ways of continuing their sea voyage. I argue that, in the version of the myth originating from Lesbos, Agamemnon was also part of these deliberations, and then the latecomer Menelaos joined in as well. I must stress that, although Menelaos was late for the sacrifice at Lesbos, he would have been there for the feasting that happened after the sacrifice. That was when, in terms of my reconstruction, the deliberations took place—and that was when the quarrel between the Sons of Atreus broke out in the version of the story that originated from Lesbos.

source

What follows is an epitome of Nagy 2017§§107–108:

[§107] In the deliberations, as narrated in Odyssey 3, about two alternative ways for the Achaeans to sail home after their conquest of Troy, one of the two ways was to take the sea route north of Chios, thus venturing into the open sea and heading straight for the island of Euboea, O.03.170–171. The alternative way was to take the sea route south of Chios, O.03.172. That was the safer way. Nestor goes on to say that he and Diomedes and their followers, before deciding which sea route to take, had consulted a divinity, not named, who advised that they should head straight for the distant island of Euboea, thus taking the more direct sea route, O.03.173–178. In this version of the story as transmitted in Odyssey 3, Menelaos and his followers sailed along with Nestor and Diomedes, Ο.03.276–277. Or, to say it more precisely, Menelaos sailed with them at least as far as Cape Sounion.

[§108] Here I reconstruct another aspect of the alternative version of the story, originating from Lesbos, that told about the deliberations following the sacrifice performed by Agamemnon at Lesbos. After the deliberations, Agamemnon did not sail along with Nestor and Diomedes, and, instead, he took the more indirect sea route after he left Lesbos, while Menelaos, unlike Agamemnon, had taken the more direct sea route, choosing the same way that was chosen by Nestor. In terms of this alternative version, I argue, the deliberations about choosing between more direct and less direct sea routes led to a quarrel between Agamemnon and Menelaos, who disagreed about which way was the right way. I see an irony built into the idea that the setting for the quarrel would have been the sacrifice at Lesbos—and that Menelaos had been late in arriving at that ritual event. And, as I have already noted [§101], he will also be late—eight years too late—in arriving back home, O.04.546–547, even though he had chosen the more direct route from Lesbos.

source

variants for I.09.653 [MRBTP: scholia]

source

The syntax of the wording at O.03.205–207 indicates that Telemachus is on the verge of giving up hope, but the fuller use of comparable syntax in the wording of Nestor at O.03.218–224 reaffirms the hope. Telemachus uses a curtailed form of the syntax and then overtly says that his wish is impossible—only to be corrected by Nestor, who uses a full form. Telemachus wishes that the gods could give him the dunamis ‘power’ to kill the suitors: αἲ γάρ ἐμοὶ τοσσήνδε θεοὶ δύναμιν περιθεῖεν ‘if only the gods would grant me a power so great’, O.03.205. Then, instead of giving a premise as grounds of hope, he gives up hope by claiming that the gods have granted such a power neither to him nor to his father, O.03.208–209. At this point Nestor responds by resorting to a full form of the idiom: εἰ γάρ σ’ ὣς ἐθέλοι φιλέειν γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη | ὡς τότ’ Ὀδυσσῆος περικήδετο κυδαλίμοιο | δήμῳ ἔνι Τρώων ‘If only Athena with the looks of the owl would deign to love you | as surely as in those days she cared for glorious Odysseus in the district [dēmos] of Troy’, O.03.218–220. This time there is indeed a premise, there is reason to hope: if Athena does love you this much, Nestor is telling Telemachus, then the suitors will indeed be killed, O.03.223–224.

source

These two negative terms hubris ‘outrage’ and atasthalo- ‘reckless’ are closely linked with each other in Homeric diction.

source

On the use of this word aethloi (āthloi) ‘ordeal’ with reference to the Trojan War, see the comment on I.03.125–128.

source

In the scholia for O.03.267 we see the only incontrovertible reference to Demetrius of Phaleron.

source

The generic aoidos ‘singer’, as represented by the anonymous figure who is mentioned here, has the power to supervise the deeds of men and women by way of praising what is good and blaming what is bad. The aoidos that Agamemnon left behind to supervise Clytemnestra cannot be neutralized by way of removal from the scene. The aoidos does not need to see bad deeds in order to tell about them, since he can hear about them from the Muses.

source

(What follows is epitomized from Nagy 2017.03.16.) Telemachus the son of Odysseus is bathed in a tub called an asaminthos, O.03.468. The bath is part of a welcoming ceremony organized by Nestor, king of Pylos, who is hosting the young prince. Telemachus is being bathed by Polykaste, youngest daughter of Nestor. After the bath, O.03.469, Telemachus proceeds to a dinner hosted by Nestor in his honor. But while he is still finishing the bath, as we see him emerging from the bathtub, Telemachus is described this way at O.03.468: ‘he [= Telemachus] emerged from the bathtub [asaminthos], looking the same as [homoios] the immortals in shape’ (ἔκ ῥ’ ἀσαμίνθου βῆ δέμας ἀθανάτοισιν ὁμοῖος). For more on homoio- in the sense of ‘same as’, see the comment on O.16.172–212.

source

As Telemachus, accompanied by Peisistratos, arrives at Sparta, he finds that a wedding feast is in progress, in celebration of not one but two weddings. Menelaos, king of Sparta, is giving away his daughter in marriage to Neoptolemos, son of Achilles. She will be sent off to Neoptolemos. Meanwhile, Menelaos is also marrying off his bastard son Megapenthes.

source

With the continued aid of the goddess Athena, young Telemachus now becomes an ideal guest for his new hosts, Menelaos together with Helen. The identity of Helen as a goddess becomes more evident now that she is back in Sparta. This divine identity will point to the future immortalization of the hero Menelaos by virtue of his winning back Helen as his consort.

draft js image error “The Fair Helen.” Willy Pogany (Hungarian, 1882–1955). Image via.

source

We see at work here the mythological convention of naming a son after a primary heroic trait of the father, as in the case of the son of Ajax, whose name Eurusakēs means ‘the one with the wide shield [sakos]’; the meaning of this “speaking name” (nomen loquens) is made explicit in the wording of Sophocles Ajax 574–578. See also the comment on I.22.506–507 with reference to the the first of two names given to the son of Hector, Astyanax [Astuanax], I.06.403, which means ‘king [anax] of the city [astu]’. This meaning is relevant to the heroic role of the father as protecting a citadel from sieges. Such a role is expressed by the very name of Hector, Héktōr, which is an agent noun meaning ‘one who holds [ekhein]’ in the sense of ‘one who protects’. In the case of Megapenthēs, the meaning of his name as ‘the one with the great sorrow [penthos]’ is made explicit by references to the great penthos ‘sorrow’ experienced by the Achaeans in reaction to a most painful wounding of Menelaos in the context of the Trojan War, I.04.197, I.04.207. Also viewed in general are the sorrows of the Trojan War itself, which Menelaos expresses in detail at O.04.093–112. See the comment on O.04.093–116. As we will see at O.04.220–226, Helen attempts to neutralize such sorrows by drugging the wine to be poured for the feast hosted by Menelaos in honor of Telemachus: the word for this drug is nēpenthes, Ο.04.221, which can be interpreted as ‘negating sorrow [penthos]’.

source

|15 ὣς οἱ μὲν δαίνυντο καθ’ ὑψερεφὲς μέγα δῶμα |16 γείτονες ἠδὲ ἔται Μενελάου κυδαλίμοιο, |17 τερπόμενοι· μετὰ δέ σφιν ἐμέλπετο θεῖος ἀοιδὸς |18 φορμίζων· δοιὼ δὲ κυβιστητῆρε κατ’ αὐτοὺς |19 μολπῆς ἐξάρχοντος ἐδίνευον κατὰ μέσσους.

|15 So they feasted throughout the big palace with its high ceilings, |16 both the neighbors and the kinsmen of glorious Menelaos, |17 and they were feeling delight [terpesthai]; in their midst sang-and-danced [melpesthai] a divine singer [aoidos], |18 playing on the special lyre [phorminx]; two special dancers [kubistētēre] among them |19 were swirling as he led [ex-arkhein] the singing-and-dancing [molpē] in their midst.

This passage provides comparative evidence for interpreting both the shorter and the longer versions of another passage, analyzed in the comment on I.18.603–604–(605–)606. As argued in that comment, a formulaic analysis of both the longer and the shorter versions of I.18.603–604–(605–)606 indicates that both versions are compatible with Homeric diction, suiting different phases in the evolution of this diction as a formulaic system.

source

Aristarchus accepting the wording in these verses while rejecting the same at I.18.604-605, in the context of the analysis of the medieval manuscript tradition’s not attesting I.18.604-605, their restoration based on Athenaeus, and authentication on the basis of O.13.027-028

source

Epitome from Nagy 2016.02.18§§1–4

[§1] The wording about to be quoted describes the very first impression experienced by the young hero Telemachus when he sees the splendor of the palace of Menelaos and Helen. We join the action as Telemachus and his traveling companion, the young hero Peisistratos, son of Nestor, are both being escorted into the palace of Menelaos and Helen:

|43 αὐτοὺς δ’ εἰσῆγον θεῖον δόμον. οἱ δὲ ἰδόντες |44 θαύμαζον κατὰ δῶμα διοτρεφέος βασιλῆος· |45 ὥς τε γὰρ ἠελίου αἴγλη πέλεν ἠὲ σελήνης |46 δῶμα καθ’ ὑψερεφὲς Μενελάου κυδαλίμοιο. |47 αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ τάρπησαν ὁρώμενοι ὀφθαλμοῖσιν …

|43 They were escorted inside the heavenly [theion] palace. Seeing what they were seeing, |44 they were filled with awe [thauma] as they proceeded through the palace of the king, that man whose origins are celestial. |45 There was a gleam [aiglē] there, which was like the gleam of the sun or the moon, |46 spreading throughout that palace famed for its high ceilings, that home of radiant Menelaos. |47 But then, after they had feasted their eyes on what they saw …

O.04.043–047

[§2] At this point, the story proceeds to take the visitors through a series of welcoming rituals, followed by a grand dinner arranged by Menelaos as the gracious host, O.04.047–070. And now the dinner conversation gets underway, starting with words of appreciation spoken by Telemachus and intended for Menelaos. Telemachus speaks here as a grateful guest, addressing his fellow guest Peisistratos, son of Nestor, but his words are really intended for Menelaos as the generous host. I will now quote these words of Telemachus as spoken to the son of Nestor—words that not only compliment Menelaos but also express most sincerely the young guest’s awestruck reaction to the splendor of the king’s palace:

|71 “φράζεο, Νεστορίδη, τῷ ἐμῷ κεχαρισμένε θυμῷ, |72 χαλκοῦ τε στεροπὴν κατὰ δώματα ἠχήεντα |73 χρυσοῦ τ’ ἠλέκτρου τε καὶ ἀργύρου ἠδ’ ἐλέφαντος. |74 Ζηνός που τοιήδε γ’ Ὀλυμπίου ἔνδοθεν αὐλή, |75 ὅσσα τάδ’ ἄσπετα πολλά· σέβας μ’ ἔχει εἰσορόωντα.”

|71 “I want you to notice something, son of Nestor, you who are so dear to my heart: |72 notice the flash [steropē] of bronze [khalkos] as its light pervades the echoing hall |73 and also the flash of gold and of electrum and of silver and of ivory. |74 I’m guessing that Zeus, who lives on Olympus, has such a hall inside his palace, |75 and he would have as many indescribable things as are here. A sense of holy awe [sebas] takes hold of me as I look at these things.”

O.04.071–075

[§3] What first catches the young man’s eye here is all the shining bronze he sees. And then it’s the gold, then the electrum, then the silver, and finally the ivory. But the first impression is the bronze, all that bronze. The light that he sees streaming from the bronze envelops everything with its radiance, and it’s just like heaven for the young man.

[§4] “Thought I’d died and gone to heaven.” The colloquial saying that I just quoted, which has become the title of a popular song recorded in 1991 by Bryan Adams, captures the young man’s awareness that he has just experienced something celestial. The reduced theology of this kind of imagined heaven resembles the celestial realm of the ancient Greek gods. Their ‘sky’ or ouranos, as we read at I.17.425, is traditionally visualized as ‘made of bronze’, khalkeos (χάλκεον οὐρανόν). This expression shows its own special kind of reduced theology: from out of the sky, when it’s bright, the gleam of a mighty bronze dome envelops everything on earth. Presiding over this bronze dome is the god Zeus, whose heavenly residence is called the khalkobates dō, ‘the palace with floor made of bronze’ (χαλκοβατὲς δῶ), I.01.426; I.14.173, I.21.438, I.21.505, O.08.321—a residence situated high above Mount Olympus, I.01.426, I.21.438, I.21.505. As we will see at O.07.084–090, the heavenly residence of Menelaos is comparable to the palace of Alkinoos (latinized as Alcinous), king of the Phaeacians.

source

Menelaos laments here the sorrows of Trojan War, O.04.093–112, and Telemachus responds by weeping, O.04.113–116. These sorrows are accentuated by the personal involvement of heroes like Menelaos and Odysseus as main participants in the war. The very idea of lament, as signaled elsewhere by words like penthos and akhos, is seen here as an aspect of genuine narrative about the heroic world. As we are about to see, such a genuine narrative is to be contrasted with the false narrative induced by the drug nēpenthes, O.04.221, which prevents contact with the emotional world of lament. For the interpretation of nēpenthes as ‘negating sorrow [penthos]’, I refer ahead to the comment on O.04.220–226.

source

On aethlos (āthlos) ‘ordeal’ in the specific sense of ‘ordeal of war’, see the comment on I.03.125–128.

source

At O.04.113–116, we saw that Telemachus weeps in response to the laments of Menelaos over the sorrows of the Trojan War. And now we see at O.04.182–185 that Telemachus weeps again in response to further laments of Menelaos, whose sad words are at this point referring directly to the disappearance of Odysseus; also weeping are Helen and Menelaos himself, O.04.184–185, and Peisistratos too, O.04.186–189, who laments the death of his brother Antilokhos in the Trojan War. As we are about to see, the emotions conjured by such events as transmitted in genuine narratives about the Trojan War are to be contrasted with the absence of emotions in a false narrative induced by the drug nēpenthes, O.04.221, which prevents contact with the emotional world of lament. For the interpretation of nēpenthes as ‘negating sorrow [penthos]’, I again refer ahead to the comment on O.04.220–226.

source

On the traditions surrounding the death of Antilokhos, son of Nestor and brother of Peisistratos, see the anchor comment at Ι.08.078–117 on: Nestor’s entanglement and the poetics of evocation. See also the comment on I.09.057–058.

source

Before she narrates her own version of the Trojan War at O.04.235–264, Helen attempts to neutralize the sorrows experienced by those involved in the war. Most prominent among those present who had in fact been involved in the war is of course Helen’s consort Menelaos, who laments at O.04.093–112 the sorrows of the war. See the comment on O.04.093–116. Helen attempts to neutralize such sorrows by drugging the wine to be poured for the feast hosted by Menelaos in honor of Telemachus: the word for this drug is nēpenthes, Ο.04.221, which can be interpreted as ‘negating sorrow [penthos]’. So, nēpenthes is an antidote to the pain of penthos ‘sorrow’.

source

The application of this epithet ‘daughter of Zeus’ to Helen is an overt reference to her divinity. On the use of Dios thugatēr / thugatēr Dios ‘daughter of Zeus’ as an epithet for goddesses, see the anchor comment at I.03.374. For more on the divinity of Helen, I epitomize from Nagy 2016.05.02§§0–4:

[§0] The picturing of Helen as a ‘daughter of Zeus’ here at O.04.227 is a most fitting description of a goddess who was already worshipped at Sparta in an era as early as the second half of the second millennium BCE—an era that marks the rise and the eventual fall of an early Greek civilization that archaeologists recognize as the Mycenaean Empire. But there is a problem with this picture: how do we square the idea of Helen as goddess of Sparta with the idea of Helen of Troy as we see her come to life in the Homeric Iliad? I hope to address this problem here by taking a second look at the idea of Helen’s ‘image-double’, the word for which in Greek was eidōlon.

[§1] Helen of Troy, as we know her in the Homeric Iliad, appears to be a woman, not a goddess. But the remarkable fact is—I spotlight its relevance from the start—that the Homeric Odyssey describes Helen here at O.04.227 by way of the epithet Dios thugatēr, which means ‘daughter of Zeus’. And I spotlight here another relevant fact that is even more remarkable: the Homeric Iliad describes Helen as Dios ekgegauia ‘daughter of Zeus’ at I.03.199, I.03.418, and the same epithet occurs also at O.04.184, O.04.219, O.23.218. But the most remarkable relevant fact of them all is that Dios thugatēr ‘daughter of Zeus’, as we see this epithet deployed elsewhere not only in the Iliad but also in the Odyssey, can be used only with reference to goddesses: Aphrodite at I.03.374 and I.05.131 and I.05.312, Athena at I.02.548 and I.04.128 and I.04.515, Artemis at O.20.061, Persephone at O.11.217, Ate at I.19.091, and the Muses at I.02.491–492 (plural) and at O.01.010 (singular). These and other facts to be brought up later lead me to argue that, although Helen appears to be a woman and not a goddess in the Iliad, she is still a goddess. And I argue further that, despite appearances as poetically created in the Iliad, Helen is recognized even there as a goddess. In terms of my argument, then, Helen is recognized as a goddess not only in Sparta but also in the Troy or ‘Ilion’ of the Iliad, the name of which epic means of course ‘the song of Ilion’. And she is a goddess in ‘the song of Ilion’ precisely because she is Helen of Sparta.

[§2] Someone may object that, even if it is a fact that you have Zeus as your father, this fact alone is not enough to make you a goddess or a god. Your mother must also be a goddess. In other words, you have to have two divine immortals as your biological parents in order to be worshipped as an immortal divinity in your own right. After all, as I myself have argued in H24H 0§5, the dominant gene in the genetic code of ancient Greek mythmaking is mortality while the recessive gene is immortality, not the other way around. In other words, if the family tree that produced you includes even one solitary mortal ancestor, that will be enough to make you mortal as well—no matter how many immortal ancestors grace your genealogy. So, what about Helen’s mother in Sparta? If she were a goddess, then the status of Helen as a goddess in her own right would be a given.

[§3] In one version of the surviving myths about Helen, the mother of Helen is in fact a goddess, named Nemesis (Cypria fragment 7 ed. Allen, by way of Athenaeus 8.334b–d). In terms of this version, then, there is no question about the divinity of Helen. But things are more complicated. There are also other versions, native even to Sparta, where the mother of Helen is not Nemesis but Leda, as we read in the wording of a Spartan song dramatized by Aristophanes in the Lysistrata (line 1314). And this Leda, as we are about to see, is a mortal woman who is impregnated by Zeus. So, I am faced with a problem here. In terms of my own argumentation concerning mortality as the dominant gene, as it were, I should expect the mortality of Leda as mother to undo the divinity of Helen as daughter of Zeus. In other words, even the paternity of immortal Zeus would not be enough to cancel the mortality of a mortal mother.

[§4] But Leda is no ordinary mortal mother, since her impregnation by Zeus produces not only Helen but also two sons who are twins, commonly known in English by their Latin names Castor and Pollux—Kastōr and Poludeukēs in the original Greek—who are also known as the Dioskouroi, meaning ‘sons of Zeus’ in Greek. See the comment on I.03.237. I argue that the mythological identity of Helen as a goddess at Sparta can best be understood by contemplating the mythological identity of these two brothers of hers, the Dioskouroi.

source

These verses, cited by Herodotus 2.116.1–117.1 derive from a narrative tradition that indicates more than one stopover for Paris=Alexandros and Helen after her abduction/elopement from Sparta. I epitomize here from HPC 75–79 [= I§§184–187]]:

Herodotus makes a point of distinguishing Homer from what he describes as the poet of the Cypria, and, in making this distinction, he actually quotes a passage from the Homeric Iliad to prove his point (Herodotus 2.116.1–2.117.1):

Δοκέει δέ μοι καὶ ῞Ομηρος τὸν λόγον τοῦτον πυθέσθαι· ἀλλ’, οὐ γὰρ ὁμοίως ἐς τὴν ἐποποιίην εὐπρεπὴς ἦν τῷ ἑτέρῳ τῷ περ ἐχρήσατο, [ἐς ὃ] μετῆκε αὐτόν, δηλώσας ὡς καὶ τοῦτον ἐπίσταιτο τὸν λόγον. Δῆλον δέ, κατά περ ἐποίησε ἐν Ἰλιάδι (καὶ οὐδαμῇ ἄλλῃ ἀνεπόδισε ἑωυτόν) πλάνην τὴν Ἀλεξάνδρου, ὡς ἀπηνείχθη ἄγων Ἑλένην τῇ τε δὴ ἄλλῃ πλαζόμενος καὶ ὡς ἐς Σιδῶνα τῆς Φοινίκης ἀπίκετο. Ἐπιμέμνηται δὲ αὐτοῦ ἐν Διομήδεος Ἀριστηίῃ· λέγει δὲ τὰ ἔπεα ὧδε·

ἔνθ’ ἔσαν οἱ πέπλοι παμποίκιλοι, ἔργα γυναικῶν

Σιδονίων, τὰς αὐτὸς Ἀλέξανδρος θεοειδὴς

ἤγαγε Σιδονίηθεν, ἐπιπλὼς εὐρέα πόντον,

τὴν ὁδὸν ἣν Ἑλένην περ ἀνήγαγεν εὐπατέρειαν.

[I.06.289–292]

Ἐπιμέμνηται δὲ καὶ ἐν Ὀδυσσείῃ ἐν τοῖσδε τοῖσι ἔπεσι·

τοῖα Διὸς θυγάτηρ ἔχε φάρμακα μητιόεντα,

ἐσθλά, τά οἱ Πολύδαμνα πόρεν Θῶνος παράκοιτις

Αἰγυπτίη, τῇ πλεῖστα φέρει ζείδωρος ἄρουρα

φάρμακα, πολλὰ μὲν ἐσθλὰ μεμιγμένα, πολλὰ δὲ λυγρά.

[O.04.227–230]

Καὶ τάδε ἕτερα πρὸς Τηλέμαχον Μενέλεως λέγει·

Αἰγύπτῳ μ’ ἔτι δεῦρο θεοὶ μεμαῶτα νέεσθαι

ἔσχον, ἐπεὶ οὔ σφιν ἔρεξα τεληέσσας ἑκατόμβας.

[O.04.351–352]

Ἐν τούτοισι τοῖσι ἔπεσι δηλοῖ ὅτι ἠπίστατο τὴν ἐς Αἴγυπτον Ἀλεξάνδρου πλάνην· ὁμουρέει γὰρ ἡ Συρίη Αἰγύπτῳ, οἱ δὲ Φοίνικες, τῶν ἐστι ἡ Σιδών, ἐν τῇ Συρίῃ οἰκέουσι. Κατὰ ταῦτα δὲ τὰ ἔπεα καὶ τόδε [τὸ χωρίον] οὐκ ἥκιστα ἀλλὰ μάλιστα δηλοῖ ὅτι οὐκ Ὁμήρου τὰ Κύπρια ἔπεά ἐστι ἀλλ’ ἄλλου τινός· ἐν μὲν γὰρ τοῖσι Κυπρίοισι εἴρηται ὡς τριταῖος ἐκ Σπάρτης Ἀλέξανδρος ἀπίκετο ἐς τὸ Ἴλιον ἄγων Ἑλένην, εὐαέϊ τε πνεύματι χρησάμενος καὶ θαλάσσῃ λείῃ· ἐν δὲ Ἰλιάδι λέγει ὡς ἐπλάζετο ἄγων αὐτήν. Ὅμηρος μέν νυν καὶ τὰ Κύπρια ἔπεα χαιρέτω.

I think that Homer was aware of this story [= the story of Helen in Egypt]. But, because it [= this story] was not as appropriate for epic composition as was the other one [= the other story] that he used, he omitted it, though he made it clear that he was aware of this story [= the story of Helen in Egypt] as well. It is clear on the basis of the way he composed in the Iliad (and nowhere else has he [= Homer] retraced his steps to this) the detour of Alexandros [= Paris]—how he [= Paris], as he was bringing Helen, was blown off course and was detoured in various places and then how he reached Sidon in Phoenicia. He [= Homer] mentions the story [of Helen in Egypt] in the part about the greatest deeds of Diomedes. And the epic words he says are as follows.

There they were, the peploi, completely pattern-woven [poikiloi], the work of women

from Sidon, whom Alexandros [= Paris] himself, the godlike,

had brought home [to Troy] from the land of Sidon, sailing over the vast sea,

on the very same journey as the one he took when he brought back home [to Troy] also Helen, the one who is descended from the most noble father.

[I.06.289–292]

He [= Homer] mentions it [= the story of Helen in Egypt] in the Odyssey also, in these epic words:

Such magical things she had, the daughter of Zeus,

things of good outcome, which to her did Polydamna give, wife of Thon.

She was Egyptian. For her, many were the things produced by the life-giving earth,

magical things—many good mixtures and many baneful ones.

[O.04.227–230]

And these other things are said to Telemachus by Menelaos:

I was eager to return here, but the gods still held me in Egypt,

Since I had not sacrificed entire hecatombs [hekatombai] to them.

[O.04.351–352]

In these epic verses the Poet makes clear that he knew of the detour of Alexandros [= Paris] to Egypt; for Syria borders on Egypt, and the Phoenicians whose territory is Sidon dwell in Syria. In terms of these epic verses, this shows most clearly that the epic of the Cypria is not by Homer but by someone else. For in the Cypria it is said that on the third day after setting sail from Sparta Alexandros [= Paris] arrived in Troy bringing Helen, having made good use of a favorable wind and smooth seas. In the Iliad, on the other hand, he [= Homer] says that he [= Paris] was detoured as he was bringing her [= Helen]. So much for Homer and the epic of the Cypria.

(A note on Herodotus 2.116.4–5.) I question the judgment of modern editors who bracket sections 4 and 5 of Herodotus 2.116. Granted, the topic in these sections is the detour of Menelaos and Helen in Egypt after the war at Troy, not the detour of Paris and Helen before the war. But these passages are relevant to what Herodotus says thereafter (2.118–119) about Helen in Egypt after the war. Herodotus is making the point that there are other Homeric stories about Helen in Egypt, whereas there are no other Homeric stories about Helen in Phoenicia.

I now offer a paraphrase of the arguments made by Herodotus here at 2.116.1–2.117.1:

In a non-Homeric version of an epic called the Cypria (a version known to Herodotus but not to us), it is said that Paris and Helen sailed to Troy without making any detour. There is an alternative version in the Homeric Iliad, and Herodotus quotes the relevant verses. In this version, it is said that Paris and Helen did make a detour: they went to Phoenicia before they went to Troy. On the basis of an Egyptian story about Paris and Helen, Herodotus goes on to argue that they went to Egypt as well as Phoenicia, and that Homer knew it. After all, Egypt is next to Phoenicia. But the problem is, Homer later elided the story of Helen in Egypt as inappropriate. So the Iliad tells the story about Helen in Troy, not the story about Helen in Egypt. And the Odyssey follows the Iliad in accepting the story of Helen in Troy. Both epics, however, show traces of the story of Helen in Egypt, though the traces in the Iliad are only indirect.

Next, I offer a critical analysis of this paraphrase:

Herodotus considers the stories about detours in Egypt and Phoenicia within the larger context of stories about Helen in Egypt. Upon retelling an Egyptian version of a story about a detour of Paris and Helen in Egypt after he abducted her from Sparta (2.112–115), Herodotus says that Homer must have known that story (2.116.1). Then, in order to show that this is so, Herodotus offers proof (2.116–117), quoting I.06.289–292 and O.04.227–230 together with O.04.351–352. The passage I.06.289–292 concerns the detour of Paris and Helen before the war at Troy while the passages O.04.227–230 and O.04.351–352 concern the detour of Menelaos and Helen after the war. The first passage is meant as indirect proof that the story of Helen in Egypt was recognized by Homer in the Iliad while the other two passages are meant as direct proof that the story of Helen in Egypt was recognized by Homer in the Odyssey. The passages from the Odyssey are relevant to what Herodotus goes on to argue about the story of Helen in Egypt: he finds that this story is more believable than the story of Helen in Troy (2.118–119). In the Egyptian version, Paris is forced to leave Helen behind in Egypt after the two of them are detoured there (2.115.5). That is where Menelaos finds her after the war. According to this Egyptian version, then, Helen never went to Troy. For Herodotus, this version makes more sense than the Homeric version that dominates the Iliad and Odyssey.

I conclude by considering again the fact that Herodotus distinguishes Homer as the poet of the Iliad from the poet of the Cypria. This fact shows that the historian is familiar with the Panathenaic Homer. That is, he thinks of Homer as the poet of the two epics performed at the Panathenaia, the Iliad and the Odyssey. Nevertheless, Herodotus does not presuppose that everyone thinks this way. That is why he makes a point of establishing the distinction in the first place. He speaks of the poet of the Cypria as someone who may be considered to be Homer by others, but Herodotus knows better.

source

Helen presents her story about the sorrows of the Trojan War as an entertainment, marked by the the programmatic word terpesthai ‘feel delight’, O.04.239. Evidently, the drug nēpenthes has occluded the sorrow of her listeners. See the comment on O.04.220–226.

source

Here, unlike elsewhere, the cognitive act of recognizing Odysseus, as marked by the verb anagignōskein ‘recognize’, does not require the explicit use of the word sēma ‘sign’.

source

Helen refers to her elopement with Paris=Alexandros as an atē ‘aberration’ caused by Aphrodite.

source

φωνὴν ἴσκουσ’ ἀλόχοισιν.

‘She [= Helen] was likening [eïskein] her voice to the voices of their wives.’

Helen possesses the art of ‘making a likeness’ of the voices of others. By ‘likening’ her voice to the voices of any wife of any Homeric hero, she is actually making her voice the same as theirs. We see here a Muse-like feat of verbal art. On this point, I have more to say in the comment on O.19.203.

source

In Odyssey 3, Nestor was telling young Telemachus tales about the adventures experienced by the Achaeans after their capture of Troy. Some of the tales involved the brothers Agamemnon and Menelaos. In the context of those tales, there was a mention of the island of Lesbos at O.03.169. And now in Odyssey 4, we get to know more about the adventures of Agamemnon and Menelaos after Troy, but here it is Menelaos himself who is telling tales about these adventures, and, in his tale, there is a detail about Lesbos that contradicts the tale told by Nestor in Odyssey 3.

Here I epitomize from Nagy 2015§§ 77–78:

[§77] While telling his tale to Telemachus in Odyssey 4, Menelaos expresses a wish that the young man’s father, Odysseus, will return to Ithaca and will defeat the suitors of Penelope—just as this hero of the Odyssey had once upon a time defeated an opponent named Philomeleides in a wrestling match that had taken place on the island of Lesbos, O.04.341–344. The verses here at Odyssey 4.341–344 are repeated at 17.132–135, where Telemachus retells to Penelope the story told to him by Menelaos.

[§78] In terms of what Menelaos says at O.04.341–344, he was in Lesbos when Odysseus performed his heroic feat there. There is some agreement here with the narrative of Nestor at O.03.168–169, who says that Menelaos had sailed from Tenedos to Lesbos. So too had Nestor himself and Diomedes sailed to Lesbos, and they were already there by the time Menelaos arrived. See the comment on O.03.168–169. But the problem is, Odysseus himself did not sail from Tenedos to Lesbos in the narrative of Nestor: rather, as we saw at O.03.160–169, Odysseus together with a sub-group of Achaean followers had already sailed from Tenedos back to Troy in order to rejoin Agamemnon, who was still there at Troy, O.03.160–164, while Nestor and Diomedes together with their Achaean followers sailed on from their stopover at the island of Tenedos and arrived at the next stopover, which was the island of Lesbos, O.03.165–169. There, at Lesbos, Nestor and Diomedes were joined by Menelaos, who as we saw arrived later, O.03.168–169. In short, the parting of ways for Odysseus in Odyssey 3 had already happened on the island of Tenedos, when he had left Nestor and Diomedes and Menelaos in order to rejoin Agamemnon. Here in Odyssey 4, by contrast, Odysseus seems to be still present in Lesbos when Diomedes and Nestor and Menelaos are present in Lesbos. And that is how Menelaos could have witnessed the victory of Odysseus in a wrestling match at Lesbos.

source

Epitome from Nagy 2015§§79–91:

[§79] I argue that there were two variant myths at work in Odyssey 3 and 4, and that these myths could never be completely reconciled with one another. Nor, as I also argue, did they ever really need to be reconciled. In Homeric poetry, there is a built-in awareness of mutually contradictory local variations in mythmaking, and there are many examples where the poetry shows this awareness by ostentatiously including, without overt self-contradiction, details from recessive as well as dominant versions of any given myth. For another example, see the anchor comment at O.04.512–522 on: mutually contradictory local variations in mythmaking.

[§80] Keeping in mind the Homeric capacity to track such mutually contradictory local variations, let us consider the myth, as we saw it at work in Odyssey 3, about a grand sacrifice that took place on the island of Tenedos, O.03.159. Of the two Sons of Atreus, only Menelaos was present, while Agamemnon had stayed behind at Troy and was arranging a correspondingly grand sacrifice back there, to be attended by his half of the Achaeans—and that sacrifice was intended for Athena, Ο.03.143–145. As for the sacrifice at Tenedos, the divine recipients are not named, O.03.159. And, at the competing sacrifice on the island of Tenedos, arranged by Menelaos and attended by his half of the Achaeans, a quarrel broke out between Nestor and Odysseus, with the result that Odysseus and his followers went back to Agamemnon, O.03.160–164. After Tenedos, the only Achaean leaders who sailed on homeward with their followers were Nestor and Diomedes, O.03.165–167—to be joined later by Menelaos at Lesbos, O.03.168.

[§81] From here on, I refer to this ‘Tenedos version’ of the myth, O.03.159–164, as Myth One. But there is also a Myth Two, which is the ‘Lesbos version’, O.04.341–344. According to Myth Two, as we see it at work under the surface in Odyssey 4, there was a grand sacrifice that took place on the island of Lesbos, not on the island of Tenedos. At Lesbos, Odysseus was still together with Nestor and Diomedes—to be joined later by Menelaos. Unlike Myth One as we read it at O.03.159–164, which is a myth originating from Tenedos, this second variant myth originates from Lesbos. A signature of this Myth Two at O.04.341–344 is the reference, initiated by the speaking persona of Menelaos, to that primal wrestling match between Odysseus and Philomeleides on the island of Lesbos. In fact, there are traces of this Myth Two in sources external to Homeric poetry. As we learn from Hellanicus of Lesbos (FGH 4 F 150), the people of Lesbos had their own local stories about Philomeleides: he had been a king of theirs in the age of heroes, and he used to challenge visitors to engage with him in a wrestling match—but then his reputation for invincibility was undone by Odysseus, helped by Diomedes, when these heroes visited Lesbos. On Philomeleides of Lesbos, I have more to say in Nagy 2008:57.

[§82] I have so far left out a further detail in Myth Two as I have reconstructed it. According to this myth, which would be compatible with the myth as we see it at work in Song 17 of Sappho, Menelaos was not the only one of the two Sons of Atreus who visited Lesbos. Also visiting was his brother Agamemnon.

[§83] We have already seen that Myth One, compatible with the mythological traditions of Tenedos, situates the quarrel between Menelaos and Agamemnon at Troy, even before Agamemnon arranges for a sacrifice of one hundred cattle there. But now I argue that Myth Two, compatible with the mythological traditions of Lesbos, situates the quarrel of Menelaos and Agamemnon not at Troy—and certainly not at Tenedos—but rather at Lesbos. In Myth Two, as we are about to see, both Sons of Atreus visited Lesbos, and they quarreled there with each other. Further, we will see that such a quarrel between Menelaos and Agamemnon at Lesbos happened not before but after a grand sacrifice of one hundred cattle there. And, even further, we will see that the quarrel was linked with the ultimate failure of that sacrifice.

[§84] Here we return to Song 17 of Sappho, the relevant parts of which are quoted in the anchor comment at O.03.130–183 on two variant myths in Odyssey 3 and Odyssey 4, part 1 at §75. The clearest sign of failure, in terms of the narrative embedded in Song 17 of Sappho, is the wish that we see being formulated in heroic times—when it was announced-in-prayer that a festival is to be arranged at Lesbos. The eortā ‘festival’ (2: ἐόρτ[α]) that was arātā ‘announced-in-prayer’ (3: ἀράταν)—in the context of an animal sacrifice, as I reconstruct it—was instituted in hopes of ‘finding the way’ back home from Troy (7: [ὄ]δ̣ο̣ν … εὔρη̣[ν]). Hērā, as the primary divinity to whom it was announced-in-prayer that there would be a seasonally recurring festival at Lesbos, would be heeding the Sons of Atreus, who had prayed to her, imploring her to help them find their way back home safe and sound.

[§85] But the question remains: did Hērā heed the prayer of the Sons of Atreus? In the mythical world of heroes, a wish expressed by a hero who makes an announcement-in-prayer to a divinity is often not heeded by the divinity. See the anchor comment at I.02.402–429 on prayers heeded or not heeded by gods; also the comment on I.04.118–121.

[§86] Similarly, in terms of my reconstruction of the announcement-in-prayer made by the Sons of Atreus in Song 17 of Sappho, the sacrifice that was announced-in-prayer by these heroes was a failure, since their wish to find the safest way back home was not granted to either one of them. In the case of Agamemnon, we will see that he was killed after having sailed home safely, O.04.514–537. As for Menelaos, he will be sailing around aimlessly for eight years before he finally finds his way back home. At least, that is what we read in the version of the story as told at O.04.082 (see [§98] below).

[§87] Before I can proceed with my reconstruction, I must first situate its relevance to Song 17 of Sappho. In this song, I argue, we see a reference to a sacrifice of one hundred cattle in the precinct of Hērā at Lesbos, and this sacrifice is viewed, I also argue, as a failed ritual in the heroic past of a myth. In the myth, there is an announcement-in-prayer about performing the sacrifice, which will turn out to be a failure, whereas the seasonal reperforming of this sacrifice at the same place during the festival of Hērā is expected to be a successful ritual in the present time of reperformance as signaled in the song. In Song 17, as we have already seen (§75), the persona of Sappho is praying to Hērā herself, speaking to her about the eortā ‘festival’ (2: ἐόρτ[α]) that is being arranged in honor of the goddess. The speaking Sappho goes on to say that this festival, which ‘we’ in the present are arranging (11: πόημεν) as ‘we’ offer supplications to Hērā, is being arranged ‘in accordance with the ancient way’ (12: κὰτ τὸ πάλ̣[αιον) of celebration. In terms of the reading that we find in the papyrus, both Agamemnon and Menelaos had arranged (3: π̣ό̣ηϲαν) such a festival in ancient times by virtue of having announced-in-prayer the arrangement of such a festival in the first place. These conquerors of Troy needed to offer their prayer to Hērā, Zeus, and Dionysus (9-10), and, in that prayer, they were to announce the arrangement of the eortā ‘festival’ (2: ἐόρτ[α]), which was thus arātā ‘announced-in-prayer (3: ἀράταν). It is at this festival that the persona of Sappho is ‘even now’ praying to Hērā, nun de (11). And, in terms of my reconstruction, I argue that the centerpiece of such a seasonally recurring festival at Lesbos was a hecatomb, that is, the sacrificial slaughter of one hundred cattle. On the word hekatombē ‘hecatomb’, see the comment on O.04.351–353.

[§88] So, the central question is this: if such a ritual of sacrificing one hundred cattle was a failure in the past time of the myth, how could it become a model for the success of that ritual as it exists in its own present time?

[§89] Such an idea of failure in myth and success in ritual is typical of an aetiology. I repeat here my working definition (see the comment on I.23.01–064 Point 1): an aetiology focuses on a foundational catastrophe in the mythologized past that explains and thus motivates continuing success in the ritualized present and future.

[§90] An example of an aetiology that I have studied elsewhere in some detail is a complex of rituals and myths involving the god Apollo and the hero Pyrrhos at Delphi, where the overall ritual of slaughtering sheep and distributing in an orderly way their sacrificial meat inside the precinct of Apollo stands in sharp contrast with a myth, as reflected in Pindar’s Nemean 7 and Paean 6, about a disorderly distribution that resulted in the slaughtering of Pyrrhos himself when the hero arrived at Delphi to make sacrifice inside the precinct of the god (Nagy 2011a§§67–68, 70–72).

[§91] For another example of such an aetiology, I cite a story as retold by Herodotus (1.31.1–5) about a priestess of Hērā and her two boys, named Kleobis and Biton. The mother and the two sons, all three of them, are involved as major characters in an aetiological myth about the ritual practice of the hecatomb, which was a sacrificial slaughtering of one hundred cattle in the precinct of the goddess Hērā at the climax of the festival celebrated in her honor at Argos. On the word hekatombē ‘hecatomb’, see the comment on O.04.351–353. Also involved as major ‘characters’ in the story are two sacrificial oxen. The two boys, described as āthlophoroi ‘prize-winning athletes’, willingly took the place of the two sacrificial oxen, chosen to pull the wagon carrying the priestess across the plain of Argos—over a distance of 45 stadium-lengths—along a sacred way leading up to the precinct of Hērā (1.31.2). The oxen had been late in arriving at the starting-point of the procession (again, 1.31.2), and this lateness, in terms of the story, is the aetiological explanation for their replacement by the two athletes. If these two oxen had not been late, they would have been slaughtered along with the other ninety-eight oxen that had been chosen for the mass sacrifice of one hundred cattle at the finishing-point of the procession, inside the precinct of Hērā. At the feast that followed the sacrifice inside the precinct, the two boys died a mystical death after having pulled the wagon of the priestess from the starting-point all the way to this finishing-point of the procession (1.31.5). Thus, by way of this death that they shared with each other, the boys became sacrificial substitutes for the two premier victims of the animal sacrifice. (See Nagy 2015 ch. 4§142*1, with references to further commentary.)

source

|351 Αἰγύπτῳ μ’ ἔτι δεῦρο θεοὶ μεμαῶτα νέεσθαι |352 ἔσχον, ἐπεὶ οὔ σφιν ἔρεξα τεληέσσας ἑκατόμβας· |353 οἱ δ’ αἰεὶ βούλοντο θεοὶ μεμνῆσθαι ἐφετμέων.

|351 In Egypt did they hold me up, the gods did, though I sorely wanted to make a homecoming [neesthai] back here [deuro = at home, where I am speaking now]. |352 Yes, they held me up, since [epei] I did not perform for them a perfect sacrifice of one hundred cattle [hekatombai]. |353 The gods always wanted their protocols to be kept in mind.

O.04.351–353

I interpret hekatom-b-ē ‘hecatomb’ as ‘sacrifice of one hundred [hekaton] cattle [b-]’ in Homeric contexts, as here. But I should note that there are some cases where the sacrifice is scaled down, referring not to cattle but to other sacrificial animals. In I.04.102, for example, the hekatombē involves sheep, not cattle. The passage here at O.04.351–353 is relevant to the narrative in Song 17 of Sappho, as quoted in the anchor comment at O.03.130–183 on two variant myths in Odyssey 3 and Odyssey 4, part 1.

source

Epitome from Nagy 2015§92:

Menelaos, narrating for Telemachus and the assembled company the tale of his own homecoming from Troy, explains why the gods had temporarily checked the winds that could bring him back home in the final phase of his sea voyage, O.04.351–362. At one point in the tale, Menelaos is stranded on the island Pharos, offshore from Egypt O.04.354–360. And, in telling this part of the tale, the explanation that he gives for his temporary failure to sail on and to reach his homeland is this: because (352: ἐπεί) he had not performed a hecatomb. On the word hekatombē ‘hecatomb’, referring to a sacrificial slaughtering of one hundred cattle, see the comment on O.04.351–353.

source

analysis of lines appearance in Plutarch Life of Alexander 26.5. Evidence for argument that Ptolemaic dynasty created the charter myth that they possessed the text of Alexander the Great, Aristotle’s text of Homer

source

This description of Pharos is most relevant to the charter myth narrated in Plutarch Life of Alexander 26.5 about the Library of Alexandria.

source

See the comments on I.01.155.

source

This adjective adeukḗs is used in contexts referring to an interrupted sequence. In the present context, for example, adeukḗs describes the ólethros ‘doom’ that destroys a ship. See also O.06.273, O.10.245. The opposite of this adjective adeukḗs ‘discontinuous, interrupting’ can be seen in the adverb endukéōs, which can be interpreted as ‘continuously, uninterruptedly’. See the anchor comment at O.07.256. In terms of this interpretation, the root deuk-/duk- for this adjective/adverb conveys the sense of ‘continue’.

source

|512 σὸϲ δέ που ἔκφυγε κῆρας ἀδελφεὸς ἠδ’ ὑπάλυξεν |513 ἐν νηυσὶ γλαφυρῇσι· σάωϲε δὲ πότνια Ἥρη.

|512 But your brother [= Agamemnon] escaped from the forces of destruction, and he slipped away |513 in his hollow ships. Hērā had saved [sōzein] him.

O.4.512–513

Epitome from Nagy 2015§§93–100:

[§93] By contrast with the temporary failure of Menelaos in his homecoming, as narrated by the hero himself at O.04.351–353, Agamemnon had already succeeded in sailing home, and Menelaos himself mentions this detail as he tells his own tale in Odyssey 4. In telling the tale, the explanation that Menelaos gives for his brother’s successful sea voyage is this: because the goddess Hērā had saved Agamemnon. I note here the background: Proteus had told Menelaos about this salvation of Agamemnon from the sea, and that is how Menelaos knows about it. As he retells the tale to Telemachus, Menelaos is quoting here the words of Proteus about the success of Agamemnon at sea, to be contrasted with the temporary failure of Menelaos himself.

[§94] As we learn, then, from the words of Proteus in Odyssey 4, Agamemnon was in fact saved at sea, since his voyage by sea was successful. But then he was killed after he landed near home, ambushed by Aigisthos, and so the rest of his voyage, by land, became a failure O.04.514-537. After treacherously hosting him at a dinner, Aigisthos had slaughtered Agamemnon as if that hero were some sacrificial ox that is being fed in a manger, O.04.535. By contrast, the voyage of Menelaos by sea was ultimately successful, because he finally got around to making a sacrifice of one hundred cattle in Egypt, O.04.581–586. In making this sacrifice, Menelaos was following the instructions of Proteus, O.04.472–480, and, this way, he appeased the anger of the gods, O.04.583. Now Menelaos could at long last sail back to his homeland, safe and sound O.04.584–586. At I.05.714–717, Hērā remarks to Athena that the two of them had promised to Menelaos a safe homecoming after the conquest of Troy.

[§95] We have seen, then, from the narrative of Menelaos in Odyssey 4, that Agamemnon was saved at sea by the goddess Hērā, O.04.512–513. But why had Hērā saved him? It was because, I argue, Agamemnon had at least tried to make a perfect sacrifice of one hundred cattle at Lesbos. By contrast, Menelaos had somehow failed to do his part in the corresponding sacrifice. In terms of my interpretation, based on the wording of Song 17 of Sappho, both Sons of Atreus had made an announcement-in-prayer about performing a sacrifice at Lesbos, but only Agamemnon succeeded in following through on that announcement.

[§96] I have already quoted the passage at O.04.252–254 where Menelaos says that the final phase of his sea voyage as he headed back home was held up by the gods precisely because he had not made a sacrifice of one hundred cattle. From the context, it is clear that this failure that made the gods so angry was a sin of omission, not commission. And his sin, I argue, was that he somehow failed to perform a sacrifice of one hundred cattle at Lesbos. But later on, when Menelaos does finally get around to performing a sacrifice of one hundred cattle in Egypt O.04.581–586, his performance is successful, and thus he finally appeases the anger of the gods, O.04.583.

[§97] The reader’s first impression may be that the sin of omission on the part of Menelaos, that is, his failure to perform a successful sacrifice of one hundred cattle, happens in Egypt: after all, the finding of a solution for the sin happens at this place—when Menelaos finally gets around to performing such a sacrifice. But such a first impression is wrong, I think, since Egypt was merely the last possible place as an occasion for such a sin of omission. There were many other places that Menelaos had visited before he ever reached Egypt, and Egypt had been for him merely the final stopover in the course of a most problematic overall sea voyage back home from Troy. Yes, the gods were in the process of punishing Menelaos in Egypt for his sin of omission when we see them interfering there with his sea voyage. And yes, the gods kept on interfering until Menelaos finally made the sacrifice, in Egypt, which was the place that turned out to be his point of departure in the very last phase of his sea voyage. But, as we will now see, the gods were already interfering with Menelaos in earlier phases of his sea voyage, and so the divine punishment for his sin of omission can be viewed as an ongoing series of misfortunes that kept on interfering with his travels after Troy.

