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BOOK VIII.

Alcinous calls a council, in which it is resolved to transport Ulysses into his country. After which, splendid entertainments are made, where the celebrated musician and poet Demodocus plays and sings to the guests. They next proceed to the games, the race, the wrestling, discus, &c., where Ulysses casts a prodigious length, to the admiration of all the spectators. They return again to the banquet, and Demodocus sings the loves of Mars and Venus. Ulysses, after a compliment to the poet, desires him to sing the introduction of the wooden horse into Troy: which subject provoking his tears, Alcinoüs inquires of his guest his name, parentage, and fortunes.

NOW fair Aurora lifts her golden ray,

And all the ruddy orient flames with day.

Alcinoüs, and the chief, with dawning light,

Rose instant from the slumbers of the night;

Then to the council-seat they bend their way,

And fill the shining thrones along the bay.

Meanwhile Minerva, in her guardian care,

Shoots from the starry vault through fields of air;

In form, a herald of the king she flies

From peer to peer, and thus incessant cries:

Minerva

"Nobles and chiefs who rule Phaeacia's states,

The king in council your attendance waits;

A prince of grace divine your aid implores,

O'er unknown seas arriv'd from unknown shores."

She spoke, and sudden with tumultuous sounds

Of thronging multitudes the shore rebounds:

At once the seats they fill; and every eye

Gaz'd as before some brother of the sky.

Pallas with grace divine his form improves,

More high he treads, and more enlarged he moves:

She sheds celestial bloom, regard to draw;

And gives a dignity of mien, to awe;

With strength, the future prize of fame to play,

And gather all the honours of the day.

Then from his glittering throne Alcinous rose:

Alcinous

"Attend" (he cried) "while we our will disclose:

Your present aid this godlike stranger craves,

Toss'd by rude tempests through a war of waves;

Perhaps from realms that view the rising day,

Or nations subject to the western ray.
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Then grant, what here all sons of woe obtain:

(For here affliction never pleads in vain:)

Be chosen youths prepar'd, expert to try

The vast profound, and bid the vessel fly:

Launch the tall bark, and order every oar:
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Then in our court indulge the genial hour.

Instant, you sailors, to this task attend;

Swift to the palace, all ye peers, ascend;

Let none to strangers honours due disclaim:

Be there Demodocus, the bard of fame,
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Taught by the gods to please, when high he sings

The vocal lay, responsive to the strings."

Thus spoke the prince: th' attending peers obey:

In state they move; Alcinoüs leads the way.

Swift to Demodocus the herald flies:

At once the sailors to their charge arise:

They launch the vessel, and unfurl the sails,

And stretch the swelling canvas to the gales;

Then to the palace move: a gathering throng,

Youth, and white age, tumultuous pour along.

Now all accesses to the dome are fill'd;

Eight boars, the choicest of the herd, are kill'd:

Two beeves, twelve fatlings, from the flock they bring

To crown the feast; so wills the bounteous king.

The herald now arrives, and guides along

The sacred master of celestial song;

Dear to the Muse! who gave his days to flow

With mighty blessings, mix'd with mighty woe;

With clouds of darkness quench'd his visual ray,

But gave him skill to raise the lofty lay.¹

High on a radiant throne, sublime in state,

Encircled by huge multitudes, he sate:

With silver shone the throne: his lyre, well strung

To rapturous sounds, at hand Pontonoüs hung:

Before his seat a polish'd table shines,

And a full goblet foams with generous wines:

His food a herald bore: and now they fed;

And now the rage of craving hunger fled.

Then, fir'd by all the Muse, aloud he sings

The mighty deeds of demi-gods and kings:

From that fierce wrath the noble song arose,

That made Ulysses and Achilles foes:

How o'er the feast they doom the fall of Troy;

The stern debate Atrides hears with joy:²

For heaven foretold the contest, when he trod

The marble threshold of the Delphic god,

Curious to learn the counsels of the sky,

Ere yet he loos'd the rage of war on Troy.

Touch'd at the song, Ulysses straight resign'd

To soft affliction all his manly mind.