[§98] The first such misfortune is already narrated by Nestor in Odyssey 3, concerning the death, at Cape Sounion, of the hero Phrontis, who had been steering the ship of Menelaos, O.03.276–283. That death, caused by the god Apollo, O.03.279–280, holds back Menelaos from sailing ahead. Only after he conducts a proper funeral for his companion, O.03.284–285, does he recommence his sea voyage. Then, as Menelaos sails past the headlands of Maleiai, his ships are blown off course: some are swept away to Crete, where they run aground and are shattered, O.03.286–299, while five of them reach Egypt, O.03.299–300. (The details here are parallel to what is narrated in the epic Cycle: Nostoi, Proclus summary p. 108 lines 20–23 ed. Allen 1912). In sharp contrast, the hero Nestor has a safe and swift sea voyage back home to Pylos, O.03.182–183, having evidently rounded successfully the headlands of Maleiai (I follow here the analysis of Frame 2009:184n79.) Meanwhile, once he reaches Egypt, Menelaos takes to plundering and looting there, and he amasses vast treasures, O.03.301, as ‘he was wandering around with his ships’, O.03.302 (ἠλᾶτο ξὺν νηυϲί). Later, in Odyssey 4, we learn from the narrative of Menelaos that his sea voyage had reached not only Egypt but also other exotic places, including Cyprus and Phoenicia, O.04.083, even Libya, O.04.085. After experiencing all these adventures, he was still just ‘wandering around’ in an aimless way, O.04.081 and O.04.083 (ἐπαληθείϲ), O.04.091 (ἠλώμην). As Menelaos himself remarks, he spent eight years just wandering around, O.04.082.

[§99] Already in the narrative of Nestor in Odyssey 3, the aimlessness of the sea voyage of Menelaos is anticipated: whereas Agamemnon got back home from Troy relatively soon, only to get killed by Aigisthos, Menelaos kept on wandering from one place to the next in his many sea voyages, and the word for his directionless maritime wanderings is plazeto ‘he was veering’, O.03.254 (πλάζετ’). Comparable, of course, are the even more extensive veerings of Odysseus in the overall Odyssey, as expressed by the same word plazesthai ‘veering’ already at the beginning of the epic: Odysseus is a hero ‘who veered [plangthē] in very many ways’, O.01.001–002 (ὃς μάλα πολλὰ | πλάγχθη).

[§100] So, where did all the veering begin for Menelaos? Where did his sea voyage start to go off course? According to one version of the myth about this hero’s travels by sea after Troy, as I will now argue, the veering can be traced all the way back to something that happened at Lesbos. I focus here on a detail we find in the tale told by Nestor in Odyssey 3. In that tale, Menelaos was late in arriving at Lesbos. See the comment on O.03.168–169.

source

Epitome from Nagy 2015§79:

Narrated here in O.04.512–522 is the final phase of the sea voyage of Agamemnon as he sails his way back home after the Trojan War. At first, the winds carry him around the headlands of Maleiai, bringing him toward Spartan territory, but then, before he can land there, the winds correct themselves, as it were, and they now carry him in a different direction, toward Argive territory, which is where he finally lands. This way, the Spartan myth that localizes the home of Agamemnon at Amyklai in Spartan territory is recognized—before it is overruled by the rival Argive myth that localizes his home at Mycenae in Argive territory. In Homeric poetry, the Argive version of the myth is dominant, while the Spartan version is recessive.

source

Proteus makes a prophecy here, foretelling the immortalization of Menelaos in a pedion ‘field’ named Ēlusion ‘Elysium’, O.04.563. A comparable setting for immortalization is a place known as the Makarōn nēsoi ‘Islands of the Blessed’ (as in Hesiod Works and Days 164–173). The name Ēlusion ‘Elysium’, as is evident from attestations outside of Homeric poetry, can refer to a mystical setting of immortalization as experienced by heroes worshipped in cult. From what evidence we have about hero cults, we can see that the rituals of worshipping heroes in cult places are ideologically synchronized with corresponding myths about the immortalization of these same heroes in paradise-like settings that are far removed from the everyday world. In fact, the forms Ēlusion 'Elysium' and Makarōn nēsoi 'Isles of the Blessed' are appropriate as names for actual cult sites. The proper noun Ēlusion coincides with the common noun en-ēlúsion, referring to a place made sacred by virtue of being struck by the thunderbolt (Pollux 9.41, etc.). The form Ēlúsion itself is glossed in the Alexandrian lexicographical tradition (Hesychius) as κεκεραυνωμένον χωρίον ἢ πεδίον ‘a place or field that has been struck by the thunderbolt', with this added remark: καλεῖται δὲ καὶ ἐνηλύσια ‘and it is also called enēlusia’. As for Makarōn nēsos ‘Island of the Blessed’, there is a tradition that the name was actually applied to the old acropolis of Thebes, the Kadmeion; specifically, the name designated the sacred precinct where Semele, the mother of Dionysus, had been struck dead by the thunderbolt of Zeus (Parmenides via the Suda and via Photius, under Makarōn nēsos; Tzetzes on Lycophron 1194, 1204). We are immediately reminded of the poetic tradition that tells how Semele became immortalized as a direct result of dying from the thunderbolt of Zeus (see Pindar Olympian 2.25, in conjunction with Hesiod Theogony 942). Inhabiting Elysium is the hero Rhadamanthys, O.04.564, who is described in this context as xanthos ‘with golden hair’. Similarly, Menelaos himself is conventionally described as xanthos: I.03.284, I.03.434, I.04.183, I.04.210, I.10.240, I.11.125, I.17.006, I.17.018, I.17.113, I.17.124, I.17.578, I.17.673, I.17.684, I.23.293, I.23.401, I.23.438, O.01.285, O.03.168, O.03.257, O.03.326, O.04.030, O.04.059, O.04.076, O.04.147, O.04.168, O.04.203, O.04.265, O.04.332, O.15.110, O.15.133, O.15.147.

source

Gusts of wind emitted by the cosmic river Ōkeanos have the power of ‘reviving’ humans in the sense of ‘reanimating’ them, as expressed by way of the verb ana-psūkhein, O.04.568. On the mystical force of this verb, see the comment on I.05.795.

source

See the comment on O.01.241.

source

See also the contexts of I.03.125–128, I.03.212, I.07.324, I.18.367, O.03.118, O.12.189-191.

source

On pulai ‘gates’ as liminal points of entry and departure for consciousness and for the sun itself, see the comments at I.05.395–404, I.05.646. See also the anchor comment at I.08.367 on the Gates of Hādēs; also the anchor comment at I.23.071–076 on what the psūkhē ‘spirit’ of Patroklos really wants for itself—and for Achilles (Points 5 and 6 and 9).

source

Only here in the Odyssey is the hero Tīthōnos ever mentioned, O.05.001. In the Iliad, there is a parallel mention of Tīthōnos at I.11.001. The wording of O.05.001–002 here matches the wording of I.11.001–002. The story of the abduction of Tīthōnos by Ēōs, goddess of dawn, is told in the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 218–238. The liaison between the mortal man Tīthōnos and the immortal goddess Ēōs is parallel to the liaison between the mortal man Anchises and the immortal goddess Aphrodite. And, as a result of both these affairs, the mortal man is permanently damaged. In the case of Tīthōnos, he loses his youth though he holds on to life, but old age renders him immobile, as we read in the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite, verse 234. In the case of Anchises, he too is afflicted with immobility—which is why his son Aeneas has to carry him on his shoulders in ancient depictions of that hero’s escape from Troy together with his family (for a splendid example, I refer to a vase painting dated to the early fifth century BCE, British Museum inventory number 1836.0224.138). Such stories of permanent damage are relevant to the story of the affair between Odysseus and the goddess Calypso. In sum, the fact that Rhapsody 5 begins with a reference to an affair between a mortal man and an immortal goddess indicates the dangers that now threaten Odysseus.

source

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

The accusative of ommata ‘eyes’ here, as the direct object of thelgein, indicates that the idea of looking is built into this verb. Accordingly, it can be argued that the Lithuanian verb žvelgiù ‘look’ is a cognate of thelgein, which I translate as ‘put a trance on, enchant’. I interpret the enchantment here as an effect of visual attraction.

source

The verb heleto ‘took’ referring here at O.05.121 to the seduction of Orion by Ēōs the goddess of the dawn is neutral in comparison to other verbs indicating an abduction by force, as when Ēōs hērpasen ‘seized’ Tīthōnos in Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 218. For more on the links of heroes like Orion and Tithōnos with Ēōs, see the comment on O.15.250–251.

source

The myth about the liaison between the mortal man Orion and the immortal goddess Ēōs is retold by Calypso herself as an example of the double standard shown by the divine powers in not tolerating a relationship where the immortal lover of a mortal is female, not male. It is to be noted that Ēōs, at the moment when she takes the initiative in seducing Orion at O.05.121, is described with the epithet rhododaktulos ‘rosy-fingered’ instead of the epithet thugatēr Dios ‘daughter of Zeus’, which would have been appropriate if the seducer had been a goddess like Aphrodite. See the anchor comment at O.12.001–010.

source

The goddess Artemis shoots Orion with her arrows.

source

At O.05.136, Calypso says that she was intending to make Odysseus athanatos ‘immortal’ and agērōs ‘ageless’. Similarly in Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 214, Zeus when he abducts Ganymedes makes him athanatos ‘immortal’ and agērōs ‘ageless’. By contrast, in Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 221, Ēōs forgets to ask for agelessness after she abducts Tīthōnos and asks only that her mortal lover be athanatos ‘immortal’. So, she forgot to ask that he should have lasting hēbē ‘youth’, Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 224.

source

At O.05.160, aiōn ‘life-force, lifetime’ is a potential recycling of time: see the comment on I.01.052. But such a recycling is threatened at O.05.161 by a linear prolongation of life, which would result in what is indicated here by the verb phthinesthai ‘wilt, perish’.

source

For a god to swear by the Styx is to reaffirm the absolute permanence of its waters, as indicated by the epithet aphthito- ‘imperishable’ in Hesiod Theogony 389, 397, 805. See the comment on I.02.046; also the comment on Homeric Hymn to Demeter 259, where Demeter swears by the Styx that she would have made the child Demophon athanatos ‘immortal’ and agērōs, 260, if the mother of this child had not spoiled what the goddess intended.

source

We see here a specialized sense of this noun harmoniā ‘joint’, derived from the root ar- as in arariskein ‘join’.

source

If Odysseus could read the stars correctly, he would see that the constellation of Orion shows him what would have happened if his liaison with Calypso had been prolonged: Odysseus too would have been killed off, like Orion. The astral configuration of Orion the Hunter and Arktos the Bear here at O.05.273–275 is pictured also at I.18.487–489. The stars in this configuration are re-enacting the myth of Orion: how Ēōs the goddess of dawn made Orion her lover and how the goddess Artemis the huntress then shot Orion with her arrows and killed him. The myth, as we have already seen, is narrated at O.05.121–124. A special point of interest in the description of Arktos the Bear at O.05.274—also at I.18.488—is the expression dokeuei: it appears that this she-bear is ‘taking aim’ at Orion. It can be argued that this pose of Arktos the she-bear reveals her to be a stand-in for the goddess Artemis herself at the moment when the goddess takes aim at Orion in order to shoot him dead with her arrows. It can also be argued that the dangerous liaison of Ēōs with Orion at O.05.121–124 is viewed as a relevant parallel to the liaison of Calypso with Odysseus.

source

The formulation of this wish shows that Odysseus is longing to be defined by an epic that is limited to the happenings in the Trojan War, excluding the happenings that he experiences in the Odyssey. But this is not to be. For Odysseus to be hero in his own epic, he must have a safe homecoming from Troy.

source

Odysseus is saved from drowning by Ino, O.05.333, who was once a mortal woman but who has become immortalized after death by becoming the Leukotheā or ‘White Goddess’, O.05.334. The White Goddess gives to Odysseus her krēdemnon, that is, her headdress or ‘veil’, which becomes his life-saver: O.05.346, O.05.351, O.05.373, O.05.459. In order to give the hero her headdress, she would first have to undo her hair, as we can see by comparing the scene where Andromache lets fall from her head her own headdress, the word for which is, here again, krēdemnon, I.22.470. See the commentary on I.22.460–474, where I noted that the undoing of a woman’s hair, caused by the undoing of her krēdemnon, produces what I called an Aphrodisiac effect. So long as a woman’s krēdemnon is in place, her sexuality is under control just as her hair is under control. When the krēdemnon is out of place, however, her sexuality threatens to get out of control. Also, while saving the hero, the goddess assumes the form of a diving bird called aithuia, O.05.337 and O.05.353. These actions of Ino in saving Odysseus from the mortal dangers of the sea are parallel to the actions of the goddess Athena herself. [What follows is epitomized from Nagy 1985:80–81 (= §78).] Ino as aithuia has a parallel agent in ensuring the salvation of Odysseus from the sea: Athena herself redirects the storm sent against the hero by Poseidon, O.05.382–387, and then she saves him from immediate drowning by giving him a timely idea for swimming to safety, O.05.435–439. The hero submerges but then emerges from a wave that would surely have drowned him had it not been for Athena, O.05.435 and O.05.438, and this detail corresponds closely to the preceding emergence and submergence of Ino herself, O.05.337 and O.05.352–353. Such a correspondence suggests that Ino, the former mortal who is now a goddess, O.05.334 and O.05.335, is a model for a transition from death to life anew.

source

Here the verb tēkesthai ‘melt away’ refers to wasting away in illness. For other metaphorical applications, see especially the comment at O.19.204–212

source

The comparison of Odysseus to an octopus here is a signature, as it were, of his reputation for being polutropos ‘turning-into-many-different-selves’. This epithet is analyzed in the comment on O.01.001–010. On the polytropic nature of the octopus, I cite two relevant passages: Theognis 215–218 and Pindar F 43 SM.

source

For this translation of epiphrosunē, ‘impulse of wisdom’, see HPC 45n33.

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

The elements ponos ‘pain’ and kamatos ‘pain’ in the expression δυσπονέος καμάτοιο at O.05.493 are conventional designations of the life-and-death struggles of a hero.

source

The wording that starts Rhapsody 6 here at O.06.001–112 picks up where the wording of Rhapsody 5 left off, at O.05.491–493, where Odysseus had fallen asleep after his ordeals at sea.

source

Nausicaa, princess of the Phaeacians, makes her appearance as a potential but unattainable love-interest for Odysseus—and as a delight for all who find themselves irresistibly drawn into the story of her girlish but principled encounter with the enthralled hero.

draft js image error “Nausicaa” (1878), Frederick Leighton (English, 1830–1896). Image via Wikimedia Commons.

This Rhapsody belongs to Nausicaa. I spell her name in its familiar latinized form, with a c, since her fame extends far beyond the ancient Greek world, where she appears as Ναυσικάα. In any case, the name has a certain primacy of place. I have no idea who said it first, but I first heard it from the long-departed Sterling Dow in the early 1960s: if you look up all surviving ancient Greek names in reverse alphabetical order, the first one you see is Nausicaa = Ναυσικάα, while the very last of them all is Calypso = Καλυψώ. Surely we see here a coincidence, not some mysterious signal emanating from some grand cosmic plan, but the coincidence itself seems just as lovely as Nausicaa is lovely. Some critics view her as a youthful love-interest for Odysseus, matching Calypso as the hero’s divine love-interest. But such a view detracts from the loveliness: Nausicaa is meant to be a love-interest for all who hear her story—just as Calypso is a universal love-interest in her own story as told in Rhapsody 5. In the story of Nausicaa as told in Rhapsody 6, she is pictured as the perfect bride for any man fortunate enough to succeed in marrying her—and she knows it. The self-awareness of Nausicaa is shaped by the poetry that idealizes her eligibility by animating her beauty and her charm to the point where she becomes comparable to the goddess Artemis. Odysseus himself initiates the comparison and, by comparing the girl to the goddess, he is signaling to himself that Nausicaa, even if she does not know it yet, is for him enticingly unattainable.

source

The Cyclopes, when they were neighboring enemies of the Phaeacians, O.06.005, are said to have been superior because of their biē ‘force, violence, strength’, O.06.006.

source

Nausicaa, daughter of Alkinoos (latinized as Alcinous), is named here for the first time, O.06.017. She is a kourē ‘girl’, O.06.015, and she is said to be homoiē ‘similar to’ or ‘same as’ the immortal goddesses. This comparison is a prelude to the wording of the narrative at O.06.102–109, where Nausicaa is compared directly to the goddess Artemis; also to the wording of Odysseus himself at O.06.150–152, where the hero himself compares Nausicaa directly to Artemis.

source

Nausicaa wakes up at dawn, O.06.048–049, and goes from her room to the central part of the palace O.06.050–051, where she finds her mother sitting at the hearth and spinning wool in the company of the women who attend her O.06.052–053. A question here: did the mother start her spinning at dawn, or has she been spinning all night?

source

At O.06.085–099, Nausicaa and the girls who attend her are at the banks of a river, washing the clothes they have brought from the palace, and then waiting for the wet clothes to dry in the sun; while they wait, they clean up and enjoy each other’s company as they indulge in a picnic. Next, at O.06.100–101, after having finished eating and drinking, they start playfully singing and dancing with each other: the playfulness of the song and dance is expressed by the verb paizein ‘play’ at O.06.100, while the actual singing /dancing is expressed by the noun molpē ‘singing and dancing’ at O.06.101. The prima donna / prima ballerina of the singing / dancing is Nausicaa herself, as expressed by the verb arkhesthai ‘lead off [in performing]’, again at O.06.101. The dancing in this case includes the playful tossing of a sphaira ‘ball’, O.06.100. While the girls are feeling all freed up in their playfulness, they throw off the krēdemna or ‘veils’ that they are wearing. So, now we can see that Nausicaa and the girls who attend her would not even think of going out in public without first putting on their krēdemna ‘veils’. They won’t leave home without wearing their headdresses. But now they are no longer in public—or so they imagine. The detail about wearing a veil when the girls leave home and go outdoors is hardly a signal of their being married. Clearly, all these girls are unmarried. So, we see here that unmarried women as well as married women like Andromache wear the krēdemnon in public. The custom is simply a signal of propriety. On the function of the krēdemnon ‘headdress’ as an equivalent of a ‘veil’, I recommend the work of Levine 1995 (especially pp. 96–110), who shows that the custom of wearing a veil is part of a “cultural grammar of hair” (Levine p. 95). Relevant are my comments about O.05.333–353 with reference to Ino the White Goddess and, earlier, about I.22.460–474 with reference to Andromache. In both sets of comments, I noted that the undoing of a woman’s hair, caused by the undoing of her krēdemnon, produces what I called an Aphrodisiac effect. So long as a woman’s krēdemnon is in place, her sexuality is under control just as her hair is under control. When the krēdemnon is out of place, however, her sexuality threatens to get out of control. But there is even more to it. When a woman or girl has her hair undone in a private place, then her sexuality is under control—so long as the vision of the woman or girl with hair undone is private. But what happens when the undoing of the hair is represented in the verbal arts or visual arts? Then the view becomes public and even voyeuristic, as we see for example in the painting I show here:

draft js image error Red-figured pyxis, picturing Nereids at home, “indoors”: the Nereid with her hair down is labeled as Thaleia. Image via The British Museum.

Similarly, there is something voyeuristic about the representation of Nausicaa and the girls who attend her as they sing and dance without wearing their veils: they imagine they are in a private place, but the medium of verbal art is watching them, making their performance public. In this scene, Odysseus is not the only voyeur.

source

Nausicaa is compared directly to the goddess Artemis: just as Nausicaa is the prima donna / prima ballerina in relation to the group of singing / dancing girls who attend her, so also is Artemis in relation to the group of nymphs that correspondingly attend her, O.06.105; their singing / dancing here is expressed by way of the word paizein ‘play’ at O.06.106, corresponding to the singing / dancing of Nausicaa and of the girls attending her at O.06.100–101.

source

Odysseus here compares Nausicaa directly to Artemis. He is not only saying that Nausicaa is ‘the same as’ Artemis, as expressed by the adjective homoio- ‘similar to, same as’. Rather, the hero is saying that perhaps Nausicaa is in fact Artemis.

source

Odysseus here compares Nausicaa in all her beauty to a sacred phoinix ‘date palm’, O.06.163, which is located next to the altar of the god Apollo at Delos, O.06.162. The phoinix is also mentioned in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo 18 and 117. Odysseus claims to have seen this date palm with his own eyes when he visited Delos, O.06.163–165. This mention of Delos is a rare Homeric reference to locales that are distinctly Ionian in culture (HPC 227). Also, we see epic distancing here (Taplin 1996): back in the age of heroes, the date palm was still young and small, O.06.166–168—much smaller than it is imagined to be in the post-heroic age.

source

The comparison of hair here to hyacinth blossoms is analogous to the comparison of hair with myrtle blossoms, as at I.17.051–052.

source

See the anchor comment at O.04.489 on root duk-/deuk-‘continue’

This adjective adeukḗs occurs in contexts referring to an interrupted sequence. Nausicaa is concerned that the Phaeacians may say something, as expressed by the noun phēmis ‘something said’, that is adeukḗs for her reputation. Good reputation is conceived as a steady stream of speech, the interruption of which threatens to produce a bad reputation.

source

Odysseus arrives at the palace and garden of Alkinoos (Alcinous), king of the Phaeacians, whose island was equated in ancient times with Kerkyra/Corcyra, the modern Corfù.

draft js image error View of Garitsa, region right outside the northern walls of the city of Corfu, and according to the legend the site of Alcinous’s gardens (1867). Étienne Rey (French, 1789–1867). Image via the Aikaterini Laskaridis Foundation.

Following the instructions of Nausicaa, Odysseus approaches the palace of her father Alkinoos (latinized as Alcinous), king of the Phaeacians. This palace and the adjacent garden of Alkinoos are not only enchanting but even enchanted, as will be argued in the comments for Rhapsody 7 here. And, as we will see later in the comments for Rhapsody 13, the garden of Alkinoos was thought to have survived on the island of Kerkyra, known in Roman sources as Corcyra and in modern times as Corfù. In ancient times, the people of Kerkyra claimed that their island was in fact the fabled realm of the Phaeacians.

source

The mythical Gigantes 'Giants' are relevant to Athenian mythology.

source

The name Athḗnē applies both to the goddess known in English as ‘Athena’, as at Odyssey 7.78, and to the place that is seen as the possession of the goddess—which is the territory of the place known in English as ‘Athens’, as at Odyssey 7.80.[1] The suffix -ḗnē is visible also in the name of the nymph Mukḗnē, who presides over the acropolis of Mycenae.[2]

\r\nThe same suffix -ḗnē is visible also in the place-name Messḗnē, which means something like ‘Midland’.[3] Here I compare the place-name me-za-na written on a Linear B tablet from Pylos, Cn 3.1. On the basis of this comparison, I have observed: “I suspect that the suffix -ḗnē is endowed with an elliptic function.”[4] What I meant is this: a form that is elliptic refers not only to X but also to everything that belongs to X, such as X2, X3, X4 etc. An elliptic form of X implies X2, X3, X4 etc. without naming X2, X3, X4 etc. explicitly. In terms of this definition, the name Athḗnē refers not only to the goddess ‘Athena’ but also to everything that belongs to the goddess. The primary example of that ‘everything’ in this context is the acropolis of Athens. And we see another level of ellipsis in the plural form Athênai: this elliptic plural refers not only to the acropolis of Athens but also to everything that belongs to the acropolis of Athens, which is the city of Athens, and, by extension, to everything that belongs to the city, which is ultimately the region of Attica.[5]

\r\nI see a parallel situation in the use of the form Aswia (/Aswiās) in the Linear B texts, where Aswia is evidently a goddess, as we see from the collocation po-ti-ni-ja a-si-wi-ja = potnia Aswia ‘[Our] Lady Aswia’ as written on a tablet from Pylos, Fr 1208. In the case of Aswia, the name survives into the classical period of recorded texts in the fifth century BCE and later: now the name is pronounced Asíā, meaning ‘Asia’, and the referent here is what we call ‘Asia Minor’ in English. So, from a diachronic perspective, this name applies both to the goddess and to the realm of the goddess. She is ‘Our Lady of Asia’ or ‘Asia’ personified.

\r\nI emphasize here that the form Athḗnē at line 80 of Odyssey 7 is the only instance, in all surviving texts ever written in the ancient Greek language, where the name of the place ‘Athens’ is found in the singular, not in the plural. Everywhere else in attested Greek, we read the elliptic plural Athênai, which I now interpret to mean ‘everything that belongs to the acropolis of Athḗnē’. And there is also a deeper level of ellipsis here: the suffix -ḗnē of Athḗnē indicates that the goddess Athena is also a personification of the place of Athena, which is the acropolis of Athens and, by extension, the city of Athens, and by further extension, everything that belongs to the city of Athens.

\r\n[1] Commentary in Nagy 2004:159-164.

\r\n[2] See Nagy 2004:163; also Palaiologou 2013:250n5.

\r\n[3] Nagy 2004:163n17.

\r\n[4] Again, Nagy 2004:163n17.

\r\n[5] See also Muellner 1976:70, who notes that the singular form of Athḗnē vs. the plural form Athênai can in fact refer to the place that we know as 'Athens'. Muellner also analyzes here the elliptic function of the plural form here. On the elliptic plural in general, see Nagy 2004:157-175.

source

|78 ὣς ἄρα φωνήσασ’ ἀπέβη γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη |79 πόντον ἐπ’ ἀτρύγετον, λίπε δὲ Σχερίην ἐρατεινήν, |80 ἵκετο δ’ ἐς Μαραθῶνα καὶ εὐρυάγυιαν Ἀθήνην, |81 δῦνε δ’ Ἐρεχθῆος πυκινὸν δόμον. αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσεὺς |82 Ἀλκινόου πρὸς δώματ’ ἴε κλυτά·

|78 Speaking thus, Athena [Athḗnē], with the looks of an owl, went off |79 over the barren sea, leaving behind lovely Skheria. |80 She came to Marathon and to Athens [Athḗnē], with its wide causeways, |81 and she entered the well-built palace of Erekhtheus. As for Odysseus, |81 he headed for the renowned palace of Alkinoos.

The comments that follow are epitomized from Nagy 2015.09.10§§6–9:

At O.07.078, we see the name Athḗnē for the goddess Athena. At O.07.080 we see the same name Athēnē for the place that is known in historical times as the city of Athens. As a place-name, Athḗnē is attested only here in the singular. Everywhere else, in the entire surviving textual evidence of the Greek language, this place-name is attested only in the plural, Athênai. The plural has an elliptic function, but I think that even the suffix -ḗnē of Athḗnē is elliptic. Here is a working definition of ellipsis: a form that is elliptic refers not only to X but also to everything that belongs to X, such as X2, X3, X4 etc. An elliptic form of X implies X2, X3, X4 etc. without naming X2, X3, X4 etc. explicitly. In terms of this definition, the name Athḗnē refers not only to the goddess ‘Athena’ but also to everything that belongs to the goddess. An example of such ‘everything’ would be the acropolis of Athens. And we see a further level of ellipsis in the plural form Athênai: this elliptic plural refers not only to the acropolis of Athens but also to everything that belongs to the acropolis, and this everything becomes the city of Athens. Eventually, the ellipsis extends to everything that belongs to the city, which is ultimately the region of Attica. Earlier, however, in the second millennium BCE, the extended region of Attica was not yet dominated by Athens. And a rival dominant power in Attica was Marathon, mentioned here at O.07.80 as an alternative residence of the goddess Athena. But even if Athena had alternative residences in Attica, only in one place did she have a condominium, as it were, with Erekhtheus, and that place was the acropolis of Athens. On the relationship of the goddess Athena with the hero Erekhtheus, see the comment on I.02.546–552. Comparable to the name Athḗnē is the name of the nymph or local goddess Mukḗnē, who presides over the acropolis of Mycenae. As for the elliptic plural Mukênai, it must refer not only to the acropolis but also to the region dominated by the acropolis. Another comparable form is the place-name Messḗnē, which means something like ‘Midland’. Here I compare the place-name me-za-na written on a Linear B tablet from Pylos, Cn 3.1. And here is another relevant piece of information from the Linear B texts: in a tablet from Knossos, V 52, the name of a female divinity in line one is a-ta-na-po-ti-ni-ja, which could possibly be intepreted as athānās potniāi ‘to the lady [potnia] of Athens’. I translate athānā here as ‘Athens’, by which I mean simply the acropolis of Athens as it existed as far back as the second millennium BCE. [Further analysis in Nagy 2015.09.10.]

source

The palace of Alkinoos, described at O.07.081–111, is comparable to the heavenly residence of Menelaos. See the comment at O.04.043–075. I now argue here that the garden of Alkinoos, described at O.07.112–132, is likewise presented as a heavenly place. At O.07.103–130, where we see verses that overlap the descriptions of the palace and the garden, we find that the describing verbs avoid the past tense. The descriptions are restricted to the present tense. It has been argued that a textual interpolation has happened here (West 2000:480), on the grounds that Homeric diction does not use the present tense to indicate the past, and that only those aspects of the past that are viewed as permanent can be described in the present tense: examples include the chariot of Hērā, I.05.724–728; the abode of Poseidon under the sea at Aigai, I.13.021–022; the springs of the river Scamander, I.22.147–154; the harbor and cave of the Nymphs at Ithaca, O.13.096–112; and, most important for my argumentation here, the dwelling-place of the gods on Mount Olympus, O.06.043–046. Arguing against the theory of interpolation, I propose that not only the palace of Alkinoos but also his garden are modeled on an idealized and thus heavenly prototype. Both the palace and the garden are models of permanence. In the case of the palace, its permanence is actually made explicit in a reference at O.07.091–094 to golden and silver watchdogs that guard the palace and that are made to last forever by the divine smith Hephaistos. The aura of this beautiful place is not only enchanting but even enchanted. In terms of my argument, then, there is no need to posit (as does West 2000:483–486) a textual interpolation from an unattested passage that would have followed what is spoken by Nausicaa at O.06.255–303 with reference to the palace of Alkinoos and its environs. The present tenses that are used in descriptions of the palace and the garden at O.07.081–111 and 112–132 respectively are appropriate to the heavenly aura of the whole place.

source

Alkinoos here qualifies for an epithet that would mean ‘he whose mental-power [menos] is sacred [hieron]’. Instead, however, the name of Alkinoos is expressed periphrastically: ‘the sacred [hieron] mental-power [menos] of Alkinoos’, as if the agency of the king originated from his mental power, not from his existence as a person. See also O.07.178.

source

Hunger for food in the gastēr ‘stomach’ drives the poet as guest to say what his host wants to hear. The poet, then, is dependent on the patronage of his local audiences.

source

The idea of forgetting as expressed by lēth- is the poetic foil for the idea of remembering as expressed by mnē- 'mentally connect'.

source

This adverb endukéōs ‘continuously, uninterruptedly’ expresses the idea of an uninterrupted sequence. The opposite of this adverb endukéōs ‘continuously, uninterruptedly’ can be seen in the adjective adeukḗs, which can be interpreted as ‘discontinuous, interrupting’. See the anchor comment at O.04.489. In terms of this interpretation, the root duk-/deuk- for this adverb/adjective conveys the sense of ‘continue’.

source

The project of Calypso was to make Odysseus immortal, he reports.

source

The Ionian island of Euboea is ostentatiously described as very far away from the island of the Phaeacians. The point of this description may be related to the poetic agenda of the Odyssey in describing the kingdom of the Phaeacians as a mythological replica of the confederation known as the Ionian Dodecapolis as it existed around the late eighth and early seventh centuries BCE. (On the Ionian Dodecapolis, see the anchor comment on I.01.463; also the comment on I.02.867–869 and on I.20.403–405; see also under Ionian Dodecapolis in the inventory of Words and Ideas.) For a reconstruction of the poetic agenda originating from the Ionian Dodecapolis around the late eighth and early seventh centuries BCE, I recommend the analysis of Frame 2009 ch. 7. (As for a relatively later phase of the poetic agenda, where the kingdom of Alkinoos is reshaped as a mythological replica of the island-state of Kerkyra / Corcyra, I refer to my initial comments on Rhapsody 7 of the Odyssey, where I cross-refer to my further comments on Rhapsody 11.) From the standpoint of Ionian Dodecapolis, dominated by the city-state of Miletus in Asia Minor, the island of Euboea was situated far away to the west. The territory of Euboea was shared by two rival Ionian cities, Eretria and Khalkis, and the first of the two was a close ally of Miletus. The distancing of the Ionian Dodecapolis from Ionian Euboea could be explained as a playfully ostentatious reference to the far reach of East Greeks in dealing with West Greeks.

source

Odysseus encounters the blind singer Demodokos, who performs three songs that reveal hidden truths about the hero of the Odyssey.

draft js image error Blind Demodokos sings of the siege of Troy (1810), by John Flaxman (English, 1755–1826). Image via Wikimedia Commons.

Alkinoos prepares a feast for Odysseus, who has not yet identified himself. This feast becomes a mythologized replica of a festival that puts on display a dazzling variety of old poetic traditions, soon to be replaced by the new poetry of the Odyssey.

source

Once again, as at O.07.167 and O.07.178, the name of Alkinoos is expressed periphrastically: ‘the sacred [hieron] mental-power [menos] of Alkinoos’, as if the agency of the king originated from his mental power, not from his existence as a person. See also O.08.04.

source

Alkinoos the king is addressing his subjects, the Phaeacians, and he speaks of the ‘escort’ that he plans to provide for the stranger who has not yet identified himself as Odysseus. The word that I translate as ‘escort’ here is pompē: O.08.030, O.08.031, O.08.033. And the word that I translate as ‘stranger’ is xenos: O.08.028. Alkinoos intends to be a host to this stranger, treating him as a ‘guest’, and the word that I translate as ‘guest’ here is likewise xenos, O.08.042. What Alkinoos plans to offer his guest is a dais, which refers on the surface to a ‘feast’. The feast will evidently include a dinner, O.08.042, and this dinner will include entertainment in the form of ‘singing’, the noun for which is aoidē at O.08.044 and the verb for which is aeidein at O.08.045. The one who will be singing is an aoidos ‘singer’, O.08.043, whose name is Demodokos, O.08.044. This singer’s singing ‘gives delight’, as expressed by way of the verb terpein, O.08.045.

source

The idea of hosting the still-unidentified guest here is connected with the idea of the dais 'feast' of the Phaeacians as a stylized festival.

source

Here the entire kingdom of the Phaeacians is figured as one single dēmos ‘community, district’. On dēmos as ‘community, district’, see the comments on O.01.103 and O.02.032; and see also the comment on I.18.497–508, with reference to a scene of litigation in the context of a dēmos ‘district’ (δήμῳ at I.18.500), which is parallel to a litigation recorded in the Linear B tablet Ep 704 from Pylos, again in the context of a dāmos (da-mo) ‘district’ (HR 75–76).

source

The god who is the hymnic subject of Demodokos’ ongoing humnos and who presides over the stylized festival is ultimately Zeus.

source

As I will start to argue in the comment at O.08.061, the dais ‘feast’ that is planned here by king Alkinoos for his guest will eventually be rethought as a stylized festival, centering on a sacrifice that leads to a division of meat at the feast.

source

The word dais here, which can generally be translated as 'feast', signals the idea of a festival. It can be argued that the dais of the Phaeacians is a stylized festival, starting in Odyssey 8 and ongoing till Odyssey 13.

source

With reference to the dais of the Phaeacians as a stylized festival: an aspect of the festival is the singing performed by Demodokos. This singing is meant to be a source of delight to those attending, and the programmatic word for 'delight' here is terpein at verse 45.

source

The “speaking name” (nomen loquens) of the singer, Dēmódokos, can be interpreted as meaning ‘one who is received [verb dek(h)esthai] by the community [dēmos]’, and, in the present context, the dēmos ‘community, district’ that gives to the singer’s singing its reception is indicated at O.08.036: that community is the dēmos or ‘district’ of the kingdom ruled by Alkinoos the king. I translate Dēmódokos as ‘received by the community’, not just ‘received in the community’, because the noun dēmos implies an authority that is endowed with agency: the dēmos can perform a function, such as the reception of a song. We can see such agency at work in the use of the word dāmos (da-mo) in the Linear B tablet Ep 704 from Pylos: in the litigation that is described in that text, the dāmos literally speaks as one of the two parties engaged in the litigation over land-tenure: dāmos de min phāsi … ekheen (da-mo-de-mi-pa-si … e-ke-e) ‘but the dāmos says [phāsi] that she [= the priestess] has …’ (HR 75–76).

source

In Homeric Greek as also in the language of Linear B, dēmos (dāmos) refers to a local 'district' that has its own customary laws. The element dēmo- in compound names like Dēmodokos in this verse highlights the localized functions of such figures.

source

The king Alkinoos ‘sacrifices’, as indicated by the verb hiereuein at O.08.059, a number of sacrificial animals. They are twelve sheep, eight pigs and two head of cattle, as indicated at O.08.059–060, and the meat of these sacrificial animals will now be prepared for a dais ‘feast, division of portions (of meat); sacrifice’, as indicated at O.08.061—and as already indicated earlier at O.08.038. Following up on my comment at O.08.038 as also on the comment here at O.08.059–061, I will have more to say in the comment at O.08.061, coming up, about the dais ‘feast’ that is planned by king Alkinoos for his guest.

source

With reference to the dais of the Phaeacians as a stylized festival:

We see in this context that the dais, as a feast, involves an animal sacrifice that leads to feasting on the meat of the sacrificial animal.

source

An animal sacrifice marks the ritual start of the festival. The festival is understood to be the context of an agōn – between Demodokos and Odysseus.

source

The starting of the dais 'feast' is signaled at O.8.61. The dais is ongoing until late at night, all the way to the end of O.12, and then it gets restarted on the next day, in O.13. Note the ring composition that articulates the restarting.

source

[Epitomized from MoM 4§73:] The noun dais ‘feast’, as we see it used here at O.08.061, is derived from the verb daiesthai in the basic sense of ‘distribute’, which is used in contexts of animal sacrifice in referring to the ‘distribution’ of cooked meat among the members of a community, as at O.15.140 and O.17.332. Then, by way of synecdoche, the specific idea of distribution extends metonymically to the general idea of feasting and further to the even more general idea of a festival. Following the logic of this sequence of meanings, we see that the animal sacrifice at O.08.059 had led to the cooking and the distribution of the meat, O.08.061, which will lead to communal dining, O.08.071–072, which will lead to the First Song of Demodokos, O.08.073–083, and so on. On metonymy and * synecdoche, see the inventory of Words and Ideas. In terms of this logic, the metonymic use of the word dais in the sense of ‘feast’ here at O.08.061 marks a whole complex of events that are typical of festivals: animal sacrifice, communal feasting, singing as well as dancing at the feast. As we will see in comments that follow, this dais ‘feast’ as signaled at O.08.061 will be rethought as a stylized festival, centering on a sacrifice that leads to a division of meat at the feast. Such a festival will continue from here in Odyssey 8 all the way to the beginning of Odyssey* 13.

source

The composition of song in this first performance of Demodokos is compared metaphorically to the weaving of a web. Note the context of oimē as ‘thread’ at verse 74.

source

Demodokos is an aoidos ‘singer,’ O.08.062, and he is is blind, O.08.63–64. The song that he sings about the Trojan War, O.08.073–082, prompts Odysseus to break down in tears and weep, O.08.083–095. Every time the singer ‘leaves off’ singing, as indicated by lēgein, O.08.087, he then restarts his song, as indicated by aps arkhesthai, O.08.090, since his Phaeacian listeners ‘feel delight’, as indicated by the verb terpesthai, as they hear his singing, O.08.091. So, the listeners of Demodokos so enjoy his singing that they don’t let him stop. (See the comments at HC 2§299 and 2§343.) There is a contradiction here between the reactions of Odysseus and the other listeners. Every time the singer restarts his singing, Odysseus restarts his weeping, O.08.092. But Odysseus pretends to be enjoying the performance of Demodokos, O.08.089, and he manages to evade the notice of all the Phaeacians, O.08.093—except for Alkinoos, O.08.094–095. As I will argue with reference to the Third Song of Demodokos, that song can be interpreted as a restarting of the First Song of Demodokos—followed by a parallel restarting of the tears of Odysseus in response to it.

source

The singers as represented in Homeric poetry are traditionally pictured as accompanying themselves on a string instrument or ‘lyre’, called a phorminx here.

source

Before the singer starts singing, the Phaeacians and their unidentified guest are already feasting: they partake of both food and drink, O.08.072. The eating and drinking had begun at O.08.071, signaled already at O.08.061 by the noun dais ‘feast, feasting’. As we will see later, however, the singing itself is part of the dais ‘feasting’.

source

The expression aristoi Akhaiōn (ἄριστοι Ἀχαιῶν) at verse 78, which I translate as ‘the best of the Achaeans’, here is in the plural, and nowhere else in either the Iliad or the Odyssey do we find such a plural (for a different, distributive plural by implication of this same expression 'best of the Achaeans', see my note on Iliad 8.228-235). Rather, we find the singular aristos Akhaiōn (ἄριστος Ἀχαιῶν), which I again translate as ‘the best of the Achaeans’. Although many heroes contend for this title in the macro-epic of the Iliad, only one of them, Achilles, emerges as eligible to be known in that epic as the absolute best of all the Achaeans, by contrast with such rivals as Agamemnon, Diomedes, and Ajax. Similarly in the Odyssey, only Odysseus emerges as the absolute best, by contrast with the suitors of Penelope. So, in terms of both these two macro-epics, the Iliad and the Odyssey, there can only be one hero who is truly ‘the best of the Achaeans’.

source

reference to the mixing of the ashes of Achilles and Patroklos in O.24.077 as not a duplication of references to the same mixing in the Iliad (I.23.243-244 and 23.091-092), therefore not violating Munro’s law, in the context of analyzing a traditional suppression of anything overtly Iliadic in the Odyssey (p. 21), and analysis of Demodokos’ first song on the neikos of Odysseus and Achilles, including the theory that it refers to an incident in the middle of the Cypria, comparison with the beginning of the Iliad, and the tradition of the quarrel between Odysseus and Achilles over whether Troy would be captured by might or artifice

\n\n----- Merged Content -----

\n\n reference to the mixing of the ashes of Achilles and Patroklos in O.24.077 as not a duplication of references to the same mixing in the Iliad (I.23.243-244 and 23.091-092), therefore not violating Munro’s law, in the context of analyzing a traditional suppression of anything overtly Iliadic in the Odyssey (p. 21), and analysis of Demodokos’ first song on the neikos of Odysseus and Achilles, including the theory that it refers to an incident in the middle of the Cypria, comparison with the beginning of the Iliad, and the tradition of the quarrel between Odysseus and Achilles over whether Troy would be captured by might or artifice

source

analysis of Demodokos as an idealization of an artist by the art form of epic

\r\n----- Merged Content -----

\r\nOdysseus as implicitly the “best of the Achaeans” in the epic compositions of Demodokos, and Odysseus’ earning the title for what he did within the Odyssey rather than at Troy

\r\n----- Merged Content -----

\r\nanalysis of the song of Demodokos on the neikos of Achilles and Odysseus as compared with themes that surface in the Iliad, and in terms of a tradition that contrasted the heroic worth of Odysseus and Achilles in terms of mētis and biē

\r\n----- Merged Content -----

\r\ncomparison of the themes in the quarrel of Odysseus and Achilles in Demodokos’ song with those in the embassy scene in I.09 in an argument for the existence of a common epic heritage on the enmity between Achilles and Odysseus on which they draw

\r\n----- Merged Content -----

\r\nanalysis of the passage against the background of the patterns of traditional diction to do with pēma and Dios boulē, and Demodokos’ alluding to an Iliad that would have featured Odysseus as the prime offender of Achilles and his chief resentment as centering on the slighting of his biē

\r\n----- Merged Content -----

\r\nanalysis of the name of Achilles, as associated with pēma decreed by the Will of Zeus

\r\n----- Merged Content -----

\r\nanalysis of the references to Delphi in the Odyssey, the thematic correlation of the death of Achilles with Delphi/sacrifice/quarrel, and its parallels to a variant myth about the death of Pyrrhos

\r\n----- Merged Content -----

\r\nanalysis of Achilles’ (and the Aeacids) connections with the themes of dais and neikos, and comparison of this passage on the song of Demodokos with the Cypria and Achilles’ and Agamemnon’s quarrel at the beginning of the Iliad

\r\n----- Merged Content -----

\r\nanalysis of Achilles’ connections with the themes of dais and neikos, and comparison of this passage on the song of Demodokos with Odysseus’ words regarding dais to Achilles in I.09.225-228

\r\n----- Merged Content -----

\r\nanalysis of the thematic correlation of the death of Achilles with Delphi/sacrifice/quarrel and its parallels to a variant myth about the death of Pyrrhos, of Achilles’ (and the Aeacids) connections with the themes of dais and neikos, and the song of Demodokos on the quarrel of Achilles and Odysseus as incorporating Delphic lore

\r\n----- Merged Content -----

\r\nOdysseus’ and Achilles’ quarrel as serving as a context to define the themes of mētis of Odysseus and biē of Achilles (comparison with the neikos of Hesiod and Perseus in W&D)

\n\n----- Merged Content -----

\n\n comparison of Demodokos’ first song with the newer Iliad, both featuring Zeus as the implicit hymnic subject of the epic about the Trojan War, inspired by a singular Muse and subsuming the divine agency of Apollo under the Plan of Zeus \n\n----- Merged Content -----

\n\n The genitive of oimē 'thread' here marks the point of departure for the performance of the first song of Demodokos.

\n\n----- Merged Content -----

\n\n Here oimē can be translated as ‘song’ in the context of analyzing the meanings of prooimion, oimos, oimē.

\n\n----- Merged Content -----

\n\n analysis of the parallelism of Odysseus’ restarted outpouring of tears and Demodokos’ restarted epic, and of the plot of the epic about the Trojan War as equated with the prophecy of Apollo and the plan of Zeus \n\n----- Merged Content -----

\n\n argument that oimos/oimē/prooimion and humnos derive from roots referring to fabric making, and the metaphors of fabric making for composition of song \n\n----- Merged Content -----

\n\n analysis of the metaphors from weaving for the composition of song, here especially oimē as ‘thread’ \n\n----- Merged Content -----

\n\n analysis of Demodokos’ first and third song as parts of the same humnos, restarted, provoking the same response of tears in Odysseus, and Zeus as the cause of the pains and as the ultimate hymnic subject \n\n----- Merged Content -----

\n\n analysis of the kind of epic that the first song of Demodokos is, that is, older kind of epic analogous to what would have been introduced by the Homeric Hymns \n\n----- Merged Content -----

\n\n analysis of the kind of epic that the first song of Demodokos is, that is, older kind of epic, in the context of arguing that the poetic form of the epic of Demodokos is cognate with the poetic form of the epic Cycle \n\n----- Merged Content -----

\n\n analysis of the parallels between the prooimion in Herodotus and Homer (here, use of relative clauses as indirect questions) \n\n----- Merged Content -----

\n\n analysis of the dais of the Phaeacians as a stylized festival, here with reference to its epithet thaleiēi \n\n----- Merged Content -----

\n\n argument that a hymnic prooimion is not obligatory if Zeus is the implied hymnic subject authorizing the epic, here exemplified by Demodokos’ first and third song

\r\n----- Merged Content -----

\r\ncomparison of the Cypria and Demodokos’ first and third song in terms of the Plan of Zeus as the frame of narration for the Trojan War

\r\n----- Merged Content -----

\r\nanalysis of the Plan of Zeus as a sign of Homeric poetry

\r\n----- Merged Content -----

\r\nanalysis of the Plan of Zeus, here Hector’s not returning to Andromache (in these verses) as the most special and most Iliadic view of the Plan of Zeus, and its being connected with the Plan of Zeus in the singing of Demodokos

\n\n----- Merged Content -----

\n\n analysis of the dais of the Phaeacians as a stylized festival

source

For more on the epic traditions of klea andrōn ‘the glories [klea] of men’, see the comment on I.09.185–191; also on I.09.524–599. On the poetics of kleos ‘glory’ as the glory conferred by poetry, especially by epic, see the comment on O.01.088–095.

source

At O.08.073–082, we see the plot of the First Song—at least, the plot of the start of the First Song. We cannot be sure about the whole plot because the singer more than once ‘leaves off’ his song, as signaled by lēgein at O.08.087, and then ‘restarts’ it, as signaled by aps arkhesthai at O.08.090. The multiple restartings are prompted by the fact that the singer’s Phaeacian listeners ‘feel delight’, as indicated by the verb terpesthai, as they hear his singing, O.08.091, and they want to hear more. As I noted in my comment for O.08.062–095, even Odysseus pretends to be enjoying the performance of Demodokos, O.08.089. On points of comparison between the Iliad and the First Song of Demodokos as a micro-Iliad, see HPC 115–116, especially with reference to (1) the idea of being inspired by a single Muse and (2) the subsuming of the agency of Apollo under the Plan of Zeus; see also HC 2§309. On the Third Song of Demodokos as a continuation of the First, see HPC 101. On epic poetry about the Trojan War as a hymnic consequent, see MoM 4§73 and 4§99.2; also HC 2§326. (By hymnic consequent here, all I mean is whatever comes after something that is shaped like a hymn.) On the epic of Demodokos as cognate with the poetic form of the epic Cycle, see HC 2§331.

source

I translate the genitive of oimē (οἴμης) here as ‘starting (from a story-thread)’. (See also PP 63, HC 2§92n.) The paraphrasing here of the song of Demodokos recapitulates the prooimion ‘proemium, prelude’ of the song. [What follows is epitomized from HC 2§§92–93:] In the case of the compound noun prooimion / προοίμιον, conventionally translated as ‘proemium’, the element -oim- / -οιμ- is derived from a root that we find also attested in two simple nouns, oimos / οἶμος and oimē / οἰμή. The Attic by-form of prooimion / προοίμιον, which is phroimion / φροίμιον, elucidates the prehistory of the root: we must reconstruct it not as oim*- but as hoim-, from soim-. This reconstruction helps elucidate the surviving contexts of both oimos / οἶμος and oimē / οἰμή, which do not always give a clear picture of the basic meaning of either form. In some contexts, the meaning seems to be ‘song’, as here at O.08.074, while in others it seems to be ‘way, pathway’, as in Hesiod Works and Days 290. With the help of comparative evidence, however, the primary meaning of oimos and oimē can be reconstructed as ‘thread, threading’, and the meanings ‘song’ or ‘way, pathway’ can be explained as secondary: that is, ‘song’ and ‘way, pathway’ are metaphorical generalizations derived from the meaning ‘thread, threading’ (PR 72, 81; also PP 63n20). And it is such a primary meaning ‘thread, threading’ that we find in comparable forms attested in other Indo-European languages: for example, the form soimos that we reconstruct from Greek oimos is attested as Old Icelandic seimr, meaning ‘thread’ (for this and other examples, see Durante 1976:176). In terms of such a primary meaning, the etymology of the compound noun prooimion ‘proemium’ can be interpreted as a metaphor referring to the ‘initial threading’ of a song. A close semantic parallel to the etymology of Greek prooimion ‘proemium’ as an ‘initial threading’ of a song is the etymology of Latin exordium, which likewise means ‘proemium’ in poetic and rhetorical contexts: the meaning of this noun as well can be traced back to the basic idea of an ‘initial threading’ (PP 63n20). The poetic and rhetorical concepts of both Greek prooimion and Latin exordium in the sense of ‘proemium’ have a common Indo-European ancestry. As I will argue later, not only oimos / oimē / prooimion but also humnos, ordinarily translated as ‘hymn’, are derived from roots that refer to the making of fabric. Moreover, I note that the word oimos is formulaically interchangeable with the word humnos at verse 451 of the Homeric Hymn (4) to Hermes, where we see the attestation of both οἶμος ἀοιδῆς and ὕμνος ἀοιδῆς in the manuscript tradition; at a later point, we will also consider the cognate expression ἀοιδῆς ὕμνον at verse 429 of Odyssey 8. I interpret the combinations of humnos and oimos with aoidē ‘song’ to mean respectively the ‘weaving’ of song and the ‘threading’ of song. Relevant to this interpretation is the context of oimē at verse 74 of Odyssey 8: we see here a metaphorical reference to the initial part of performing a song, that is, to the ‘initial threading’ of a song. To sum up, the meaning of oimos or oimē as ‘song’ results from a metaphorical extension: the idea of making song is being expressed metaphorically through the idea of making fabric. As for contexts where oimos and oimē seem to mean ‘way, pathway’, I argue that such a meaning is likewise a result of metaphorical extension: here the general idea of moving ahead from one point to another is being expressed metaphorically by applying the specific idea of threading one’s way from one point to another (more on this point at HC 2§311, in the excursus there). On points of comparison with the proemium that introduces the History* of Herodotus, see PH 221.

source

The narrative subject of the epic that is being paraphrased here is a neikos ‘quarrel’ between Odysseus and Achilles, O.08.075. And the setting for this quarrel is a dais ‘feast’ that is explicitly correlated with a ‘sacrifice’, O.08.076: θεῶν ἐν δαιτὶ θαλείῃ ‘at a celebratory feast [dais] of the gods’. The same epithet thaleiēi (θαλείῃ) is also used to describe the ongoing dais ‘feast’ at O.08.099. This epithet is of special interest in light of the meaning of the noun thaliai in the plural, ‘celebrations, festivities’, as at O.11.603 (HPC 85n13). We may compare another feast, described at I.08.228–235, where the describer is Agamemnon, recalling a scene from the collective past of the Achaeans: the setting of this other feast was the island of Lemnos, and each one of the Achaean leaders took turns in boasting that he was the best Achaean of them all, I.08.229. In my comment on I.08.228–235, I noted that the noun eukhōlai ‘boastings’ in the plural at I.08.229 indicates a distributive action: the Achaeans were boasting not as a group but individually and competitively. The competitive boasting evidently centered on the question: who would be superior to all others in performing heroic exploits in the upcoming Trojan War? And the setting for this quarrel was a feast where the meat of oxen to be eaten in vast quantities was being apportioned among the Achaean leaders, I.08.231. Since the narrative here makes a point of adding that these leaders were also drinking wine, I.08.232, it is implied that all the boasting could get out of hand and lead to quarrels about the awarding of prime cuts of meat. It would have been expected that the best portion of meat should go to the best hero. On the idea of a champion’s portion of meat, see the comment on I.07.319–322. Having reconstructed for I.08.228–235 a scene of quarreling in the context of apportioning cuts of meat, I return to the scene at O.08.075–078, where we see once again a scene of quarreling in the context of apportioning cuts of meat. And here the ‘quarreling’ is explicitly called a neikos, O.08.075, while the ‘apportioning of meat’ is explicitly called a dais, O.08.076. As we saw in the comment for I.01.423–425, a dais is a feast where meat is distributed, and this meat comes from the sacrifice of sacrificial animals. Thus the act of sacrifice converts the feast of humans into a notional feast of the gods. This notion, ‘feast of the gods’, is made explicit at O.08.076, where the setting is described explicitly this way, as we have already seen: θεῶν ἐν δαιτὶ θαλείῃ ‘at a celebratory feast [dais] of the gods’. In this festive setting, as I already highlighted in the comment on I.08.228–235, the neikos ‘quarrel’ at O.08.075 is between Odysseus and Achilles, who are described at O.08.078 as ‘the best of the Achaeans’. In terms of such a dispute in the context of a feast, each one of the two heroes would be claiming to be the ‘best of the Achaeans’. Achilles would have claimed to be ‘best’ because of his superior biē ‘force, violence, strength’, while Odysseus would have counter-claimed to be ‘best’ because of his superior mētis ‘mind, intelligence’. See the comments on O.01.002; see also, further back, the comments on I.01.001–012, where I argue that the quarrel between Odysseus and Achilles came from an epic tradition that was independent from the epic tradition that featured the quarrel between Agamemnon and Achilles. Further, see the comment on I.09.346–352, where I note that this Iliadic passage was thought by Aristarchus (scholia A for I.09.347) to be an allusion to the quarrel at O.08.075–078 between Achilles and Odysseus over one overriding question: will Troy be conquered by relying on the physical power of Achilles or on the mental power of Odysseus?

source

In the Iliad and Odyssey, Apollo at Delphi is mentioned only at Ι.09.404–405 and here at O.08.079–081. Agamemnon consults the oracle at Delphi, and he misunderstands what the oracle prophesies to him. See the next note, on O.08.081–082.

source

Agamemnon misunderstands the oracle of Apollo at Delphi, which had evidently prophesied to him that Troy would be captured when the ‘best of the Achaeans’—Odysseus and Achilles—engage in a quarrel at a feast. Agamemnon rejoices when he sees the two heroes quarreling, since he thinks that victory over the Trojans will be quick and easy—and painless. But the war will be a great pēma ‘pain’, O.08.081, for the Achaeans as also for the Trojans, O.08.082. This pain is compared to a breakaway boulder that ‘rolls’ down from the heights above, as expressed by way of kulindesthai, O.08.081, and this boulder will crush anyone that stands in its way. And all that pain will be caused by the Will of Zeus, O.08.082. For another comparable misunderstanding on the part of Agamemnon, see the comments on I.02.007–015 and on I.02.036–040.

source

The micro-epic of Demodokos as embedded in Odyssey 8.73–82, merges the poetic agenda that are kept separate in the macro-epics of the Iliad and the Odyssey. And, correspondingly, this same micro-epic merges the plan of Zeus as it operates in the Iliad with the plan of Zeus as it operates in the Odyssey. These mergers are compatible with the plural form boulai ‘plans’ referring to the plot of the micro-epic at verse 82 of Odyssey 8, as opposed to the singular form boulē ‘plan’ referring to the plot of the macro-epic at verse 5 of Iliad 1. Likewise in the Odyssey, as the book of Jim Marks has shown clearly, the whole plot of this macro-epic is driven by a singular plan of Zeus.

Bibliographical references

Marks, J. 2008. Zeus in the Odyssey. Hellenic Studies 31. Washington DC. http://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:hul.ebook:CHS_Marks.Zeus_in_the_Odyssey.2008.

source

In Classical Inquiries, I note:

The epic singing of the first song of Demodokos in Odyssey 8, once it gets started by the prooimion as indicated by the syntax at verse 74, keeps getting restarted. Whenever the performer ‘leaves off’, as indicated by the word lēgein at verse 87, he keeps on ‘restarting’ the epic, as indicated by the wording aps arkhesthai ‘start again and again’ at verse 90. The continual restarting creates the effect of an endless narrative: the epic performance of the first song of Demodokos seems to have no end in sight.

----- Merged Content -----

analysis of the leaving off and restarting of the hymnos in Demodokos’ songs and Odysseus’ reaction of dissolving into tears each time Demodokos restarts

source

With reference to the 'leaving off' (lēgein) and the restarting of the humnos in the performance of Demodokos: in the case of this performance, which is about the Trojan War, Odysseus 'dissolves' (tēkein, tēkesthai) into tears each time Demodokos restarts.

source

Alkinoos notices the weeping of Odysseus, and this act of noticing will lead to recognition. See the anchor comment at I.05.669 on noeîn ‘take note (of), notice’. This characteristic of Alkinoos, to ‘notice’ things, is relevant to his “speaking name”: see the comment at O.22.031–033.

source

Alkinoos pauses the dining and the singing, though the dais at O.08.098 and at O.08.098 in the general sense of ‘feasting’ can continue. But now, instead of dining and singing, what will commence are aethloi (āthloi) in the sense of ‘athletic contests’, O.08.100. Listed at O.08.103 are athletic events in boxing, wrestling, long-jump, and footracing.

source

Once again, as at O.08.076, the epithet thaleiēi (θαλείῃ) ‘celebratory’ is used to describe the ongoing dais ‘feast’ (δαιτί), O.08.099. On the meaning of this epithet, see the comment on O.08.075–078.

source

All those attending the athletic event ‘felt delight’, as expressed by way of the verb terpesthai; in Hittite, the cognate noun tarpa-, likewise derived from the root *terp-, is used with reference to athletic events. (See MoM 4§78.)

source

Here at O.08.200 the word agōn ‘competition’ is used with reference to a continuum of competitive athletic events. In this context, it becomes clear that the entire series of athletic events in this festive continuum can be viewed as an agōn ‘competition’. See also O.08.238.

source

In the Second Song, Ο.08.329–332, Hephaistos as the god who is slow on his feet will catch up with the fleet-footed god Ares the adulterer. Similarly, Odysseus says here at O.08.230–233 that he is slow on his feet. But, when the time comes, we know that he too will catch up with those fleet-footed would-be adulterers, the suitors of his wife.

source

|250 “ἀλλ’ ἄγε, Φαιήκων βητάρμονες ὅσσοι ἄριστοι, |251 παίσατε, ὥς χ’ ὁ ξεῖνος ἐνίσπῃ οἷσι φίλοισιν, |252 οἴκαδε νοστήσας, ὅσσον περιγινόμεθ’ ἄλλων |253 ναυτιλίῃ καὶ ποσσὶ καὶ ὀρχηστυῖ καὶ ἀοιδῇ. |254 Δημοδόκῳ δέ τις αἶψα κιὼν φόρμιγγα λίγειαν |255 οἰσέτω, ἥ που κεῖται ἐν ἡμετέροισι δόμοισιν.” |256 ὣς ἔφατ’ Ἀλκίνοος θεοείκελος, ὦρτο δὲ κῆρυξ |257 οἴσων φόρμιγγα γλαφυρὴν δόμου ἐκ βασιλῆος. |258 αἰσυμνῆται δὲ κριτοὶ ἐννέα πάντες ἀνέσταν, |259 δήμιοι, οἳ κατ’ ἀγῶνα ἐῢ πρήσσεσκον ἕκαστα, |260 λείηναν δὲ χορόν, καλὸν δ’ εὔρυναν ἀγῶνα. |261 κῆρυξ δ’ ἐγγύθεν ἦλθε φέρων φόρμιγγα λίγειαν |262 Δημοδόκῳ· ὁ δ’ ἔπειτα κί’ ἐς μέσον· ἀμφὶ δὲ κοῦροι |263 πρωθῆβαι ἵσταντο, δαήμονες ὀρχηθμοῖο, |264 πέπληγον δὲ χορὸν θεῖον ποσίν. αὐτὰρ ᾿Οδυσσεὺς |265 μαρμαρυγὰς θηεῖτο ποδῶν, θαύμαζε δὲ θυμῷ. |266 αὐτὰρ ὁ φορμίζων ἀνεβάλλετο καλὸν ἀείδειν |267 ἀμφ’ Ἄρεος φιλότητος ἐϋστεφάνου τ’ Ἀφροδίτης, |268 ὡς τὰ πρῶτ’ ἐμίγησαν ἐν Ἡφαίστοιο δόμοισι |269 λάθρῃ. [The story that has just started at line 266 now continues, ending at line 366.] |367 ταῦτ’ ἄρ’ ἀοιδὸς ἄειδε περικλυτός· αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσεὺς |368 τέρπετ’ ἐνὶ φρεσὶν ᾗσιν ἀκούων ἠδὲ καὶ ἄλλοι |369 Φαίηκες δολιχήρετμοι, ναυσικλυτοὶ ἄνδρες. (At line 267, there is a variant reading attested: φιλότητα in the accusative, instead of φιλότητος in the genitive.)

|250 [Alkinoos is speaking.] “Let’s get started. I want the best of the Phaeacian acrobatic dancers [bētarmones] |251 to perform their sportive dance [paizein], so that the stranger, our guest, will be able to tell his near-and-dear ones, |252 when he gets home, how much better we (Phaeacians) are than anyone else |253 in sailing and in footwork, in dance [orkhēstus] and song [aoidē]. |254 One of you go and get for Demodokos the clear-sounding special lyre [phorminx], |255 bringing it to him. It is in the palace somewhere.” |256 Thus spoke Alkinoos, the one who looks like the gods, and the herald [kērux] got up, |257 ready to bring the well carved special lyre [phorminx] from the palace of the king. |258 And the organizers [aisumnētai], the nine selectmen, all got up |259 —they belonged to the district [dēmos]—and they started arranging everything according to the rules of the competition [agōn]: |260 they made smooth the place of the singing-and-dancing [khoros], and they made a wide space of competition [agōn]. |261 The herald [kērux] came near, bringing the clear-sounding special lyre [phorminx] |262 for Demodokos. He [= Demodokos] moved to the center [es meson] of the space. At his right and at his left were boys [kouroi] |263 in the first stage of adolescence [prōthēboi], standing there, well versed in dancing [orkhēthmos]. |264 They pounded out with their feet a dance [khoros], a thing of wonder, and Odysseus |265 was observing the sparkling footwork. He was amazed in his heart [thūmos]. |266 And he [= Demodokos], playing on the special lyre [phormizein], started [anaballesthai] singing beautifully |267 about [amphi] the bonding [philotēs] of Ares and of Aphrodite, the one with the beautiful garlands [stephanoi], |268 about how they, at the very beginning, mated with each other in the palace of Hephaistos, |269 in secret. [The story that has just started at line 266 now continues, ending at line 366.] |367 These things, then, the singer [aoidos] was singing [aeidein], that very famous singer. As for Odysseus, |368 he felt delight [terpesthai] in his heart as he was listening—and so too did all the others feel, |369 the Phaeacians, those men with their long oars, men famed for their ships.

As we are about to see, the Second Song of Demodokos is remarkably different from the First and the Third Songs—not only in form but also in content.

source

Officials who are experts in setting up a place for holding competitive choral events of singing and dancing are here preparing to set up such a place. Such a choral event is an agōn ‘competition’, just like the athletic events that preceded. So, all these events are seen as a festive continuum.

source

So, the competitive choral event is properly arranged, and a place is prepared for the ‘choral singing /dancing’, the word for which is khoros. The stylized festival continues.

source

Acrobatic dancers lead off the choral singing and dancing, and the khoros or ‘place for choral singing-and-dancing’ becomes their dancing floor. This pattern of leading off resembles the pattern we see in versions of Ο.04.019 and Ι.18.606 where we see the variant reading ἐξάρχοντες instead of ἐξάρχοντος. In terms of this reading, the acrobatic dancers lead off, starting their performance before the singer starts.

source

Now Demodokos the singer ‘begins performing’, as indicated by anaballesthai, and he sings, O.08.266. What the singer now sings is a proemium, the form of which is analogous to what we read in the Homeric Hymns.

source

The subject of the song is the philotēs ‘sexual bonding’ of Ares and Aphrodite. The adulterous lovers will be caught in the act by the husband of Aphrodite, Hephaistos. The introduction of the story by way of the preposition amphi ‘about’ is typical of hymns. The story of the sexual encounter of Ares and Aphrodite is typical of a genre known as divine burlesque, on which see the comment on I.21.385–514. The subject of such a philotēs ‘sexual bonding’ is treated seriously by Empedocles DK B 35.

source

verses matching these quoted in the Derveni Papyrus and considered by the commentator as Orphic (Obbink 1997:41n4)

source

Reacting to the Second Song of Demodokos, both Odysseus and the Phaeacian listeners react by ‘feeling delight’ as expressed by way of terpesthai, O.08.368.

source

|250 [Alkinoos is speaking.] “Let’s get started. I want the best of the Phaeacian acrobatic dancers [bētarmones] |251 to perform their sportive dance [paizein], so that the stranger, our guest, will be able to tell his near-and-dear ones, |252 when he gets home, how much better we (Phaeacians) are than anyone else |253 in sailing and in footwork, in dance [orkhēstus] and song [aoidē]. |254 One of you go and get for Demodokos the clear-sounding special lyre [phorminx], |255 bringing it to him. It is in the palace somewhere.” |256 Thus spoke Alkinoos, the one who looks like the gods, and the herald [kērux] got up, |257 ready to bring the well carved special lyre [phorminx] from the palace of the king. |258 And the organizers [aisumnētai], the nine selectmen, all got up |259 —they belonged to the district [dēmos]—and they started arranging everything according to the rules of the competition [agōn]: |260 they made smooth the place of the singing-and-dancing [khoros], and they made a wide space of competition [agōn]. |261 The herald [kērux] came near, bringing the clear-sounding special lyre [phorminx] |262 for Demodokos. He [= Demodokos] moved to the center [es meson] of the space. At his right and at his left were boys [kouroi] |263 in the first stage of adolescence [prōthēboi], standing there, well versed in dancing [orkhēthmos]. |264 They pounded out with their feet a dance [khoros], a thing of wonder, and Odysseus |265 was observing the sparkling footwork. He was amazed in his heart [thūmos]. |266 And he [= Demodokos], playing on the special lyre [phormizein], started [anaballesthai] singing beautifully |267 about [amphi] the bonding [philotēs] of Ares and of Aphrodite, the one with the beautiful garlands [stephanoi], |268 about how they, at the very beginning, mated with each other in the palace of Hephaistos, |269 in secret. [The story that has just started at line 266 now continues, ending at line 366.] |367 These things, then, the singer [aoidos] was singing [aeidein], that very famous singer. As for Odysseus, |368 he felt delight [terpesthai] in his heart as he was listening—and so too did all the others feel, |369 the Phaeacians, those men with their long oars, men famed for their ships.

As we are about to see, the Second Song of Demodokos is remarkably different from the First and the Third Songs—not only in form but also in content.

source

What follows the Second Song of Demodokos, which can be viewed as a hymnic proemium, is further dancing and perhaps singing, which can be viewed together as a hymnic consequent. And the setting is called an agōn ‘competition’, O.08.380.

source

Alkinoos says that the kingdom of the Phaeacians, described here as a dēmos ‘community, district’, is ruled by twelve basilēes ‘kings’, O.08.390, and that he counts himself as the thirteenth. (On krainein in the sense of ‘authorize’ and thereby ‘rule’, see GMP 59.) In terms of this description, Alkinoos figures himself as an over-king, and maybe the word basilēes here has the meaning of ‘sub-kings’—which is in fact the meaning of the corresponding word gwasilēwes (qa-si-re-we) in Linear B texts. According to Frame 2009 ch. 7, the twelve kings of the Phaeacians may represent a mythological replica of the confederation known as the Ionian Dodecapolis as it existed around the late eighth and early seventh centuries BCE. On the Ionian Dodecapolis, see the anchor comment on I.01.463; also the comment on I.02.867–869 and on I.20.403–405; see also under Ionian Dodecapolis in the inventory of Words and Ideas.

source

Alkinoos wishes that the feasting should continue and that Odysseus should continue to ‘feel delight’, as expressed by terpesthai, while he hears at this feast the ‘weaving’ of the aoidē ‘song’ that started with the First Song of Demodokos and that will now connect with the Third Song. In this context, we see the meaning of the noun dais extended from the specific idea of ‘feast’ to the more general idea of a stylized ‘festival’. And the continued weaving of the song, which corresponds to the continuation of the stylized festival, is expressed here by way of the noun humnos, which is attested only here and nowhere else in either the Iliad or the Odyssey. In this unique context at O.08.429, the meaning of humnos can be reconstructed as ‘web’ or ‘connecting by way of fabric work’. In terms of such a reconstructed meaning, the humnos as a ‘web’ connects the First and the Second and the Third Songs of Demodokos and forms a continuum of song that extends throughout Odyssey 8, as if the ongoing dais of this Rhapsody were not only a continued feast but also a sustained festival. This festival makes room for events of athletics as well as songmaking.

source

|485 αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ πόσιος καὶ ἐδητύος ἐξ ἔρον ἕντο, |486 δὴ τότε Δημόδοκον προσέφη πολύμητις Ὀδυσσεύς· |487 “Δημόδοκ’, ἔξοχα δή σε βροτῶν αἰνίζομ’ ἁπάντων· |488 ἢ σέ γε Μοῦσ’ ἐδίδαξε, Διὸς πάϊς, ἢ σέ γ’ Ἀπόλλων· |489 λίην γὰρ κατὰ κόσμον Ἀχαιῶν οἶτον ἀείδεις, |490 ὅσσ’ ἕρξαν τ’ ἔπαθόν τε καὶ ὅσσ’ ἐμόγησαν Ἀχαιοί, |491 ὥς τέ που ἢ αὐτὸς παρεὼν ἢ ἄλλου ἀκούσας. |492 ἀλλ’ ἄγε δὴ μετάβηθι καὶ ἵππου κόσμον ἄεισον |493 δουρατέου, τὸν ᾿Επειὸς ἐποίησεν σὺν Ἀθήνῃ, |494 ὅν ποτ’ ἐς ἀκρόπολιν δόλον ἤγαγε δῖος Ὀδυσσεὺς |495 ἀνδρῶν ἐμπλήσας, οἳ Ἴλιον ἐξαλάπαξαν. |496 αἴ κεν δή μοι ταῦτα κατὰ μοῖραν καταλέξῃς, |497 αὐτίκα καὶ πᾶσιν μυθήσομαι ἀνθρώποισιν, |498 ὡς ἄρα τοι πρόφρων θεὸς ὤπασε θέσπιν ἀοιδήν.”

|485 When they had satisfied their desire for drinking and eating, |486 then Odysseus, the one with many a stratagem, addressed Demodokos: |487 “Demodokos, I admire and pointedly praise you, more than any other human. |488 Either the Muse, child of Zeus, taught you, or Apollo. |489 All too well, in accord with its construction [kosmos], do you sing the fate of the Achaeans |490 —all the things the Achaeans did and all the things that were done to them, and they suffered for it— |491 you sing it as if you yourself had been present or had heard it from someone else. |492 But come now, move ahead and shift forward [metabainein] and sing the construction [kosmos] of the horse, |493 the wooden horse that Epeios made with the help of Athena, |494 the one that Odysseus, the radiant one, took to the acropolis as a stratagem, |495 having filled it in with men, who ransacked Ilion. |496 If you can tell me these things in due order [katalegein], in accord with proper apportioning [moira], |497 then right away I will say the authoritative word [muthos] to all mortals: |498 I will say, and I see it as I say it, that the god [theos], favorably disposed toward you, granted [opazein] you a divinely sounding song.”

When Odysseus calls on Demodokos to sing his Third Song, he challenges the singer at O.08.492 to metabainein ‘shift forward’. So, the starting point of the Third Song is not where the singer had left off when he last sang about the Trojan War. Demodokos will have to begin his story at a new starting-point, at a later starting point.

source

This verb hormân (/ hormâsthai), meaning ‘set up (/ get set up) for a point of departure’, is understood as a poetic concept by Plato, Ion 534c.

source

|499 ὣς φάθ’, ὁ δ’ ὁρμηθεὶς θεοῦ ἤρχετο, φαῖνε δ’ ἀοιδήν, |500 ἔνθεν ἑλών, ὡς οἱ μὲν ἐϋσσέλμων ἐπὶ νηῶν |501 βάντες ἀπέπλειον, πῦρ ἐν κλισίῃσι βαλόντες, |502 Ἀργεῖοι, τοὶ δ’ ἤδη ἀγακλυτὸν ἀμφ’ Ὀδυσῆα |503 εἵατ’ ἐνὶ Τρώων ἀγορῇ κεκαλυμμένοι ἵππῳ· |504 αὐτοὶ γάρ μιν Τρῶες ἐς ἀκρόπολιν ἐρύσαντο. |505 ὣς ὁ μὲν ἑστήκει, τοὶ δ’ ἄκριτα πόλλ’ ἀγόρευον |506 ἥμενοι ἀμφ’ αὐτόν· τρίχα δέ σφισιν ἥνδανε βουλή, |507 ἠὲ διατμῆξαι κοῖλον δόρυ νηλέϊ χαλκῷ, |508 ἢ κατὰ πετράων βαλέειν ἐρύσαντας ἐπ’ ἄκρης, |509 ἢ ἐάαν μέγ’ ἄγαλμα θεῶν θελκτήριον εἶναι, |510 τῇ περ δὴ καὶ ἔπειτα τελευτήσεσθαι ἔμελλεν· |511 αἶσα γὰρ ἦν ἀπολέσθαι, ἐπὴν πόλις ἀμφικαλύψῃ |512 δουράτεον μέγαν ἵππον, ὅθ’ εἵατο πάντες ἄριστοι |513 Ἀργεῖοι Τρώεσσι φόνον καὶ κῆρα φέροντες. |514 ἤειδεν δ’ ὡς ἄστυ διέπραθον υἷες Ἀχαιῶν |515 ἱππόθεν ἐκχύμενοι, κοῖλον λόχον ἐκπρολιπόντες. |516 ἄλλον δ’ ἄλλῃ ἄειδε πόλιν κεραϊζέμεν αἰπήν, |517 αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσῆα προτὶ δώματα Δηϊφόβοιο |518 βήμεναι, ἠΰτ’ Ἄρηα, σὺν ἀντιθέῳ Μενελάῳ. |519 κεῖθι δὴ αἰνότατον πόλεμον φάτο τολμήσαντα |520 νικῆσαι καὶ ἔπειτα διὰ μεγάθυμον Ἀθήνην. |521 ταῦτ’ ἄρ’ ἀοιδὸς ἄειδε περικλυτός· αὐτὰρ ᾿Οδυσσεὺς |522 τήκετο, δάκρυ δ’ ἔδευεν ὑπὸ βλεφάροισι παρειάς. |523 ὡς δὲ γυνὴ κλαίῃσι φίλον πόσιν ἀμφιπεσοῦσα, |524 ὅς τε ἑῆς πρόσθεν πόλιος λαῶν τε πέσῃσιν, |525 ἄστεϊ καὶ τεκέεσσιν ἀμύνων νηλεὲς ἦμαρ· |526 ἡ μὲν τὸν θνῄσκοντα καὶ ἀσπαίροντα ἰδοῦσα |527 ἀμφ’ αὐτῷ χυμένη λίγα κωκύει· οἱ δέ τ’ ὄπισθε |528 κόπτοντες δούρεσσι μετάφρενον ἠδὲ καὶ ὤμους |529 εἴρερον εἰσανάγουσι, πόνον τ’ ἐχέμεν καὶ ὀϊζύν· |530 τῆς δ’ ἐλεεινοτάτῳ ἄχεϊ φθινύθουσι παρειαί· |531 ὣς Ὀδυσεὺς ἐλεεινὸν ὑπ’ ὀφρύσι δάκρυον εἶβεν. |532 ἔνθ’ ἄλλους μὲν πάντας ἐλάνθανε δάκρυα λείβων, |533 Ἀλκίνοος δέ μιν οἶος ἐπεφράσατ’ ἠδ’ ἐνόησεν

|499 Thus he [= Odysseus] spoke. And he [= Demodokos], getting set up for his point of departure [hormētheis], started [arkhesthai] from the god [theos]. And he made visible the song, |500 taking it from the point where they [= the Achaeans], boarding their ships with the strong benches, |501 sailed away, setting their tents on fire. |502 That is what some of the Argives [= Achaeans] were doing. But others of them were in the company of Odysseus, the one with the great glory, and they were already |503 sitting hidden inside the Horse, which was now in the meeting place of the Trojans. |504 The Trojans themselves had pulled the Horse into the acropolis. |505 So there it was, standing there, while they [= the Trojans] were saying many different things, |506 sitting around it. There were three different plans: |507 to cut open the hollow wood with pitiless bronze, |508 or to throw it off the rocky heights after pulling it up to the peak [of the acropolis], |509 or to leave it, great artifact [agalma] that it was, as a charm [thelktērion] of the gods |510 —which, I now see it, was exactly the way it was sure to [mellein] reach an outcome [teleutân], |511 because it was fate [aisa] that the place would be destroyed, once the city had enfolded in itself |512 the great Wooden Horse, when all the best men were sitting inside it, |513 the Argives [= Achaeans], that is, bringing slaughter and destruction upon the Trojans. |514 He sang how the sons of the Achaeans destroyed the city, |515 pouring out of the Horse, leaving behind the hollow place of ambush. |516 He sang how the steep citadel was destroyed by different men in different places. |517 —how Odysseus went to the palace of Deiphobos, |518 how he was looking like Ares, and godlike Menelaos went with him, |519 and how in that place, I now see it, he [= Demodokos] said that he [= Odysseus] dared to go through the worst part of the war, |520 and how he emerged victorious after that, with the help of Athena, the one with the mighty spirit. |521 Thus sang the singer [aoidos], the one whose glory is supreme. And Odysseus |522 dissolved [tēkesthai] into tears. He made wet his cheeks with the tears flowing from his eyelids, |523 just as a woman cries, falling down and embracing her dear husband, |524 who fell in front of the city and people he was defending, |525 trying to ward off the pitiless day of doom hanging over the city and its children. |526 She sees him dying, gasping for his last breath, |527 and she pours herself all over him [amphi-khu-] as she wails with a piercing cry. But there are men behind her, |528 prodding her with their spears, hurting her back and shoulders, |529 and they bring for her a life of bondage, which will give her pain and sorrow. |530 Her cheeks are wasting away with a sorrow [akhos] that is most pitiful [eleeinon]. |531 So also did Odysseus pour out a piteous tear [dakruon] from beneath his brows; |532 there he was, escaping the notice of all while he kept pouring out his tears [dakrua]. |533 But Alkinoos was the only one of all of them who was aware, and he took note [noeîn].

Complying with the request of Odysseus, Demodokos begins the story of his Third Song at a later point in the story—evidently later than where he had left off before. As signaled at O.08.500, the story begins with the Wooden Horse, exactly as Odysseus had requested. And the story can now focus on the greatest deed accomplished by Odysseus in the Trojan War: he was the hero who invented the Wooden Horse. Here was a feat of intelligence that finally resulted in the capture of Troy by the Achaeans. But the story also focuses on what was perhaps the worst deed of Odysseus in the Trojan War: as we can read in the surviving plot-outline of the Iliou Persis, an epic belonging to the epic Cycle and attributed to Arctinus of Miletus, Odysseus had a major role in the grim story of Troy’s final hours. He was the Achaean hero who captured Andromache, widow of Hector, and who executed the child of this doomed couple. But right before Demodokos reaches this horrific part of the story, Odysseus breaks down in tears, and his tears will interrupt the outcome of this story. The interruption, as we see in the narration that I have just quoted, takes the form of a simile that compares the weeping of the hero with the lament of an unnamed woman who has just been captured in war, O.08.521–531. The simile of the unnamed lamenting woman is substituted for the outcome of the story that tells of the final tearful moments of Troy’s destruction (HC 2§§334–344). In the epic Cycle, as represented by the Iliou Persis, that unnamed lamenting woman would be Andromache (HC 2§344). In the Homeric Odyssey, the tears of the captive woman lead to the tears of Odysseus, which in turn can now lead to the story of his own odyssey as a continuation of the tearful story that almost ended the narrative continuum at the feast of the Phaeacians. The story can now continue, shifting from an Iliad to an Odyssey.

source

The metaphor of ‘dissolving’ into tears while weeping, as expressed here by way of the verb tēkesthai ‘melt away, dissolve’, extends into a further metaphor: with your own tears, you can be ‘pouring all over’ a loved one whom you are embracing: see the comment at O.08.527. Further relevant comments at O.19.204–212.

source

We see here a simile comparing Odysseus to a weeping widow, and this simile is comparable to what happens to Andromache at the end of the Iliou Persis. We see here a relevance to the distinction between kleos and penthos (Odysseus’ weeping at Demodokos’ songs)

\r\nWe can compare Andromache’s lament in Iliad 24 and Kleopatre’s stance of lamentation in Iliad 09

\r\nContext: we see here a description of Odysseus as experiencing akhos when he hears Demodokos’ third song as signaling the form of the epic as that of the Cycle

source

The metaphor of ‘pouring all over’ someone in the act of embracing that someone, as expressed here by way of the verb amphi-khu-, is an extension of the metaphor of ‘dissolving’ while weeping, on which see the comment at O.08.522. When you are weeping, pouring out your tears from your eyes, it is as if your whole self were dissoving into tears, which can then ‘pour all over’ the beloved someone whom you are embracing. Further relevant comments at O.16.214 and especially at O.19.204–212.

source

Once again, Alkinoos notices that Odysseus is weeping, and this act of noticing will lead to recognition. See again the anchor comment at I.05.669 on noeîn ‘take note (of), notice’. This characteristic of Alkinoos, to ‘notice’ things, is relevant to his “speaking name”: see the comment at O.22.031–033. But the tears of Odysseus will conjure not only his own past sorrows: these sorrows are inseparable from the story of that dashing young rival of Odysseus, Achilles himself, who had died far too soon before his time.

source

See the comment on O.13.175–177, where the lines are quoted and translated.

source

the convention of the Dios boulē as at I.01.005 treated as a foil in this verse

source

At O.08.581–583, Alkinoos asks the unrecognized Odysseus: does the singing of Demodokos about the Trojan War make you sad because you lost a relative in that war? Then, he asks an alternative question at O.08.584–586: or did you lose a hetairos ‘companion’ in the Trojan War? Well, Odysseus did in fact lose many companions, but the greatest of them all was Achilles. Pointedly, Alkinoos refers to the sadness of Odysseus as akhos ‘grief’ at O.08.541. In Homeric poetry, this word akhos ‘grief’ conjures the name of Achilles himself, as I noted already in the comment on I.01.002.

source

The time has come for Odysseus himself to sing his own epic odyssey, and the hero chooses to start with the most celebrated story of the Homeric Odyssey, about the blinding of the Cyclops.

draft js image error “Ulysses Giving Wine to Polyphemus” (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.

The transition from Rhapsody 8 to Rhapsody 9 marks a change in the form of singing for the singer of tales. The poetic bravura of Demodokos, blind singer of the Phaeacians, will now be superseded by a masterpiece of epic narration performed by Odysseus himself, who is starting to sing his own epic odyssey. The hero’s song will extend from the beginning of Rhapsody 9 here all the way through the end of Rhapsody 12, and the size of this song, consisting of four rhapsodies, will correspond to one-twelfth of the Homeric Iliad and Odyssey combined. Odysseus will perform his song in the style of the Homēridai, notional descendants of Homer who performed the Iliad and Odyssey in relay. The relay performance, which was competitive as well as collaborative, consisted of twelve units, each unit consisting of four rhapsodies, and it took place at the seasonally recurring festival of the Panionia at a place called the Panionion in Asia Minor. As already noted before, this festival was the political and cultural self-expression of the Ionian Dodecapolis, a confederation of twelve states that reached its apogee in the eastern Greek world during the late eighth and early seventh century BCE. (On the Ionian Dodecapolis, see the anchor comment on I.01.463; also the comment on O.07.321; also on I.02.867–869 and on I.20.403–405; see also under Ionian Dodecapolis in the inventory of Words and Ideas.) The division of the Iliad and Odyssey into twelve units, six for the Iliad and six for the Odyssey, with each unit containing four rhapsodies, corresponds to the division of the Ionian confederation into twelve states. It may be argued, then, that each one of the twelve states of the Ionian Dodecapolis fielded a rhapsode for performing competitively one of the twelve epic units. Which rhapsode was assigned which one of the twelve epic units could have been determined by lottery or perhaps by way of seasonal rotation. It may also be argued that the rhapsodic unit extending from the start of Rhapsody 9 here all the way through the end of Rhapsody 12 represents an idealized rhapsodic performance in the style of the Homēridai. And Rhapsody 9 begins with a kind of Homeric signature at O.09.03–011—the mark of Homer, as it were.

source

|3 ἦ τοι μὲν τόδε καλὸν ἀκουέμεν ἐστὶν ἀοιδοῦ |4 τοιοῦδ’, οἷος ὅδ’ ἐστί, θεοῖσ’ ἐναλίγκιος αὐδήν. |5 οὐ γὰρ ἐγώ γέ τί φημι τέλος χαριέστερον εἶναι |6 ἢ ὅτ’ ἐϋφροσύνη μὲν ἔχῃ κάτα δῆμον ἅπαντα, |7 δαιτυμόνες δ’ ἀνὰ δώματ’ ἀκουάζωνται ἀοιδοῦ |8 ἥμενοι ἑξείης, παρὰ δὲ πλήθωσι τράπεζαι |9 σίτου καὶ κρειῶν, μέθυ δ’ ἐκ κρητῆρος ἀφύσσων |10 οἰνοχόος φορέῃσι καὶ ἐγχείῃ δεπάεσσι· |11 τοῦτό τί μοι κάλλιστον ἐνὶ φρεσὶν εἴδεται εἶναι.

|3 This is indeed a beautiful thing, to listen to a singer [aoidos] |4 such as this one [= Demodokos], the kind of singer that he is, comparable to the gods with the sound of his voice [audē], |5 for I declare, there is no outcome [telos] that is more gratifying [khariestero-]|6 than the moment when the spirit of festivity [euphrosunē] prevails throughout the whole community [dēmos] |7 and the people at the feast [daitumones], throughout the halls, are listening to the singer [aoidos] |8 as they sit there—you can see one after the other—and they are seated at tables that are filled |9 with grain and meat, while wine from the mixing bowl is drawn |10 by the one who pours the wine and takes it around, pouring it into their cups. |11 This kind of thing, as I see it in my way of thinking, is the most beautiful thing in the whole world.

O.09.003–012

(Epitomized from MoM 4§§71–73.) As Odysseus himself says here, as he finally proceeds to identify himself, there no greater kharis or ‘gratification’ in the whole world than the combination of good feasting and good singing, and the model for the general reference to singing here is the singer Demodokos. The kharis ‘gratification’ is signaled by the adjective khariestero- ‘more gratifying’ at O.09.005, referring to a telos ‘outcome’: there is no outcome that is more gratifying than what happens at a feast. The word euphrosunē ‘festivity, merriment’, O.09.006, signals the poetic occasion. (On the programmatic implications of this word as an indicator of the festive atmosphere, as it were, of the poetic occasion, I refer to a definitive formulation by Bundy 1986:2 with reference to the poetics of Pindar (see BA 91, 235; also PH 198). The feast that is going on here at the beginning of Rhapsody 9 is a continuation of the festivity that is already signaled by the word dais at O.08.429, which basically means ‘feast’. In that context, dais refers short-range to an occasion of communal dining as indicated by the word dorpon ‘dinner’, O.08.395, which will take place after sunset, O.08.417. The intended guest of honor at this feast will be Odysseus. This occasion of communal dining leads into the third song of Demodokos, O.08.484–485. But this same word dais at O.08.429 is also making a long-range reference: it refers metonymically to a stylized festival that has been ongoing ever since an earlier occasion of communal dining, O.08.071–072, which actually led into the first song of Demodokos. O.08.073–083. On metonymy, see the inventory of Words and Ideas. And the connectivity goes even further back in time. Leading up to the communal dining, there had been an animal sacrifice as expressed by the word hiereuein ‘sacrificially slaughter’ at O.08.059. Then, the meat of the sacrificed animals had been prepared to be cooked at the feast, O.08.061. And I stress that the word at O.08.061 for ‘feast’ is once again dais. In terms of this sequence, the metonymic use of the word dais ‘feast’ marks a whole complex of events that are typical of festivals.

source

As with Odyssey 12.69-70 (Ἀργὼ πᾶσι μέλουσα 'the Argo, which-is-on-the-minds-of all'), we find some topic πᾶσι μέλειν 'to-be-on-the-minds-of all humans'. This time, that which is on the mind of the poet as he recites and, by universal extension, on the minds of all humans, is the speaker of the lines, Odysseus himself. Unlike with the Argo of Odyssey 12.69, however, there is a delay here in expressing this universalizing of Odysseus from the mind of the poet to the minds of all humans. The wording begins by saying that I, Odysseus, am linked with 'all' (πᾶσι) my acts of trickery (δόλοισιν), and only then, at line 20, does the wording go on to say the 'I-am-on-the-minds-of' (μέλω) humans. Now the idea that these humans are 'all' (πᾶσι) humans in the universe must be carried over from line 19. What we see in this carrying over is a construction known in ancient rhetoric as apo koinou (ἀπὸ κοινοῦ) 'by way of shared application', where a word is applied consecutively to two different syntactical situations. In this case, pāsi (πᾶσι) 'all' applies first only to the noun doloisin (δόλοισιν), but then, in the next line, to anthrōpoisi (ἀνθρώποισι) 'humans' in a different syntactical situation. Because the application is consecutive, we can understand the lines as meaning: 'first, I am linked with all my acts of trickery, and then, second, I am on the minds of all humans.'

source

εἴμ’ Ὀδυσεὺς Λαερτιάδης, ὃς πᾶσι δόλοισιν | ἀνθρώποισι μέλω, καί μευ κλέος οὐρανὸν ἵκει.

I am Odysseus son of Laertes, and I, with all [πᾶσι] my acts of trickery, | I-am-on-the-minds-of [melein (μέλω)] all (πᾶσι) humans, and my glory [kleos] reaches all the way up to the sky.

(Epitomized from Nagy 2016.02.11§§4–7.) Here at O.09.019–020, Homeric poetry is channeling Odysseus in the act of starting to tell his own story. The wording begins by saying at O.09.019 that I, Odysseus, am linked with ‘all’ (πᾶσι) my acts of trickery, and only then, at O.09.020, does the wording go on to say that ‘I-am-on-the-minds-of’ (μέλω) humans—but now the idea that these humans are ‘all’ (πᾶσι) humans in the universe has to be carried over from the previous line, O.09.019. What we see here is a construction known in ancient rhetoric as apo koinou (ἀπὸ κοινοῦ) ‘by way of shared application’, where a word is applied consecutively to two different syntactical situations. (In 2016.02.11§4, I cite an example in Sappho Song 1 lines 7–8). In the Homeric example that we are now considering, O.09.019–020, the adjective pāsi (πᾶσι) meaning ‘all’ applies first only to the noun doloisi (δόλοισι) meaning ‘acts of trickery’ at line 19, but then at line 20 it applies also—and in a different syntactical situation—to the noun anthrōpoisi (ἀνθρώποισι) meaning ‘humans’. This way, the meaning ‘all’ applies to two different words belonging to two different syntactical situations. And the application of the meaning is consecutive: first, I am linked with ‘all my acts of trickery’, and then, second, I am on the minds of ‘all humans’. The verb melein, which I translate here with the wording ‘be-on-one’s-mind’, normally has as its grammatical subject whatever is on the mind of someone. In everyday contexts, what is on the mind of someone is incidental: someone happens to be thinking about something, and so that something is on the mind of that someone. In Homeric contexts, however, whatever is on someone’s mind is special and worthy of being recorded in poetry. Here is a striking example: when Andromache in the Iliad says to Hector that she is thinking thoughts about the uncertain future that awaits her and the child they had together, he remarks that ‘all these things are-on-my-mind [melei] as well’, I.06.441: ἦ καὶ ἐμοὶ τάδε πάντα μέλει. Such things are the subject of Homeric poetry, and so Homer must have such things on his mind as well. In poetic as also in prosaic contexts, the things that are on someone’s mind may be simply things that this someone is thinking about. But they may be more than that, as in the example I just gave concerning the things that are on the minds of Andromache and Hector. And these things are not just thoughts: they are caring thoughts, concerned thoughts, even worried thoughts. A word that refers to a song about such worried thoughts, as an expression of caring and concern, is merimna ‘care’, as used in the Hippolytus of Euripides, with reference to a custom originating in the city of Trozen, where girls who were celebrating their coming of age are seen in the act of singing and dancing a song. Their song is described as a sad love song, ‘a troubled thought that comes along with songmaking’ (μουσοποιὸς … μέριμνα 1428–1429). The noun that I translate here as ‘a troubled thought’ is merimna, which means literally a ‘care’ or a ‘concern’. A merimna, in other words, is what you have on your mind. In a song of Bacchylides (19.11), the same noun merimna, which I translate here as ‘a troubled thought’, refers to the thought-processes of the poet himself as he is pictured in the act of composing his song. A merimna, then, is a song that is ‘on one’s mind’. Similarly, I argue, the noun melos in the sense of ‘melody’ is derived from melei ‘is on one’s mind’; a melos is a song that is ‘on one’s mind’. Further examples in Nagy 2016.02.11§7.

source

Odysseus and most of his companions have escaped from the land of the Kikones, where some of them died, and now the survivors are sailing on, described as ásmenoi, which I translate as ‘returning to light and life’. See the anchor comment on O.09.566.

source

(What follows is epitomized from H24H 10§§8–9.) As we saw already at the very beginning of the Odyssey, the hero’s nostos, ‘return’ at O.01.005 connects with his nóos ‘mind, thinking’ at O.01.003 not only in the explicit sense of thinking about saving his own life but also in the implicit sense of being conscious of returning home. This implicit sense is encoded in the telling of the myth about the land of the Lotus-Eaters here at O.09.082–104. When Odysseus visits this land, those of his comrades who eat the lotus lose their consciousness of home and therefore lose their power to return home. The verb lēth-, ‘forget’, combined with nostos, ‘return’, as its object, conveys the idea of such unconsciousness, O.09.097/102. By contrast, the noun nóos ‘mind, thinking’ conveys the idea of being conscious of nostos. So, here is the basic teaching to be learned from the myth about the land of the Lotus-Eaters: if you lose the “implant” of homecoming in your mind, you cannot go home because you no longer know what home is.

source

This land, as described here with reference to a mainland correlated with an offshore island, is a poeticized version of a colony in the making—before colonization actually happens. The Greek word for such colonization is ktisis, which literally means ‘foundation’. On ktisis poetry, see BA 180–181 and GMP 74; see also under ktisis poetry in the inventory of Words and Ideas.

source

(Epitomized from PP 172.) Eustathius (1.9), in the Prolegomena to his commentary on the Iliad, says that performers of the Iliad wore red while performers of the Odyssey wore purple. He may perhaps be guessing when he attributes to ‘the ancients’ the idea that red stands for the blood shed in war, and purple, for the sea, as the setting for the wanderings of Odysseus. Still, his report about the actual dichotomy in color seems to be grounded in tradition. In Homeric diction, we find a parallel dichotomy of red and purple in descriptions of colors painted on ships: we already saw nēes miltoparēioi ‘ships having cheeks of red’ at I.02.637, with reference to the ships of Odysseus, and now we see it again here at O.09.125, with reference to generic ships. To be contrasted is the expression neas phoinīkoparēious ‘ships with cheeks of purple’ at O.11.124 and O.23.271. Moreover, the inventories of chariots in the Linear B tablets show yet another parallel dichotomy of red and purple in descriptions of colors painted on chariots: the noun i-qi-ja ‘chariot’ is described as either mi-to-we-sa = miltówessa ‘red’ as in Knossos tablet Sd 4407 or po-ni-ki-ja = phoinikiā ‘purple’ as in Knossos tablet Sd 4402. For the translation ‘purple’ in the latter case, I note φοινικόβαπτα ἐσθήματα ‘clothing dyed in purple’ in Aeschylus Eumenides 1028.

source

analysis of Eustathius’ notion (1.9) of the ancient rationale of distinct color schemes

source

The description of the Cyclopes ostentatiously presents them here as non-seafarers. But there were other traditions where the Cyclops and his followers were aggressively seafaring: they could even pursue Odysseus all over the Mediterranean Sea, as we see from the explicit testimony of the scholia PY for O.01.198: see Alwine 2009.

source

In the context of this idealized description of a colony in the making, the use of aphthito- ‘imperishable, unwilting’ in describing the vines growing there can be explained as an aspect of the poetic idealization, indicating a wished-for permanence by way of imposing culture on nature.

source

(Epitomized from Nagy 2007b:70–72.) Even in situations where the mētis ‘mind, intelligence’ of Odysseus in the specialized sense of ‘craft’ helps advance the homecoming of the hero in the Odyssey, it does nothing to advance the kleos or poetic ‘glory’ of his past epic exploits at Troy. A case in point is the decisive moment in the Odyssey when Odysseus devises the stratagem of calling himself Outis ‘no one’, O.09.366, in order to deceive and then blind Polyphemus the Cyclops. The pronoun ou tis ‘no one’ used by the hero for the crafting of his false name deceives not only the Cyclops but also the monster’s fellow Cyclopes when they use the same pronoun to ask the blinded Polyphemus this question: perhaps someone has wronged you?—O.09.405–406. The syntax of the question, expressing the uncertainty of the questioners, requires the changing of the pronoun ou tis ‘no one’ into its modal byform mē tis ‘perhaps someone’, which sounds like the noun mētis ‘craft’. The modal byform mē tis is intentionally signaling here the verbal craft used by Odysseus in devising this stratagem. And this intentional act of signaling is made explicit later on when the narrating hero actually refers to his stratagem as a mētis, O.09.414. The same can be said about the hero’s previous stratagem of blinding the Cyclops with a sharpened stake, an act of craftiness compared to the craft of blacksmiths, O.09.390–394. These and all other stratagems used by the hero against the Cyclops qualify as mētis ‘craft’, O.09.422. It goes without saying that the stratagem of crafting the false name Outis succeeds: when the blinded Cyclops answers the question of his fellow Cyclopes, perhaps someone has wronged you?—O.09.405–406—he uses the non-modal form of the pronoun, saying ou tis ‘no one’ has wronged me, O.09.408. Still, though this stratagem succeeds in rescuing Odysseus (and, for the moment, some of his companions), it fails to rescue the hero’s past kleos in Troy. In fact, the stratagem of Odysseus in calling himself Outis ‘no one’ produces just the opposite effect: it erases any previous claim to any kleos that the hero would have had before he entered the cave of the Cyclops. Such erasure is signaled by the epithet outidanos ‘good-for-nothing’, derivative of the pronoun ou tis ‘no one’: whenever this epithet is applied to a hero in the Iliad, it is intended to revile the name of that hero by erasing his epic identity, as at I.11.390. Such erasure means that someone who used to have a name will now no longer have a name and has therefore become a nobody, a no one, ou tis. In the Odyssey, the Cyclops reviles the name of the man who blinded him by applying this same epithet outidanos ‘good-for-nothing’ to the false name Outis, O.09.460. The effect of applying this epithet completes the erasure of the hero’s past identity that was started by Odysseus when he renamed himself as ou tis ‘no one’. The name that the hero had heretofore achieved for himself has been reduced to nothing and must hereafter be rebuilt from nothing. It is relevant that the annihilation of the hero’s identity happens in the darkness of an otherworldly cave, in the context of extinguishing the light of the single eye of the Cyclops, thereby darkening forever the monster’s power to see the truth unless he hears it.

source

(Epitomized from Nagy 2007b:61.) The power of the Homeric simile in advancing the plot of epic is evident in the simile here at O.09.390–394, referring to the blinding of the Cyclops: when Odysseus and his men thrust into the single eye of the monster the fire-hardened tip of a wooden stake they had just crafted, the sound produced by this horrific act is compared to the sound produced when a blacksmith is tempering steel as he thrusts into cold water the red-hot edge of the axe or adze he is crafting. From a cross-cultural survey of myths that tell how a hero who stands for the civilizing forces of culture blinds a monster who stands for the brutalizing forces of nature, it becomes clear that such myths serve the purpose of providing an aetiology for the invention of technology (Burkert 1979:33–34). On the concept of aetiology, see the inventory of Words and Ideas. It is no coincidence that the three Cyclopes in the Hesiodic Theogony (139–146) are imagined as exponents of technology: they are identified as the three blacksmiths who crafted the thunderbolt of Zeus (Burkert 1979:156n23). Thus the simile about the tempering of steel in the Homeric narration of the blinding of the Cyclops serves the purpose of contextualizing and even advancing that narration by way of highlighting aspects of an underlying myth that is otherwise being shaded over.

source

Odysseus and his companions have escaped from the cave of the Cyclops, where some of them died, and now the survivors are sailing on, described as ásmenoi, which I translate as ‘returning to light and life’. As argued by Frame 1978:6–33 (also 2009:39–41), the etymology of this participle ásmenos can be explained by deriving it from n̥s-menos*, where the element n̥s- is the zero grade of the Indo-European root nes-, meaning ‘return to light and life’. This etymology has been confirmed by de Lamberterie 2014. Here at O.09.566, the etymological explanation ‘returning to light and life’ corresponds to what has just happened to Odysseus and his companions: they have escaped from the darkness of the cave and from the threat of death there, emerging into the light and thus winning back their lives. So, they have literally returnd to light and life. For more on the semantics of ‘return to light and life’ as conveyed by the words nóos ‘mind’ and nostos ‘homecoming’, see the comment on O.01.003.

source

This Rhapsody centers on the bewitching goddess Circe, whose mystical powers will lead Odysseus to make direct contact with the dead—and with the world of heroes who have already died.

draft js image error “Circe Invidiosa,” (1892). J. W. Waterhouse (English, 1849–1917). Image via Wikimedia Commons.

Circe, like her mystical island, is at first disorienting for Odysseus, but the goddess will in due course reorient the hero, making it possible for him to learn how he will ultimately make his way back home. Odysseus will find his reorientation in the realm of the unconscious.

source

With the help of king Aeolus, keeper of the winds, Odysseus and his companions sail off from this king’s island, propelled by Zephyros, the West Wind, O.10.025. So, they are traveling from west to east. At O.11.0028–030, we see that they have already sailed for nine days, and then, on the tenth day, Ithaca finally comes into view. But now Odysseus falls asleep at the steering oar, and his companions make the human error of opening the Bag of Winds, so that their ships are blown back, east to west—all the way back to where they started, to the island of Aeolus, O.10.031–055. Aeolus now refuses to help Odysseus and his companions any further, O.056–076, and, as they sail on, O.077–79, it is no longer clear where they are headed. No longer will they be propelled toward Ithaca by the favoring West Wind that Aeolus had provided for them earlier. Their sea voyage is now directionless, and, by the time their ship reaches the land of the Laestrygonians, they have already lost their navigational compass, since this land appears to be a twilight zone, O.080–086. The disorientation will only intensify later, after Odysseus and some of his companions manage to escape from the land of the Laestrygonians and sail to the island of Circe: see the comment on O.10.189–202.

source

Aeolus, god of the winds, tells Odysseus he is sending him off endukéōs, so that the hero could reach home. endukéōs is generally associated with the notion of an uninterrupted sequence. See Od. XIV.337, Od. XIV.334, Od. XIV.338, Od. XIV.111, Od. IX.489, Od. X.245, Od. VI.273, Od. XV.305, Od. XVII.111, Od. XVII.113, Od. XIV.390, Od. X.65, Od. XV.491

source

See the anchor comment at O.07.256. Aeolus, keeper of the winds, had intended an uninterrupted voyage home for Odysseus, but human error has by now undone all the good intentions.

source

Odysseus and some of his companions have escaped from the land of the Laestrygonians, where most of them died, and now the survivors are sailing on, described as ásmenoi, which I translate as ‘returning to light and life’. See the anchor comment on O.09.566.

source

This name for the island of Circe will be a marker for a coincidence of opposites that reveals itself at O.12.001–004.

source

Odysseus here at O.10.189–197 confesses to his companions that he no longer knows where the sun rises or where the sun sets, O.10.190–192, and, accordingly, he expresses his own despair by questioning whether there will be for him any further access to mētis ‘mind, intelligence’, O.10.193. So, the disorientation of Odysseus is linked with loss of mētis. Clearly, the mind of the hero is correlated here with the celestial dynamics of sunset and sunrise. See further the comment on O.10.190–102. (More on this subject in GMP 246.) In response to the hero’s expression of despair, his companions weep uncontrollably, O.10.198–202, and now all they can think about are the horrors they remember having experienced in their encounters with the Cyclops and with Antiphates the Laestrygonian, O.10.199–200. The epithet for one of these two monsters here, the Cyclops, is androphagos ‘man-eating’, O.10.200, which suits not only the cannibalistic Cyclops but also Antiphates the Laestrygonian, who as can see at O.10.115–116 is likewise a cannibal. These memories of cannibalism are most telling, since the name of the Cyclops is linked here with the biē ‘force, violence, strength’ of this monster, O.10.200. And the link surely extends to Antiphates the Laestrygonian. That monster too, like the Cyclops, is a negative exponent of biē ‘force, violence, strength’. And such memories evoke the worst moments of the story of the Trojan War as narrated in the Iliad, as when Achilles himself expresses the ghastly urge to eat the body of Hector raw, I.22.346–347. See the comment at I.22.346–348; also at I.23.001–064. So, Achilles as the primary exponent of biē ‘force, violence, strength’ in the Iliad can be seen in this context as a foil for Odysseus as the primary exponent of mētis ‘mind, intelligence’ in the Odyssey. Even the Iliadic contexts of biē ‘force, violence, strength’ are evoked here, since Cyclops at O.10.200 is described not only as androphagos ‘man-eating’ but also as megalētor ‘having a heart that is mighty’. Similarly at O.10.106, in an attested variant of that verse, this same description applies also to Antiphates the Laestrygonian. Beyond these two attestations, this epithet megalētor ‘having a heart that is mighty’ occurs nowhere else in the Odyssey, whereas it occurs regularly as a conventional description of generic warriors in the Iliad. That is why I propose to describe the horrific visions of cannibals in the Odyssey as Iliadic nightmares.

source

|190 ὦ φίλοι, οὐ γὰρ ἴδμεν ὅπῃ ζόφος οὐδ’ ὅπῃ ἠώς, |191 οὐδ’ ὅπῃ ἠέλιος φαεσίμβροτος εἶσ’ ὑπὸ γαῖαν |192 οὐδ’ ὅπῃ ἀννεῖται· ἀλλὰ φραζώμεθα θᾶσσον, |193 εἴ τις ἔτ’ ἔσται μῆτις· ἐγὼ δ’ οὐκ οἴομαι εἶναι.

|190 My friends, I am speaking this way because I do not know which place is west and which place is east |191 - which is the place where the sun, bringing light for mortals, goes underneath the earth |192 and which is the place where it rises. Still, let us start thinking it through, as quickly as we can, |193 whether there is still any craft [mētis] left. I must tell you, though, I think there is none.

(Epitomized from H24H 10§§38, 40, 42.) When Odysseus reaches the island of Circe and learns that this place, though it first seems familiar and reminiscent of his own island, is in fact strange and alien and antithetical to home, he despairs. As noted in the previous comment, the hero feels he has no intelligence or mētis left in him to devise a stratagem for a successful homecoming, and his despair is expressed as a feeling of disorientation. He is no longer able to distinguish between orient and occident. To restate in terms of two words used elsewhere in the Odyssey, the hero is experiencing a loss of orientation in his nóos or ‘thinking’, and this loss is presently blocking his nostos, ‘homecoming’. Despite such moments of disorientation for Odysseus, however, his nóos, ‘thinking’ will ultimately reorient him, steering him away from his Iliadic past and toward his ultimate Odyssean future. That is, the hero’s nóos will make it possible for him to achieve a nostos, which is not only his ‘homecoming’ but also the ‘song about a homecoming’ that is the Odyssey.

source

See the anchor comment at O.04.489. Again I note the use of this word adeukḗs in a context referring to an interrupted sequence. The potmos ‘fate’ of Odysseus’ companions is adeukḗs because they have been turned into swine and their journey home has thus been interrupted.

source

In Point 2 of the comment on O.01.001–010, it was noted that the god Hermes, as the ultimate shape-shifter, is described as polutropos ‘turning-into-many-different-selves’ in the Homeric Hymn to Hermes (verses 13, 439). Here at O.10.330, Odysseus is likewise described as polutropos ‘turning-into-many-different-selves’, and the description is happening in a context where the hero is explicitly being linked with the god Hermes. So, Odysseus too is a shape-shifter, like his divine model Hermes. The importance of this quality of Odysseus as polutropos ‘turning-into-many-different-selves’ is highlighted by the use of this epithet in the very first verse of the Odyssey. Only there at O.01.001 and here at O.10.330 is Odysseus described as polutropos ‘turning-into-many-different-selves’.

source

The use of this verb here in the context of ‘grabbing at’ food is relevant to the wording in Pindar Nemean 8.22, with reference to the language of blame.

source

See the anchor comment at O.07.256. The ceremonial washing and anointing here is uninterrupted and therefore ritually effective.

source

|490 ἀλλ’ ἄλλην χρὴ πρῶτον ὁδὸν τελέσαι καὶ ἱκέσθαι |491 εἰς Ἀΐδαο δόμους καὶ ἐπαινῆς Περσεφονείης |492 ψυχῇ χρησομένους Θηβαίου Τειρεσίαο, |493 μάντιος ἀλαοῦ, τοῦ τε φρένες ἔμπεδοί εἰσι· |494 τῷ καὶ τεθνηῶτι νόον πόρε Περσεφόνεια |495 οἴῳ πεπνῦσθαι· τοὶ δὲ σκιαὶ ἀΐσσουσιν.

|490 But first you [= Odysseus] must bring to fulfillment [teleîn] another journey and travel until you enter |491 the palace of Hādēs and of the dreaded Persephone, |492 and there you all will consult [khrē-] the spirit [psūkhē] of Teiresias of Thebes, |493 the blind seer [mantis], whose thinking [phrenes] is grounded [empedoi]: |494 to him, even though he was dead, Persephone gave consciousness [nóos], |495 so as to be the only one there who has the power to think [pepnûsthai]. But the others [in Hādēs] just flit about, like shadows [skiai].

Circe describes for Odysseus what to expect when he sees Teiresias in Hādēs. Exceptionally, the psūkhē ‘spirit’ of the hero, O.10.492, will have consciousness: that is, his phrenes ‘thinking’ will be empedoi ‘grounded’, O.10.493. On phrenes in the sense of ‘thinking’, see the anchor comment at O.01.320, where I note that Homeric diction leaves room for the idea that you can think with your heart. But what is it that confers on the psūkhē ‘spirit’ of Teiresias the exceptional power to think even when he is dead, in Hādēs? The answer is given at O.10.494–495: Persephone, queen of Hādēs, has exceptionally given permission for Teiresias to have the nóos ‘consciousness’, O.10.494, that is needed for ‘thinking’, pepnûsthai, even in Hādēs. Here I translate nóos ‘mind’ as ‘consciousness’, referring to the mystical force that will reintegrate the consciousness of the self with the body after death. It is relevant that the nóos or ‘consciousness’ of the ‘spirit’ or psūkhē of the seer Teiresias is properly activated only after he drinks the blood of two sacrificial sheep that Odysseus slaughters in order to make mental contact, as we will see at O.11.095–098. I offer further analysis in H24H 11§35. But there is a complication that I did not note in that analysis: Circe instructs Odysseus to perform a libation for the dead when he is in Hādēs, O.10.516–520, and he is further instructed to promise in a prayer directed at these dead that he will perform a sacrifice for them if he succeeds in getting back home to Ithaca: there Odysseus will slaughter a barren cow for the dead in general, O.10.522–523, and a black ram for Teiresias in particular, O.10.524–525. When the right time comes in Hādēs, and Odysseus performs his libations for the dead, O11.024–028, he will follow through and make that promise to them, namely, that he will sacrifice in Ithaca a barren cow for the dead in general, O.11.029–030, and a black ram for Teiresias in particular, O.11.032–033. (At H24H 11§35, I leave it unsaid that this black ram to be sacrificed in Ithaca is different from the black ram and black ewe that Odysseus sacrifices in Hādēs: see the comment on O.10.521–537.) As we know from external sources, such as Pausanias 5.13.1-2, a black ram is the preferred sacrificial animal to slaughter for the purpose of making mental contact with a male cult hero (H24H 0§11).

source

The description of Teiresias as a mantis ‘seer’ is relevant to his prophecy about a future for Odysseus that transcends the boundaries of the narrative that frames the Odyssey.

source

For Odysseus to make his transition from the realm of the living to the realm of the dead, he must first sail his ship to the end of the sea, delimited by the cosmic river Ōkeanos, and then he must sail on by somehow crossing this river. The verb that I translate here as ‘cross’ is perainein, O.10.508. Then he must beach his ship on the banks of the Ōkeanos, O.10.511, before he can disembark and then proceed into Hādēs.

source

Circe instructs Odysseus to offer a khoē ‘libation’ to the dead after he enters Hādēs, O.10.518. This libation, to be poured into a shallow bothros ‘pit’ that he is to dig, O.10.517, will consist of three liquids, which will be poured in the following sequence, O.10.519–520: emulsified honey, water, wine.

source

The dead can be visualized as karēna ‘heads’, that is, ‘skulls’, as here, which no longer contain any menos or ‘mental power’. To be compared are kephalai ‘heads’ at I.11.055 and in the variant verse adduced by Zenodotus at I.01.003.

source

Circe’s instructions continue: in the course of offering his libation, in Hādēs, to the dead, Odysseus should also offer them a prayer, promising them that, if he succeeds in getting back home to Ithaca, he will then sacrifice there a barren cow for the dead in general, O.10.522–523, and a black ram for Teiresias in particular, O.10.524–525; then, having thus prayed, he should sacrifice to the dead a black ram and a black ewe together, O.10.526–527. It is understood that the blood of the black ram and the black ewe will flow into the bothros ‘pit’ mentioned at O.10.517—and that the dead will drink from there the blood of these sacrificial animals, O.10.536–537.

source

See the comment on O.10.521.

source

The death of Elpenor will be most relevant to the homecoming of Odysseus, and this relevance will be signaled at O.11.051–083.

source

The encounter of Odysseus with the seer Teiresias in Hādēs is a mystical experience that defines the hero of the Odyssey in a new way: Odysseus now learns that he will have a homecoming that leads to a most startling discovery of his own self as a cult hero in the making.

draft js image error “Teiresias appears to Ulysses during the sacrifice,” (1780–1785). Henry Fuseli (German, 1741–1825). Image via Wikimedia Commons.

source

As Odysseus and his companions navigate toward the entrance to Hādēs, the atmosphere becomes ever darker. They are pushing the limits of the Extreme West, which the sun no longer illuminates. They are entering a zone where the sun can no longer be seen, O.11.015–016. Here the darkness that comes after sunset will be permanent, unlike the sunset that has already happened at O.11.012, which for the rest of the world will be followed by sunrise on the next day. But here, in this part of the world, the next day will never be found. Demarcating this zone, at the limits of the Extreme West, is the world-encircling cosmic river Ōkeanos, O.11.013.

source

Having arrived at the Ōkeanos, Odysseus and his companions beach their ship there and disembark, Ο.11.020, proceeding to the place in Hādēs where Circe had instructed them to make sacrifice to the dead, Ο.11.021–022. To get there, they go along the streams of the Ōkeanos, O.11.021. It is not said explicitly here that they have crossed the Ōkeanos in order to make their entrance into Hādēs, though the crossing is made explicit in the instructions of Circe at O.10.508. See the comment on O.10.508–512. Nor is it said that they will cross the Ōkeanos when they finally make their exit from Hādēs, O.11.636–640. When they do make their exit, Odysseus and his companions are pictured as reembarking on their ship and navigating it in the streams of the Ōkeanos, O.11.639–640, heading back to the sea that will take them back to the island of Circe. Then, at O.12.001–003, when they finally reach the sea again, from where they will navigate back to the island of Circe, this island is situated no longer in the Extreme West but in the Extreme East, O.12.003–004. So, by implication, they will have navigated all the way around the world by way of the Ōkeanos, from the Extreme West all the way to the Extreme East. This circumnavigation ends up at the same place where it started, at the island of Circe, but now this island is situated not in the Extreme West but in the Extreme East. So, the location of Aiaia, this island of Circe, is a coincidence of opposites. The achievement of such a coincidence by way of the Ōkeanos can be imagined as either a looping around the world or, better, a looping under the world: either way, the circular cosmic river Ōkeanos flows from West to East to West to East and so on forever. For more on coincidences of opposites, see the comments at I.01.423–425 and at O.01.022–026, O.10.135.

source

At O.10.516–520, Circe had instructed Odysseus to offer a khoē ‘libation’ to the dead after he enters Hādēs, O.10.518. This libation, to be poured into a shallow bothros ‘pit’ that he had to dig, O.10.517, would consist of three liquids, which would be poured in the following sequence, O.10.519–520: emulsified honey, water, wine. Following the instructions of Circe here at O.11.024–036, Odysseus does as he was told to do. But now we see a further detail: when he digs the shallow bothros ‘pit’, O.11.025, he uses his sword for the digging, O.11.024. Then he goes ahead and pours the khoē ‘libation’ to all the dead, O.11.026, and again the sequence of the three liquids he pours will be the same, O.11.027–028: emulsified honey, water, wine.

source

The dead can be visualized as karēna ‘heads’, that is, ‘skulls’, as here, which no longer contain any menos or ‘mental power’. See the comment on O.10.521.

source

Here at O.11.029–036, Odysseus continues to follow the instructions of Circe as articulated earlier at O.10.521–537: in the course of offering his libation, in Hādēs, to the dead, Odysseus should also offer them a prayer, promising them that, if he succeeds in getting back home to Ithaca, he will then sacrifice there a barren cow for the dead in general, O.11.030–031, and a black ram for Teiresias in particular, O.11.032–033. And then, after having performed this prayer and these promises for all the dead, he sacrifices the two sheep that he and his companions have brought with them from the island of Circe: he cuts their throats, O.11.034–035, and then he lets their blood flow into the shallow bothros ‘pit’ that he has dug, O.11.036. Unlike O.10.526–527, where the sheep are said to be one black ram and one black ewe, those details are omitted here at O.11.034–035. Conversely, the detail at O.11.035–036 about the blood that flows into the bothros ‘pit’ from the cut throats of the sheep had been omitted at O.10.526–527. Likewise omitted at O.10.536–537—though it is implied—is the picturing of the dead in the act of actually drinking from the pit this blood that has flowed there from the cut throats of the sheep. Such drinking cannot happen, as Circe had instructed, until Teiresias arrives at the scene, O.10.536–537. And now that the blood has actually flowed into the pit, the instructions of Circe must be followed: no drinking of blood can be allowed until Teiresias arrives at the scene and drinks first, O.11.049–050. Teiresias finally gets to have his drink of blood only in O.11.095–098. Once he has his drink, Teiresias will make mental contact with Odysseus. See already the comment on O.10.490–495.

source

The very first psūkhē ‘spirit’ of all the dead in Hādēs who will speak to Odysseus in Hādēs is Elpenor, O.11.051–083, who had been left behind, dead and unburied, on the island of Circe. The story of his death was told at O.10.551–560. In the comment on those verses, I already noted that the relevance of this figure to the homecoming of Odysseus is signaled here at O.11.051–083. And there will be a further signal at O.12.014–015.

source

|75 σῆμά τέ μοι χεῦαι πολιῆς ἐπὶ θινὶ θαλάσσης, |76 ἀνδρὸς δυστήνοιο, καὶ ἐσσομένοισι πυθέσθαι· |77 ταῦτά τέ μοι τελέσαι πῆξαί τ’ ἐπὶ τύμβῳ ἐρετμόν, |78 τῷ καὶ ζωὸς ἔρεσσον ἐὼν μετ’ ἐμοῖσ’ ἑτάροισιν.

|75 Heap up a tomb [sēma] for me [= Elpenor] at the shore of the gray sea, |76 wretched man that I am, so that even those who live in the future will learn about it. |77 Bring to fulfillment [teleîn] these things for me, and stick the oar on top of the tomb [tumbos] |78 —the oar that I used when I was rowing with my companions [hetairoi].

These instructions are given to Odysseus by Elpenor himself or, more accurately, by his psūkhē, O.11.051, and the wording makes it explicit that the tomb that is to be made for this dead sailor is a sēma ‘sign, signal; tomb’.

source

|90 ἦλθε δ’ ἐπὶ ψυχὴ Θηβαίου Τειρεσίαο, |91 χρύσεον σκῆπτρον ἔχων, ἐμὲ δ’ ἔγνω καὶ προσέειπε· |92 “διογενὲς Λαερτιάδη, πολυμήχαν’ Ὀδυσσεῦ, |93 τίπτ’ αὖτ’, ὦ δύστηνε, λιπὼν φάος ἠελίοιο |94 ἤλυθες, ὄφρα ἴδῃ νέκυας καὶ ἀτερπέα χῶρον; |95 ἀλλ’ ἀποχάζεο βόθρου, ἄπισχε δὲ φάσγανον ὀξύ, |96 αἵματος ὄφρα πίω καί τοι νημερτέα εἴπω.” |97 ὣς φάτ’, ἐγὼ δ’ ἀναχασσάμενος ξίφος ἀργυρόηλον |98 κουλεῷ ἐγκατέπηξ’. ὁ δ’ ἐπεὶ πίεν αἷμα κελαινόν, |99 καὶ τότε δή μ’ ἐπέεσσι προσηύδα μάντις ἀμύμων· |100 “νόστον δίζηαι μελιηδέα, φαίδιμ’ Ὀδυσσεῦ· |101 τὸν δέ τοι ἀργαλέον θήσει θεός. οὐ γὰρ ὀΐω |102 λήσειν ἐννοσίγαιον, ὅ τοι κότον ἔνθετο θυμῷ, |103 χωόμενος ὅτι οἱ υἱὸν φίλον ἐξαλάωσας. |104 ἀλλ’ ἔτι μέν κε καὶ ὧς, κακά περ πάσχοντες, ἵκοισθε, |105 αἴ κ’ ἐθέλῃς σὸν θυμὸν ἐρυκακέειν καὶ ἑταίρων, |106 ὁππότε κεν πρῶτον πελάσῃς εὐεργέα νῆα |107 Θρινακίῃ νήσῳ, προφυγὼν ἰοειδέα πόντον, |108 βοσκομένας δ’ εὕρητε βόας καὶ ἴφια μῆλα |109 Ἠελίου, ὃς πάντ’ ἐφορᾷ καὶ πάντ’ ἐπακούει. |110 τὰς εἰ μέν κ’ ἀσινέας ἐάᾳς νόστου τε μέδηαι, |111 καί κεν ἔτ’ εἰς Ἰθάκην, κακά περ πάσχοντες, ἵκοισθε· |112 εἰ δέ κε σίνηαι, τότε τοι τεκμαίρομ’ ὄλεθρον |113 νηΐ τε καὶ ἑτάροισ’. αὐτὸς δ’ εἴ πέρ κεν ἀλύξῃς, |114 ὀψὲ κακῶς νεῖαι, ὀλέσας ἄπο πάντας ἑταίρους, |115 νηὸς ἐπ’ ἀλλοτρίης· δήεις δ’ ἐν πήματα οἴκῳ, |116 ἄνδρας ὑπερφιάλους, οἵ τοι βίοτον κατέδουσι |117 μνώμενοι ἀντιθέην ἄλοχον καὶ ἕδνα διδόντες. |118 ἀλλ’ ἦ τοι κείνων γε βίας ἀποτείσεαι ἐλθών· |119 αὐτὰρ ἐπὴν μνηστῆρας ἐνὶ μεγάροισι τεοῖσι |120 κτείνῃς ἠὲ δόλῳ ἢ ἀμφαδὸν ὀξέϊ χαλκῷ, |121 ἔρχεσθαι δὴ ἔπειτα, λαβὼν εὐῆρες ἐρετμόν, |122 εἰς ὅ κε τοὺς ἀφίκηαι, οἳ οὐκ ἴσασι θάλασσαν |123 ἀνέρες οὐδέ θ’ ἅλεσσι μεμιγμένον εἶδαρ ἔδουσιν· |124 οὐδ’ ἄρα τοὶ ἴσασι νέας φοινικοπαρῄους, |125 οὐδ’ εὐήρε’ ἐρετμά, τά τε πτερὰ νηυσὶ πέλονται. |126 σῆμα δέ τοι ἐρέω μάλ’ ἀριφραδές, οὐδέ σε λήσει· |127 ὁππότε κεν δή τοι ξυμβλήμενος ἄλλος ὁδίτης |128 φήῃ ἀθηρηλοιγὸν ἔχειν ἀνὰ φαιδίμῳ ὤμῳ, |129 καὶ τότε δὴ γαίῃ πήξας εὐῆρες ἐρετμόν, |130 ἕρξας ἱερὰ καλὰ Ποσειδάωνι ἄνακτι, |131 ἀρνειὸν ταῦρόν τε συῶν τ’ ἐπιβήτορα κάπρον, |132 οἴκαδ’ ἀποστείχειν ἕρδειν θ’ ἱερὰς ἑκατόμβας |133 ἀθανάτοισι θεοῖσι, τοὶ οὐρανὸν εὐρὺν ἔχουσι, |134 πᾶσι μάλ’ ἑξείης. θάνατος δέ τοι ἐξ ἁλὸς αὐτῷ |135 ἀβληχρὸς μάλα τοῖος ἐλεύσεται, ὅς κέ σε πέφνῃ |136 γήρᾳ ὕπο λιπαρῷ ἀρημένον· ἀμφὶ δὲ λαοὶ |137 ὄλβιοι ἔσσονται. τὰ δέ τοι νημερτέα εἴρω.”

|90 Then came also the spirit [psūkhē] of Theban Teiresias, |91 with a golden scepter in his hand. He recognized [gignōskein] me and said, |92 “Odysseus, you who are descended from the gods, noble son of Laertes, |93 why, wretched man, have you left the light of day |94 and come down to see the dead in this place without any delights? |95 Stand back from the trench and draw back your sharp sword |96 so that I may drink of the blood and tell you unmistakably true things.” |97 So he spoke, and I [= Odysseus] drew back, and sheathed my silver-studded sword, |98 putting it back into the scabbard, and then he [= Teiresias], after he had drunk the black blood, |99 began to address me with his words, faultless seer [mantis] that he was: |100 “It’s your homecoming [nostos] that you seek, a homecoming sweet as honey, O radiant Odysseus. |101 But the god will make this painful for you. I say that because I do not think |102 that the earth-shaking god [= Poseidon] will not take notice, who has lodged in his heart [thūmos] an anger [kotos] against you, |103 being angry that you blinded his dear son [= Polyphemus]. |104 Still, even so, after enduring many bad experiences, you all may get home |105 if you are willing to restrain your own heart [thūmos] and the heart of your companions [hetairoi] |106 when you pilot your well-built ship to |107 the island of Thrinacia, seeking refuge from the violet-colored sea, |108 and when you find the grazing cattle and the sturdy sheep |109 that belong to the god of the sun, Hēlios, who sees everything and hears everything. |110 If you leave these herds unharmed and think only about homecoming [nostos], |111 then you could still make it to Ithaca, arriving there after having endured many bad experiences. |112 But if you harm the herds, then I forewarn you of destruction |113 both for your ship and for your companions [hetairoi], and, even if you may yourself escape, |114 you will return [neesthai] in a bad way, losing all your companions [hetairoi], |115 in someone else’s ship, not your own, and you will find painful things happening in your house, |116 I mean, you will find high-handed men there who are devouring your livelihood |117 while they are courting your godlike wife and offering wedding-presents to her. |118 But you will avenge the outrages committed by those men when you get home. |119 But after you kill the suitors in your own house, |120 killing them either by trickery or openly, by way of sharp bronze, |121 you must go on a journey then, taking with you a well-made oar, |122 until you come to a place where men do not know what the sea is |123 and do not even eat any food that is mixed with sea salt, |124 nor do they know anything about ships, which are painted purple on each side, |125 and well-made oars that are like wings for ships. |126 And I will tell you a sign [sēma], a very clear one, which will not get lost in your thinking. |127 Whenever someone on the road encounters you |128 and says that it must be a winnowing shovel that you have on your radiant shoulder, |129 at that point you must stick into the ground the well-made oar |130 and sacrifice beautiful sacrifices to lord Poseidon: |131 a ram, a bull, and a boar that mounts sows. |132 And then go home and offer sacred hecatombs |133 to the immortal gods who possess the vast expanses of the skies. |134 Sacrifice to them in proper order, one after the other. As for yourself, death shall come to you from the sea, |135 a gentle death, that is how it will come, and this death will kill you |136 as you lose your strength in a prosperous old age. And the people all around [your corpse] |137 will be blessed [olbioi]. All the things I say are unmistakably true.”

The very first word uttered by Teiresias is nostos ‘homecoming, song of homecoming’, O.11.100. The use of this word here is connected with the fact that, earlier in the narrative, the seer Teiresias is described as exceptionally possessing consciousness even in Hādēs, and the word used for the idea of consciousness is nóos. The revelations of Teiresias are activated by his nóos ‘mind’, in the specific sense of ‘consciousness’. See the comment on O.10.490–495, with reference to the permission granted by Persephone for Teiresias to have the nóos ‘consciousness’, O.10.494, that is needed for ‘thinking’, pepnûsthai, even in Hādēs. It is relevant that the nóos or ‘consciousness’ of the ‘spirit’ or psūkhē of the seer Teiresias is properly activated only after he drinks the blood of the two sacrificial sheep that Odysseus slaughters in order to make mental contact with this seer, as we see at O.11.095–098. What Teiresias will then reveal, by way of his nóos, will be a heroic definition for Odysseus, whose goal is to achieve a nostos ‘homecoming, song of homecoming’, as signaled at O.11.100. See further the comment on O.11.100. For the centrality of nóos ‘mind’ and nostos ‘homecoming’ in the overall narrative of the Odyssey, see especially the comments on O.01.003 and O.01.005.

source

This detail about a skēptron ‘scepter’ held by Teiresias is relevant not so much to him but to Odysseus, who is seeking to recover his kingship in Ithaca by way of a homecoming that only Teiresias can help him attain. On skēptron ‘scepter’ as a signal of kingship, see the comment on I.01.015.

source

The prophetic powers of Teiresias make it possible for him to see beyond the plot of the narrative that frames the Odyssey as we know it. See the comment on O.10.493.

source

This stretch of the prophecy made by Teiresias, O.11.100–118, covers the plot of the Odyssey as we know it. After this stretch, however, the prophecy will extend beyond such a plot.

source

This stretch of the prophecy made by Teiresias, O.119–137, will extend beyond the plot or narrative frame of the Odyssey as we know it. (What follows is an epitome of H24H 11§§33, 41–44.) In an essay entitled “Sēma and Noēsis: The Hero’s Tomb and the ‘Reading’ of Symbols in Homer and Hesiod” (GMP 202–222), I analyzed at some length the mystical prophecy spoken by the psūkhē ‘spirit’ of the mantis ‘seer’ Teiresias at O.11.119–137 about an odyssey beyond the Odyssey. As I argued in that essay, the verses of this prophecy point to the future death of Odysseus and to the mystical vision of his own tomb, where he will be worshipped as a cult hero. My argument can be divided into four parts:

Part 1. Teiresias is predicting that Odysseus will meet his death in a mystical moment where he experiences a coincidence of opposites. And what is this mystical moment? It is a point where the sea and the negation of the sea coincide. That is, Odysseus goes as far away as possible from the sea, only to experience death from the sea: ‘death shall come to you from the sea, |135 a gentle death’, O.11.134-135. See the comment below on these lines. At this same point, where the sea and the negation of the sea coincide, the oar that he carries on his shoulder, which is an instrument linked exclusively with the sea, will be mistaken for a winnowing shovel, which is an instrument linked exclusively with the earth, that is, with the cultivation of the land: ‘Whenever someone on the road encounters you |128 and says that it must be a winnowing shovel that you have on your radiant shoulder’, O.11.127-128. And here is another coincidence of opposites: Odysseus at this point must sacrifice to Poseidon, god of the sea, O.11.130-131, even though this point is as far away from the sea as possible.

Part 2. And now we come to a mystical vision: in sacrificing to Poseidon, Odysseus must mark the place of sacrifice by sticking into the ground the oar that he was carrying on his shoulder: ‘at that point you must stick into the ground the well-made oar’, O.11.129. As I will now argue, what we are seeing here is a mystical vision of the tomb of Odysseus himself. The key to my argument is what the psūkhē of Teiresias says in introducing his prophecy: ‘And I [= Teiresias] will tell you [= Odysseus] a sign [sēma], a very clear one, which will not get lost in your thinking’, O.11.126. The wording here matches exactly the wording of Nestor addressed to Antilokhos in the Iliad: ‘And I [= Nestor] will tell you [= Antilokhos] a sign [sēma], a very clear one, which will not get lost in your thinking’, I.23.326. In that case, it can be argued that the sēma of Nestor for Antilokhos is a ‘sign’ as marked by the ‘tomb’ of a cult hero who has not yet been identified as Patroklos. See the comment on I.23.326–343. In the Odyssey as well, I argue, the sēma of Teiresias for Odysseus is a ‘sign’ as marked by the ‘tomb’ of a cult hero who has not yet been identified as Odysseus himself.

Part 3. There is archaeological evidence for the existence of a hero cult of Odysseus on the island of Ithaca, dating back to an early period when the Odyssey as we know it was still taking shape (H24H 11§43). And, in the version of the story as we see it in the Odyssey, Odysseus dies finally in Ithaca, which figures here as his homeland, O.11.132–137. In terms of this version of the story, then, Ithaca is recognized in the Odyssey as a prime location for the hero cult of Odysseus.

Part 4. This is not to say, however, that Ithaca was the only place where Odysseus was worshipped as a cult hero. From the testimony of Pausanias 8.44.4, for example, we see traces of a hero cult of Odysseus in landlocked Arcadia, which is located in the Peloponnesus and which is as far away from the sea as you can possibly be in the Peloponnesus. Here is the relevant testimony of Pausanias 8.44.4:

ἔστι δὲ ἄνοδος ἐξ Ἀσέας ἐς τὸ ὄρος τὸ Βόρειον καλούμενον, καὶ ἐπὶ τῇ ἄκρᾳ τοῦ ὄρους σημεῖά ἐστιν ἱεροῦ· ποιῆσαι δὲ τὸ ἱερὸν Ἀθηνᾷ τε Σωτείρᾳ καὶ Ποσειδῶνι Ὀδυσσέα ἐλέγετο ἀνακομισθέντα ἐξ Ἰλίου.

There is a path leading uphill from Asea [in Arcadia] to the mountain called the North Mountain [Boreion], and on top of that mountain there are traces of a sacred space; it is said that Odysseus had made this sacred space in honor of Athena the Savior [sōteira] and in honor of Poseidon, in return for his having arrived back home safely from Ilion [= Troy].

source

The description of ships here at O.11.124 and also at O.23.271 as phoinikoparēioi ‘having cheeks of purple’ is to be contrasted with the description miltoparēioi ‘having cheeks of red’ at O.09.125 as also at I.02.637. See the comment on O.09.125.

source

In this context, where Teiresias is foretelling the death of Odysseus, the word olbioi (plural) means ‘blessed’ or ‘blissful’, applying to ordinary humans who come into mental and even physical proximity to cult heroes by way of worshipping them.

source

Not only the psūkhē ‘spirit’ of Teiresias but other psūkhai as well can now make mental contact with Odysseus—so long as their consciousness is activated by drinking sacrificial blood: such is the case with Antikleia, mother of Odysseus, O.11.146–153.

source

This word thesphaton is ordinarily linked with the utterance of a mantis ‘seer’.

source

Whoever succeeds in marrying Penelope would surely qualify as ‘the best of the Achaeans’. But the events of the Odyssey will prove that only Odysseus is qualified, and, since he has no rivals for that title, he is qualified to stay married to Penelope.

source

The application of this word in such moments of emotional intensity is not just a metaphor: it is also a metonym, connecting with the dynamics of the cosmos. See the comment at O.19.204–212.

source

On this epithet, see the anchor comment at I.03.374.

source

The comparison of a psūkhē ‘spirit’ to a dream is relevant to questions about the connotations of this word with reference to unconsciousness.

source

I defer here to the definitive analysis of Frame 2009:227-329.

source

As we saw at I.02.658, the name of Hēraklēs is linked with the epic theme of biē in the sense of martial ‘force, violence, strength’; even the name of Hēraklēs can be formulated periphrastically as ‘the force of Hēraklēs’. And now we see the same pattern of naming applied to a hero named Iphiklēs. The application is all the more apt here, since the element īs ‘force, violence, strength’ in the name of Iphiklēs is a synonym of biē ‘force, violence, strength’.

source

See the comment on O.11.290.

source

Kastōr and Poludeukēs, the Divine Twins, are also mentioned at I.03.237. See the comment there.

source

At O.11.330, Odysseus breaks off his performance, and the break continues till O.11.385, when the performance recommences. In between, there is a series of polite exchanges between Odysseus as performer and Alkinoos as the primary representative of the audience. The question is, has the duration of the performance become overlong? The answer is: no. On behalf of the audience, Alkinoos insists that Odysseus continue, and the master performer obliges.

source

It is claimed that the deeds of Clytemnestra have disgraced not only herself but all women, and that women will be blamed for her deeds by way of blame poetry. On the poetics of blame, which is antithetical to praise, see the comments on I.02.216 and on I.03.242.

source

The scene of this encounter in Hādēs between Odysseus and the psūkhē ‘spirit’ of Achilles exemplifies the general tendency in Homeric poetry to shade over any indications of immortalization after death.

source

The nekroi ‘dead’ who are in Hādēs, O.11.475, have no consciousness: they are aphradees ‘non-conscious’—precisely because they are in Hādēs.

source

Odysseus pays Achilles the compliment of addressing him here as phertatos 'the best'.

source

Achilles says that he would give up the status of a king among the dead if he could only be alive again—even if he became an abject underling in life. It is as if Achilles were now ready to trade places with Odysseus.

source

It is implied here that Ajax, not Odysseus, is really the second-best of the Achaeans.

source

Odysseus blames the misfortunes of Ajax on the Will of Zeus, saying that the god is aitios ‘responsible’. See the comments on I.01.153, I.11.078–079, I.19.086–088, O.01.032–034.

source

Minos presides here as judge in Hādēs, and this positioning of Minos was imitated by Hippias of Elis, as we read in Plato’s Hippias Minor.

source

This form may be compared with krataiḗ as analyzed in the comment on I.05.083. Its meaning can be explained as ‘having a power that has violence’. See also the comment on O.12.124.

source

On the use of bíē Hēraklēeíē ‘force of Hēraklēs’ to name Hēraklēs, see the comment on I.02.658.

source

At O.11.602–604, it is said that Hēraklēs, described here as autos ‘himself’, O.11.602, is in Olympus, together with the immortal gods and married to Hēbē, so that the vision of Hēraklēs that is seen in Hādēs is just that, an eidōlon ‘vision’, at O.11.602. At I.01.004, we have seen that autoi ‘selves’ refers to dead bodies of heroes, to be contrasted with the word psūkhē ‘spirit’, which refers to either (A) the life-force of heroes when they are alive or (B) the disembodied conveyor of identity when they are dead—as in the case of the psūkhai ‘spirits at I.01.003. See the comment on I.01.003–005. At O.11.602–604, by contrast, the autos ‘self’ that is Hēraklēs is no longer dead but regenerated and thus immortalized. We may infer, then, that the psūkhē ‘spirit’ of Hēraklēs as his life-force has been reunited with his body, with his self, and that is why his psūkhē in Hādēs must be seen as a disembodied conveyor of his identity—as a mere eidōlon ‘vision’.

source

The word that is used here for what we translate as the Labors of Hēraklēs is aethlos (āthlos) ‘ordeal’, O.11.622 and O.11.624. See the comment on I.03.125–128.

source

Hereas of Megara (FGH 487 F 4, via Plutarch Theseus 20.1-2) argued that Peisistratos interpolated this verse about Theseus. As I argue, such narratives about textually added verses reflect the mechanism of expansion (vs. compression) in oral poetics.

source

After departing from Hādēs, Odysseus and his companions get back into their ship and navigate toward the sea by way of the Ōkeanos, O.11.639.

source

(What follows is epitomized from H24H 10§§31, 36–38, 42.)

Part 1. After his sojourn in Hādēs, which is narrated in Odyssey 11, here at the beginning of Odyssey 12 Odysseus finally emerges from that realm of darkness and death. As Odysseus now returns from Hādēs, crossing again the circular cosmic stream of Ōkeanos at O.12.001–002 and coming back to his point of departure, that is, to the island of the goddess Circe at O.12.003, we find that this island is no longer in the Far West: instead, it is now in the Far East, where Hēlios the god of the sun has his ‘sunrises’, an(a)tolai, O.12.004, and where Ēōs the goddess of the dawn has her own palace, featuring a special space for her ‘choral singing-and-dancing’, khoroi, O.12.003–004. Before the hero’s descent into the realm of darkness and death, we saw the Ōkeanos as the absolute marker of the Far West; after his ascent into the realm of light and life, we see it as the absolute marker of the Far East (GM 237). In returning to the island of Circe by crossing the circular cosmic river Ōkeanos for the second time, the hero has come full circle, experiencing sunrise after having experienced sunset. Even the name of Circe may be relevant, since the form Kirkē may be a “speaking name” (nomen loquens), cognate with the form kirkos, a variant of the noun krikos, meaning ‘circle, ring’ (DELG under κρίκος). As we will now see, this experience of coming full circle is a mental experience—or, to put it another way, it is a psychic experience.

Part 2. The return of Odysseus to light and life replicates the mystical journey of the sun as it travels every night from the Far West to the Far East, and thus the hero’s return becomes a substitute for the mystical journey of a soul. This way, the nostos ‘return’ of Odysseus, as an epic narrative, becomes interwoven with a mystical subnarrative. While the epic narrative tells about the hero’s return to Ithaca after all the fighting at Troy and all the travels at sea, the mystical subnarrative tells about the soul’s return from darkness and death to light and life.

Part 3. In some poetic traditions, the mystical subnarrative of the hero’s nostos can even be foregrounded, as in these verses of Theognis (1123–1128):

|1123 μή με κακῶν μίμνησκε· πέπονθά τοι οἷά τ’ Ὀδυσσεύς, |1124 ὅστ’ Ἀίδεω μέγα δῶμ’ ἤλυθεν ἐξαναδύς, |1125 ὃς δὴ καὶ μνηστῆρας ἀνείλατο νηλέι θυμῷ, |1126 Πηνελόπης εὔφρων κουριδίης ἀλόχου, |1127 ἥ μιν δήθ’ ὑπέμεινε φίλῳ παρὰ παιδὶ μένουσα, |1128 ὄφρα τε γῆς ἐπέβη δείλ’ ἁλίους τε μυχούς.

|1123 Do not remind me of my misfortunes! The kinds of things that happened to Odysseus have happened to me too. |1124 He came back, emerging from the great palace of Hādēs, |1125 and then killed the suitors with a pitiless heart [thūmos], |1126 while thinking good thoughts about his duly wedded wife Penelope, |1127 who all along waited for him and stood by their dear son |1128 while he [= Odysseus] was experiencing dangers on land and in the gaping chasms of the sea.

Part 4. The return of Odysseus from Hādēs leads to a rebuilding of his heroic identity. Earlier in the Odyssey, the status of Odysseus as a hero of epic had already been reduced to nothing. As we saw in the tale of his encounter with the Cyclops, the return of Odysseus from the monster’s cave deprives him of his past identity at Troy. His epic fame can no longer depend on his power of mētis, ‘craft’, which had led to the invention of the Wooden Horse, which in turn had led to the destruction of Troy. After his encounter with the Cyclops, Odysseus must achieve a new epic identity as the hero of his own epic about homecoming, about his own nostos, but, for the moment, his confidence in his power to bring about this nostos is reduced to nothing. He has lost his confidence in the power of his own mētis, ‘craftiness’, to devise a stratagem for achieving a nostos. When he reaches the island of Circe and learns that this place, though it first seems familiar and reminiscent of his own island, is in fact strange and alien and antithetical to home, he despairs, as we saw at O.10.189-202.

Part 5. Despite such moments of disorientation for Odysseus, his nóos, ‘thinking’, will ultimately reorient him, steering him away from his Iliadic past and toward his ultimate Odyssean future. That is, the hero’s nóos will make it possible for him to achieve a nostos, which is not only his ‘homecoming’ but also the ‘song about a homecoming’ that is the Odyssey. For this song to succeed, Odysseus must keep adapting his identity by making his nóos fit the nóos of the many different characters he encounters in the course of his nostos in progress. In order to adapt, he must master many different forms of discourse. The epithet for this ability to adapt, as we will see, is poluainos, ‘having many different kinds of coded words’: that is how Odysseus is described by the Sirens when he sails past their island, O.12.184).

source

The storytelling of Odysseus is about to confront three of its most mystical moments here: the Song of the Sirens, Scylla and Charybdis, the Cattle of the Sun. The myths that shape these moments will become for Odysseus a set of powerful metaphors that drive his own odyssey.

draft js image error “Ulysses and the Sirens” (ca. 1909). Herbert James Draper (English, 1863–1920). Image via Wikimedia Commons.

source

Just as the Greek goddess Ēōs is a dancer, so too is the Vedic goddess Uṣas: her epithet sūnr̥tāvatī means ‘good dancer’.

source

|14 τύμβον χεύαντες καὶ ἐπὶ στήλην ἐρύσαντες |15 πήξαμεν ἀκροτάτῳ τύμβῳ εὐῆρες ἐρετμόν.

|14 We heaped up a tomb [tumbos] for him, and then, erecting as a column on top, |15 we stuck his well-made oar into the very top of the tomb [tumbos].

The story of Elpenor’s death was told at O.10.551–560. In the comment on those verses, I already noted that the relevance of this figure to the homecoming of Odysseus is signaled at O.11.051–083, and, further, here at O.12.014–015. Here we see Odysseus and his men making for Elpenor a tomb by heaping a tumulus of earth over the seafarer’s corpse and then, instead of erecting a stēlē or vertical ‘column’ on top, they stick his oar into the heap of earth. (What follows is epitomized from H24H§§47–50.)

Part 1. The ritual procedure for making the tomb of Elpenor follows the instructions given to Odysseus during his sojourn in Hādēs, O.11.051-080; these instructions were given by Elpenor himself or, more accurately, by his psūkhē ‘spirit’, O.11.051, and the wording makes it explicit that the tomb to be made is a sēma, O.11.075.

Part 2. In the light of this description, we can see that the ritual act of Odysseus when he sticks his own well-made oar into the ground at O.11.129 and sacrifices to Poseidon at O.11.130-131 points to the making of his own sēma or ‘tomb’, corresponding to the sēma or ‘sign’ given to him by Teiresias at O.11.126.

Part 3. There are two meanings to be found in this ritual act of Odysseus, since he sticks his oar into the ground at the precise moment when the oar is no longer recognized as an oar, O.11.129. In this coincidence of opposites, the oar is now a winnowing shovel, O.11.128—an agricultural implement that is used for separating the grain from the chaff after the harvesting of wheat. You toss the harvested wheat up in the air, and even the slightest breeze will blow the chaff further to the side while the grain falls more or less straight down into a heap in front of you. The winnowing shovel looks exactly like an oar, but it is not an oar for agriculturists. Conversely, the oar looks exactly like the winnowing shovel, but it is not a winnowing shovel for seafarers. For Odysseus, however, this implement could be both an oar and a winnowing shovel, since he could see that the same sēma or ‘sign’ has two distinct meanings in two distinct places: what is an oar for the seafarers is a winnowing shovel for the inlanders. And, in order to recognize that one sēma or ‘sign’ could have two meanings, Odysseus must travel, as we see from the key wording he learned from the instructions of Teiresias. Odysseus himself is represented as the user of this key wording when he retells to Penelope a retrospective story of his travels, O.23.266–268. And, as we saw at O.01.003, the travels of Odysseus throughout ‘the many cities of mortals’ were the key to his achieving his special kind of heroic consciousness, or nóos.

Part 4. Just as the implement carried by Odysseus is one sign with two meanings, so also the picture of this implement that we see stuck into the ground is one sign with two meanings. We have already noted the first of these meanings, namely, that the sēma or ‘sign’ given by Teiresias to Odysseus at O.11.126 is in fact the tomb of Odysseus, imagined as a heap of earth with an oar stuck into it on top, just as the tomb of the seafarer Elpenor is a heap of earth with his own oar stuck into it on top, as we just saw at O.12.14-15 and at O.11.075–078 respectively; in fact, as we saw O.11.075, this heap of earth is actually called the sēma of Elpenor, and the word here clearly means ‘tomb’.

Part 5. Accordingly, I paraphrase the first of the two meanings as a headline, “the seafarer is dead.” As for the second of the two meanings, I propose to paraphrase it as another headline, “the harvest is complete.” Here is why: the act of sticking the shaft of a winnowing shovel, with the blade pointing upward, into a heap of harvested wheat after having winnowed away the chaff from the grain is a ritual gesture indicating that the winnower’s work is complete (as we see from the wording of Theocritus 7.155-156). And the act of sticking the shaft of an oar into the ground, again with the blade facing upward, is a ritual gesture indicating that the oarsman’s work is likewise complete—as in the case of Odysseus’ dead comrade Elpenor, whose tomb is to be a heap of earth with the shaft of his oar stuck into the top, as we see at O.11.075–078 and here at O.12.014–015. So also with Odysseus: he too will never again have to sail the seas.

source

|21 σχέτλιοι, οἳ ζώοντες ὑπήλθετε δῶμ’ Ἀΐδαο, |22 δισθανέες, ὅτε τ’ ἄλλοι ἅπαξ θνῄσκουσ’ ἄνθρωποι.

|21 Wretched men! You went down to the House of Hādēs while you were still alive. |22 You are dis-thanees [= you experience death twice], whereas other mortals die only once.

Circe understands the mystical experience that Odysseus and his companions have undergone by entering Hādēs in the Far West and then returning from there in the Far East, just as the sun mystically travels from west to east during the night. That is why Circe, after Odysseus and his men arrive back on her island, addresses the whole group as dis-thanees, that is, ‘those who experience death twice’. (What follows is epitomized from H24H 11§61.) So, Odysseus together with his companions had died metaphorically when he went to Hādēs in Odyssey 11 and then he had returned to light and life in Odyssey 12. But Odysseus will die for real in a future that is beyond the limits of the story told in the Odyssey as we have it: just as the seer Teiresias had predicted it when he gave to Odysseus a sēma or ‘sign’ at O.11.126, Odysseus will die after he experiences another coincidence of opposites—while carrying the oar that becomes a winnowing shovel.

source

Here the thuella ‘gust of wind’ is linked with fire, and this link evokes a visualization of fire caused by the thunderbolt of Zeus.

source

οἴη δὴ κείνῃ γε παρέπλω ποντοπόρος νηῦς | Ἀργὼ πᾶσι μέλουσα, παρ’ Αἰήταο πλέουσα

The only seafaring ship that has ever yet sailed past that [rock] was | the Argo, which-is-on-the-minds-of [μέλουσα] all [πᾶσι], and this was when it sailed away from Aietes.

(What follows is epitomized from Nagy 2016.02.11.) Homeric poetry is here telling a story by channeling Odysseus in the act of telling his own story, and the act of universalizing is immediately expressed. It happens at O.12.070 here: the wording says right away that the ship Argo, ‘which-is-on-the-minds-of’ (μέλουσα) humans, is an all-important subject, since it is on the minds of ‘all’ (πᾶσι) humans in the universe. The sailors of the good ship Argo faced the challenge of sailing past a most dangerous rock in the treacherous seas, and now Odysseus, admirer of the Argonauts, is faced with the same challenge in his own story. The verb melein ‘be on one’s mind’ is used here in the sense of referring to a song that is on the minds of all who hear it or want to hear it. See the comment on O.09.019–020.

source

The ship Argo is πᾶσι μέλουσα 'on-the-minds of all humans', because Homer himself has these things on his mind when he mentions them. This universalizing of the Argo, from the mind of the poet to the minds of all humans, makes sense only because this poetry assumes its own universal appeal as a given.

The verb μέλουσα comes from the infinitive μέλειν, which I translate with the wording 'to-be-on-the-mind-of'. The subject of this verb μέλειν is whatever is on the mind of someone. In everyday contexts, what is on the mind of someone is incidental: someone happens to be thinking about something, and so that something is on the mind of that someone. In Homeric contexts, however, whatever is on someone's mind is special and worthy of being recorded in poetry. This worthy something, then, as signaled by μέλειν, is more than just an incidental thought: it is a caring thought, a concerned thought, even a worried thought. A striking example comes at Iliad 6.441, when, after Andromache says to Hector that she is thinking thoughts about the uncertain future that awaits her and their child, Hector responds that 'all these things are-on-my-mind [melei] as well' (ἦ καὶ ἐμοὶ τάδε πάντα μέλει).

source

This name Krataiḯs is parallel to the epithet krataiḯs at O.11.597, the meaning of which can be explained as ‘having a power that has violence’. See the comment on I.05.083.

source

The names for these two daughters of Hēlios the god of sunlight, Phaéthousa and Lampetíē, both refer to the radiance of the sun. These names are parallel to the names Phaéthōn and Lámpos as solar horses that draw the chariot of Ēōs the goddess of the dawn. See also the comment at O.23.246. These four names and the myths linked with them reflect mythological traditions that can be reconstructed by way of Indo-European linguistics. Of special interest is the morphology of Lampetíē.

source

Whereas huperíōn ‘the one who travels up above’ can function as an epithet of Hēlios the god of the sun, it can also function as the name of the father of Hēlios.

source

The translations ‘of many fables’ or more simply ‘fabled’ reflect the specialized meaning of ainos as ‘fable’. In addressing Odysseus this way, the Sirens are recognizing the hero’s fame as a master of ainos, which is a form of speech that can more generally be described as a coded message (on which see the comment on I.09.524–599). So, Odysseus is recognized as ‘able to speak about many things in code’. Such coded speech is by nature ‘riddling’, as we see from the meaning of ainigma ‘enigma, riddle’, which is a derivative of ainos. In order to survive, Odysseus must master many different forms of discourse, many different kinds of ainos. That is why he is addressed as poluainos ‘having many different kinds of ainos’ by the Sirens here when he sails past their island, O.12.184. (What follows is epitomized from H24H 10§43.) Even the transparent meaning of Polyphemus, Poluphēmos, which is the name of the Cyclops blinded by Odysseus, foretells the hero’s mastery of the ainos. As an adjective, poluphēmos means ‘having many different kinds of things said’, derived from the noun phēmē, ‘thing said’, as at O.20.100 and at O.20.105. See the comment at O.20.098–121, [HR]3§23. This adjective poluphēmos ‘having many different kinds of things said’ is applied as an epithet to the singer Phēmios, O.22.376, portrayed as singing songs that have many different meanings: see the comments at O.01.342 and O.02.035 (see also BA 17). In the case of Polyphemus, the very meaning of his name, which conveys the opposite of the meaning conveyed by the false name of Odysseus, Outis, ‘no one’, foretells the verbal mastery of the hero who blinded the monster.

source

|184 δεῦρ’ ἄγ’ ἰών, πολύαιν’ Ὀδυσεῦ, μέγα κῦδος Ἀχαιῶν, |185 νῆα κατάστησον, ἵνα νωϊτέρην ὄπ’ ἀκούσῃς. |186 οὐ γάρ πώ τις τῇδε παρήλασε νηῒ μελαίνῃ, |187 πρίν γ’ ἡμέων μελίγηρυν ἀπὸ στομάτων ὄπ’ ἀκοῦσαι, |188 ἀλλ’ ὅ γε τερψάμενος νεῖται καὶ πλείονα εἰδώς. |189 ἴδμεν γάρ τοι πάνθ’, ὅσ’ ἐνὶ Τροίῃ εὐρείῃ |190 Ἀργεῖοι Τρῶές τε θεῶν ἰότητι μόγησαν, |191 ἴδμεν δ’ ὅσσα γένηται ἐπὶ χθονὶ πουλυβοτείρῃ.

|184 Come here, Odysseus, you of many riddling words [ainoi], you great glory to the Achaean name, |185 stop your ship so that you may hear our two voices. |186 No man has ever yet sailed past us with his dark ship |187 without staying to hear the sweet sound of the voices that come from our mouths, |188 and he who listens will not only experience great pleasure before homecoming [néesthai] but will also be far more knowledgeable than before, |189 for we know everything that happened at Troy, that expansive place, |190 —all the sufferings caused by the gods for the Argives [= Achaeans] and Trojans |191 and we know everything on earth, that nurturer of so many mortals—everything that happens.

Part 1. The two Sirens—there are only two of them in the Odyssey—declare here that they know everything in general—but they also declare that they know everything about the Trojan War in particular. By knowing everything, they are like the Muses. The repeated word idmen ‘we know’ at O.10.189/191 is comparable to what the Muses say to the Narrator in Hesiod Theogony 27/28, idmen ‘we know’. Also comparable is what the Narrator says to the Muses at I.02.485: iste te panta ‘you know everything’. By knowing everything about the Trojan War, the Sirens are like the Muses of the Iliad, as at I.02.485. It may be said that the Sirens are the false Muses of the Iliad.

Part 2. The Song of the Sirens is relevant to I.09.413, where Achilles says he will have to choose between a nostos, which is a safe ‘homecoming’, and the kleos or ‘glory’ of the poetry that will be his if he dies young at Troy. See the comment on I.09.410–416. Achilles will have to forfeit nostos in order to achieve his kleos or ‘glory’ as the central hero of the Iliad. By contrast, Odysseus must have both kleos ‘glory’ and nostos ‘homecoming’ in order to merit his own heroic status in the Odyssey (BA 36-40). For him, the nostos is not only a ‘homecoming’ but also a ‘song about a homecoming’, and that song is the Odyssey. It is the kleos or ‘glory’ of that song that will be his—if his quest for a homecoming is to succeed.

Part 3. (What follows is epitomized from H24H 9§14.) The narrative of the kleos or ‘glory’ of song that Odysseus earns in the Odyssey cannot be the Iliad, which means ‘tale of Troy’ (Ilion is the other name for Troy). The Iliad establishes Achilles as the central hero of the story of Troy, even though he failed to destroy the city—while Odysseus succeeded, by devising the stratagem of the Wooden Horse. Because of the Iliad tradition, “the kleos of Odysseus at Troy was preempted by the kleos of Achilles” (BA 41). Thus the kleos that Odysseus should get for his success in destroying Troy is elusive, by contrast with the kleos that Achilles gets in the Iliad, which is permanent. So, Odysseus cannot afford to dwell on his success at Troy, because the kleos he may get for that success will become permanent only if it extends into the kleos that he gets for achieving a successful homecoming. Odysseus, then, must get over the Iliad.

Part 4. As we see from the wording of the Sirens’ Song here in the Odyssey, O.12.184–191, the sheer pleasure of listening to a song about the destruction of Troy will be in vain if there is no nostos, no safe return home from the faraway world of epic heroes; and, by extension, the Iliad itself will become a Song of the Sirens without a successful narration of the Odyssey (BA [1999] xii).

Part 5. (What follows in Parts 5 and 6 is epitomized from H24H 10§§19–20.) So, to repeat, Odysseus must get over the Iliad. But, to get over the Iliad, he must sail past it. His ongoing story, which is the Odyssey, must be about the seafarer who is making his way back home, not about the warrior who once fought at Troy. The kleos of Odysseus at Troy cannot be the master myth of the Odyssey, since the kleos of Achilles at Troy has already become the master myth of the Iliad. As I already noted, the kleos or poetic ‘glory’ of Achilles in the Iliad has preempted a kleos for Odysseus that centers on this rival hero’s glorious exploits at Troy. For the hero of the Odyssey, the ongoing kleos of his adventures in the course of his nostos is actually threatened by any past kleos of his adventures back at Troy. Such a kleos of the past in the Odyssey could not rival the kleos of the more distant past in the Iliad. It would be a false Iliad. That is why Odysseus must sail past the Island of the Sirens. The Sirens, as false Muses, tempt the hero by offering to sing for him an endless variety of songs about Troy in particular and about everything else in general.

Part 6. The sheer pleasure of listening to the songs of the Sirens threatens not only the nostos, ‘homecoming’, of Odysseus, who is tempted to linger and never stop listening to the endless stories about Troy, but also the soundness of his ‘thinking’, his nóos. And it even threatens the ongoing song about the hero’s homecoming, that is, the Odyssey itself (BA [1999] xii). Accordingly, the use of the verb néesthai ‘return, have a homecoming’ at O.12.188 signals what is at stake for both the nostos ‘homecoming’ and the nóos ‘mind’ of Odysseus, and it is no accident that these two nouns are actually both derived from that verb.

source

(The following is epitomized from H24H 10§28.) At O.07.241–266, Odysseus told the story of his liaison with the goddess Calypso, and that part of the story ended there with the releasing of Odysseus from the cave of the goddess. Here at O.12.447–450, the storytelling comes full circle as Odysseus revisits that story about the liaison, which had led into the story of his arrival in the land of the Phaeacians. The hero’s arrival as revisited at the end of the storytelling in Odyssey 12 is implicitly a return to light and life from the cave of Calypso, comparable to the return of the hero to light and life from the darkness and death that were linked with the cave of the Cyclops Polyphemus at the end of the storytelling in Odyssey 9. Similarly at the end of the storytelling in Odyssey 11, Odysseus was ready to emerge from the darkness and death of Hādēs and return to light and life at the beginning of Odyssey 12.

source

The storytelling of Odysseus has come to an end, and he will now be sent home to Ithaca by his hosts, Alkinoos and the Phaeacians. Sailing through the night in a ship provided by king Alkinoos, Odysseus is in a deep sleep, which is compared to death itself. At the precise moment when the ship reaches the shores of his homeland, Ithaca, Odysseus will ‘come to’, experiencing a mystical return to light and life.

draft js image error “Ulysses Asleep Laid on his Own Coast by the Phaeacian Sailors” (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

The mention of dais ‘feast’ here at O.13.023 takes us all the way back to the dais ‘feast’ that is planned by king Alkinoos for his guest back at O.08.038. See the comments at O.08.059–061 and at O.08.061. The dais ‘feast’ is eventually rethought as a stylized festival, centering on a sacrifice that leads to a division of meat at the feast. Such a festival continues from Odyssey 8 all the way to here, at the beginning of Odyssey 13.

source

The sacrificing of an ox to Zeus here marks this god as the ultimate hymnic subject of the festive performances starting with the three songs of Demodokos in Odyssey 8 and capped by the narrative of Odysseus himself in Odyssey 9–12. As we see most clearly in the Homeric Hymns, the invoked divinity who presides over a given festival is the hymnic subject of the hymn (MoM 4§82). We know from Pindar Nemean 2.1–3 that Zeus was the hymnic subject of the Homēridai, notional descendants of Homer, who performed the Iliad and Odyssey in relay (HPC 240, MoM 4§§99.4, 99.5). Accordingly, I interpret the sacrifice to Zeus here at O.13.024–025 as a signature, as it were, of the Homēridai. See also the comment that introduces Rhapsody 9.

source

|24 τοῖσι δὲ βοῦν ἱέρευσ’ ἱερὸν μένος Ἀλκινόοιο |25 Ζηνὶ κελαινεφέϊ Κρονίδῃ, ὃς πᾶσιν ἀνάσσει. |26 μῆρα δὲ κήαντες δαίνυντ’ ἐρικυδέα δαῖτα |27 τερπόμενοι· μετὰ δέ σφιν ἐμέλπετο θεῖος ἀοιδός |28 Δημόδοκος, λαοῖσι τετιμένος.

|24 On their [= the Phaeacians’] behalf Alkinoos, the one with the holy power, sacrificed an ox |25 to Zeus, the one who brings dark clouds, the son of Kronos, and he rules over all. |26 Then, after burning the thigh-pieces, they feasted, feasting most gloriously, |27 and they were feeling delight [terpesthai]; in their midst sang-and-danced [melpesthai] the divine singer [aoidos], |28 Demodokos, honored by the people.

(What follows is epitomized from MoM 4§§35–38.)

Part 1. Here the singer Demodokos performs one last song before Odysseus leaves the land of the Phaeacians. The occasion is most festive, marking the conclusion of the overall festivities that had started in Odyssey 8—and had continued ever since then. Bringing these festivities to a spectacular close, Alkinoos the king of the Phaeacians slaughters a sacrificial ox to the god Zeus, and this animal sacrifice is the cue for Demodokos to emerge once again as the lead singer in the midst of a festive crowd.

Part 2. I note that the wording at O.13.027 is exactly the same as at O.04.017. See the comment on O.04.015–019. More important, we see the same wording also at I.18.604, which is the line that shows a part of the longer version of I.18.603–606. See the comment on I.18.603–604–(605–)606. In each one of these three lines that I just noted, O.13.027 and O.04.017 and I.18.604, a solo singer is shown, but the individuated soloist is leading into a choral song combined with dance, as signaled by the word melpesthai in all three contexts. This word, as we have seen, combines the idea of singing with the idea of dancing—that is, choral dancing. That is why I translate melpesthai in a hyphenated format, ‘singing-and-dancing’. See also the comments on I.18.603–604–(605–)606 and O.04.015–019.

Part 3. The text of O.13.024–028 is a most decisive piece of comparative evidence validating the authenticity of the corresponding passage in the longer version of I.18.603–606. Both of these two passages show an individuated lead singer in the midst of a festive crowd surrounding a choral performance that brings delight to all. Both in O.13.027 and in I.18.604, the decisive word that shows the interaction of the individuated lead singer with choral performance is melpesthai ‘sing-and-dance’. (The verb melpesthai ‘sing-and-dance’ at I.18.604 is picked up by the corresponding noun molpē ‘singing-and-dancing’ at I.18.606.) But the passage at O.13.024–028 occludes any direct mention of dancers, thus differing from the corresponding passage in the longer version of I.18.603–606, which highlights two individuated dancers as well as a chorus. Conversely, the passage in the shorter version of I.18.603–606 occludes any direct mention of a singer, thus differing from the corresponding passage in O.13.024–028 here, which highlights Demodokos as an individuated lead singer.

Part 4. The decisive evidence of this passage, O.13.024–028, is missing from the reportage of Athenaeus (5.181c) about the editorial decisions of Aristarchus concerning O.04.015–019 and I.18.603–606. And it is missing also from the argumentations of some who build theories about various kinds of textual interpolation. As I argued in the comment on I.18.603–604–(605–)606, the evidence of the wording at I.18.604–605 indicates that both the shorter and the longer versions result from formulaic variation.

source

The programmatic word terpesthai ‘feel delight’ as used here at O.13.027 can be connected to the use of the same word at O.08.429 with reference to the festive performances described in Odyssey 8. See the comment on O.08.429.

source

Aristarchus accepting the wording in O.04.017-018 while rejecting the same at I.18.604-605, in the context of the analysis of the medieval manuscript tradition’s not attesting I.18.604-605, their restoration based on Athenaeus, and authentication on the basis of O.13.027-028

source

The description here of Demodokos as ‘honored by the people [lāoi]’ reinforces the etymology of his “speaking name” (nomen loquens): ‘one who is received [verb dek(h)esthai] by the community [dēmos]’. See the comment on O.08.044.

source

|78 εὖθ’ οἳ ἀνακλινθέντες ἀνερρίπτουν ἅλα πηδῷ, |79 καὶ τῷ νήδυμος ὕπνος ἐπὶ βλεφάροισιν ἔπιπτε, |80 νήγρετος ἥδιστος, θανάτῳ ἄγχιστα ἐοικώς. |81 ἡ δ’, ὥς τ’ ἐν πεδίῳ τετράοροι ἄρσενες ἵπποι, |82 πάντες ἅμ’ ὁρμηθέντες ὑπὸ πληγῇσιν ἱμάσθλης |83 ὑψόσ’ ἀειρόμενοι ῥίμφα πρήσσουσι κέλευθον, |84 ὣς ἄρα τῆς πρύμνη μὲν ἀείρετο, κῦμα δ’ ὄπισθεν |85 πορφύρεον μέγα θῦε πολυφλοίσβοιο θαλάσσης. |86 ἡ δὲ μάλ’ ἀσφαλέως θέεν ἔμπεδον· οὐδέ κεν ἴρηξ |87 κίρκος ὁμαρτήσειεν, ἐλαφρότατος πετεηνῶν· |88 ὣς ἡ ῥίμφα θέουσα θαλάσσης κύματ’ ἔταμνεν, |89 ἄνδρα φέρουσα θεοῖσ’ ἐναλίγκια μήδε’ ἔχοντα, |90 ὃς πρὶν μὲν μάλα πολλὰ πάθ’ ἄλγεα ὃν κατὰ θυμόν, |91 ἀνδρῶν τε πτολέμους ἀλεγεινά τε κύματα πείρων· |92 δὴ τότε γ’ ἀτρέμας εὗδε, λελασμένος ὅσσ’ ἐπεπόνθει. |93 εὖτ’ ἀστὴρ ὑπερέσχε φαάντατος, ὅς τε μάλιστα |94 ἔρχεται ἀγγέλλων φάος Ἠοῦς ἠριγενείης, |95 τῆμος δὴ νήσῳ προσεπίλνατο ποντοπόρος νηῦς.

|78 When they [= the Phaeacian seafarers] began rowing out to sea, |79 he [= Odysseus] felt a sweet sleep falling upon his eyelids. |80 It was a deep sleep, the sweetest, and most similar to death. |81 Meanwhile, the ship was speeding ahead, just as a team of four stallions drawing a chariot over a plain |82 speeds ahead in unison as they all feel the stroke of the whip, |83 gallopping along smoothly, with feet raised high as they make their way forward, |84 so also the prow of the ship kept curving upward as if it were the neck of a stallion, and, behind the ship, waves that were |85 huge and seething raged in the waters of the roaring sea. |86 The ship held steadily on its course, and not even a falcon, |87 raptor that he is, swiftest of all winged creatures, could have kept pace with it. |88 So did the ship cut its way smoothly through the waves, |89 carrying a man who was like the gods in his knowledge of clever ways, |90 who had beforehand suffered very many pains [algea] in his heart [thūmos], |91 taking part in wars among men and forging through so many waves that cause pain, |92 but now he was sleeping peacefully, forgetful of all he had suffered. |93 And when the brightest of all stars began to show, the one that, more than any other star, |94 comes to announce the light of the Dawn born in her earliness, |95 that is when the ship, famed for its travels over the seas, drew near to the island.

(The following is epitomized from H24H 10§§11–12.) The very idea of consciousness as conveyed by nóos is derived from the metaphor of returning to light from darkness, as encapsulated in the moment of waking up from sleep, or of regaining consciousness after losing consciousness, that is, of ‘coming to’. See the comment on O.01.003; also on O.09.082–104. This metaphor of coming to is at work not only in the meaning of nóos in the sense of consciousness but also in the meaning of nostos in the sense of returning from darkness and death to light and life. See the comment on O.01.005. Remarkably, these two meanings converge at one single point in the master myth of the Odyssey. It happens here at O.13.078-095, when Odysseus finally reaches his homeland of Ithaca. Odysseus has been sailing home on a ship provided by the Phaeacians, against the will of the god Poseidon, and the hero falls into a deep sleep that most resembles death itself, O.13.079–080. This sleep makes him momentarily unconscious: he ‘forgets’, as expressed by the verb lēth-, O.13.092, all the algea, ‘pains’, of his past journeys through so many different cities of so many different people, O.13.090-091. Then, at the very moment when the ship reaches the shore of Ithaca, the hero’s homeland, the morning star appears, heralding the coming of dawn, O.13.093–095. The Phaeacians hurriedly leave Odysseus on the beach where they placed him, still asleep, when they landed, O.13.119, and, once they sail away, he wakes up there, O.13.187. So, the moment of the hero’s homecoming, which is synchronized with the moment of sunrise, is now further synchronized with a moment of awakening from a sleep that most resembles death.

source

Homeric references to four-horse chariots are confined to contexts having to do with chariot racing. For chariot fighting, two-horse chariots are the Homeric norm. For exceptions, see the comments on I.05.263–273 and on I.08.185.

source

|149 νῦν αὖ Φαιήκων ἐθέλω περικαλλέα νῆα |150 ἐκ πομπῆς ἀνιοῦσαν ἐν ἠεροηδέι πόντῳ |151 ῥαῖσαι, ἵν’ ἤδη σχῶνται, ἀπολλήξωσι δὲ πομπῆς |152 ἀνθρώπων, μέγα δέ σφιν ὄρος πόλει ἀμφικαλύψαι

|149 So now I want to smash the very beautiful ship of the Phaeacians |150 when it comes back, in a misty crossing of the sea, from its conveying mission, |151 so that these people [= the Phaeacians] will hold off, at long last, and stop their practice of conveying |152 humans. And I want to make a huge mountain envelop their city.

The god Poseidon is speaking, and he is very angry at the Phaeacians for providing Odysseus with one of their ships to convey the hero back to his home in Ithaca. The god now plans to take revenge, and he asks Zeus to approve his plan, which has two parts: (1) to smash the ship as it sails back home to the Phaeacians and (2) to make a huge mountain ‘envelop’ their city.

source

|155 ὁππότε κεν δὴ πάντες ἐλαυνομένην προίδωνται |156 λαοὶ ἀπὸ πτόλιος, θεῖναι λίθον ἐγγύθι γαίης |157 νηὶ θοῇ ἴκελον, ἵνα θαυμάζωσιν ἅπαντες |158 ἄνθρωποι, μέγα δέ σφιν ὄρος πόλει ἀμφικαλύψαι

|155 When all the people of the city look out and see the ship sailing in, |156 turn it into a rock, just as it is about to reach land. |157 Make it look like a swift ship, so that people will look at it with wonder |158 —all of humanity will do so; and make the huge mountain envelop their city.

Before Zeus gives his approval, he modifies the terms of Poseidon's two-part plan for vengeance. In the case of the first part, as we see here, the Will of Zeus is not that the ship be smashed but only that it be turned into a rock at the very moment that it sails into the entrance to the harbor—a rock destined to be a famous landmark for all time to come. In the case of the second part of the sea god’s plan, it seems that Zeus will indeed allow Poseidon to make a huge mountain ‘envelop’ the city. We see here the precise wording of these two parts of the Will of Zeus, addressed as commands to Poseidon.

source

(Epitomized from Nagy 2001:84–91, where bibliography is provided about various different views concerning this verse.)

According to the version of O.13.158 that survives only by way of Aristophanes, the future of the Phaeacians is not at all closed off. It remains open-ended, extending into the “present” when the epic is being narrated. The threatening mountain will not block the harbor of the Phaeacians from the outside world —if we read mēde ‘but not…’ instead of mega de ‘and a huge…’ at O.13.158.

Two questions immediately come to mind. First, how could this different version fit the overall narrative of the Homeric Odyssey? Second, is the textual basis of this version “legitimate”?

I already addressed the first question in the comments above, taking a close look at the logic of the narrative after O.13.158. Here I turn to the second question about O.13.158: is the textual basis of the different version featuring mēde ‘but not…’ really “legitimate”? We can now add a related question: if it is legitimate, then does that delegitimize the version featuring mega de ‘and a huge…’?

Whether we need to choose one or the other variant depends on the way we look at Homeric poetry. If this poetry is merely a static text, then we are indeed forced to make a choice. If, however, we view Homeric poetry as a living system—an oral tradition that evolves ultimately into the textual tradition inherited by the Alexandrian editors—then we do not have to choose whenever we see a variation. Rather, as I will now go on to argue, the choices were already being made by Homeric poetry itself, which could opt for different variants in different phases of its own evolution.

My reasoning here derives from an overall “evolutionary model” that I have worked out as a general way of accounting for the making of Homeric poetry (PasP 109–114 and HQ 29–112). In terms of this model, as I now plan to argue, the living and evolving oral tradition of Homeric poetry itself allowed for a choice either to seal off its own past from the present time of narration or to reach into this present time and thereby make its presence fully manifest.

According to the narrative option linked with the first of our two variants from O.13.158, mega de ‘and a huge…’, the outlook is hopeless for the Phaeacians, since Poseidon’s plan to seal off the city of the Phaeacians has been restated by Zeus and is therefore tantamount to the Will of Zeus, which the Homeric tradition conventionally equates with the way things ultimately turn out in epic narrative, as at I.01.005. At the beginning of the Odyssey, however, Zeus himself undercuts the equation of epic plot with the Will of Zeus, O.01.032–034. That is, there are differences in shades of meaning between the Iliadic and the Odyssean perspectives on the Will of Zeus as the plot of epic (PH 241–242).

According to the narrative option linked with the second variant mēde ‘but not…’, the outlook is still hopeful. After all, at an earlier point in the narrative, O.13.144–145, we can see a way out when Zeus tells Poseidon to exact any punishment he pleases ‘if any human honors you not at all’ (ἀνδρῶν δ᾿ εἴ περ τίς σε … | οὔ τι τίει), O.13.143–144. The context is this: Poseidon has been angrily questioning Zeus, calling on him to explain the Will of Zeus (Διὸς δ᾿ ἐξείρετο βουλήν), O.13.127. That is, Poseidon calls on Zeus to explain the overall plot of the narrative—now that the Phaeacians have conveyed Odysseus back home to Ithaca. How can I be honored among the gods, Poseidon plaintively asks Zeus, ‘when the Phaeacians do not honor me at all?’ (ὅτε με βροτοὶ οὔ τι τίουσι | Φαίηκες), O.13.129–130. But then, as we have already seen in the comments, the story goes on to say that the Phaeacians will indeed initiate a remedy after the first disaster by proceeding to honor Poseidon with sacrifice in order to avert the second disaster, which is, the envelopment of their harbor by a huge mountain.

The narrative option that I link with the variant mēde ‘but not…’, according to which the Phaeacians are to be spared the second disaster of an all-enveloping mountain, depends on whether this variant as adduced by Aristophanes of Byzantium in place of mega de ‘and a huge…’ at O.13.158 is a genuine formulaic variant or only a textual variant. If it is the latter, then mēde ‘but not…’ may be just an editorial conjecture. That possibility would severely reduce the chances for arguing that mēde ‘but not…’ is a genuine alternative to mega de ‘and a huge…’. In what follows, however, I will argue against that possibility on several levels.

From an analysis of the formulaic system in which mēde ‘but not…’ is embedded, this form can be justified as a functioning element in that system, just as the form mega de ‘and a huge…’ is a functioning element: in other words, mēde and mega de can be considered compositional alternatives in the formulaic system of Homeric diction.

As Leonard Muellner points out in a message written 1998.03.10 to me and to Chad E. Turner, mega de ‘and a huge…’ at O.13.177 is syntactically and formulaically parallel to mēde ‘but not’ at O.13.183. In a message written 1998.02.03, Turner had pointed out to me that the metrical placement of mēde ‘but not…’ at O.13.198 is singular (although there are cases where this word straddles the last syllable of a spondee and the first syllable of a dactyl in the third and fourth feet, he finds no other cases in the second and third feet). But the formulaic system is capable of generating rare forms and combinations. For a striking example, we may compare the unique attestation of mēden at I.18. 500: here is a word that is found this one and only time in the Iliad and the Odyssey put together, and yet it can be shown to be formulaic. See Muellner 1976:101–102, 106.

Moreover, there is immediate contextual as well as formulaic evidence to support the argument that mēde ‘but not…’ is a functioning compositional variant in the formulaic system. Let us consider the wording of Zeus in his answer to Poseidon’s angry questioning at O.13.145:

|145 ἔρξον ὅπως ἐθέλεις καί τοι φίλον ἔπλετο θυμῷ

|145 Do as you wish and as was pleasing to your heart.

This open-ended wording of Zeus matches formulaically the wording of Alkinoos, when he had originally “quoted” the prophecy of his father, O.08.570–571:

|570 ὣς ἀγόρευ᾿ ὁ γέρων. τὰ δέ κεν θεὸς ἢ τελέσειεν, |571 ἤ κ᾿ ἀτέλεστ᾿ εἴη, ὥς οἱ φίλον ἔπλετο θυμῷ

|570 That is what the old man said. And the god [Poseidon] could either bring these things to fulfillment |571 or they could be left unfulfilled, however it was pleasing to his heart.

The formulation of Zeus, then, in leaving it still undecided whether or not the Phaeacians are to be ‘enveloped’, can be used as evidence to argue that mēde ‘but not…’ is indeed a genuine compositional alternative to mega de ‘and a huge…’.

As for the possibility that mēde ‘but not…’ is an emendation based on an editorial conjecture, my own cumulative work on Homeric variants as adduced by the three great Alexandrian editors of Homer (Zenodotus, Aristophanes, and Aristarchus) leaves me skeptical, since I find that these editors normally do not make emendations without manuscript evidence (PasP 107–152).

In making the specific argument that both variants mega de ‘and a huge…’ and mēde ‘but not…’ are genuine compositional alternatives, I return to my general argument that Homeric poetry is not a static text but a slowly evolving system. In terms of this general argument, the variant mega de produces a narrative closure for the Phaeacians: their fate is sealed. The variant mēde, however, produces an outcome that is open-ended.

These two variants, I contend, reflect different phases in the evolution of Homeric poetry. Let us begin with the variant mega de ‘and a huge…’, the context of which can be linked with a relatively more Panhellenic phase of epic. (On the relativity of Panhellenism—despite the absolutist implications of the term—as a cultural impulse, see PH p. 53.) I have defined this phase elsewhere as one that “concentrates on traditions that tend to be common to most locales and peculiar to none” (PH 54). The Panhellenic phases of epic make contact with the “present” time of narration by shading over any “local color” that might distract from the widest possible range of ways to visualize this “present” (PH 53). A Panhellenic version, then, will tend to universalize the concerns of the present.

But there are also other, less Panhellenic, ways for epic to make contact with the “present” time in which narration happens: the “local color” can be highlighted, though only at the cost of narrowing the range of ways to visualize this “present.” The context of the variant mēde ‘but not…’ can be linked with such a relatively less Panhellenic phase of epic. This variant makes contact with the epic “present” in a less universalized and more localized way. One focus of localization is historical Corcyra, modern-day Corfù.

The fact is, the Corcyraeans of the Classical period claimed to be residents of the land of the Phaeacians, as we know from a remark of Thucydides (1.25.4); from another remark of his, we know also that they worshipped King Alkinoos as their local cult hero (3.70.4).

In O.13.155–158, we hear how the Phaeacians will one day look out at their harbor and see their returning ship suddenly turn into a rock, and we hear also how that fabulous petrified ship will continue to be a most wondrous sight for future generations of humanity to see and to keep on seeing for all time to come. There are references to this “real-life” rock in Pliny (Natural History) 4.53 and Eustathius (Commentary on Odyssey vol. II p. 44 line 27), and to this day the “petrified ship” remains a most celebrated tourist attraction for visitors to Corfù. But the essential point is, the reference to this rock is already there in the Odyssey—that is, in a version of the Odyssey that says mēde ‘but not…’ instead of mega de ‘and a huge…’ at O.13.158.

The identity of the Corcyraeans as descendants of the Phaeacians depends on the Will of Zeus as he formulates it at O.13.155–158, and it depends especially on the variant mēde ‘but not…’ of O.13.158, which yields an open-ended narrative that reaches directly into the “present” of the Classical period and beyond.

As a political and cultural fact of life, the self-identification of the Corcyraeans with the Phaeacians has been dated as far back as the eighth century BCE, when the island was settled by colonists from Eretria and, soon thereafter, from Corinth (Plutarch Greek Questions 293a; further sources analyzed in Frame 257n158). The variant represented by mēde ‘but not…’ at O.13.158 may be just as early, and in fact it may be the vehicle for expressing just such a political and cultural fact of life. This is not to say that the other variant represented by mega de ‘and a huge…’ at O.13.158 may not be just as early. It is only to say that both variants were still available to the Homeric tradition of epic as it evolved during the pre-Classical period. In such an early period, the affirming—or the denying—of a claim of descent from the Phaeacians was essential not just poetically but also politically and culturally. It really mattered then, and it continued to matter well into the Classical period of the fifth century and beyond, as we have seen from the remark of Thucydides (1.25.4, 3.70.4) about the Corcyraeans’ claim that they inhabited the land of the Phaeacians, whose king, Alkinoos, they worshipped as their local hero.

In the Hellenistic period of the Alexandrian editors of Homer, by contrast, the question of choosing mega de ‘and a huge…’ or mēde ‘but not…’ would have mattered purely from a poetical rather than a political or cultural point of view. The Corcyraeans’ claims to the land of the Phaeacians would not be a major concern any more, at least not politically. But it would still really matter in another way: was the petrified ship of the Phaeacians a figment of the poetic imagination, walled off in the epic past, or was it the same thing as the real-life rock at the entrance to the harbor of Corcyra, accessible to all humanity in the contemporary Hellenic world? The disagreement between Aristarchus and Aristophanes over the choice of mega de ‘and a huge…’ or mēde ‘but not…’ respectively must have centered on such questions. One way, we see a beautiful snapshot from the enchanted imaginary world of the epic past. The other way, we see a comparably beautiful vista in the enchanting touristic world of the non-epic present, still anchored in the permanence of the epic past. Either way, petrified ship or scenic rock, what we see is a beloved cultural landmark of Hellenism.

All this is not to say that we must ultimately choose between these two versions of seeing things Homeric. It is only to say that both variants were still available to the Homeric tradition of epic as it evolved into the Classical period and beyond. And it is to ponder the power of epic either to close down or to open up its pathways to the present. The fate of the Phaeacians in conveying the heroic past to the present depends on that power of Homeric dimensions.

source

|158 ἄνθρωποι, μηδέ σφιν ὄρος πόλει ἀμφικαλύψαι

|158 —all of humanity will do so; but do not make the mountain envelop their city

Here we see another version of O.13.158, adduced by the Alexandrian editor Aristophanes of Byzantium (as we learn from the scholia for O.13.152). This different version was disputed by the later Alexandrian editor Aristarchus of Samothrace: he preferred the version of O.13.158 that I showed earlier, which is the one that survives in the medieval manuscript tradition. According to the version that survives only by way of Aristophanes, the future of the Phaeacians is not at all closed off. It remains open-ended, extending into the “present” when the epic is being narrated. For more, see the Excursus on Odyssey 13.158.

source

comment on the petrification of the ship of the Phaeacians’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’ as the premier example of landmark poetics involving the theme of petrification (in the context of analyzing the petrified serpent in I.02)

source

Complying with the reaction of Zeus to the original two-part plan of revenge, Poseidon proceeds to turn the returning ship into a rock at O.13.160–164. The first part of Poseidon's two-part plan has now been accomplished, although in modified form, in compliance with the Will of Zeus. The ship has been petrified at the approach to the harbor, instead of being ‘smashed’ at midsea.

source

At this midpoint in the ongoing narrative about the fate of the Phaeacians, we see their reaction to the petrifaction of their ship. They are in shock: awestruck as they are, they cannot understand how this disaster could have happened to them, O.13.165–169.

source

|175 φῆ ποτε Φαιήκων ἀνδρῶν περικαλλέα νῆα |176 ἐκ πομπῆς ἀνιοῦσαν ἐν ἠεροηδέι πόντῳ |177 ῥαισέμεναι, μέγα δ᾿ ἧμιν ὄρος πόλει ἀμφικαλύψειν

|175 He [= Nausithoos] once said that he [Poseidon] will smash the very beautiful ship of the Phaeacian men |176 when it comes back, in a misty crossing of the sea, from its conveying mission, |177 and that he will make a huge mountain envelop our city.

Alkinoos, king of the Phaeacians, has comprehended what is still in the process of happening. He explains to the Phaeacians that he now understands a prophecy that his father Nausithoos had once told him: it must have been this present disaster, Alkinoos says, that his father had prophesied to him—along with that other disaster still waiting to be narrated in the Odyssey, which is, the occlusion of the Phaeacians from the world of the present. Such an occlusion will happen if Zeus arranges for a huge mountain to envelop the city of the Phaeacians, thus blocking their harbor from access to the sea.

source

|178 ὣς ἀγόρευ᾿ ὁ γέρων. τὰ δὲ δὴ νῦν πάντα τελεῖται. |179 ἀλλ᾿ ἄγεθ᾿, ὥς ἂν ἐγὼ εἴπω, πειθώμεθα πάντες.

|178 That is what the old man said. And now you and I see that all these things are being brought to fulfillment. |179 But come, let us all comply with exactly what I am about to say.

The audience of our Odyssey already knows this prophecy as recapitulated in O.13.173–177, because Alkinoos had already "quoted" it to Odysseus at O.08.565-569. The textual transmission of O.08.565–569 and O.13 173–177 leaves the two passages matching almost exactly, word for word. There is some degree of non-matching, though: for example, the ship is εὐεργέα ‘well-built’ in most manuscripts at O.08.567 vs. περικαλλέα ‘very beautiful’ in most manuscripts at O.13.175, while the mutually alternative forms are attested in a minority of manuscripts at both places. In terms of oral poetics, such variation may be justified even where the “quoting” of a character’s words happens to be a narrative requirement of the composition, as it is here. At that earlier point in the narrative, however, Alkinoos had said something in addition, which he does not say now (O.08.570–571):

|570 ὣς ἀγόρευ᾿ ὁ γέρων. τὰ δέ κεν θεὸς ἢ τελέσειεν, |57 ἤ κ᾿ ἀτέλεστ᾿ εἴη, ὥς οἱ φῦλον ἔπλετο θυμῷ

|570 That is what the old man said. And the god [Poseidon] could either bring these things to fulfillment |571 or they could be left unfulfilled, however it was pleasing to his heart.

Now, instead of “repeating” this part of the old man’s prophecy, Alkinoos commands the Phaeacians to take immediate action, as we see from the wording of O.13.178–179, quoted and translated above. When Alkinoos had first “quoted” the prophecy of his father at O.08.570–571, the “quotation” had left a loophole: Poseidon may or may not bring ‘these things’ to fulfillment, as he wishes. But now at O.13.178–179 there is the greatest urgency, and Alkinoos exclaims hyperbolically that ‘all these things are being brought to fulfillment’. The rhetorical point of this hyperbole is to motivate the Phaeacians to take immediate action. Even though the half-hopeful words of Alkinoos at O.08.570–571 are not repeated but are replaced by the increasingly desperate words of O.13.178–179, there is still a trace of hope—provided that the Phaeacians take immediate action by following the emergency orders of Alkinoos, which are formulated in the verses that immediately follow, O.13.180–182.

source

King Alkinoos here orders the Phaeacians to do two things without delay: to resolve never again to engage in the otherworldly pompē ‘conveying’ of mortals back to their real world, O.13.180, and to offer a sacrifice of twelve bulls to Poseidon, O.13.180–182. The Phaeacians must do these two things before the second of the two disasters should happen, which is, the blocking of their harbor by a huge mountain.

source

The Phaeacians immediately proceed to make sacrifice to the sea god, supplicating him, O.13.184–187. At this sacrifice, we may presume that they do indeed resolve never again to engage in the otherworldly “conveying” of mortals back to their “real” world. Such a resolution by the Phaeacians would of course cancel their own otherworldly status as mediators between the inner world of the narrative and the outer world of “reality” as implicit in the “present” time when the narration of epic is actually happening.

source

|182 … αἴ κ᾿ ἐλεήσῃ |183 μηδ᾿ ἥμιν περίμηκες ὄρος πόλει ἀμφικαλύψῃ

|182 … in hopes that he [Poseidon] will take pity |183 and will not make the tall mountain envelop our city.

The hope, Alkinoos says here, is that Poseidon may still take pity and stop his plan.

source

So, what will happen to the Phaeacians according to the narrative? We cannot be completely certain. The Homeric narrative about the Phaeacians breaks off here at O.13.187, at the very moment when they are offering sacrifice and praying to Poseidon to take pity on them. The narrative break takes place most abruptly, dramatically, and even exceptionally—at mid-verse. In the first part of the verse at O.13.187, the Phaeacians are last seen standing around the sacrificial altar; in the second part of the verse, Odysseus has just woken up in Ithaca. A new phase of the hero’s experiences has just begun in the “real” world of Ithaca.

source

Here at O.13.256–286 we see the first example of “Cretan lies” told by Odysseus in the context of his re-entry into the kingdom of Ithaca. The concept of “Cretan lies” was introduced in the anchor comment at O.01.284–286 on a Cretan Odyssey.

source

The goddess here formally declares to Odysseus her support for the hero, which leads ultimately to his success in his final confrontation with the suitors. But there is an undercurrent of antagonism between the goddess and the hero, insofar as they are both exponents of mētis ‘mind, intelligence’. Here it is Athena who boasts of her own poetic glory for possessing qualities of mētis ‘mind, intelligence’, O.13.299.

source

Now that he has finally returned to his homeland of Ithaca, Odysseus must accomplish another kind of return: he must be restored to kingship. Such a restoration, however, must start from the bottom up. The goddess Athena, his ultimate benefactor but occasional antagonist, has made Odysseus seem to be ‘base’ on the outside, hiding his inner moral nobility. Only those who are likewise morally ‘noble’ will be able to read, as it were, the hero’s true nature. Meanwhile, the coded tales told by Odysseus point toward the truth of his kingship—without revealing it outright. A telling example here in Rhapsody 14 is the second Cretan tale told by Odysseus: it is about a Cretan princeling, not unlike the dapper figure we see in the romanticized restoration of a Minoan fresco as featured in the cover-illustration for Rhapsody 14.

draft js image error Minoan—probably Neopalatial—fresco commonly known as the “Lily Prince.” Whatever the exact type of this personage (perhaps a crowned acrobat, according to the interpretation of Maria Shaw), the Lily Prince is certainly a Minoan of elite standing. Public domain image based on a famous watercolor by Émile Gilliéron of a reconstruction by Arthur Evans. Image via Wikimedia Commons.

source

Here is the first time in the Odyssey that Eumaios is mentioned by name. On the meaning of Eúmaios, see the note on O.17.292.

source

See the anchor comment at O.07.256. Here at O.14.063, the idea of ritual and moral correctness in host-guest relationships is conveyed by the idea of not interrupting the proper sequence of procedures and protocols.

source

See the comment on O.14.063.

source

The wording at O.14.124–125 refers indirectly to itinerant poets/singers who are ready to adapt the content of their poetry/song to whatever the local audience expects to hear as its own local truth-value. It is as if such poets/singers were ‘lying’, as expressed at O.14.125 by the verb pseudesthai, which is contrasted here in this line with the adjective alēthe- ‘true’. Such itinerant poets/singers are described here as if they were wanderers in general who are ready to adapt the content of whatever they say to the standards of whomever they encounter in a given locale. By implication, those standards represent the real truth, while the mental process of adapting the truth is the equivalent of lying. Wandering beggars are like that: they will lie in order to please those who might give them food to express their pleasure. By implication, hunger for food in the stomach drives the poet as guest to say what his host wants to hear. The poet, then, is dependent on the patronage of his local audiences. See also the comment on O.07.215–221. There is a relevant passage in Hesiod Theogony 26–28, quoted in the comment on O.19.203.

source

Here again Ithaca is figured as one single dēmos ‘community, district’. See already the comment on O.01.103.

source

This scenario, where a man falls overboard into the sea and dies, so that his body is devoured by fish, is a “favorite fear” that motivates the epithet ikhthuoeis ‘fish-swarming’ as an adjective describing pontos ‘crossing [of the sea]’. See the comment on I.09.004.

source

Here at O.14.192–359 we see the second example of “Cretan lies” told by Odysseus in the context of his re-entry into the kingdom of Ithaca. The first example is at O.13.256–286. The concept of “Cretan lies” was introduced in the anchor comment at O.01.284–286 on Cretan Odyssey.

source

ἐκ μὲν Κρητάων γένος εὔχομαι εὐρειάων

I say-solemnly [eukhesthai] that I was born and raised in Crete, the place that reaches far and wide

(What follows is epitomized from Nagy 2017.04.11 5§§27–28.) Odysseus, disguising himself as a Cretan princeling, begins with a statement about his origins. He says he is from Crete. In the singular, Krētē refers to the island of Crete. But here at O.14.199 we see the plural Krêtai, which cannot mean a multiplicity of islands named Crete. There is no such thing. Rather, we see here an elliptic plural, meaning ‘Crete and everything that belongs to it’. And of course whatever belongs to Crete are all the Aegean islands and lands controlled by the thalassocracy of Crete (HTL 163–164, following Muellner 1976:70). At O.19.178, we will see a pronoun that refers to Crete, and, like the noun Krêtai here at O.14.199, that pronoun too appears not in the singular but in the plural. So, again at O.19.178, we will see an elliptic plural. Also, in the comment on O.07.078–081, I noted a parallel example: it is the elliptic plural Athênai, which means ‘Athēnē and everything that belongs to it’. My translation here shows ‘it’ instead of ‘her’ for a simple reason: the fact is, the singular form Athēnē refers not only to the goddess Athena but also to the place that she personifies. As we see at O.07.080, the noun Athēnē in the singular can refer not only to the goddess Athena but also to the place that she controls, which was primarily the acropolis of Athens. So, to put that singular form into the plural, which is an elliptic plural, is a way of referring to all the places controlled by the acropolis of Athens. Besides Athênai in the sense of ‘Athens’, other such elliptic plurals include Mukênai ‘Mycenae’ and Thêbai ‘Thebes’. See the comment on O.07.078–081 (see also, again, HTL 163-164). On ellipsis in general, see the comment on I.04.196; also on I.06.209, I.07.015–017.

source

(What follows is epitomized from HPC 289–290, where I offer supplementary bibliography.) A comparable pairing of Ares and Athena as divinities of war is found at I.18.515–519. See the comments on those lines. As I noted already in those comments, such a pairing of Ares and Athena is so old as to be traceable all the way back to the Bronze Age. Here I offer some details. As we know from the documentary evidence of the Linear B tablets found in the palace of Knossos in Crete, the divinities Athena and Ares (in that order) are paired as symmetrical recipients of offerings: in one tablet, V 52, a-ta-na-po-ti-ni-ja is listed together with e-nu-wa-ri-jo and pa-ja-wo-ne and po-se-da-o-ne. I interpret these syllabic spellings as follows: a-ta-na-po-ti-ni-ja = Athānāi potniāi or perhaps Athānās potniā (see the comment on O.07.078–081), e-nu-wa-ri-jo = Enūaliōi, pa-ja-wo-ne = Paiāwonei, po-se-da-o-ne = Poseidāonei. As we know from the evidence of Homeric diction, the divine name Enūalios became an epithet of Ares, as we see for example at I.18.211. In some Homeric contexts, as at I.20.069, Enūalios is a god in his own right, distinct from Ares, just as Paiāwōn (Homeric Paiēōn) is in some contexts distinct from Apollo, as at I.05.401, I.05.899–900. As for the name of Ares, it too is attested in the Linear B tablets, Knossos Fp 14 and Fp 5816, in the form a-re = Arei. The Cretan connection of Athena and Ares is attested here at O.14.216 as well, where Odysseus in the second of his “Cretan lies” represents himself as a Cretan prince who professes his devotion to these two divinities in moments of crisis in battle. I should add that the pairing of Ares and Athena in the world of images represented on the Shield of Achilles is expressed by way of bronzework that is overlaid with gold, I.18.517–519. Such a technique of metalwork, as narrated on the Shield, is notionally linked to the heroic age or, as archaeologists would say it, to the Bronze Age.

source

See the comment on O.14.063.

source

The theme of abduction by gusts of winds is analyzed at length in the comment at O.15.250–251.

source

This expression ep’ anthrōpous ‘throughout humankind’ is conventionally associated with words referring to remembrance by way of song. See the anchor comment on I.10.213.

source

We see here a rare Homeric glimpse of a sacrificial practice where sacrificers deposit choice cuts of meat in honor of the gods.

source

Syntactically, the premise here reinforces the probability of the wish.

source

|462 κέκλυθι νῦν, Εὔμαιε καὶ ἄλλοι πάντες ἑταῖροι, |463 εὐξάμενός τι ἔπος ἐρέω· οἶνος γὰρ ἀνώγει, |464 ἠλεός, ὅς τ’ ἐφέηκε πολύφρονά περ μάλ' ἀεῖσαι |465 καί θ’ ἁπαλὸν γελάσαι καί τ' ὀρχήσασθαι ἀνῆκε, |466 καί τι ἔπος προέηκεν, ὅ πέρ τ' ἄρρητον ἄμεινον. |467 ἀλλ' ἐπεὶ οὖν τὸ πρῶτον ἀνέκραγον, οὐκ ἐπικεύσω.

|462 Listen to me now, Eumaios and all you other companions! |463 Speaking proudly [eukhesthai], I will tell you an utterance. The wine is telling me to do so. |464 Wine, distracting as it is, impels even the thinking man to sing |465 and to laugh softly. And it urges him on to dance. |466 It even prompts an utterance that may be better left unsaid. |467 But now that I have shouted out loud [anakrazein], I will not suppress it.

The wording here, as delivered by the disguised Odysseus to Eumaios, is cognate with the poeticized replication of a festive occasion in the words of Pindar, Nemean 7.75–76:

ἔα με· νικῶντί γε χάριν, εἴ τι πέραν ἀερθείς | ἀνέκραγον, οὐ τραχύς εἰμι καταθέμεν.

Your indulgence, please! If I—to reciprocate the victor—shouted something out loud [anakrazein] as I soared too far up, I am not unversed in bringing it back down.

source

The discourse of the disguised Odysseus, shown here in the act of speaking to Eumaios, matches the discourse of a poet/singer who is performing at a festive occasion.

source

Eumaios compliments the discourse of Odysseus, calling it a fine example of an ainos. Here the meaning of ainos can be interpreted in a general poetic sense, as ‘coded words’—a ‘coded message’. But there is also a specific poetic sense that is conveyed by the same word: an ainos can be festive, highlighting the merriment of song and dance. The same kind of festivity is formalized also in the victory odes of Pindar, where the medium of the odes can refer to itself by way of the same word, ainos, as we see for example in the case of Olympian 11.7. See also the general comment on O.09.003–011 and the specific comment there on the word euphrosunē ‘festivity, merriment’ at O.09.006. On the programmatic implications of this word as an indicator of the festive atmosphere, as it were, of the poetic occasion, I refer again here to a definitive formulation by Bundy 1986:2 with reference to the poetics of Pindar (see BA 91, 235; also PH 198).

source

At O.13.439–440 it was said that the goddess Athena, after parting with Odysseus on the island of Ithaca, ‘next’ went off to Sparta in order to connect with Telemachus there. The moment of that connection, which was going to happen ‘next’, was expressed by way of the adverb epeita, O.13.439. Now at O.15.001–003 this moment that had been destined to happen ‘next’ is finally at hand, and we see the goddess arriving at Sparta, where she will make it possible for Telemachus to connect mentally with his own nostos ‘homecoming’ to Ithaca, O.15.003. Essential here at O.15.03 is the use of the verb hupo-mnē-, meaning ‘mentally connect’. The same verb is used in a comparable context at O.01.322. See the comment on O.01.320–322. Here at O.15.001–003, Telemachus will mentally connect not only with the idea of his own homecoming but also with the song of that homecoming, which will merge with the song of his father’s homecoming. Telemachus needs to be mentally connected to his own nostos not only in the sense of ‘homecoming’ and ‘song of homecoming’ but also, more mystically, ‘return to light and life’. On this mystical meaning, see the comment on O.01.005, where this noun nostos is explained as meaning etymologically a ‘return’ or a ‘coming-back’, derived from the verb-root nes- ‘return, come back’, which has a deeper meaning as well: ‘come to’, in the sense of ‘come back to consciousness’. The noun nostos itself, meaning ‘homecoming’, likewise has a deeper meaning: ‘coming back to light and life’. Etymologically related to this noun nostos in the sense of ‘coming back to light and life’ is the noun nóos ‘mind’, which has the deeper meaning of ‘coming to’ in the sense of ‘coming back to consciousness’. As I argued in the comment on O.13.078–095, the idea of ‘coming to’ as embedded in the noun nostos is activated at the moment when Odysseus comes home to Ithaca: there he wakes up from a death-like sleep at the precise moment when the sun rises. To experience such a nostos as a ‘homecoming’, as I also argued in the same comment, is to experience a symbolic ‘return to light and life’, and the Odyssey as a ‘song of homecoming’ is such a nostos. Here at O.15.001–003, we see that the son of Odysseus must likewise experience a nostos, expressed here at O.15.003 not only by the noun nostos but also by the verb néesthai*, derived from the root nes-. This line, O.15.003, shows that the song of this nostos*, of this homecoming, is meant to merge with the song of the father’s homecoming. See also the comment on O.01.088–089.

source

(What follows is epitomized from Nagy 2017.04.11 5§§29–31.) In the Homeric Odyssey, the Minoan-Mycenaean world is linked more directly to Sparta than to Crete. To make this point, I start with the beginning of Odyssey 15, where the goddess Athena appears in an epiphany to Telemachus at Sparta. As Athena tells Telemachus at O.15.001–009, it is time for the young hero to conclude his visit at Sparta and to go back home to Ithaca. I highlight the fact that Sparta is described here at O.15.001 as eurukhoros (εἰς εὐρύχορον Λακεδαίμονα), meaning ‘having a wide dancing-place’. I see here a Minoan-Mycenaean signature. Relevant is the word Kallikhoron, which is explained this way in the dictionary of Hesychius: Καλλίχορον· ἐν Κνωσσῷ ἐπὶ τῷ τῆς Ἀριάδνης τόπῳ ‘Kallikhoron was the name of the place of Ariadne in Knossos’. And the meaning of this ‘place of Ariadne’, Kallikhoron, is ‘the dancing-place that is beautiful’. It is most relevant to highlight here the fact that the word khoros can designate either the ‘place’ where singing and dancing takes place or the group of singers and dancers who perform at that place. Such a beautiful place, as we already saw in the comment on I.18.590–606, is made visible by the divine smith Hephaistos when he creates the ultimate masterpiece of visual art, the Shield of Achilles. At I.18.593–606, we see in action the singing-and-dancing that happens in the picturing of the divine place, the word for which is khoros, I.18.590. And the prima donna for such singing and dancing can be visualized as the girl Ariadne, for whom Daedalus had made the ultimate place for song and dance, I.18.592.

source

Now that Odysseus is back home in Ithaca, it is time for his son Telemachus to return home as well. The goddess Athena now travels to Sparta, where she will initiate the return of Telemachus back home to Ithaca.

draft js image error Detail from a fresco found at Hagia Triadha in Crete. Reconstruction by Mark Cameron, p. 96 of the catalogue Fresco: A Passport into the Past. Minoan Crete through the eyes of Mark Cameron. 1999. Catalogue curated by Doniert Evely. Athens: British School at Athens; and N. P. Goulandris Foundation, Museum of Cycladic Art. Reproduced with the permission of the British School at Athens. BSA Archive: Mark Cameron Personal Papers: CAM 1.

source

See further details in the comment on O.08.061; also in the comment on I.03.059.

source

Here as also at O.15.253, it is said explicitly that the hero Amphiaraos died in the war of the Seven against Thebes. See also the note on O.15.253 (details in BA 204). (What follows is epitomized from H24H 15§34.) In the myth about the death of Amphiaraos as retold by Pausanias (1.34.2), the hero is riding back home on his war chariot after the defeat of the Seven against Thebes, when suddenly the earth opens up underneath and swallows him—together with his speeding chariot and horses and all—and, at the spot where this engulfment happened, there is a hieron, ‘sacred space’, where worshippers of the hero come to consult him, though Pausanias reports that there is some disagreement about matching the place of the ritual consultations with the actual place of the mythical engulfment. In any case, I propose that the engulfment of Amphiaraos by the earth signals not only his death but also his subsequent return from death as a cult hero. Here at O.15.247 and at O.15.253, the death of Amphiaraos after the expedition against Thebes is made explicit, though this death is only implicit in the references to the engulfment of the same hero as narrated in the songs of Pindar: Olympian 6.14; Nemean 9.24-27, 10.8-9. The poetic reticence we see in Pindar’s songs about mentioning the actual death of Amphiaraos at the moment of his engulfment by the earth is a sign, I also propose, of a keen awareness about the subsequent resurrection of the hero (BA 154, 204).

source

The morphology of this name Polupheídēs can be interpreted as meaning ‘having parsimony in many different ways’ or ‘... many times’.

source

Here at O.15.250–251, Ēōs the goddess of the dawn abducts the beautiful young hero Kleitos by way of ‘snatching’ him away, as expressed by the verb harpazein ‘snatch, seize’. The picturing of such an abduction is part of an overall mythological complex that I analyzed in some detail in GMP 242–245. I epitomize that analysis in what follows:

Part 1. Here is an inventory of verbs expressing the abduction of beautiful heroes by divinities:

A. Ēōs abducts Kleitos, here at O.15.250: hḗrpasen ‘snatched’

B. Ēōs abducts Tithōnos, Hymn to Aphrodite 218; hḗrpasen ‘snatched’ (on Ēōs and Tithōnos, see already the comment at O.05.001–002)

C. Ēōs abducts Orion, O.05.121: héleto ‘seized’

D. Ēōs abducts Kephalos, Euripides Hippolytus 455: an-hḗrpasen ‘snatched up’

E. Aphrodite abducts Phaethon (son of Kephalos), Hesiod Theogony 990: anereipsaménē ‘snatching up’.

Part 2. I draw attention here to a parallelism found in another case of abduction, where Zeus abducts Ganymedes. The parallelism is explicit in the Hymn to Aphrodite, where Aphrodite herself mentions the abduction of Ganymedes by Zeus at lines 202-217 and the abduction of Tithonos by Ēōs at lines 218-238 as precedents for her own seduction of the beautiful hero Anchises. In the Iliad, we find a further detail about the myth of Ganymedes: the gods abduct him for Zeus ‘on account of his beauty, so that he may be with the immortals’, I.20.235 (κάλλεος εἵνεκα οἷο, ἵν’ ἀθανάτοισι μετείη). So also here at O.15.250–251: when Ēōs abducts Kleitos, it is for the same reason: ‘on account of his beauty, so that he may be with the immortals’ (κάλλεος εἵνεκα οἷο, ἵν’ ἀθανάτοισι μετείη). These thematic parallelisms of Ganymedes/Tithōnos and Ganymedes/Kleitos are relevant to the fact that the verb used in the Iliad to describe how the gods abducted Ganymedes is an-ēreípsanto ‘snatched up’, I.20.234. This verb an-ēreípsanto, used here as an aorist indicative, corresponds to the aorist participle an-ereipsaménē ‘snatching up’, which designates how Aphrodite abducted the beautiful hero Phaethon (son of Kephalos) in Hesiod Theogony 990. But how are we to imagine this divine action of ‘snatching up’ a beautiful hero? The answer to this question is signaled at line 208 of the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite, where the verb that is used to describe the abduction of Ganymedes is an-hḗrpase ‘snatched up’, line 208—and where the subject of the verb is áella ‘gust of wind’. The verb an-hḗrpase ‘snatched up’ at line 208 is coextensive with hḗrpase at line 202—where the subject of this verb is specifically Zeus himself, to be contrasted with the more general theoí ‘gods’, subject of anēreípsanto ‘snatched up’ at I.20.234. Not only in the case of an-ēreípsanto ‘snatched up’ with reference to the abduction of Ganymedes at I.20.234 but also in every other Homeric case of an-ēreípsanto ‘snatched up’, the subject of this verb refers to gusts of wind. In such contexts, we can see that thúella ‘gust of wind’ can be used as a synonym of áella ‘gust of wind’. When Penelope bewails the unknown fate of the absent Telemachus, she says that it was thúellai ‘gusts of wind’ that an-ēreípsanto ‘snatched up’ her son, O.04.727. Further, when Telemachus bewails the unknown fate of the absent Odysseus, he says that it was hárpuiai ‘snatching winds, Harpies’ that an-ēreípsanto ‘snatched up’ his absent father, O.01.241. The same expression is used when Eumaios bewails the unknown fate of the absent Odysseus, O.14.371. In general, the meaning of thúella ‘gust of wind’ is coextensive with the meaning of hárpuia ‘snatching wind, Harpy’: see the comments at O.20.061–080, where we find the combination of thuéllai ‘gusts of wind’ with an-hélonto ‘seized’ at O.20.066. Comparable is the combination of Ēṓs with héleto ‘seized’ at O.05.121—where Ēōs the goddess of the dawn abducts Orion. In the context of O.20.061–080, as highlighted in the comments on those lines, the combination of thuéllai ‘gusts of wind’ with an-hélonto ‘seized’ at O.20.066 is then restated at O.20.077 by way combining hárpuiai ‘snatching winds, Harpies’ with an-ēreípsanto ‘snatched up’. By now I have accounted for all the Homeric attestations of anēreípsanto ‘snatched up’ as also for the solitary Hesiodic attestation of anereipsaménē ‘snatching up’.

Part 3. As for hárpuia ‘snatching wind, Harpy’, the only other Homeric attestation besides those already surveyed in Part 2 is in the Iliad. At I.16.149–151, we see that a hárpuia ‘Harpy’ by the name of Podárgē, meaning ‘swift of foot’, was the mother of Xanthos and Balios, horses of Achilles, while the father of these horses was Zephyros the West Wind. In this connection, we may consider the Hesiodic description of the hárpuiai ‘snatching winds’ or ‘Harpies’, two in number, in Theogony 267–269: one is named Aellṓ, line 267, from áella ‘gust of wind’, and the other, Ōkupétē, the one who is ‘swiftly flying’, line 267. In short, the epic attestations of hárpuia betray a regular association with wind. Furthermore, this noun hárpuia may be formally connected with the verb transmitted as anēreípsanto ‘snatched up’ and anereipsaménē ‘snatching up’ in Homeric and Hesiodic diction respectively, as surveyed in Part 2: a decisive piece of evidence is a variant of hárpuia, shaped arepuîa (ἀρεπυῖα), attested in the Etymologicum Magnum (138.21) and on a vase inscription from Aegina (dual αρεπυια, see DELG under ῞Αρπυια).

Part 4. On the basis of these surveys in Parts 1–3, we can see how beautiful young heroes like Kleitos, Tithōnos, Orion, Kephalos, Phaethon, and Ganymedes were abducted: in the poetic imagination, they were snatched away by gusts of wind. The imagery is most explicit in the story of Ganymedes. The immediate agent of the abduction is a gust of wind, and the father of Ganymedes does not know what happened to his son after the áella ‘gust of wind’ ‘snatched [him] up’, an-ḗrpase, as we read at line 208 of the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite. We should observe, however, that the ultimate agent is Zeus himself, who is the subject of the verb hḗrpasen ‘snatched’ designating the abduction of Ganymedes at line 203 of the Hymn to Aphrodite. As compensation for the abduction of Ganymedes, Zeus eventually gives to the boy’s father a team of wondrous horses, lines 210-211, who are described as aellópodes ‘having gusts of wind as their feet’, line 217 (ἀελλοπόδεσσιν). In this instance, both the action of taking and the action of giving in return center on the element of wind. But now, after having ascertained how such heroes were abducted, we may still ask where they were taken. In some cases, we can see that the outcome is positive, as when Ganymedes is taken to Olympus. In other cases, however, where a crossing of the cosmic river Ōkeanos is involved, the outcome may be either positive or negative. A case in point is a complicated passage at O.20.061–080, which I will analyze when I reach my comment on those lines, though I highlight already here a relevant detail. When Penelope wishes for a gust of wind to snatch her up and drop her into the Ōkeanos, O.20.063–065, the immediate agent is a thúella ‘gust of wind’, O.20.063, though the ultimate agents are the gods themselves, O.20.079. This linking of the Ōkeanos at O.20.063–065 with the wished-for abduction of Penelope by gusts of wind is relevant to what we read at I.16.149–151: it is on the banks of this cosmic river Ōkeanos that the hárpuia ‘Harpy’ named Podárgē ‘swift of foot’ gave birth to the wind-horses of Achilles. See the comment at Part 3 above. I note also that a variant reading for Ὠκεανοῖο ‘Ōkeanos’ at I.16.151 is Ἠριδανοῖο ‘Ēridanos’. The cosmic river Ēridanos as a mythological variant of the cosmic river Ōkeanos’: see the comment on O.19.320.

source

Here as also at O.15.247, it is said explicitly that the hero Amphiaraos died in the war of the Seven against Thebes. For details, see the note on O.15.247 (further details in BA 204).

source

Besides the anchor comment on endukéōs ‘continuously, uninterruptedly’ at O.07.256, see also the comment on O.14.063.

source

The parallelism of biē ‘force, violence, strength’ with hubris ‘outrage’ here at O.15.329 shows that the first word, as applied to the suitors of Penelope, is to be interpreted in a strictly negative sense.

source

Syntactically, the premise here reinforces the probability of the wish. See also the comment on O.14.440–441.

source

Besides the anchor comment on endukéōs ‘continuously, uninterruptedly’ at O.07.256, see also the comment on O.14.063.

source

Here again, as at O.11.179, it is said that whoever succeeds in marrying Penelope would surely qualify as ‘the best of the Achaeans’.

source

Odysseus, because of his external appearance as an old beggar, cannot be recognized by his own son Telemachus. To make the recognition happen, the goddess Athena temporarily transforms the father into a young aristocrat. For Telemachus, however, the transformation itself can be read as the epiphany of a god.

draft js image error “Minerva Restoring Ulysses to his Own Shape” (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

Here at O.16.062 as also at O.14.199, we see an elliptic plural, meaning ‘Crete and everything that belongs to it’. See the note on O.14.199.

source

Here again, as at O.11.179 and at O.15.521–522, it is said that whoever succeeds in marrying Penelope would surely qualify as ‘the best of the Achaeans’.

source

These two negative terms hubris ‘outrage’ and atasthalo- ‘reckless’ are closely linked with each other in Homeric diction. The two words together are also closely linked with the suitors of Penelope in the Odyssey.

source

The fact that Athena here can be recognized by the main character of the Odyssey may be relevant to the role of Athena as the goddess presiding over the festival of the Panathenaia in Athens as the venue for the performance of this epic.

source

The act of noticing is sometimes connected with special signals, as here: neuein ‘nod’; see also the comment on I.09.223.

source

|172 ἦ, καὶ χρυσείῃ ῥάβδῳ ἐπεμάσσατ’ Ἀθήνη. |173 φᾶρος μέν οἱ πρῶτον ἐϋπλυνὲς ἠδὲ χιτῶνα |174 θῆκ’ ἀμφὶ στήθεσφι, δέμας δ’ ὤφελλε καὶ ἥβην. |175 ἂψ δὲ μελαγχροιὴς γένετο, γναθμοὶ δ’ ἐτάνυσθεν, |176 κυάνεαι δ’ ἐγένοντο ἐθειράδες ἀμφὶ γένειον. |177 ἡ μὲν ἄρ’ ὣς ἔρξασα πάλιν κίεν· αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσεὺς |178 ἤϊεν ἐς κλισίην. θάμβησε δέ μιν φίλος υἱός, |179 ταρβήσας δ’ ἑτέρωσε βάλ’ ὄμματα, μὴ θεὸς εἴη, |180 καί μιν φωνήσας ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα· |181 “ἀλλοῖός μοι, ξεῖνε, φάνης νέον ἠὲ πάροιθεν, |182 ἄλλα δὲ εἵματ’ ἔχεις καί τοι χρὼς οὐκέθ’ ὁμοῖος. |183 ἦ μάλα τις θεός ἐσσι, τοὶ οὐρανὸν εὐρὺν ἔχουσιν· |184 ἀλλ’ ἵληθ’, ἵνα τοι κεχαρισμένα δώομεν ἱρὰ |185 ἠδὲ χρύσεα δῶρα, τετυγμένα· φείδεο δ’ ἡμέων.” |186 τὸν δ’ ἠμείβετ’ ἔπειτα πολύτλας δῖος Ὀδυσσεύς· |187 “οὔ τίς τοι θεός εἰμι· τί μ’ ἀθανάτοισιν ἐΐσκεις; |188 ἀλλὰ πατὴρ τεός εἰμι, τοῦ εἵνεκα σὺ στεναχίζων |189 πάσχεις ἄλγεα πολλά, βίας ὑποδέγμενος ἀνδρῶν.” |190 ὣς ἄρα φωνήσας υἱὸν κύσε, κὰδ δὲ παρειῶν |191 δάκρυον ἧκε χαμᾶζε· πάρος δ’ ἔχε νωλεμὲς αἰεί. |192 Τηλέμαχος δ’,—οὐ γάρ πω ἐπείθετο ὃν πατέρ’ εἶναι,—|193 ἐξαῦτίς μιν ἔπεσσιν ἀμειβόμενος προσέειπεν· |194 “οὐ σύ γ’ Ὀδυσσεύς ἐσσι πατὴρ ἐμός, ἀλλά με δαίμων |195 θέλγει, ὄφρ’ ἔτι μᾶλλον ὀδυρόμενος στεναχίζω. |196 οὐ γάρ πως ἂν θνητὸς ἀνὴρ τάδε μηχανόῳτο |197 ᾧ αὐτοῦ γε νόῳ, ὅτε μὴ θεὸς αὐτὸς ἐπελθὼν |198 ῥηϊδίως ἐθέλων θείη νέον ἠδὲ γέροντα. |199 ἦ γάρ τοι νέον ἦσθα γέρων καὶ ἀεικέα ἕσσο· |200 νῦν δὲ θεοῖσιν ἔοικας, οἳ οὐρανὸν εὐρὺν ἔχουσι.” |201 τὸν δ’ ἀπαμειβόμενος προσέφη πολύμητις Ὀδυσσεύς· |202 “Τηλέμαχ’, οὔ σε ἔοικε φίλον πατέρ’ ἔνδον ἐόντα |203 οὔτε τι θαυμάζειν περιώσιον οὔτ’ ἀγάασθαι· |204 οὐ μὲν γάρ τοι ἔτ’ ἄλλος ἐλεύσεται ἐνθάδ’ Ὀδυσσεύς, |205 ἀλλ’ ὅδ’ ἐγὼ τοιόσδε, παθὼν κακά, πολλὰ δ’ ἀληθείς, |206 ἤλυθον εἰκοστῷ ἔτεϊ ἐς πατρίδα γαῖαν. |207 αὐτάρ τοι τόδε ἔργον Ἀθηναίης ἀγελείης, |208 ἥ τέ με τοῖον ἔθηκεν ὅπως ἐθέλει, δύναται γάρ, |209 ἄλλοτε μὲν πτωχῷ ἐναλίγκιον, ἄλλοτε δ’ αὖτε |210 ἀνδρὶ νέῳ καὶ καλὰ περὶ χροῒ εἵματ’ ἔχοντι. |211 ῥηΐδιον δὲ θεοῖσι, τοὶ οὐρανὸν εὐρὺν ἔχουσιν, |212 ἠμὲν κυδῆναι θνητὸν βροτὸν ἠδὲ κακῶσαι.”

|172 So spoke Athena, and she touched him [= Odysseus] with her golden wand. |173 First she made his mantle and his tunic to be cleanly washed, |174 she made it be that way, what he was wearing over his chest, and she augmented his size and his youthfulness. |175 His tan complexion came back, and his jaws got firmed up, |176 and dark again became the beard around his chin. |177 Then she [= Athena], having done her work, went back where she came from, while |178 Odysseus headed for the shelter. His dear son [= Telemachus] marveled at him, |179 and, in his amazement, he [= Telemachus] cast his gaze away from him, in another direction, fearing that he [= Odysseus] might be a god. |180 And he [= Telemachus] addressed him [= Odysseus], speaking winged words: |181 “As a different kind of person [alloio-], stranger, have you appeared [phainesthai] to me just now, different than before. |182 You have different clothes and your complexion is no longer the same kind [homoio-]. |183 You must be some god, one of those gods who hold the wide sky. |184 So be gracious, in order that we may give you pleasing sacrifices |185 and golden gifts of good workmanship. Have mercy on us.” |186 And he [= Telemachus] was answered then by the one who suffered many things, the radiant Odysseus: |187 “I am not some god. Why do you liken [eïskein] me to the immortals? |188 But I am your father, for whom you mourn and |189 suffer many pains, enduring the violent acts of men.” |190 Having said these things, he kissed his son and let fall from his cheeks |191 a tear, letting it fall to the ground. Until then he had persisted in showing no sign of pity. |192 And Telemachus, since he was not yet convinced that he [= Odysseus] was his father, |193 once again addressed him with words in reply: |194 “You are not Odysseus my father. Instead, some superhuman force |195 is enchanting me, and it makes me weep and mourn even more. |196 I say this because no mortal man could craft these things that are happening to me, |197 no mortal could do these things by way of his own devising, unless a god comes in person |198 and, if he so wishes, easily makes someone a young man or makes him an old man. |199 Why, just a little while ago you were an old man wearing unseemly clothes, |200 but now you look like [= perfect of eïskein] the gods who hold the wide sky.” |201 He was answered by Odysseus, the one with many kinds of craft, who addressed him thus: |202 “Telemachus, it does not seem right [= perfect of eïskein] for you to be amazed at your father who is right here inside [the shelter], |203 for you to be amazed too much or to feel overwhelmed. |204 There will never again be some different [allos] person who comes here, some different Odysseus, |205 but here I am such [toiosde] as I am. I have had many bad things happen to me. I have been detoured in many different ways. |206 But now I am here, having come back in the twentieth year to the land of my ancestors. |207 I tell you, this was the work of Athena, the giver of prizes, |208 who has made me be such [toios] as she wants me to be, for she has the power. |209 One moment, she has made me to be looking like [enalinkios] a beggar, and then, the next moment, |210 like a young man who has beautiful clothes covering his complexion. |211 It is easy for the gods, who hold the wide sky, |212 to make a mortal man become exalted with radiance or to debase him.

(What follows is epitomized from MoM 2§§18–20.) As soon as Odysseus has been stroked by the wand of Athena, his outward appearance—his khrōs ‘complexion’—is no longer the same as it had been before, O.16.182. That is what Telemachus is saying to Odysseus. The son is amazed that the father no longer looks like an old beggar. The word used here to express the idea of sameness is homoio- ‘similar to, same as’, O.16.182. This word homoio-, derived from homó-, further derives from the Indo-European form somo- meaning ‘same’. In fact, the English word same is cognate with the Greek word homó-. See the anchor comment at I.05.441. Because the complexion of Odysseus is no longer the same, he no longer looks the same. Now he looks different. He is now a different kind of person. In the wording of O.16.181, Odysseus the person is now alloio- ‘a different kind’. This word alloio- (ἀλλοῖο-) ‘a different kind’ is the opposite of homoio- (ὁμοῖο-) ‘the same kind’. I note that the extension -io- (-ιο-) of the adjectives homoio- (ὁμοῖο-) ‘the same kind’ and alloio- (ἀλλοῖο-) ‘a different kind’ is parallel to the extension -io- (-ιο-) of the adjectives hoio- (oἷο-) ‘what kind’ and toio- (τοῖο-) ‘that kind’. At O.16.205 and O.16.208 in the passage I have just quoted and translated, we also see this meaning of toio- ‘that kind’ in action. In this same passage, it is said that Odysseus looks like an old man or looks like a young man, whatever a divinity may wish, O.16.198. But when he looks like a young man for Telemachus to see, his son needs to avert his eyes because he sees what he now sees, O.16.179. What he now sees is that Odysseus at that moment looks not only like a young man but also like a divinity. Relevant is the question that Odysseus asks his son at O.16.187: ‘Why do you liken [eïskein] me to the immortals?’... In answer to this question, Telemachus can rightly say at O.16.200: ‘but now you look like [= perfect of eïskein] the gods who hold the wide sky’. And, in terms of the ritual transformation of Odysseus by way of a sacred contact with the wand of the goddess Athena herself, this mortal not only looks like one of the gods but he actually becomes a god in the ritual moment marked by the similes that liken him to the god. So, the contexts of eïskein ‘make likenesses, liken’ at O.16.187 and O.16.200 show that Telemachus was justified in saying that Odysseus looks the same as a god after being touched by the wand of Athena. Similarly at O.03.464–468, there is a ritual transformation of Telemachus when he is bathed in a bathtub called an asaminthos, O.03.468. As I note in the comment on O.03.464–468, here is what happens at O.03.468 to Telemachus as a result of this ritual bath: ‘he [= Telemachus] emerged from the bathtub [asaminthos], looking the same as [homoio*-] the immortals in shape’ (ἔκ ῥ’ ἀσαμίνθου βῆ δέμας ἀθανάτοισιν ὁμοῖος).

In the light of this analysis, I offer a general formulation: for a mortal to appear like an immortal to other mortals is to become a divinity in a ritual moment of epiphany—as marked by the similes that make mortals equal to divinities in that ritual moment.

source

The image of ‘pouring all over’ someone whom you are embracing, as expressed here by way of the verb amphi-khu-, extends from the idea of dissolving in tears: when you are weeping, pouring out your tears from your eyes, it is as if your whole self were dissoving into tears, which can then ‘pour all over’ that beloved someone whom you are embracing. The metaphor of dissolving while weeping, as here, can also be found at O.08.527. See also the comment at O.19.204–212.

source

The act of noticing is here again connected with a special signal: neuein ‘nod’; see the comment on I.16.164.

source

As Penelope says in her words of blame directed at Antinoos here, this suitor of hers violates the rules of reciprocity more blatantly than any of the other suitors. That is because he shows no gratitude for the kindness that Odysseus as king had shown to Eupeithes, the father of Antinoos, back when Eupeithes was a refugee seeking the favor of Odysseus the king. In the story as told all too briefly by Penelope, O.16.424–429, this man Eupeithes had once sought refuge at the palace of Odysseus, asking the king to protect his food-supply, which was about to be expropriated, O.16.429. The threat of expropriation came from the dēmos ‘community’, described here as being very angry at Eupeithes, O.16.425. But Odysseus had intervened and prevented the expropriation, O.16.430. That is why it is now all the more outrageous, says Penelope at O.16.431, that the son of the same man whose livelihood had thus been saved by a beneficent king should now turn right around and expropriate the livelihood of his family’s benefactor, since Antinoos and the other suitors are now consuming the livelihood of Odysseus, depleting the resources of that generous king. That is bad enough, says Penelope, but Antinoos goes even further, much further: this ingrate also makes advances at the king’s wife and even plots the murder of the king’s son, O.16.431–432.

source

Back in Rhapsody 16, Eumaios the swineherd had left behind in his shelter an unrecognized Odysseus and had gone off to the palace in order to contact Penelope; in the swineherd’s absence, Telemachus, left alone with Odysseus, could now get to see his father transformed into an idealized godlike hero, made visible through a luminous epiphany produced by the sacred wand of the goddess Athena. This way, Telemachus could recognize the true Odysseus. But this true hero must not yet be recognized by the returning Eumaios. So, before the swineherd had ever made his return from the palace to the shelter, Athena had already produced a reverse transformation of Odysseus, and the hero could thus revert to his disguise as a lowly beggar. Now, at the beginning of Rhapsody 17, Odysseus can ready himself to go off to the palace in order to engage the suitors as a beggar, thus testing them. The testing will clearly reveal that all the suitors, down to the last man, are morally debased on the inside while seeming to be noble on the outside. Odysseus, in his degraded state as an elderly beggar, is matched by the degradation of his beloved hunting dog Argos, who at least lives long enough to recognize the hero.

draft js image error “Ulysses and his Dog” (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

To beg for a meal is to engage at ground zero, as it were, in the protocols of the dais as a ‘feast’. But even at ground zero, a dais is a dais, and such feasting requires the moral observance of ritualized protocols.

source

Again, a dais is a dais, even for beggars.

source

See the anchor comment at O.07.256.

source

This adjective argós ‘swift, alert; bright’, applied here at O.17.062 to two hunting dogs of Telemachus (κύνες ... ἀργοί), is relevant to the name of the dog Árgos: see the comment at O.17.292.

source

See again the anchor comment at O.07.256. Here at O.17.111 and at O.17.113, Telemachus is saying that Nestor as a host ephílei ‘loved’ him endukéōs ‘continuously, uninterruptedly’, fostering him as if he had been a son of his own who had just returned after an absence. In this case, then, the status of a child as a dependent has been interrupted, but the love of the father has not, thanks to the ritual and moral correctness of observing the protocols of fosterage: Nestor as a foster father substitutes for Odysseus in fostering Telemachus.

source

See again the anchor comment at O.07.256.

source

The element al- of an–al–tos ‘unnourished’ here is cognate with the root al- of Latin alō ‘nourish’.

source

The outrageousness of the wish here is correlated with the self-deluding assumption that is built into the premise.

source

On Phemios as a singer of tales, see the comment at O.01.153–155. On anaballesthai ‘begin performing’, see the comment at O.08.266. On the phorminx as a ‘special lyre’, see the comment at O.08.067.

source

In the exchange that takes place between Eumaios and Odysseus here at O.17.273–289, both speakers express their awareness of the need for awareness as indicated by the verb noeîn ‘take note (of), notice’, O.17.281, which must anticipate the awareness of those who are ready to harm them, O.17.278.

source

The comments here can be divided into five parts.

Part 1. The form Árgos, as used here at O.17.292 and also at O.17.300, derives from the adjective argós ‘swift, alert; bright’. For example, hunting dogs or kúnes are conventionally described as argoí (κύνες ... ἀργοί). See the comment at O.17.062. The recessive accentuation of Árgos marks it as a proper noun—a name—as distinct from the adjective argós ‘swift, alert; bright’, which has a word-final accent. This “speaking name” (nomen loquens) here applies to a beloved hunting dog of Odysseus. It has been twenty years since the hero last saw Argos, and he finds the hound in a pathetically degraded state: old and decrepit, Argos dies almost immediately after recognizing Odysseus, who appears on the surface to be similarly old and decrepit. The recognition is signaled by the verb noeîn ‘take note of, notice’, O.17.301, which is used elsewhere as well in contexts of signaling recognition, as at O.08.094 and at O.08.533. See the comments there. See also the anchor comment at I.05.669 on noeîn ‘take note (of), notice’. Relevant is the note at I.13.726–735 about a generalizing statement that is made in those lines: it is said there that a person’s nóos ‘mind’, I.13.732, is what enables him or her to ‘recognize’, gignōskein, I.13.734.

Part 2. At O.17.301, the recognition of the true Odysseus by a hound named Árgos can be seen as a Hermetic signature. In Homeric diction, the god Hermes is conventionally described as argeïphóntēs, as at O.01.038, and this agent noun can be read etymologically as ‘killing by way of speeding light’. The translation ‘speeding light’ corresponds to the etymology of the adjective argós ‘swift, alert; bright’, the more basic meaning of which is ‘shining with the speed of light’. (The etymology is analyzed at length in DELG under ἀργός.) Such a meaning is evident in forms that we find attested also in other Indo-European languages: for example, a cognate form of the es-stem arges- as in argeï-phóntēs is attested in the Indic epithet/name r̥jí-śvan- (as in Rig-Veda 1.101.1), where -śvan- is cognate with Greek kúon- ‘dog’: this epithet means something like ‘he whose hounds are swift’. But argeï-phóntēs must also have meant ‘killer of Argos’ in contexts where the name Árgos refers to a many-eyed and thus all-seeing hound that had been killed once upon a time by the god Hermes. The relevant myth, which centers on the transformation of a woman named Io into a cow guarded by Argos, is reflected for example in Aeschylus Suppliants 305: Ἄργον, τὸν Ἑρμῆς παῖδα γῆς κατέκτανεν ‘Argos the earthborn, whom Hermes killed’; at 304, in the same context, Argos is described as panóptēs ‘all-seeing’. In this myth, the name Árgos signals a monstrous double of Hermes himself, who is in his own right a panoptic marvel of perception and perceptiveness.

Part 3. We find a comparable situation in a medieval Irish myth about the hero Cú Chulainn, whose name is overtly understood to mean ‘Hound of Culann’. This hero had once upon a time killed a monstrous watchdog belonging to a smith named Culann. According to the myth as retold in Recension 1 of The Cattle Raid of Cooley (http://celt.ucc.ie/published/T301012/index.html, p. 142), the smith laments the death of the hound, saying that this wondrous beast had been the main protector of his herds of cattle and flocks of sheep; responding to the lament, Cú Chulainn promises that (1) he will raise another hound to replace the watchdog he had killed and that, in the meantime, (2) he, Cú Chulainn, will serve as the main protector of the smith’s herds of cattle and flocks of sheep. Hearing the twofold promise of Cú Chulainn, a man named Cathbad, who is the druid of Conchobar, king of the Ulstermen, now makes a pronouncement: from here on, says the druid, the hero who killed the hound of the smith Culann will forever be called Cú Chulainn, which means ‘Hound of Culann’. Cú Chulainn responds to the druid’s pronouncement by formally accepting his new name. In this Irish myth, the detail about the association of Cú Chulainn with herds of cattle and flocks of sheep is comparable with what we know about the association of the god Hermes with cattle and sheep, as for example in the Homeric Hymn (4) to Hermes: sheep at line 2, cattle at line 14. In the same Irish myth, we see another detail that is comparable to what we know about Hermes: Cú Chulainn, before he kills the Hound of Culann, is named Sétantae (http://celt.ucc.ie/published/T301012/index.html, p. 137). Etymologically, the meaning of this name seems to be ‘knower of the roads’ (sét mean ‘road’: see Ó hUiginn 2006:508). [[I owe this reference to Joseph Nagy.]]

Part 4. By way of comparison, I highlight a detail in the Homeric Hymn (4) to Hermes, line 303, where Hermes is told to lead the way to the secret place where he had hidden the cattle of Apollo: ‘you lead the way’ (σὺ δ' αὖθ' ὁδὸν ἡγεμονεύσεις); the idea of ‘leading the way’ is repeated at line 392 (Ἑρμῆν δὲ ... ἡγεμονεύειν). In the case of Hermes, the myth about his killing Argos, who can be seen as a monstrous canine version of his other self, signals the god’s absolutized powers of perception and recognition. Such powers are characteristic of the hero Odysseus as well, who as we have seen already at O.01.001 is linked with the god Hermes by way of his own heroic capacity for shape-shifting, which can be viewed as the ultimate challenge to a recognition of the true self. See the comment on O.01.001–010, Point 2.

Part 5. Another relevant Hermetic signature, I propose, is the name Eúmaios, the first occurrence of which can be found at O.14.055. The context there is this: Eumaios the swineherd has just called off a pack of fierce watchdogs that had been threatening to harm the disguised Odysseus, O.14.029–038. What seems to be Hermetic about the name of this swineherd is the element -maios, which I connect with the name of the god’s mother, Maîa, as in the Homeric Hymn (4) to Hermes line 4. This name is derived from the noun maîa, meaning ‘midwife’ (DELG under μαῖα). Accordingly, I interpret Eúmaios as a “speaking name” (nomen loquens) meaning something like ‘linked with good midwifery’.

source

On daiesthai ‘feast; divide (meat), apportion, distribute’, see the comments at O.03.066 and at O.08.061. The one who cuts and distributes the meat is the daitros ‘distributor’, as here at O.17.331.

source

What the speakers are speaking about here at O.17.336–355 is the ethical imperative of feeding the hungry who cannot afford to feed themselves. Someone who responds to such an ethical imperative will be performing an act of generosity that shows ethical nobility. Such nobility, which comes from within, distinguishes Telemachus from the suitors of Penelope, who are noble only in their exterior appearance. The begging that is about to be performed by the disguised Odysseus here will be a testing of the suitors—whose lack of generosity will fully expose them in all their ethical deficiency.

source

Addressing Antinoos, Eumaios scolds him for his lack of generosity. Antinoos, he says, fails to observe the common rules of decency, which require that you treat any ‘stranger’ as a ‘guest’, xenos, O.17.382. Thus you must perform the role of a good host. See the comment at O.08.026–045 on the meaning of xenos as both ‘stranger’ and ‘guest’. If you treat a stranger as a guest, then you will be reciprocated—unless of course the stranger turns out to be an enemy, in which case the reciprocity can be canceled. Still, you must first presume that the stranger will reciprocate you. True, strangers who are beggars can reciprocate you the least or not at all, but, all the same, your inner nobility must still oblige you to treat even beggars as guests. The irony here, of course, is that Antinoos is in no position to act as a host, since he is expropriating the property and livelihood of the absent Odysseus, who should be the real host, while Antinoos is the worst of guests, since he denies food to strangers when the food does not even belong to him.

source

Aside from beggars, there are of course many other kinds of xenoi ‘strangers’ to be hosted as potential guests. In the wording of Eumaios, such potential xenoi include various kinds of craftsmen or dēmiourgoi (dēmioergoi), O.17.383. This word means literally ‘craftsmen of the dēmos’, where dēmos ‘community, district’ is to be understood as a legally-sanctioned zone of activity within which craftsmen are authorized to be practicing their crafts. Comparable is the concept of áes cerd ‘people of the crafts’ in medieval Irish legal traditions: these craftsmen are entitled to juridical immunity as they travel from one petty kingdom or túath to another in the course of practicing their crafts, and the practitioners of such crafts include various social grades of poets. (Details in Nagy 2011a§149.) Similarly in the case of the dēmiourgoi (dēmioergoi) ‘craftsmen of the dēmos’ at O.17.383: these craftsmen too must have been juridically immune as they traveled from one dēmos to another in the course of practicing their crafts. The practicioners of such crafts included the categories of mantis ‘seer’, iētēr ‘physician’, and tektōn ‘carpenter, joiner’, as we see at O.17.384. And, as in the case of the medieval Irish craftsmen, these crafts also included the category of the aoidos ‘singer’ or poet, as we see at O.17.385.

source

The parallelism of the tektōn ‘carpenter’ with the aoidos ‘singer’ is particularly noteworthy, since the craft of the singer is conventionally compared to the craft of the carpenter. Especially relevant here is the wording in Pindar Pythian 3.113–114: here the poets of epic are compared metaphorically to tektones ‘carpenters, joiners’ who ‘join together’— as expressed by the verb-stem harmot-/harmod- —the epea ‘words’ of poetry (ἐπέων ... τέκτονες οἷα ... | ἅρμοσαν). The verb-stem harmot-/harmod- that I translate as ‘join together’ here (ἅρμοσαν) derives from the root ar-, meaning ‘join’. Relevant is the “speaking name” (nomen loquens) of Homer, Hóm-ēros, which can be analyzed morphologically as a compounding of homo- ‘together’ with the root ar*- ‘join’, meaning ‘he who joins together’ in the metaphorical sense of a ‘joiner, carpenter’. See also the note at I.05.722.

source

Here at O.17.494 the premise is indicated simply by way of houtōs ‘thus’.

source

Here at O.17.496–497 the wish is predicated on the wish that has just been uttered at O.17.494. That previous wish, since it is a curse, can be treated as a premise in its own right.

source

Speaking to Penelope, Eumaios describes the stranger whom he has been hosting in his shelter: for Eumaios, the disguised Odysseus is comparable to an aoidos ‘singer’, O.17.518. Thus the reciprocity that this would-be beggar is offering in the role of a would-be guest needs to be reassessed from minimum to maximum. The reciprocation that Eumaios as a good host will ultimately receive from Odysseus—and from the poets for whom Odysseus as poet will be a model—is destined to be most positive. Most negative, on the other hand, is the reciprocation that is destined for Antinoos and for the other suitors.

source

|1 ἦλθε δ᾽ ἐπὶ πτωχὸς πανδήμιος, ὃς κατὰ ἄστυ |2 πτωχεύεσκ᾽ Ἰθάκης, μετὰ δ᾽ ἔπρεπε γαστέρι μάργῃ |3 ἀζηχὲς φαγέμεν καὶ πιέμεν· οὐδέ οἱ ἦν ἲς |4 οὐδὲ βίη, εἶδος δὲ μάλα μέγας ἦν ὁράασθαι

|1 Then came a beggar [ptōkhos], ranging-all-over-the-district [dēmos], who all through the town [astu] |2 of Ithaca would go around begging. He stood out, with his gluttonous [margē] stomach, |3 because of his endless eating and drinking. And he had no īs, |4 nor biē, but in appearance he was big to look at.

Here I leave untranslated the synonyms īs and biē, both of which I had previously translated as ‘force, strength, violence’ in the note at O.18.001–117. As I already observed in that note, appearances here are deceiving: Iros looks strong on the outside but he is weak on the inside, and the exposure of his weakness will prove to be something that is ridiculed in epic. The act of ridiculing is the program, as it were, of mock epic, but here the mocking is reversed: now it is epic that will be mocking mock epic. As we are about to see, epic will overcome mock epic. Odysseus, even though he looks weak on the outside, will beat up on Iros, who looks strong on the outside. The mock epic form to which the epic refers here is signaled by a most telling word: it is margos ‘gluttonous, wanton’, at O.18.002, describing the gastēr ‘stomach’ of Iros, who stands out as an ostentatiously greedy consumer of food and drink, O.18.002–003. A character who is margos is not just a negative example of lowly humans in general: in the poetic language of praise/blame, such a character is a negative example of lowly poets in particular. A lowly man who is margos ‘gluttonous, wanton’ is to be seen generically as a greedy blame poet. Such a blame poet, as we will now see, is typical of a poetic form that I describe here as mock epic. We can see the formal features of such a poetic form at the very beginning of Rhapsody 18, where the wording matches in syntax the beginning of a mock epic known as the Margites. There the main character to be introduced on stage, as it were, is described not as a ptōkhos ‘beggar’, as here at O.18.001, but as a poet who turns out to be a blame poet. I show here the actual wording that we find at the beginning of that mock epic (Margites F 1 ed. West):

|1 ἦλθέ τις ἐς Κολοφῶνα γέρων καὶ θεῖος ἀοιδός, |2 Μουσάων θεράπων καὶ ἑκηβόλου Ἀπόλλωνος, |3 φίλῃς ἔχων ἐν χερσὶν εὔφθογγον λύρην

|1 Then came to Colophon some man, an old man, a divine [theios] singer [aoidos], |2 surrogate [therapōn] of the Muses and of Apollo who shoots from afar, |3 and in his hands, those hands of his, he held a lyre that made a beautiful sound.

As we see from the explicit description here, Margites is an aoidos ‘singer’: that is, he is a poet. Moreover, he is a blame poet, as we see even from the morphology of his name Margī́tēs, derived from the adjective margós ‘gluttonous, wanton’. This “speaking name” (nomen loquens) Margī́tēs is morphologically parallel to another “speaking name,” Thersī́tēs, which means ‘the bold one’ (tharsos/thersos is ‘boldness’ in negative contexts of blame poetry). This character named Thersites is represented in the Iliad as a blame poet of the worst kind: see the comments at I.02.214, I.02.216, I.02.217–219, I.02.221, I.02.222, I.02.224, I.02.225–242, I.02.235, I.02.241–242, I.02.243, I.02.245, I.02.246–264, I.02.246, I.02.247, I.02.248–249, I.02.251, I.02.255, I.02.256, I.02.265–268, I.02.269–270, I.02.275, I.02.277. In the narrative about Thersites in the Iliad, as I pointed out in my comments on the verses I just listed, it is clear that blame poetry is antithetical not only to praise poetry but also to epic, and that epic has the power to blame, in its own right, this blame poetry. Thus, epic can defeat blame poetry, making it an object of ridicule just as blame poets attempt to make epic an object of ridicule. When Odysseus beats up on Thersites in the Iliad, epic is defeating blame poetry. Similarly, when Odysseus beats up on Iros in the Odyssey, epic is defeating blame poetry and, further, epic is also defeating mock epic. In the case of the Margites, this mock epic starts off mock seriously by describing the poet simply as a poet, though he will turn out to be a blame poet as the narrative proceeds. The metrical form of such mock epic is a combination of two kinds of verses: (1) dactylic hexameters, which are the medium of epic, and (2) iambic trimeters, which had once been the medium of mock poetry in general—the word for which is iambos (BA 243–252). A case in point is what we find in the attested fragments of the Margites: in the three verses of this poem’s beginning, already quoted above, the first two verses are dactylic hexameters, to be contrasted with the third verse, which is an iambic trimeter (Nagy 2015.10.15§§28–29). At a later point in this same fragmentary poem, we see other such iambic trimeters, the most notable example of which is this verse (Margites F 201.1 ed. West F 4b.1):

πόλλ’ οἶδ’ ἀλώπηξ, ἀλλ’ ἐχῖνος ἓν μέγα.

The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing.

The same verse is attested in a fable, “The Fox and the Hedgehog,” which is embedded in blame poetry attributed to Archilochus (F 201.1 ed. West):

πόλλ’ οἶδ’ ἀλώπηξ, ἀλλ’ ἐχῖνος ἓν μέγα.

The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing.

Such uses of fables in both poetry and prose are suitable for praising or for blaming or simply for warning (BA 280–288; Nagy 2011a§§6–7, 129, 138–146). In the case of “The Fox and the Hedgehog,” Fable 427 (ed. Perry), there is such an element of warning attested in a version attributed to Aesop by Aristotle Rhetoric 2.1393b22–1394a1, who reports that this fable was narrated by Aesop to the people of Samos on the occasion of their impending execution of a ‘demagogue’.

Addendum: In Poetics 1448b24–34, Aristotle reconstructs an early phase of praise poetry and blame poetry where praise evolves into epic, as exemplified by the Homeric Iliad and Odyssey, while blame evolves into the poetry of playful ridicule, as exemplified by the mock epic Margites, which Aristotle actually attributes to Homer. In Poetics 1448b34–1449a6, Aristotle goes on to argue that the poetry of epic evolved further into tragedy while the poetry of playful ridicule evolved further into comedy (additional comments in Nagy 2015.10.15§§15–16). In terms of Aristotle’s terminology, then, the mock epic Margites can be described as a hybrid form of comedy.

source

This story, extending from line 1 of Rhapsody 18 all the way through line 117, shows a temporary change in poetic form. There is a sudden switch here from epic to non-epic. The character of Iros, as named at O.18.06, is non-epic, even anti-epic or, better, mock epic. We see here the story of a mock epic character who looks like an epic hero on the outside but who does not measure up, on the inside, to epic standards. In outward appearance, he qualifies as megas ‘great, big’, O.18.04, but he is ridiculously weak on the inside: that is, he lacks the epic inner quality of īs ‘force, violence, strength’, O.18.03. This quality, so blatantly lacking in the character of Iros, is also indicated by way of the word biē at O.18.04, which means the same thing as does īs at O.18.03: ‘force, violence, strength’. The action that will take place after Iros insults and even threatens Odysseus will prove that Iros is weak on the inside, and this weakness will disqualify him from surviving in epic.

source

In Rhapsody 18, Odysseus as a make-believe beggar is challenged by a most questionable character named Iros, who figures as a real beggar. What makes Iros so questionable is his similarity to characters who figure in a poetic form that can best be described as mock epic.

draft js image error “Ulysses Preparing to Fight with Irus” (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

The “speaking name” (nomen loquens) of Îros (῏Ιρος), Ο.18.006, is linked here with the name of Îris (῏Ιρις), the goddess who functions as divine messenger. On the name of Iris, see the comment on I.17.547–549. Iros too carries messages, as we see here from the use of apangellein ‘carry messages’ at O.18.008; unlike Iris, however, Iros carries messages indiscriminately: ‘whenever anyone tells him [to carry a message]’, O.18.008. Such an indiscriminate function as performed by Iros is ridiculous compared to the deliberate and serious function performed by Iris, who carries only those messages that are sent by the immortal gods themselves. Just as Iros himself has no inner ‘force’—no īs and no biē, as we saw at O.18.003 and O.18.004 respectively, so also the messages that he carries from one random person to another random person have no inner ‘force’ either. To be contrasted is the goddess Iris, who as carrier of divine messages is the embodiment of the inner ‘force’ that is contained in these messages: her name actually derives from the root u̯ī- as in īs ‘force, violence, strength’. Also, as I point out in the comment at I.17.547–549, the conventional association of this goddess Iris with windspeed is parallel with the association of windspeed with the words īs and biē*, which both mean ‘force, violence, strength’.

source

When Iros ‘quarrels with’ Odysseus, as expressed by the verb neikeîn here at O.18.009, he is acting as a blame poet who is hostile not only to Odysseus but also to the epic of the Odyssey. See the comment at I.02.221, where neikeîn ‘quarrel with’ refers to the blame that Thersites aims at both Achilles and Odysseus, the main heroes of the Iliad and Odyssey respectively. On blame as blame poetry, see the comment at O.18.001–004.

source

|15 δαιμόνι᾽, οὔτε τί σε ῥέζω κακὸν οὔτ᾽ ἀγορεύω, |16 οὔτε τινὰ φθονέω δόμεναι καὶ πόλλ᾽ ἀνελόντα. |17 οὐδὸς δ᾽ ἀμφοτέρους ὅδε χείσεται, οὐδέ τί σε χρή |18 ἀλλοτρίων φθονέειν· δοκέεις δέ μοι εἶναι ἀλήτης |19 ὥς περ ἐγών, ὄλβον δὲ θεοὶ μέλλουσιν ὀπάζειν

|15 O you, you who must be possessed by some superhuman-force [=daimōn]! I am harming you by neither deed nor word. |16 And I do not begrudge [phthoneîn] that someone should be a giver [to you], even when someone [like you] has already been a taker in great quantities. |17 This threshold will accommodate both of us, and you should not |18 be begrudging [phthoneîn] about the property of others. You seem to be a wandering-beggar [alētēs] |19 like me, and it is the gods who are likely to grant prosperity [olbos].

(What follows is epitomized from BA 228.) The verb phthoneîn ‘begrudge’ corresponds to the noun phthonos ‘being begrudging’. To begrudge is to feel ungenerous about giving something for someone else to have, or even about accepting a pre-existing situation where someone else already has something that you don’t want for that someone to have—because you want to have it instead. In the praise poetry of Pindar, as at Olympian 8.55, phthonos conventionally applies to blame poetry. In such praise poetry, blame poets are viewed as ungenerously negative about the very thought that someone should be getting praised by praise poetry. It is this kind of phthonos ‘begrudging’ that we find encapsulated in the behavior of Iros toward Odysseus. Picking a quarrel, as expressed by the verb neikeîn at O.18.009, Iros hurls words of blame against Odysseus. In doing so, he also orders Odysseus to get out of the way, O.18.010, threatening that the present eris ‘strife’ between the two of them, O.18.013, may escalate from verbal to physical violence, Ο.18.010–013. The disguised master of the household refuses to budge from the doorway, answering Iros with the words that I have just quoted from O.18.015–019. There the collocation of olbos ‘prosperity’ at O.18.019 with phthoneîn ‘begrudge’ at O.18.016 and O.18.018 reflects a traditional way of thinking, well attested also in Pindar’s praise poetry, which teaches that prosperity is given by the gods to the righteous—and that this gift is threatened by the unrighteous, who feel begrudging about such god-given prosperity. Ironically, the prosperity of Odysseus himself is now being threatened by the suitors, whose messenger Iros, as a mock Iris, is so begrudging as to hinder our hero from even entering his own household. Without having to identify himself as the real householder, however, Odysseus warns Iros not ‘to be begrudging [phthoneîn] about the property of others’ (ἀλλοτρίων φθονέειν), O.18.018. Such a begrudging attitude on the part of Iros is directly comparable to blame poetry in its function as a traditional negative foil of praise poetry within praise poetry, where the vice of gluttony is pictured as a prime characteristic of blame poetry: hence the saying ‘words are a morsel for those who are begrudging [phthoneroi]’ (ὄψον δὲ λόγοι φθονεροῖσιν) in Pindar Nemean 8.21. In fact, we now see from the Homeric description of Iros that his role as a blame poet is manifested in precisely this sort of gluttony. And the key word is margos 'gluttonous, wanton'.

source

Even before the physical combat between the disguised Odysseus and Iros takes place, Iros is already losing his nerve as he sees Odysseus half-revealed in the hero’s true form through the intervention of the goddess Athena, O.18.069–071. The reaction of the suitors is to start maliciously gloating over the fear shown by Iros, and the Master Narrator quotes here at O.18.073–074 what any one of the suitors might be saying as they gloat. And what the suitors say is already mocking Iros for failing to live up to his outward appearance of manly strength: the suitors are saying derisively that Iros is really unmanly, not manly. Just as the Master Narrator had previously said—and I highlighted this already in the comment at O.18.001–004—Iros may seem to be megas ‘great, big’ on the outside, O.18.004, but he is ridiculously weak on the inside: that is, he lacks the epic inner quality of īs ‘force, violence, strength’, O.18.003. This quality, so blatantly lacking in the character of Iros, is also indicated by way of the word biē at O.18.04, which means the same thing as does īs at O.18.03: ‘force, violence, strength’. The fear shown by Iros, leading to his defeat at the hands of Odysseus, proves that he really has no īs, no bíē. Accordingly, the suitors now call him Á-īros, O.18.073, which may be reconstructed as n̥-u̯īros* and glossed etymologically as ‘he who has no force = u̯īs’. This form serves as a comic correction for what now emerges as the sarcastically misapplied meaning of the “speaking name” (nomen loquens) Îros as u̯īros ‘he who has force = u̯īs’. Now we see that the form Îros* seems is a play on an unattested Greek word u̯īros, cognate with Latin vīr ‘man’, etc. The mocking name Á-īros O.18.073 explains the sarcasm built into the mocking name Îros. This mocking name Îros in the sense of u̯īros ‘he who has u̯īs’ is not incompatible with the likewise mocking assocation of Iros with Iris, the messenger of the gods, as analyzed in the comment at O.18.006–007: as I argued in that comment, the name Îris* itself can be derived from the same root u̯ī- as in ī́s* ‘force, violence, strength’.

source

The words that Antinoos addresses to the beggar Iros here at O.18.079–087 intensify the fear already felt by this beggar at O.18.075, now that he has had second thoughts about ever having challenged Odysseus, disguised as a rival beggar. The intensification of the fear is understandable, given that Antinoos threatens to do horribly cruel things if Iros loses his upcoming fight against this rival, O.085–087.

source

Here is what Antinoos threatens to do to Iros if this beggar loses the fight with the disguised Odysseus, O.18.085–087: Iros will be put on a ship and sent off from the island of Ithaca over to the mainland, and there the hapless beggar will be handed over to a mysteriously infernal figure named Ekhetos, who will proceed to cut off his prisoner’s nose and ears and then ‘pull out’ his genitals, feeding them to the dogs. I have a special reason for choosing to focus on these horrific torments in presenting my anchor comment on extreme cruelty in Homeric narrative. Here is the reason: these same horrific torments, which are imagined here at O.18.085–087 as happening only in the future, become realities later on, at O.22.474–479. But who will inflict the same torments in this later passage? Will it be the infernal Ekhetos? No, in this case, the agents of torment will be Philoitios the cowherd and Eumaios the swineherd, perhaps with the help of Telemachus, the son of Odysseus. True, the person who is punished at O.22.475–477, the goathered Melanthios, is presented as a morally negative character, no better than the beggar Iros. But the persons who inflict the torments in this passage are understood to be morally positive. See the comment at O.22.437–479. So, an explanation is still needed for understanding how these supposedly righteous men could ever bring themselves to the point of inflicting horrors that were parallel to the horrors potentially inflicted by the mysteriously infernal Ekhetos. Part of an explanation can be found in another passage, O.21.308–309, where Antinoos commands the disguised Odysseus not even to make an attempt at stringing the bow: if you persist, Antinoos threatens, you will be sent off to that infernal character Ekhetos. Although the words of Antinoos leave unmentioned here at O.21.308–309 any threatened loss of nose and ears and genitals, his earlier words at O.21.300–301 have already compared Odysseus to a Centaur named Eurytion, whose ears and nose were indeed chopped off by his outraged hosts after he misbehaved at their feast. For more on the story of Eurytion the Centaur, see the comment at O.21.288–310.

source

The suitors as a group reinforce the threat to send Iros to the mysteriously infernal Ekhetos. See the anchor comment at O.18.085–087.

source

See the comments at O.05.160–161 and I.01.052.

source

Here the reference to mōlos ‘struggle’ is comic, in that the fight between Odysseus and Iros is a mock struggle, not serious fighting that befits epic, as in the case of mōlos Arēos ‘struggle of Ares’, analyzed in the comment at I.02.401.

source

Syntactically, the premise here reinforces the probability of the wish. See also the comments on O.14.440–441 and O.15.341–342.

source

The speaker here is Antinoos himself: whoever succeeds in marrying Penelope, he says, would surely qualify as ‘the best of the Achaeans’. As the narrative will make clear, however, Antinoos is the least worthy of all the suitors in pursuit of this double goal of marrying Penelope and thus qualifying as ‘the best of the Achaeans’. See also the comments at O.11.179, O.15.521–522, and O.16.076.

source

The insults hurled by Melantho at the disguised Odysseus are replete with words indicating the language of blame poetry. For aiskhro- ‘disgraceful, shameful’, see the comments at I.02.216, I.03.038, I.06.325. For oneideio- ‘insulting’, see the comments on oneidos (plural oneidea) ‘words of insult’ at I.01.291, I.02.222, I.03.242, I.20.244–256. As for eniptein ‘scold’ at O.18.321 and O.18.326, it applies not only to unrighteous blame, as here, but also to righteous blame, as when Penelope scolds Antinoos at O.16.417.

source

See the comment on lōbeuein ‘say words of insult’ at O.02.323.

source

On kertomeîn ‘say words of insult’, see the comments at O.02.323 and I.02.256.

source

What Odysseus says to Eurymakhos here at O.18.366–386 can be seen as a poetic admonition given by the righteous to the unrighteous, especially in the wording at O.18.366–375, which is comparable to what Hesiod says to Perses in the Hesiodic Works and Days.

source

The suitor Eurymakhos is stung by the words spoken to him by the disguised Odysseus. These words, spoken tharsaleōs ‘boldly’, O.18.390, can be seen as blame poetry—but here the blame is justified, unlike the blame that is hurled at Odysseus by the suitors and by the disloyal members of his own household.

source

In the immediate context, here at O.18.424, only the surface meaning of therapōn as ‘attendant’ is evident.

source

Rhapsody 19 is best known for a scene where Odysseus is recognized by his old nurse Eurykleia. She notices a tell-tale scar on his leg—the result of a wound that marks the moment in his youth when he was gored in a boar hunt. This scar can be seen as a sēma or ‘sign’ of the hero’s identity.

draft js image error “Euryclea Discovers Ulysses” (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

|107 ὦ γύναι, οὐκ ἄν τίς σε βροτῶν ἐπ’ ἀπείρονα γαῖαν |108 νεικέοι· ἦ γάρ σευ κλέος οὐρανὸν εὐρὺν ἱκάνει, |109 ὥς τέ τευ ἦ βασιλῆος ἀμύμονος, ὅς τε θεουδὴς |110 ἀνδράσιν ἐν πολλοῖσι καὶ ἰφθίμοισιν ἀνάσσων |111 εὐδικίας ἀνέχῃσι, φέρῃσι δὲ γαῖα μέλαινα |112 πυροὺς καὶ κριθάς, βρίθῃσι δὲ δένδρεα καρπῷ, |113 τίκτῃ δ’ ἔμπεδα μῆλα, θάλασσα δὲ παρέχῃ ἰχθῦς |114 ἐξ εὐηγεσίης, ἀρετῶσι δὲ λαοὶ ὑπ’ αὐτοῦ.

|107 My lady, who among mortals throughout the limitless stretches of earth |108 would dare to quarrel [neikeîn] against you with words? For truly your glory [kleos] reaches the wide firmament of the sky itself |109 —like the glory of some faultless king [basileus], who, godlike as he is, |110 and ruling over a population that is multitudinous and vigorous, |111 upholds good acts of dikē [= eu-dikiai], while the dark earth produces |112 wheat and barley, the trees are loaded with fruit, |113 the ewes steadily bring forth lambs, and the sea abounds with fish, |114 by reason of the good directions he gives, and his people are-meritorious [aretân] under his rule.

(What follows is epitomized from H24H 12§§4–12§§4–7.) The wording here at O.19.107–114 shows the only place in the Odyssey where Penelope is said to have kleos or ‘glory’ herself, O.19.108, but even here the glory emanates more broadly from the poetic tradition that features primarily Odysseus and only secondarily those who are close to him, especially Penelope. This passage here will be relevant to the context of the kleos ‘glory’ attributed to Odysseus at O.24.196, to be analyzed in the comment on that line (further analysis in H24H 9§§22–23; also BA 38). Here at O.19.107–114, the kleos ‘glory’ of Penelope depends on the validity of comparing this glory with the corresponding glory of the unnamed king whose ‘good acts of dikē’ energize the fertility and prosperity of the land he rules. Since the words about this just king are spoken by the disguised Odysseus, it is evident that he himself will take the role of that just king when the time comes. But when exactly will that time come? Will it be after he kills the suitors? Or will it be after he dies? I ask the second question because the wording that refers to the inhabitants of the fertile and prosperous land of the just king is remarkably parallel to the wording that referred to the inhabitants of the kingdom of Odysseus after he is dead: they are said to be olbioi ‘blessed’, O.11.137. See the comment at O.11.136–137. This wording comes from the prophecy of Teiresias to Odysseus at O.11.090-137, which I quoted in my comments on Rhapsody 11. As also in those comments, I draw attention once again to the word olbioi here, which I continue to translate here as ‘blessed’, and which describes the inhabitants of the kingdom of Odysseus. As I argued in the comment at O.11.136–137, this word olbioi, ‘blessed’, refers to the blessings of fertility and prosperity that the inhabitants of Ithaca receive as a result of the hero’s death (the prophecy of his death at O.11.136–137 will be retold at O.23.283–284). This death will lead to the transformation of Odysseus into a cult hero (further analysis in H24H 11§59). In the Hesiodic Works and Days, verse 172, this same word olbioi, ‘blessed’, is used to describe cult heroes who are immortalized after death and who enjoy a state of bliss in the Islands of the Blessed, which is a paradisiacal setting that transcends the temporal and the spatial constraints associated with sites where the bodies of cult heroes are believed to be buried (further analysis in H24H 11§15). My argument, then, is that the picture of a just king who rules over a fertile and prosperous land here at O.19.107–114 refers to the future status of Odysseus as a cult hero. But I still need to confront a possible objection: why would a cult hero be described as a basileus, ‘king’, at O.19.109? And besides, would not the title of ‘king’ fit Odysseus when he is alive, right after he kills the suitors and recovers his kingdom—and before he is dead? True, the title would fit then as well, but I maintain that the context of the words spoken by the disguised Odysseus to Penelope is more transcendent. The fact is, the title of ‘king’ fits the cult hero as well. There is evidence to show that the generic cult hero is conventionally described as a basileus, ‘king’ (further analysis in BA 170–172). In a stylized thrēnos or ‘lament’ composed by Pindar (F 133, quoted by Plato Meno 81b), for example, hēroes hagnoi, ‘holy heroes’, are equated with basilēes, ‘kings’ (βασιλῆες ἀγαυοὶ … ἥροες ἁγνοί). Also, in an inscription grounded in rituals honoring the dead, in a context of promising a blissful life after death, the dead person is told: καὶ τότ’ ἔπειτ’ ἄ[λλοισι μεθ’] ἡρώεσσιν ἀνάξει[ς] ‘and then you will be king [anassein] among the other heroes [hērōes]’ (IG XIV 638 = SEG 40:824[2]; further analysis in BA 171, where the citation needs to be corrected).

source

In the comment at O.17.381–394, I noted the listing there of four kinds of craftsment who belong to the category of dēmiourgoi (dēmioergoi) ‘craftsmen of the dēmos’, where dēmos ‘community, district’ is to be understood as a legally-sanctioned zone of activity within which craftsmen are authorized to be practicing their crafts. The four kinds of craftsmen were the mantis ‘seer’, the iētēr ‘physician’, and the tektōn ‘carpenter, joiner’ at O.17.384 and the aoidos ‘singer’ or poet at O.17.385. Now we see here at O.19.135 a fifth kind of craftsman, the kērux ‘herald.’

source

For more on tēkesthai ‘melt away, dissolve’ as a metaphor for weeping, see the note at O.19.204–212.

source

οὐ γὰρ ἀπὸ δρυὸς ἐσσὶ παλαιφάτου οὐδ’ ἀπὸ πέτρης

‘For surely you are not from an oak, going back to an old saying, or from a rock.’

In asking the disguised Odysseus to reveal his origins, Penelope says she assumes that the genealogy of this unidentified man is not all that difficult to trace: surely this man does not need to trace his ancestry all the way back to the prototypes of humanity, which would be an exercise in a special kind of mythology that can best be described as anthropogony. In the anthropogonic myths that have survived in the Greek language—as also in other Indo-European languages—two most common alternative versions claim that the First Human originated from a tree or from a rock. The tree is commonly pictured as an oak. The epithet palaiphato- ‘going back to an old saying’ here at O.19.163 applies not only to the proverbial drūs ‘oak’ but also to the comparably proverbial petrē ‘rock’. Both versions of such an anthropogonic myth center on a violent act that is simultaneously destructive and regenerative: the ignition, as it were, of the First Human happens when a thunderbolt strikes a primordial tree or rock. Details in GMP ch. 7, “Thunder and the Birth of Humankind.” See also Forte 2015.

source

Here at O.19.165–203 we see the third example of “Cretan lies” told by Odysseus in the context of his re-entry into the kingdom of Ithaca. The first example is at O.13.256–286 and the second is at O.14.192–359. The concept of “Cretan lies” was introduced in the anchor comment at O.01.284–286 on Cretan Odyssey.

source

|172 Κρήτη τις γαῖ’ ἔστι μέσῳ ἐνὶ οἴνοπι πόντῳ, |173 καλὴ καὶ πίειρα, περίρρυτος· ἐν δ’ ἄνθρωποι |174 πολλοὶ ἀπειρέσιοι, καὶ ἐννήκοντα πόληες· |175 ἄλλη δ’ ἄλλων γλῶσσα μεμιγμένη· ἐν μὲν Ἀχαιοί, |176 ἐν δ’ Ἐτεόκρητες μεγαλήτορες, ἐν δὲ Κύδωνες |177 Δωριέες τε τριχάϊκες δῖοί τε Πελασγοί· |178 τῇσι δ’ ἐνὶ Κνωσός, μεγάλη πόλις, ἔνθα τε Μίνως |179 ἐννέωρος βασίλευε Διὸς μεγάλου ὀαριστής, |180 πατρὸς ἐμοῖο πατήρ, μεγαθύμου Δευκαλίωνος. |181 Δευκαλίων δ’ ἐμὲ τίκτε καὶ Ἰδομενῆα ἄνακτα· |182 ἀλλ’ ὁ μὲν ἐν νήεσσι κορωνίσιν Ἴλιον εἴσω |183 ᾤχεθ’ ἅμ’ Ἀτρεΐδῃσιν· ἐμοὶ δ’ ὄνομα κλυτὸν Αἴθων, |184 ὁπλότερος γενεῇ· ὁ δ’ ἅμα πρότερος καὶ ἀρείων.

|172 There’s a land called Crete, in the middle of the sea that looks like wine. |173 It’s beautiful and fertile, surrounded by the waves, and the people who live there |174 are so many that you can’t count them. They have 90 cities. |175 Different people speak different languages, all mixed together. |176 There are Eteo-Cretans, those great-hearted ones. And Cydonians. |177 There are Dorians, with their three divisions, and luminous Pelasgians. |178 In this land [plural] is Knossos, a great city. There it was that Minos, |179 who was renewed every nine years [enneōros], ruled as king. He was the companion [oaristēs] of Zeus the mighty. |180 And he was the father of my father, Deukalion, the one with the big heart. |181 Deukalion was my father, and the father also of Idomeneus the king. |182 That man [= Idomeneus], in curved ships, went off to Ilion [= Troy], |183 yes, he went there together with the sons of Atreus [= Agamemnon and Menelaos]. As for my name, which is famous [kluton], it is Aithōn. |184 I’m the younger one by birth. As for the other one [= Idomeneus], he was born before me and is superior to me.

(What follows is epitomized from Nagy 2017.04.11 4§§1–2.) In the Third Cretan Tale of Odysseus, the hero assumes the “false” identity of a Cretan prince named Aithōn, who is a grandson of Minos and the younger brother of Idomeneus. The relationship of Aithōn to Minos and to Idomeneus reflects a synthesizing of Minoan and Mycenaean “signatures.” A clearly Minoan signature is the detail about Minos as the grandfather, and a clearly Mycenaean signature is the detail about Idomeneus as the older brother: this Idomeneus is of course one of the most prominent Achaean warriors in the Homeric Iliad as we know it. On Idomeneus, Mycenaean king of Crete, see the anchor comment at O.01.284–286.

source

Here at O.19.177, the epithet of the Dorians is trikhā́īkes (Δωριέες ... τριχάϊκες), which reflects the traditional division of Dorian communities into three phūlai ‘subdivisions’, Dumânes/Hulleîs/Pámphūloi. So, I interpret the formation trikhā-u̯īk- *to mean ‘with three-way homes’, where u̯īk- is the same root that we find in oikos ‘home’, from u̯oikos.

source

Here at O.19.178, I translate the pronoun têisi (τῇσι) as ‘in this land [plural]’. This pronoun, referring to the land of Crete, is in the plural, not in the the singular, as we might have expected. The explanation can be found in the comment at O.14.199, where we see Krētē, the name of Crete, not in the singular but in the plural, Krêtai. As I point out in that comment, plural Krêtai cannot mean a multiplicity of islands named Crete. There is no such thing. Rather, we see there an elliptic plural, meaning ‘Crete and everything that belongs to it’. And of course whatever belongs to Crete are all the Aegean islands and lands controlled by the thalassocracy of Crete. So also in the case of the pronoun τῇσι that I translate as ‘in this land [plural]’ at O.19.178, we see an elliptic plural referring to Crete together with everything that belongs to Crete. Even the pronoun signals the imperial power of Crete.

source

This name Aithōn derives from the participle aíthōn of the verb aíthein ‘burn’. In the lore of fable, aithōn suits such characters as the crafty fox who is ‘burning’ with hunger and will rely on his craftiness to find ways to feed his insatiable stomach. Such lore is reported in the scholia for Pindar Olympian 11.9, where the generic alōpēx ‘fox’ is actually described as aithōn. Such a description can apply in negative contexts to a beggar in pursuit of food for his insatiable stomach, who in turn is comparable to a greedy blame poet in pursuit of rewards for his poetry. See the comment on O.18.001–004. In positive contexts, on the other hand, the name Aithōn can apply to a righteous man who is ‘burning’ with hunger for justice, as in Theognis 1209–1210 (commentary and further details in GMP 273–274). For more on Aithōn, I strongly recommend the analysis of Levaniouk 2011:36–49.

source

|185 ἔνθ’ Ὀδυσῆα ἐγὼν ἰδόμην καὶ ξείνια δῶκα. |186 καὶ γὰρ τὸν Κρήτηνδε κατήγαγεν ἲς ἀνέμοιο |187 ἱέμενον Τροίηνδε, παραπλάγξασα Μαλειῶν· |188 στῆσε δ’ ἐν Ἀμνισῷ, ὅθι τε σπέος Εἰλειθυίης, |189 ἐν λιμέσιν χαλεποῖσι, μόγις δ’ ὑπάλυξεν ἀέλλας. |190 αὐτίκα δ’ Ἰδομενῆα μετάλλα ἄστυδ’ ἀνελθών· |191 ξεῖνον γάρ οἱ ἔφασκε φίλον τ’ ἔμεν αἰδοῖόν τε. |192 τῷ δ’ ἤδη δεκάτη ἢ ἑνδεκάτη πέλεν ἠὼς |193 οἰχομένῳ σὺν νηυσὶ κορωνίσιν Ἴλιον εἴσω.

|185 There [in Crete] is where I [= Aithōn] saw Odysseus and gave him gifts of guest-host friendship [xenia]. |186 You see, he had been forced to land at Crete by the violent power [īs] of a wind. |187 He was trying to get to Troy, but the wind detoured him as he was sailing past the headlands of Maleiai, |188 and he was dropped off [by the violent wind] at Amnisos, exactly where the cave of Eileithuia is situated. |189 It was a harsh landing, and he just barely avoided being destroyed by the blasts of the sea-gales. |190 Right away he asked to see Idomeneus as soon as he came to the city [= Knossos]. |191 You see, he was saying that he was a guest-friend [xenos] [of Idomeneus] and that they had a relationship of mutual respect. |192 But it was by now already the tenth or eleventh day since he [= Idomeneus] |193 had departed, sailing off with a fleet of curved ships on his way to Ilion [Troy].

(What follows is epitomized from Nagy 2017.04.11 4§3.) Here, at this confluence of Minoan-Mycenaean signatures, is where the hero of the Odyssey once again enters the stream of mythmaking about a Cretan Odyssey. In this version, Odysseus has not yet reached his destination, which is Troy, but Idomeneus has presumably already arrived.

source

Detoured by violent winds, the Odysseus of this Cretan Odyssey lands in Crete. The place where he lands is Amnisos, and a poetic landmark for this place is a cave of Eileithuia. As we know from the reportage of Strabo, who flourished in the first century BCE, Amnisos was reputed to be the sea harbor of Minos the king. Here is the precise wording of Strabo (10.4.8 C476): Μίνω δέ φασιν ἐπινείῳ χρήσασθαι τῷ Ἀμνισῷ, ὅπου τὸ τῆς Εἰλειθυίας ἱερόν ‘they say that Minos used Amnisos as his seaport, and the sacred-space [hieron] of Eileithuia is there’. According to Pausanias (4.20.2), the priestess of Eileithuia at Olympia makes a regular offering to this goddess as also to her cult-hero protégé Sosipolis, and this offering is described as mazas ... memagmenas meliti ‘barley-cakes [mazai] kneaded in honey [meli]’ (μάζας ... μεμαγμένας μέλιτι). In Laconia and Messenia, the goddess Eileithuia was known as Eleuthia, and this form of her name is actually attested in a Linear B tablet found at Knossos. Here is my transcription of the relevant wording that is written in Knossos tablet Gg 705 line 1:

a-mi-ni-so / e-re-u-ti-ja ME+RI AMPHORA 1

Amnisos: Eleuthiāi meli [followed by the ideogram for “amphora”] 1

‘Amnisos: for Eleuthia, honey, one amphora’.

We see here at O.19.188 a striking example of details in Homeric poetry that show continuity with the era of Minoan-Mycenaean civilization. My original argumentation concerning the Minoan-Mycenaean heritage of the details we read in this Homeric verse at O.19.188 appeared in Nagy 1969. For further details on what is said by Pausanias 4.20.2 about Eileithuia, see Nagy 2015.02.25. For more on O.19.188 in the overall context of O.19.185–193, I strongly recommend Levaniouk 2011:93–96.

source

ἴσκε ψεύδεα πολλὰ λέγων ἐτύμοισιν ὁμοῖα

‘He made likenesses [eïskein], saying many deceptive [pseudea] things looking like [homoia] genuine [etuma] things.’

This verse, which closes the Third Cretan Tale, signals that Odysseus has been speaking as a poet whose art can be understood only by those who are qualified. Most comparable are the verses that are said to be spoken by the Muses to Hesiod in the Hesiodic Theogony, 26–28:

|26 ποιμένες ἄγραυλοι, κάκ᾿ ἐλέγχεα, γαστέρες οἶον, |27 ἴδμεν ψεύδεα πολλὰ λέγειν ἐτύμοισιν ὁμοῖα, |28 ἴδμεν δ᾿, εὖτ᾿ ἐθέλωμεν, ἀληθέα γηρύσασθαι.

|26 Shepherds camping in the fields, base objects of reproach, mere stomachs [gasteres]! |27 We know how to say many deceptive [pseudea] things looking like [homoia] genuine [etuma] things, |28 but we also know how, whenever we wish it, to proclaim things that are true [alēthea].

(What follows is epitomized from MoM 2§§22–28.) In these Hesiodic verses, what is deceptive is not the fact that some things ‘look like’ other things. Rather, what is deceptive is that pseudea ‘deceptive things’ can look like etuma ‘real things’. On this point, see also the comment at O.14.124–125. And even deceptive things that look like real things can still be equal to real things, the same as real things. As I indicated in my comments at O.16.172–212, for example, Odysseus is really ‘equal to the immortals’ when he looks like an immortal in ritual contexts. As I also indicated in those comments, the contexts of eïskein ‘make likenesses, liken’ at O.16.187 and O.16.200 show that Telemachus was justified in saying that Odysseus looks the same as a god after being touched by the wand of Athena. If Telemachus was at first deceived by the looks of Odysseus in such contexts, then the deception was happening from the viewpoint of an uninitiated beholder who could not yet distinguish between what is deceptive and what is real. Similarly in the Hesiodic Theogony, the figure of Hesiod has been such an uninitiated beholder before his poetic initiation into the art of the Muses. After his initiation, however, he can now envision what is real even when he beholds things that can be deceptive. The same principle holds whenever Odysseus utters words to be envisioned only by those who have already been initiated into the art of the Muses of poetry. That is what happens here at O.19.203. What is deceptive about the deceptive things that Odysseus is saying in his Third Cretan Tale is not the fact that some things ‘look like’ other things. Rather, what is deceptive is that pseudea ‘deceptive things’ look like etuma ‘real things’. And, once again, even these deceptive things that look like real things can still be equal to real things—the same as the real things that are seen by those who are initiated into the art of the Muses. This art is the art of poetic imagination, which can make even deceptive things look like real things, be equal to real things, be the same as real things. Such is the art that is borrowed by the alluring figure of Helen when she makes her voice identical to the voice of any wife of any Homeric hero: see the comment on eïksein ‘liken’ at O.04.279. Helen’s voice, borrowed from the poetry of the Muses, has the power of conjuring the voices of the wives themselves. And, by extension, her poetic voice has the power of conjuring the very images of the wives. True, Helen means to deceive, but her deceptive words in this narrative frame are the same as the real words of Homeric poetry in the overall narrative frame of that poetry—real words that activate visions of the real things of Homeric poetry. These real things are whatever is real for this poetry, which is figured as true overall, even if it contains things that seem at first to be deceptive. For Homeric poetry, whatever is divinely true can contain deceptions and still be true.

source

The emotional response of Penelope to the Third Cretan Tale as told by the disguised Odysseus is to break down in tears. The idea of her melting away in tears, as expressed by way of the verb tēkesthai ‘melt away, dissolve’ at O.19.204 and O.19.208, is directly compared here by way of simile—ὡς ‘just as’ at O.19.205—to the melting of snow on top of a mountain when it makes contact with the West Wind: here the basic physical process of a melting of snow is expressed by way of the verb kata-tēkesthai/kata-tēkein ‘melt away, dissolve’ at O.19.205/O.19.206. If such familiar idioms as melting away in tears did not exist in the English language today, as also in other modern languages, then the very idea that the khrōs ‘complexion’ of Penelope at O.19.204 and her parēïa ‘cheeks’ at O.19.208 were ‘melting away’, as expressed by tēkesthai’, would surely seem far more defamiliarizing. But the fact is, a feeling that is quite alien is happening in the Homeric comparison here: a macrocosmic process of melting snow is being drawn into a microcosmic personal experience of pouring out your tears from your eyes, all over your complexion—with the result that all of you liquifies. Here the world of similes and metaphors extends into the world of metonymy: the emotional intensity of personal experience connects to the dynamics of the cosmos, as when snow melts. On simile and metaphor, also on metonymy, see the inventory of Words and Ideas.

source

Penelope tests the disguised Odysseus, who claims to have encountered the real Odysseus. If you really did encounter him, tell me details about him! Here are the questions at O.19.215–219: what was his outer appearance, what did he wear, and who were his nearest companions? In responding to Penelope with a detailed description, O.19.221–248, the disguised Odysseus displays his mental bravura in making connections between his disguised self and his real self. In this context, at I.19.132, while describing a tunic worn by the real Odysseus, the disguised Odysseus uses the word noeîn: ‘I took-note [noeîn] of the tunic’ (τὸν δὲ χιτῶν’ ἐνόησα). As we have already seen in other contexts, the act of noticing as indicated by noeîn ‘take note (of), notice’ is programmed to lead toward recognition. See the comments at O.08.094 and O.08.533. See also especially the anchor comment at I.05.669 on noeîn ‘take note (of), notice’.

source

The disguised Odysseus has just finished narrating to Penelope a description of the real Odysseus, giving a variety of details. Here at O.19.250, these details are described as sēmata ‘signs’ that are all ‘recognized’ by Penelope, as indicated by the verb anagignōskein (σήματ' ἀναγνούσῃ). As noted already in the comment at O.19.215–248, the verb noeîn ‘take note of, notice’ already indicates that a recognition is about to take place.

source

Penelope formally confirms here that the details recounted by the disguised Odysseus at O.19.221–248 have been recognized by her as indications of the real Odysseus.

source

Once again, the emotional experience of Penelope is conveyed by the metaphor of dissolving while weeping. See especially the comment at O.19.204–212.

source

Penelope shows that she knows how to match the hospitality that Odysseus had consistently demonstrated as king of Ithaca. What she says here will be elaborated further at O.19.325–334. See the comments on those verses.

source

The goddess of the dawn, Ēōs, has a fixed epithet ēri-géneia, meaning ‘early-generated’ or ‘early-generating’, as at O.02.001. This epithet, which is exclusively hers, has a prefix that derives from the old locative adverb êri ‘early’, and Homeric diction actually preserves êri in collocation with ēṓs ‘dawn’ here at O.19.320. This form ēri-géneia is comparable to the name of the earth-encircling river Ēri-danós, as described in Apollonius of Rhodes Argonautica 4.596. The first part of this name Ēri-danós likewise has the prefix êri; the second part –danos seems to mean ‘dew’ or ‘fluid’, and a likely cognate is Indic dā́nu- ‘fluid, dew’. See also Part 4 of the comment on O.15.250–251.

source

Once again, Penelope shows that she knows how to match the hospitality that Odysseus had consistently demonstrated as king of Ithaca—hospitality that will earn for him poetic kleos ‘glory’, O.19.333. This passage, then, will be relevant to the context of kleos ‘glory’ at I.24.196.

source

Here at O.19.331 the objects of mockery as expressed by the verb ephepsiaâsthai ‘mock’ are the unjust, who therefore deserve to be mocked. Such mockery comes from blame poetry, and here the blame is directed at those who violate the moral protocols of hospitality.

source

This expression ep’ anthrōpous ‘throughout humankind’ here at O.19.334 is conventionally associated with words referring to remembrance by way of song. In this case, the relevant word is kleos, O.19.333, referring to the ‘glory’ of poetry and song. See the anchor comment at I.10.213.

source

Here at O.19.370 and O.19.372 the objects of mockery as expressed by the verb ephepsiaâsthai ‘mock’ are not the unjust but the just, such as the disguised Odysseus and others like him who are despised as beggars. Once again, such mockery comes from blame poetry, but here the blame is unjustifiable. The women who mock the disguised Odysseus are described at O.19.373 as engaging in lōbē ‘words of insult’ and aiskhea ‘disgraceful things’. Both these words point to unjustified forms of blame. On lōbē ‘words of insult’, see the comment at O.18.347. As for aiskhea ‘disgraceful things’, it is the concrete plural of the abstract singular aiskhos, which means ‘disgrace, shame’: see the comment on aiskhos at O.11.433.

source

Eurykleia recognizes Odysseus when she is washing his feet. The sign for her recognition is the scar that she notices on his leg—a wound that marks the time when he went on a boar hunt to Parnassus with his mother’s father, Autolykos. The word that signals the recognition is gignōskein ‘recognize’ at O.19.392 and at O.19.468. The scar that Eurykleia recognizes here turns out to be a sēma ‘sign, signal’ of the hero’s true identity, as we see from the use of that word at O.21.217 and at O.23.073. See the comments at O.21.217–224 and at O.23.073–077 respectively. This word sēma ‘sign, signal’ does not occur here at O.19.388–507, but the occurrences at O.21.217 and O.23.073 and O.24.329 indicate clearly that the scar as a sēma is a subtext, as it were, for the recognition scene that frames the narrative about the boar hunt at Parnassus.

source

As we see here at O.19.433–434, the sun rises from the waters of the world-encircling river Ōkeanos at sunrise, as also at I.07.421–423, and it sets into these same waters at sunset, as we see at I.08.485–486. See the comment at I.07.421–423.

source

The translation of menos here at O.19.440 as the ‘mental power’ of winds is explained in the note at I.12.018. I epitomize here: forces of nature can have a mind of their own, as it were, because they are connected to the mental power of divinities who control the cosmos and to whom humans using their own mental power can pray for the activation of such control.

source

|518 ὡς δ᾿ ὅτε Πανδαρέου κούρη, χλωρηῒς ἀηδών, |519 καλὸν ἀείδῃσιν ἔαρος νέον ἱσταμένοιο, |520 δενδρέων ἐν πετάλοισι καθεζομένη πυκινοῖσιν, |521 ἥ τε θαμὰ τρωπῶσα χέει πολυηχέα φωνήν, |522 παῖδ᾿ ὀλοφυρομένη Ἴτυλον φίλον, ὅν ποτε χαλκῷ |523 κτεῖνε δι᾿ ἀφραδίας, κοῦρον Ζήθοιο ἄνακτος.

|518 As when the daughter of Pandareos, the nightingale [aēdṓn] in the green |519 sings beautifully at the onset anew of springtime, |520 perched in the dense foliage of trees, |521 and she pours forth, changing it around [trōpôsa] thick and fast, a voice with many resoundings [poluēkhḗs], |522 lamenting her child, the dear Itylos, whom once upon a time with weapon of bronze |523 she killed inadvertently, the son of Zethos the king.

Here at O.19.518–523 the figure of Penelope expresses her anxieties by comparing them to the emotions expressed in the song of a generic aēdōn ‘nightingale’, O.19.518, and the bird is in this context immediately identified with a woman named Aēdōn who became the prototype of all nightingales when she was turned into a nightingale as a result of the immeasurable sorrow she experienced over having inadvertently killed her own son. What is most remarkable about this comparison, framed as a simile by way of the phrase ὡς δ' ὅτε ‘just as when’ at O.19.518, is that the primal emotions of the woman Aēdōn are figured as the prototype of the emotions conveyed by the song sung by any nightingale. For mythological variations on the theme of a woman who turned into the prototype of all nightingales, see Nagy 2016.01.07. For more on the myth of Aēdōn and its relevance to Penelope, I strongly recommend the analysis of Levaniouk 2011:213–228.

source

The generic nightingale, as she sings her song, modulates her tune, ‘changing it around’—which is how I translate trōpôsa (τρωπῶσα) here at I.19.521. The sound made by the songbird’s song is described in this same verse as poluēkhḗs ‘with many resoundings’ (accusative πολυηχέα), but there is a variant reading reported by Aelian On the nature of animals 5.36: poludeukḗs (likewise accusative πολυδευκέα) ‘with many continuations’. Morphologically, this form poludeukḗs ‘with many continuations’ is the opposite of adeukḗs, meaning ‘discontinuous, interrupting’—in other words, ‘with no continuations’. For more on the meaning of adeukḗs, see the anchor comment at O.04.489.

source

There is a pattern of onomatopoeia built into the name Itylos = ´Itulos, as derivative of ´Itus (Ἴτυς), a name of the son of the unfortunate mythical woman who was turned into a nightingale. The doubling of this name produces a “tweeting” effect, as in Aeschylus Agamemnon 1144: Ἴτυν Ἴτυν στένουσ᾿ ‘[the nightingale] mourning “´Itun ´Itun”’; also Sophocles Electra 148: ἃ Ἴτυν αἰὲν Ἴτυν ὀλοφύρεται ‘who keeps on mourning “´Itun ´Itun”’.

source

Here again at O.19.528, as at O.11.179, O.15.521–522, O.16.076, O.18.289, it is said that whoever succeeds in marrying Penelope would surely qualify as ‘the best of the Achaeans’. And now it is Penelope herself who is saying this.

source

ἀλλ’ ἄγε μοι τὸν ὄνειρον ὑπόκριναι καὶ ἄκουσον

‘Come, respond [hupo-krinesthai] to my dream [oneiros], and hear my telling of it.’

When Penelope challenges the disguised Odysseus to interpret her oneiros ‘dream’, the word that is used in her challenge here at O.19.535 is hupo-krinesthai, which I translate as ‘respond to (a sign), interpret’; the same word is used at O.19.555 when the disguised Odysseus refers to the challenge. The verb hupo-krinesthai is used at O.19.535 in the imperative, and the word for ‘dream’, oneiros, is in the accusative; likewise at O.19.555, hupo-krinesthai takes the accusative of the word for ‘dream’, oneiros. This verb is derived from krinein/krinesthai, the basic meaning of which is ‘separate, distinguish, judge’. The verb krinein, in the active voice, can be translated as ‘interpret’ when combined with the noun opsis, ‘vision’, as its object (Herodotus 7.19.1-2) or with enupnion, ‘dream’, as its object (Herodotus 1.120.1). It is a question of interpreting-in-performance. In the middle voice, hupo-krinesthai suggests that the performer is interpreting for himself as well as for others. The basic idea of hupo-krinesthai, then, is to see the real meaning of what others see and to quote back, as it were, what this vision is really telling them. Such a vision distinguishes what is real from what is unreal.

source

Penelope tests the disguised Odysseus by challenging him to interpret a dream that she had, which is for her a sign that she says she needs to be interpreted for her, O.19.535–553. Odysseus responds to the sign, giving his interpretation, O.19.555–558, and then Penelope responds to the interpretation, O.19.560–569. What Penelope dreams, O.19.535–553, is that the geese in her courtyard are suddenly killed by an eagle that swoops down on them. She cries and cries over the loss of her geese. But then, within the narrative of the dream itself, O.19.546–550, the eagle is quoted as saying to Penelope that he is Odysseus and that the geese are the suitors, who are to be punished for their unjust behavior. The disguised Odysseus responds to the convoluted words of Penelope by saying that her dream has already interpreted itself and that no response is needed from him—except to say what he has just said, that the dream has already interpreted itself, O.17.555–558. This way, Odysseus postpones identifying himself to Penelope, but at the same time he shows his good judgment in distinguishing between what is false and what is true about his own heroic identity as defined by his sense of justice, which is being challenged by the injustices inflicted on him by the suitors.

source

In Penelope’s dream as she reports it here at O.19.547, the talking eagle that dream-interprets itself to be really Odysseus says that this dream is not just any onar or ‘dream’ but rather, more than that, it is a hupar esthlon or ‘waking reality’ (οὐκ ὄναρ, ἀλλ' ὕπαρ ἐσθλόν). The reality that is being foretold in the dream here at O.19.547 is signaled by the word hupar, which refers to a dream that is seen when one is asleep but will also be seen after one is awake, as opposed to the word onar (also oneiros), which refers to a dream seen only in sleep. (The word hupar is cognate with the element suppar- of the Hittite verb suppariya- ‘sleep’: see DELG under ὕπαρ.) The reality foretold by a dream that is hupar is reinforced here at O.19.547 by the epithet esthlon ‘real, genuine, good’, which is derived from the root es- ‘to be’ as in esti ‘is’. The vision signaled by the hupar esthlon or ‘waking reality’, as I have translated it, will come to fulfillment, that is, it will reach its real outcome, as expressed by the verb teleîn ‘reach an outcome’. Imperfective uses of this verb teleîn ‘reach an outcome’ refer to realities that are still in the making, that have not yet come to fulfillment: see for example the comment at I.02.330. Perfective uses of this same word, on the other hand, refer to a reality that has come to fulfillment. Here at O.19.547, we see a future perfect use: the talking eagle of the dream is foretelling a reality that will have already happened when the right moment in the narrative finally arrives. This verb teleîn ‘reach an outcome’, as used here at O.19.547, focuses on a central idea in contexts of composition-in-performance. The idea is this: whatever is being said in the performance will come to fulfillment in the composition when all is said and done.

source

The adjective amenēna ‘having no mental power [menos] inside’ applies elsewhere exclusively to the dead. Here it applies to dreams. See further the comment at O.10.521.

source

In the response of Penelope, O.19.562–569, to the response of Odysseus in interpreting her dream, she says that there are two kinds of dreams, passing through two kinds of pulai ‘gates’, O.19.562: the first kind passes through a gate of keras ‘horn’, and the second kind, through a gate of elephas ‘ivory’, O.19.563. The first kind signals what is real, while the second, what is deceptive. That is why the mental power of distinguishing what is real from what is unreal becomes so seriously important. But there is also a playful side to these images of horn and ivory, as reflected in the word play that links (1) the noun keras ‘horn’ with the verb krainein in the sense of ‘authorize as real’, O.19.567, and (2) the noun elephas ‘ivory’ with the verb elephairesthai in the sense of ‘deceive’, O.19.565. The object of the verb krainein ‘authorize as real’ here is etuma ‘real things’ (ἔτυμα), O.19.567: that is what dreams from a Gate of Horn will bring. Correspondingly, the object of what is brought by dreams from a Gate of ivory is a-kráan-ta ‘unauthorized’ (ἀκράαντα), O.19.565. The playfulness extends further: I suspect that the symbolism of keras ‘horn’ here involves not only the elevated sense of ‘authorization’ but also the earthy sense of sexual desire. I suspect that the Aphrodisiac properties linked with horn as a substance are in play here. Perhaps relevant is all the folkore surrounding the earthy English adjective ‘horny’. When I speak of ‘horn’ here, I have in mind primarily the kerata ‘antlers’ of deer, the aphrodisiac properties of which are highlighted for example by the physician Galen (vol. 14 p. 240 ed. C. G. Kühn 1827). I ask myself: why does Penelope cry and cry in her dream about losing her geese? Perhaps her familiarity with the geese can be linked with her familiarity—however unwelcome—with the suitors. The geese have been around for twenty years, and where was the eagle during all this time? Perhaps that is why it is safe for Penelope to offer a recusal at O.19.568–569: surely my dream came from a Gate of Ivory, not from a Gate of Horn. For more on Penelope’s dream, I strongly recommend the analysis of Levaniouk 2011:229–246, with a critical survey of the multifarious interpretations that have been offered over the years by experts and nonexperts alike.

source

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.

source

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.

source

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.

source

(What follows is epitomized from HR 55–60 = 3§§20–33.)

[§20.] At O.20.103–104 Odysseus is praying to Zeus for both an omen and a phēmē ‘something said’ as indications telling him that he will indeed prevail over the suitors. Zeus responds by sending both thunder, O.20.103–104, and a phēmē, O.20.105.

[§21.] The phēmē takes the form of a prayer uttered by an anonymous woman grinding grain with her handmill, O.20.112–119. She is not sure for whom the sign of the god’s thunder is intended, O.20.114 (τεῳ ‘for someone), but she prays to Zeus that he should intend it for her too, O.20.115 (καὶ ἐμοί ‘for me too’) by bringing to fulfillment the epos ‘words’ that she now speaks, O.20.115. The narrative that frames what she says in her prayer likewise refers to the prayer as an epos, adding that this epos is meant to be a sēma ‘sign’ for Odysseus, O.20.111.

[§22.] What the woman is quoted as saying is poetically represented here as a song, as we can see from the reference to “milling songs” in Plutarch Banquet of the Seven Sages 157 (Carmina Popularia [PMG] no. 869): in this case, it is stated explicitly that a woman is heard singing while grinding grain with her handmill. At O.20.111, the poetic representation of singing here is also indicated by way of the word epos, plural epea, which means not just ‘words’ but also specifically ‘poetic words’ in Homeric diction (see the comments on epea ‘words’ at I.12.387–391 and at I.20.248–250; see also GMP 221).

[§23.] For some interpreters, an irreversible mistake can be found here in what seems to be a contradiction between the words of the narrative framing the phēmē and the words of the “quoted” phēmē itself. In the words of the phēmē as spoken by the woman, she says that the thundering of Zeus came from the starry sky, O.20.113 (οὐρανοῦ ἀστερόεντος), where no cloud is to be seen, O.20.114 (οὐδέ ποθι νέφος ἐστί ‘and there is not a cloud [nephos] anywhere’). This, then, was the sign that the woman had received: it was a thundering from a clear sky. By contrast, the narrative that frames what she says refers to the thundering of Zeus ‘from ‘radiant Olympus’, O.20.103 (ἀπ᾿ αἰγλήεντος Ὀλύμπου), and the thundering had come ‘from on high, from out of the clouds [nephea]’, O.20.104 (ὑψόθεν ἐκ νεφέων).

[§24.] Of course, no Homer critic would have any problem if the narrative frame here had been more simple, featuring only one sign—that is, if Odysseus had prayed for only one sign, the thunder of Zeus. The problem seems to arise from the combining of two signs in the narration—the thunder of Zeus and the song of the anonymous woman. It is this combination that has led to what appears to be a contradiction between these two signs. And yet, I propose that the combining of two narrative signs here amounts to an artistic narratological elaboration, which succeeds in producing a special poetic effect by way of juxtaposing the perceptions of the anonymous woman and the perceptions of Odysseus.

[§25.] For the anonymous woman, only one sign had been needed, the thundering of Zeus, and that is the sign that she had received. For Odysseus, however, the thundering of Zeus was not the complete sign that he had received. It was an incomplete sign. In terms of his own prayer, it had to be completed, complemented, by something that is actually said, which turned out to be the words of the woman. Those words, however, could not become a completed phēmē for Odysseus unless Zeus heeded those words on their own terms, on the woman’s terms. For the woman, the thundering of Zeus came from a clear sky. For Odysseus, the same thundering had come from a clouded sky, and the message of Zeus became clear only after the woman received her own message from a clear sky. The wording of the woman, an incipient epos that was as yet unclear for her, became a finished epos that was indeed clear for Odysseus, just as the thundering of Zeus shifted perceptually from a clouded to a clear sky. For Odysseus, the clarification and hence the fulfillment of the epos of the woman makes this epos into a genuine prophetic utterance: the phēmē ‘thing said’ as it is called at O.20.100 and at O.20.105 turns out to be a kleēdōn ‘prophetic utterance’, as it is finally called at O.20.120. The woman’s words have now become fulfilled as a speech-act. Her speech—or song—has now become an act of special prophecy, of cledonomancy. At the moment of fulfillment, Odysseus rejoices at both omens: (1) the prophetic utterance, kleēdōn, and (2) the thundering of Zeus. Here is the wording: ‘he rejoiced at the kleēdōn | and at the thundering of Zeus’, O.20.120–121 (χαῖρεν δὲ κλεηδόνι ... | Ζηνός τε βροντῇ).

[§26.] The prophecy, of course, starts with Zeus, whose thundering is in itself the primal act that leads to the cledonomancy. Zeus himself is ultimately prophetic in his manifestations of weather, and his meaning can be ambivalently bright or dark, clear or cloudy, positive or negative. The Indo-European form di̯eu-, which becomes Greek Zeus* (Ζεύς), means basically ‘sky’, thus conveying a cledonomantic ambivalence: it portends either clear or clouded weather. Despite this ambivalence of clear or clouded, positive or negative, in the meaning ‘sky’, the Indo-European noun di̯eu- stems from the verb diu̯-, which has only the positive meaning ‘be bright / clear’, not the negative ‘be dark / cloudy’. The darkness and the clouds show the other side of Zeus.

[§27.] There is a similar cledonomantic ambivalence in the meaning of the Indo-European form nebhos, which becomes Greek nephos* (νέφος) ‘cloud’: it means basically ‘cloud’ in ambivalently good or bad weather. This ambivalence explains the fact that in some Indo-European languages the derivative of nebhos means primarily ‘sky’, by way of metonymy. Such is the case with Russian nebo ‘sky’. Thus in Russian idiom, na nebe ni oblaka means ‘there’s not a cloud [oblako] in the sky [nebo]’. From the standpoint of Indo-European linguistics, we see here a new word for ‘cloud’, oblako, while the old word for ‘cloud’ has become, metonymically, the new word for ‘sky’. This new word can even stand for a cloudless sky, as in the idiom we have just seen: na nebe ni oblaka means ‘there’s not a cloud [oblako] in the sky [nebo*]’.

[§28.] Such a metonymic sense of Indo-European nebhos as ‘sky’ is visible also in some Homeric usages of the noun nephos / nephea ‘cloud’ / ‘clouds’, which is potentially ambivalent in its own right concerning questions of good or bad weather. When Zeus thunders ‘from on high, from out of the clouds [nephea]’ at O.20.105 (ὑψόθεν ἐκ νεφέων), he is thundering from the sky, through the metonymy of the clouds. In this case, the ambivalence of clouds or sky is canceled only by the explicit statement, in the words of the singing woman at 20.114, that there is no nephos ‘cloud’ in the sky. In all other Homeric attestations, the potential metonymic sense of nephos / nephea as ‘sky’ can remain in force. A particularly striking example of this metonymic sense of ‘sky’ is evident at I.13.523–524, where Zeus is pictured as sitting in grand isolation on the summit of Olympus, under a shining canopy of ‘golden nephea’ (ἀλλ᾿ ὁ γὰρ ἄκρῳ Ὀλύμπῳ ὑπὸ χρυσέοισι νέφεσσιν | ἦστο). At that moment in the narrative, the god is described as ‘wrapped up’ in his own thoughts, which are conventionally called the Will of Zeus, I.13.524 (Διὸς βουλῇσιν ἐελμένος). The scholia V for O.20.104 actually cite this Iliadic passage, explaining the usage of nephea at O.20.104 in terms of metonymy. A similar explanation is offered in Scholia BQ: that the word nephea* at O.20.102 is to be understood as referring to a realm where clouds can be expected to happen.

[§29.] I propose that the theme of the Will of Zeus, as a conventional plot device of Homeric narrative, is essential for understanding the double omen of Zeus’ thunder and the woman’s song in the Odyssey. I propose, further, that the weather in this passage of the Odyssey depends on the Will of Zeus, and that the sudden shift from a cloudy to a clear sky is a choice in Homeric narratology, not a mistake in Homeric meteorology.

[§30.] Moreover, the sudden shift from cloudy to clear skies can happen only after the narrative makes it clear that there is not a cloud in the sky. Before that clarification, it was left unclear whether or not the sky was cloudy. If the thundering of Zeus comes out of a clear blue sky, it is a bigger omen than if it comes out of a cloudy sky. If Odysseus had prayed for just one omen, not two, it would not be clear whether the thundering of Zeus had happened in cloudy or in clear weather. Since he prayed for two omens, however, and since the second omen was granted, now everything is clear, and the prophecy is augmented.

[§31.] The shift from a clouded sky to a clear one depends on the clarification of the Will of Zeus in the course of the narrative. Further, the sēma ‘sign’ meant by Zeus for Odysseus at O.20.111 depends implicitly on the faculty for both encoding and decoding it, and that faculty is conventionally expressed by the noun nóos ‘mind’ and the verb noeîn ‘take note (of), notice’ (see the anchor comment at I.05.669). The nóos or ‘intentionality’ of Zeus is key to understanding the plot-constructions of Homeric narrative. In the Iliad, for example, when Zeus expresses his Will by nodding his head, I.01.524–527, Hērā reacts by chiding him for not telling what it is that he really intends—literally, for not making an epos out of what he ‘has in his nóos’, as expressed by the verb noeîn at I.01.543. Zeus replies that the mūthos ‘wording’ that he ‘has in his nóos’ as expressed again by noeîn at I.01.549, is for him alone to know. And yet, the Homeric audience may already know, since the Iliad declares programmatically that its plot is the Will of Zeus, I.01.005. See the comment at that line (see also GMP 222).

[§32.] To sum up, I repeat my earlier formulation: when Zeus thunders ‘from on high, from out of the clouds [nephea]’ at O.20.105 (ὑψόθεν ἐκ νεφέων), he is essentially thundering from the sky, through the metonymy of the clouds. This poetic description in the framing narrative does not contradict, per se, the later perception of a clear sky within the framed speech, O.20.114: ‘and there is not a cloud [nephos] anywhere’ (οὐδέ ποθι νέφος ἐστί). But that later perception does indeed clarify the earlier narrative perception of a sky that may be clouded over. Now the sky is clear, as the cledonomantic words have finally been clarified.

[§33.] The time has come to rethink the passage I have analyzed here in terms of oral poetics, not just poetics per se. I hold that the complexities of this passage reflect the accretions of a highly sophisticated oral poetic tradition that kept on continually recombining its older and its newer elements in the productive phases of its evolution. These older and newer elements may at times seem to contradict each other if we stop and view each of them as individual parts, but I suggest that such contradictions were transcended by the actual re-combinations of these parts into the totality of an ongoing system that we know as Homeric poetry. In order to account for such an ongoing system, I developed my evolutionary model for the making of Homeric poetry. For more on such a model, see the comment at I.12.335–336 and at I.13.066; also the Excursus on O.13.158.

source

The cognitive process of noeîn ‘take note (of), notice’ at O.20.204 is associated here with a moment of ‘remembering’ as expressed by the root of the verb mnē- ‘mentally connect’ at O.20.205.

source

The noun kertomiai ‘words of insult’ is correlated with the verb kertomeîn ‘say words of insult’, as attested at I.02.256, O.02.323, O.18.350.

source

The noun enīpē ‘scolding’ is correlated with the verb eniptein ‘scold’, on which see especially the comment at O.18.321–326.

source

The feasting that we see being described here at O.20.276–280 involves the whole astu ‘city’ of Ithaca, O.20.276, and, as we see in the wording of O.20.276–277, all this feasting climaxes in a hekatombē ‘hecatomb’, as proclaimed throughout the city by kērūkes ‘heralds’. On the word hekatombē ‘hecatomb’, a priestly word referring to the sacrifice of one hundred cattle, see the comment on O.04.351–353. The occasion for this hecatomb is evidently a festival of Apollo, signaled by the vivid description at O.20.277–278: the Achaeans are now seen assembling inside the sacred alsos ‘grove’ of the god Apollo, O.20.278. What follows after the sacrifice of a hundred cattle is then described at O.20.279–280: the meat is cooked and divided among the participants. And the whole occasion of this feasting is indicated at O.20.280 by way of two all-important words here: (1) dais ‘feast, division of portions (of meat); sacrifice’, and (2) daiesthai ‘feast; divide (meat), apportion, distribute’. On dais ‘feast’ as a stylized way of referring to an overall festival, see the introductory comments at O.08.038 and at O.08.061; also the follow-up comments at O.08.429, O.09.003–111, O.13.023. For further references to the festival of Apollo, see the comments at O.21.267, O.21.404-411, and O.21.429-430.

source

Footnotes

[1] See also Homeric Hymn to Hermes 108-133, where Hermes himself performs just such a sacrifice of his brother Apollo’s cattle.

[2] Dindorf 1885: II 614 on 15.319: the comment is on the words ‘because of Hermes’, and it says ‘because [he is a] herald (kērux).’ For the ascription of such a comment to Aristarchus, see E. Dickey 2007: p. 122, §4.1.44.

[3] On the concept of ainos ‘coded message,’ see Verdenius 1962: 389 and Nagy 1999: 237-242, 12§17-12§21, citing Jakobson 1960.

[4] That story is in fact qualified as an ainos; for more, see Muellner 1976 p. 97 n.43, https://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:hul.ebook:CHS_MuellnerL.The_Meaning_of_Homeric_eukhomai.1976 and Dué and Ebbott 2010: commentary on Iliad 10.149, https://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:hul.ebook:CHS_Due_Ebbott.Iliad_10_and_the_Poetics_of_Ambush.2010; see also H. Roisman 1990, who argues that Eumaios and Odysseus recognize each other but without admitting it overtly to each other until the right time.

[1] For the meaning of endukeōs, see the comment on 7.256, G. Nagy, A Sampling of Comments on Odyssey Rhapsody 7, https://classical-inquiries.chs.harvard.edu/a-sampling-of-comments-on-odyssey-rhapsody-7/ This formula is used to express strong affection between hosts and guests, including that between Odysseus and the goddess Kalypso, 7.256, which is erotic as well as emotional; it also implies correct ritual sequencing.

[2] For purnon kai kotulēn ‘bread and a cupful’ see 15.312, 17.12 and compare Iliad 22.494-495, where Hector’s orphaned son is imagined by his mother begging for a drink (again, kotulēn) that will not even moisten the roof of his mouth.

[3] On the nuances of the prologue and the whole speech, Muellner 1976: 96-97 = http://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:hul.ebook:CHS_MuellnerL.The_Meaning_of_Homeric_eukhomai.1976.

[4] This epithet of Hermes, conventionally translated either ‘attendant’ or ‘messenger’, is the subject of a forthcoming article by Laura Massetti, who has published a new interpretation of another epithet of Hermes often associated with it, Argeiphontēs, in Massettti 2022. Her forthcoming work on diaktoros interprets it as meaning ‘whose brightness shines through the night,’ with parallels in Sanskrit to epithets of the fire god, Agni, for both names. The importance of the mastery of fire seems as relevant to this context as that of ‘attendant, ritual attendant’, which may be the surface meaning.

Bibliography

G. Dindorf, ed., Scholia Graeca in Homeri Odysseam, Oxford, 1855

E. Dickey, Ancient Greek Scholarship, New York, 2007

L. Massetti, L., “Hermes Ἀργεϊφόντης and Agni bhā́r̥jīka‑.” Indogermanische Forschungen 127/1, 2022, 131–50.

L. Muellner, The Meaning of Homeric ΕΥΧΟΜΑΙ Through its Formulas, Innsbruck, 1976 = https://chs.harvard.edu/book/muellner-leonard-the-meaning-of-homeric-eyxomai-through-its-formulas/

Nagy, The Best of the Achaeans: Concepts of the Hero in Archaic Greek Poetry, 2nd edition, Baltimore, 1999 = http://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:hul.ebook:CHS_NagyG.The_Best_of_the_Achaeans.1999

source

analysis of the attestations of eukhesthai + aorist infinitive and that there are no eukhesthai + infinitive formulas, and of the versatility of poetic technique to report prayers (invocation, grant of favor, request of favor)

source

analysis of the attestations of sacral eukhesthai in the present tense and comparison of variant formulas with eukhetasthai for eukhesthai in formulas with enjambed, present tense, sacral eukhesthai, and switch from Dii patri to Dii t’alloisin te theoisin attested with a variation of the || (short OR two shorts) euxamenos Dii patri # formula which uses epeukhesthai instead of eukhesthai and transformation of the formula with present tense of eukhesthai in I.08.526, in the context of analyzing Allen’s text at I.08.526 vs. Zenodotus’s version of the verse

source

in a list of passages with eukhesthai + infinitive (aorist)

source

comment on the contrast between eti and aiei in this passage

source

example of the pairing of question and answer regarding identity (between man and god) in Ancient Greek that matches the Avestan model

source

example of the pairing of question and answer regarding identity (between man and god) in Ancient Greek that matches the Avestan model

source

in a list of attestations of genos eukhesthai einai and its transformations

source

analysis of philotēs and timē going together with this passage as an example

source

analysis of the functional overlap between hiketēs and xeinos, argument that in Homer hiketēs still means ‘he who comes, arrives,’ and here the collocation of hikanein/hikein and xeinos

source

in a list of attestations of genos eukhesthai einai and its transformations and analysis of the archaism in this verse

source

analysis of the functional overlap between hiketēs and xeinos, argument that in Homer hiketēs still means ‘he who comes, arrives’

source

in a list of eukhesthai einai + social relationship (xeinos, hiketēs)

source

in the discussion of the rationale of the classification of the attestations of eukhesthai + dative

source

in the discussion of the rationale of the classification of the attestations of eukhesthai + dative

source

analysis of the passages in the Odyssey that imply that a basic component of the story of Odysseus’ return, the massacre of the suitors, is a variant of the mēnis theme

source

in the discussion of the rationale of the classification of the attestations of eukhesthai + dative

source

analysis of the interconnections of mēnis, exchange rules, and timē for xenoi

source

in the list of offenses that (threaten to) incur mēnis

source

in a list of examples of eukhesthai + infinitive, analysis of the fixed doublet passages, the only doublets with sacral eukhesthai (this one and I.17.059-060)

source

transformation Dii patri  Dii t’alloisin te theoisin, in the context of the analysis of O.15.353 and I.08.526

source

analysis of philotēs and timē going together with this passage as an example

source

in a list of examples of eukhesthai + infinitive, analysis of the fixed doublet passages, the only doublets with sacral eukhesthai (this one and I.17.050-051)

source

in a list of attestations of genos eukhesthai einai and its transformations

source

comparison with this verse with phanai with xeinos/hiketēs eukhesthai einai formulas and argument that in the latter formulas eukhesthai means ‘say (proudly, accurately, contentiously)’

source

comparison of the diction here with that in I.24.039-048 regarding persons incurring mēnis, here with reference to biē and themis

source

comparison of the diction here with that in I.24.039-048 regarding persons incurring mēnis, here with reference to biē and themis

source

in a list of examples of the functional relationship between eukhesthai and phanai (in the context of analyzing genos eukhesthai einai formulas)

source

analysis of the interconnections of mēnis, exchange rules, and timē for xenoi

source

comparison of this verse with phanai with xeinos/hiketēs eukhesthai einai formulas and argument that in the latter formulas eukhesthai means ‘say (proudly, accurately, contentiously)’

source

transformation Dii patri  Dii t’alloisin te theoisin, in the context of the analysis of O.15.353 and I.08.526

source

in a list of attestations of genos eukhesthai einai and its transformations

source

analysis of the passages in the Odyssey that imply that a basic component of the story of Odysseus’ return, the massacre of the suitors, is a variant of the mēnis theme

source

comment on Ktesippos as a villain in terms of the morality of the Odyssey

source

analysis of thuoskoos as not a particularly prestigious occupation, in the context of analyzing Odysseus’ response to Leodes in O.22.321

source

analysis of the versatility of poetic technique to report prayers (invocation, grant of favor, request of favor)

source

analysis of Allen’s text at I.08.526 vs. Zenodotus’s version of the verse, and Allen’s version’s being closer to verses like O.21.211

source

analysis of extending the formula beyond the verse-end in pairings of akouein and eukhesthai, as in this verse

source

in a list of passages with eukhesthai + infinitive (aorist)

source

analysis of the attestations of eukhesthai + aorist infinitive (and the series to which O.21.210-211 belongs)

source

Apollo’s name-epithet formulas which have the same metrical shape as the divine names in the dative in the eukhomai + dative formulas, but which are not used in this system because, unlike the others, they begin with a vowel (here, words occurring before Apollo’s two dative formulas that always end with a consonant)

source

hand as regular metonym for a warrior’s biē

source

in a list of attestations of genos eukhesthai einai and its transformations

source

in a list of passages exemplifying the complementary metrical distribution of eukhos and kudos

source

hand as regular metonym for a warrior’s biē

source

analysis of the attestations of eukhesthai + aorist infinitive (and the series to which this verse belongs)

source

analysis of the meaning and uses of piphauskesthai, here in the sense of ‘reveal through speech’ (in the context of analyzing the semantic and formal confusion of piphaskein and piphauskesthai)

source

analysis of the differentiation of blame in the Odyssey (vs. in the Iliad) and the muting of the mēnis theme in it, here especially regarding the suitors, their relatives, and Odysseus and his family

source

presence of battle-book formulas in the battle in the Odyssey, here a death announcement, in the context of the analysis of the non-formulaic eukhesthai introducing speech in O.14.463, which is nevertheless analogous to formula (X) (death eukhesthai), though it is not followed by a death announcement but an adventure tale (traditional function aborted by genre-suppression)

source

in a list of expressions which do not specify the speaker’s name, in the context of analyzing I.11.379 and demonstrating the functional equivalence of eukhesthai in (X) || kai eukhomenos epos ēuda or (Y) hōs ephat’ Argeioisi d’akhos genet’ euxamenoio

source

analysis of thuoskoos as not a particularly prestigious occupation, in the context of analyzing Odysseus’ response to Leodes in O.22.321

source

analysis of Odysseus’ response to Leodes in O.22.231 as taking him to take pride in his relationship with the suitors

source

comparison of this use of secular eukhesthai to specify social relationships as marks of privilege and identity with Vedic parallels

source

analysis of thuoskoos as not a particularly prestigious occupation, in the context of analyzing Odysseus’ response to Leodes in O.22.321

source

in a list of eukhesthai einai + social relationship

source

analysis of Odysseus’ response to Leodes in this verse as taking him to take pride in his relationship with the suitors

source

comparison of this use of secular eukhesthai to specify social relationships as marks of privilege and identity with Vedic parallels

source

contrasting Phemios’ plea to be spared to Odysseus with that of Leodes, in context of the analysis of Odysseus’ response to Leodes in O.22.231 as taking him to take pride in his relationship with the suitors

source

the morality of the Odyssey, here the forbidding of big talk over dead bodies

source

analysis of the passages in the Odyssey that imply that a basic component of the story of Odysseus’ return, the massacre of the suitors, is a variant of the mēnis theme

source

analysis of the transformation of formula (A) to (B), which resumes the narrative after an order/exhortation by a man in authority to a group of men to do something (here, to wash hands), and conclusion that (A)’s eukhomenos was felt to be have sacral connotations inappropriate to the secular contexts of (B)

source

analysis of the meaning and uses of piphauskesthai (in the context of analyzing the semantic and formal confusion of piphaskein and piphauskesthai), in this verse as ‘show, reveal’

source

Here in Odyssey 24.46, the Achaeans cut their hair at the funeral of Achilles. This ritual gesture, GN argues, signals a symbolic transition from long-haired Achaeans to short-haired Greeks, corresponding to a transition from the heroic age to a post heroic-age. See H24H 14§26a. Commenting on the post-heroic era that follows the death of Achilles, the Ampelourgos says: οὐδὲ κομᾶν ἔτι μετὰ τὸν Ἀχιλλέα καλὸν ἡγούμενοι ‘no longer could they [= the Achaeans] consider it a beautiful thing to grow their hair long, once Achilles was gone’ (Philostratus Hērōikos 51.13). The wording connotes an aetiology, as if the death of Achilles were the single reason that explains why adult men of the post-heroic age no longer wore their hair long - except for such notable counter-examples as the Spartans. The wearing of long hair was a distinctive sign of pre-adult status. Even in the Iliad, the long hair of Achilles ostentatiously signals his pre-adult status, as we can see from the scene describing the funeral of Patroklos, where Achilles cuts off his long blond hair as he stands at the funeral pyre of his best friend (23.141). It is at this same place where the tumulus to be shared by Patroklos and Achilles will be built when the time comes for the funeral of Achilles himself (23.126). In this Homeric scene, as Achilles is standing on the heights of the promontory that will become the setting for the tumulus that houses his own body, he wistfully looks out over the seas of the outer Hellespont, fixing his gaze toward the far west, in the direction of his native land of Thessaly, and longing for the river Sperkheios that flows through that distant land: it was to the waters of that river, which he will never live to see again, that he had hoped to sacrifice his long hair after he came of age and was ready to cut it (23.142-153). But now Achilles cuts off his long hair prematurely and unseasonally as he stands there at the Asiatic promontory that will become the setting for the tumulus that houses his body (23.142). [See also GN HPC 166 = II§85.] And now the Achaean comrades of Achilles follow his example and likewise cut off their hair (23.135-136). So also in the wording that I have just highlighted from the Hērōikos of Philostratus, we see a reference to this ritual of coming of age: now that Achilles is dead, adult males of the future will be wearing their hair short, no longer long. It is as if all the ‘sons of the Achaeans’ were now ready to shift from pre-adult to adult status - now that Achilles is dead and buried. So, now, the huies Akhaiōn, ‘sons of the Achaeans’, as the Achaean warriors are regularly called in the Iliad (1.162 and so on) have reached a post-heroic maturity that inaugurates a post-heroic age.

source

comment on the identification of Patroklos with Achilles

source

in a list of eukhesthai einai + social relationship (xeinos, hiketēs)

source

analysis of the functional overlap between hiketēs and xeinos, argument that in Homer hiketēs still means ‘he who comes, arrives’ and that the only difference between xeinos and hiketēs de toi eukhomai einai is that the speaker of the second has yet to receive hospitality

source

example of where xeinos de toi eukhomai einai is used to justify asking a host for a special favor

source

analysis of the development of Greek posis compared with Vedic pati-

source

analysis of phanai as contrasting with and substituting for eukhomai, in the context of analyzing the meaning of eukhesthai in genos eukhesthai einai formulas

source

in a list of attestations of genos eukhesthai einai and its transformations

source

interpretation of kathaptein as “get hold of, grab” and so “restrain”

source

analysis of the formulas with the three places where eukhesthai + dative has the shape eukh ˘ ˘ – [=short short long], with this verse showing a process analogous to what we see in I.11.736

source

in a list of examples of eukhesthai + dative (formulas which report prayers)

source

in a list of examples of eukhesthai + dative (formulas which report prayers)

source

analysis of the formulas with the three places where eukhesthai + dative has the shape eukh ˘ ˘ – [=short short long], with this verse showing a process analogous to what we see in I.11.736

source

Mary Ebbott

This passage describing the coordinated fighting method of the half-brothers Ajax and Teucer may depict a very old style of battle, and connects the identities of the two brothers in an ancient, perhaps even Indo-European, mythic way (Ebbott 2003:41–44). The brief simile comparing Teucer running behind Ajax’s shield in between shots to a child hiding behind his mother (Odyssey 8.271) creates several powerful associations. Teucer’s illegitimacy is highlighted by his comparison to the child, since a “bastard” (nothos) could be imagined as a perpetual child in Greek myth and poetry (Ebbott 2003:31–40). The comparison of Ajax to the mother, moreover, highlights the emotional bonds between warriors: mother similes in the Iliad signify the care, love, and protection that comrades on the battlefield extend to one another (Casey and Ebbott 2012).

\r\n\r\nReferences

\r\nDué, C., and Ebbott, M. 2012. “Mothers-in-Arms: soldiers’ emotional bonds and Homeric similes.” War, Literature, and the Arts. 24.

\r\nEbbott, M. 2003. Imagining Illegitimacy in Ancient Greek Literature. Lanham, MD.

source

Olga Levaniouk

This is the first occurrence of Penelope's name in the Odyssey. Πηνελόπεια is a nom parlant and signals Penelope's belonging to a thematically related group of women in myth. The name was perceived as significant in antiquity and a linguistically unobjectionable derivation from the name of a bird, πηνέλοψ, was known to Didymus (as attested by Eustathius' Commentarii ad Homeri Odysseam 1.65.36). The etymology of the word πηνέλοψ itself is obscure beyond the second part of the compound, derived from the h₃ek^ṷ root and meaning "looking (like)" (Chantraine 2009, s.v. ὄπωπα, πηνέλοψ). Nevertheless, the relevance of the penelops to Penelope can be ascertained. The penelops appears to be a bird similar to a halcyon. According to Aristotle Historia Animalium (593b23) the penelops is a small waterbird and lives at sea. Penelopes are mentioned together with halcyons in Aristophanes Birds 298 and Ibycus fr. 317a PMG. In the latter fragment, penelopes are described as ποικίλαι (2), αἰολόδειροι (2), and possibly also ἁλιπορφυρίδες (3), if Schneidewin's reconstruction is correct (Schneidewin 1833.128-131). Penelopes are said to be ποικιλόδειροι and τανυσίπτεροι in Alcaeus 345 L-P.2. Of these epithets the penelops shares with the halcyon ποικίλος ‘of varied color’ and τανυσίπτερος ‘long-winged’. If ἁλιπορφυρίδες is correctly restored, then this too allies the penelops to the halcyon, which is described by the rare epithet ἁλιπόρφυρος in Alcman 26 PMG.4. The penelops in Alcaeus 345 L-P. and the halcyon in Alcman 26 PMG are represented as (respectively) flying over the waves and coming from Okeanos. In poetry and myth, the (female) halcyon characteristically faithful to her mate, laments when the mate is lost, and is tied to the solar symbolism of death and rebirth (e.g. Alcman 26 PMG, Simonides 508 PMG, Aristotle, Historia Animalium 8.542b4, Dionysius, De Avibus 2.7, Plutarch On the Intelligence of Animals * 983a). These features are shared by a mythological character whose name derives from the name of the bird, Alkyone, the wife of Keyx (Hesiod, fr. 10a.94-96 M, fr. 10d MW, Ovid, Metamorphoses 11.410-748, Ps.-Apollodorus 1.7.4). Alkyone is a woman dominated by faithfulness to her husband, for whom she laments and finally dies when he departs on a long sea voyage and does not return. Just as Penelope's story is morphologically similar to that of Alkyone, so are the two birds that give them their names. Being similar to the halcyon, the penelops is a fitting match for Penelope, among whose dominant features are faithfulness to her husband and lament for him while he is absent. An argument has also been made that Penelope takes part in the operation of the overarching solar metaphor in the Odyssey (Levaniouk 2011:298-312). The similarities between the two myths parallel those between the two bird-named women and also those between the two birds. The connections appear to be systemic rather than accidental. Penelope and Alkyone have further points of contact with yet another woman with a bird's name, Aedon the nightingale, to whom Penelope compares herself in Odyssey 19.518. Penelope and Alkyone are closer to each other than to Aedon, though all three share key features, the most important being their laments. In the same way, penelops and halcyon are more similar to each other than to the nightingale, but both have associations with the latter. Both ποικιλόδειρος and αἰολόδειρος (the epithets of the penelops in Alcaeus and Ibycus respectively) are epithets of the nightingale (Hesiod Works and Days 203; Nonnus Dionysiaca 26.211). In Ibycus’ fragment penelopes and halcyons are represented as sitting πετάλοισιν ἐπ' ἀκροτάτοις ‘on the topmost leaves’, literally ‘petals’, a topos about the nightingale (Odyssey xix 520, Homeric Hymn to Pan 17-18, Anthologia Palatina 12.2.3, 12.136.3). Since the halcyon's voice is described in the same terms as that of the nightingale and since, like the nightingale, the halcyon is imagined as a woman transformed into a bird and forever lamenting, it is likely that the penelops too is a bird of lament similar to the nightingale and the halcyon and that, as with the nightingale (Nagy 196:59n.1), the compounds with -δειρος applied to it (ποικιλόδειρος and αἰολόδειρος) signify the quality of its voice rather than the color of its neck. For a fuller discussion of the name's significance see Levaniouk 2011:287-318.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nReferences\r\n\r\nChantraine, P. 2009. Dictionaire etymologique de la langue grecque. Histoire des mots. Paris.\r\n\r\nLevaniouk, O. 2011. The Eve of the Festival. Cambridge, MA.\r\n\r\nNagy, G. 1996. Poetry as Performance: Homer and beyond. Cambridge.\r\n\r\nSchneidewin, F. 1833. Ibyci Rhegini Carminum Reliquiae, Göttingen.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n

source

Homer Odyssey 2

Search the Perseus Catalog for:

BOOK II.

ARGUMENT.

THE COUNCIL OF ITHACA.

TELEMACHUS

129

While yet he speaks, Telemachus replies:

'Ev'n nature starts, and what ye ask denies.

'Thus, shall I thus repay a mother's cares,

'Who gave me life, and nurs'd my infant years?
150

'While sad on foreign shores Ulysses treads,

'Or glides a ghost with unapparent shades,

MINERVA

'O prince, in early youth divinely wise,

'Born the Ulysses of thy age to rise!

ANTINOUS

'Grieve not, O daring prince! that noble heart:⁶

'Ill suits gay youth the stern heroic part.

'Indulge the genial hour, unbend thy soul,

'Leave thought to age, and drain the flowing bowl.
345

ANTINOUS

'Studious to ease thy grief, our care provides

'The bark, to waft thee o'er the swelling tides.'

A SUITOR

'Tremble ye not, O friends, and coward fly,

'Doom'd by the stern Telemachus to die?

'To Pyle or Sparta to demand supplies,

'Big with revenge, the mighty warrior flies:
370

'Or comes from Ephyré⁷ with poisons fraught,

'And kills us all in one tremendous draught!'

TELEMACHUS

'Lest the sad tale a mother's life impair,

'And grief destroy what time awhile would spare.'

MINERVA

'Lo! on the seas prepar'd the vessel stands ;

'Th' impatient mariner thy speed demands.'

Current edition Experimental

Rhapsody 2

BOOK II.

ODYSSEY.

THE SECOND BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEYS.

THE ARGUMENT.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

THE SECOND BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEYS.

ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND BOOK.

THE ODYSSEY.
BOOK II.

ODYSSEY BOOK II

PATTEN WILSON,
PENELOPEIA UNRAVELS HER WEB

Notes on the current edition

New Alexandria Commentaries

menos ‘mental power’

Footnotes

Bibliography

Stable identifiers

Search the Perseus Catalog for:

Search the Perseus Catalog for:

BOOK II.

ARGUMENT.

THE COUNCIL OF ITHACA.

TELEMACHUS 129 While yet he speaks, Telemachus replies: 'Ev'n nature starts, and what ye ask denies. 'Thus, shall I thus repay a mother's cares, 'Who gave me life, and nurs'd my infant years? 150 'While sad on foreign shores Ulysses treads, 'Or glides a ghost with unapparent shades,

MENTOR 'They, for the mighty mischiefs they devise, 270 'Ere long shall pay-their forfeit lives the price. 'But against you, ye Greeks! ye coward train! 'Gods! how my soul is mov'd with just disdain! 'Dumb ye all stand, and not one tongue affords 'His injur'd prince the little aid of words.' 275

MINERVA 'O prince, in early youth divinely wise, 'Born the Ulysses of thy age to rise!

ANTINOUS 'Grieve not, O daring prince! that noble heart: 6 'Ill suits gay youth the stern heroic part. 'Indulge the genial hour, unbend thy soul, 'Leave thought to age, and drain the flowing bowl. 345

ANTINOUS 'Studious to ease thy grief, our care provides 'The bark, to waft thee o'er the swelling tides.'

A SUITOR 'Tremble ye not, O friends, and coward fly, 'Doom'd by the stern Telemachus to die? 'To Pyle or Sparta to demand supplies, 'Big with revenge, the mighty warrior flies: 370 'Or comes from Ephyré 7 with poisons fraught, 'And kills us all in one tremendous draught!'

TELEMACHUS 'Lest the sad tale a mother's life impair, 'And grief destroy what time awhile would spare.'

MINERVA 'Lo! on the seas prepar'd the vessel stands ; 'Th' impatient mariner thy speed demands.'

Current edition Experimental

Rhapsody 2

BOOK II.

ODYSSEY.

THE SECOND BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEYS.

THE ARGUMENT.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

THE SECOND BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEYS.

ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND BOOK.

THE ODYSSEY. BOOK II.

ODYSSEY BOOK II

PATTEN WILSON, PENELOPEIA UNRAVELS HER WEB

Notes on the current edition

New Alexandria Commentaries

menos ‘mental power’

Footnotes

Bibliography

Stable identifiers

TELEMACHUS

129

While yet he speaks, Telemachus replies:

'Ev'n nature starts, and what ye ask denies.

'Thus, shall I thus repay a mother's cares,

'Who gave me life, and nurs'd my infant years?
150

'While sad on foreign shores Ulysses treads,

'Or glides a ghost with unapparent shades,

MINERVA

'O prince, in early youth divinely wise,

'Born the Ulysses of thy age to rise!

ANTINOUS

'Grieve not, O daring prince! that noble heart:⁶

'Ill suits gay youth the stern heroic part.

'Indulge the genial hour, unbend thy soul,

'Leave thought to age, and drain the flowing bowl.
345

ANTINOUS

'Studious to ease thy grief, our care provides

'The bark, to waft thee o'er the swelling tides.'

A SUITOR

'Tremble ye not, O friends, and coward fly,

'Doom'd by the stern Telemachus to die?

'To Pyle or Sparta to demand supplies,

'Big with revenge, the mighty warrior flies:
370

'Or comes from Ephyré⁷ with poisons fraught,

'And kills us all in one tremendous draught!'

TELEMACHUS

'Lest the sad tale a mother's life impair,

'And grief destroy what time awhile would spare.'

MINERVA

'Lo! on the seas prepar'd the vessel stands ;

'Th' impatient mariner thy speed demands.'

THE ODYSSEY.
BOOK II.

PATTEN WILSON,
PENELOPEIA UNRAVELS HER WEB