Before his eyes the purple vest he drew,

Industrious to conceal the falling dew:

But when the music paus'd, he ceas'd to shed

The flowing tear, and rais'd his drooping head;

And, lifting to the gods a goblet crown'd,

He pour'd a pure libation to the ground.

Transported with the song, the listening train

Again with loud applause demand the strain:

Again Ulysses veil'd his pensive head,

Again unmann'd, a shower of sorrows shed;

Conceal'd he wept: the king observ'd alone

The silent tear, and heard the secret groan:

Then to the bard aloud: "O cease to sing,

Dumb be thy voice, and mute th' harmonious string:

Enough the feast has pleas'd, enough the power

Of heavenly song has crown'd the genial hour!

Incessant in the games your strength display,

Contest, ye brave, the honours of the day!

That pleas'd th' admiring stranger may proclaim

In distant regions the Phaeacian fame:

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None wield the gauntlet with so dire a sway,

Or swifter in the race devour the way;

None in the leap spring with so strong a bound,

Or firmer, in the wrestling, press the ground."

Thus spoke the king: th' attending peers obey;

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In state they move, Alcinous leads the way:

His golden lyre Demodocus, unstrung,

High on a column in the palace hung;

And, guided by a herald's guardian cares,

Majestic to the lists of Fame repairs.

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Now swarms the populace: a countless throng,

Youth and hoar age; and man drives man along.

The games begin: ambitious of the prize,

Acroneus, Thoön, and Eretmeus rise;

The prize Ocyalus and Prymneus claim,

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Anchialus and Ponteus, chiefs of fame.

There Proreus, Nautes, Eratreus, appear,

And famed Amphialus, Polyneus' heir;

Euryalus, like Mars terrific, rose,

When clad in wrath he withers hosts of foes;

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Naubolides with grace unequall'd shone,

Or equall'd by Laodamas alone.

With these came forth Ambasineus the strong:

And three brave sons, from great Alcinoüs sprung.

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Ranged in a line the ready racers stand,

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Start from the goal, and vanish o'er the strand:

Swift as on wings of wind, upborne they fly,

And drifts of rising dust involve the sky.

Before the rest, what space the hinds allow

Between the mule and ox, from plough to plough,³

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Clytoneus sprung: he winged the rapid way,

And bore th' unrivall'd honours of the day.

With fierce embrace the brawny wrestlers join;

The conquest, great Euryalus, is thine.

Amphialus sprung forward with a bound,

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Superior in the leap, a length of ground.

From Elatreus' strong arm the discus flies,

And sings with unmatch'd force along the skies.

And Laodam whirls high, with dreadful sway,

The gloves of death, victorious in the fray.

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While thus the peerage in the games contends,

In act to speak, Laodamas ascends:

Laodamas

"O friends," (he cries,) "the stranger seems well-skill'd

To try th' illustrious labours of the field:

I deem him brave: then grant the brave man's claim,
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Invite the hero to his share of fame.

What nervous arms he boasts! how firm his tread!

His limbs how turn'd! how broad his shoulders spread!

By age unbroke!-but all-consuming care

Destroys perhaps the strength that time would spare:
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Dire is the ocean, dread in all its forms!

Man must decay, when man contends with storms."

Euryalus

"Well hast thou spoke," (Euryalus replies,)

"Thine is the guest, invite him thou to rise."

Swift at the word, advancing from the crowd,

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He made obeisance, and thus spoke aloud:

Laodamas

"Vouchsafes the reverend stranger to display

His manly worth, and share the glorious day?

Father, arise! for thee thy port proclaims

Expert to conquer in the solemn games.
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To fame arise! for what more fame can yield

Than the swift race, or conflict of the field?

Steal from corroding care one transient day,

To glory give the space thou hast to stay;

Short is the time, and lo! even now the gales
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Call thee aboard, and stretch the swelling sails."

Ulysses

To whom with sighs Ulysses gave reply:

"Ah why th' ill-suiting pastime must I try?

To gloomy care my thoughts alone are free;

Ill the gay sports with troubled hearts agree:
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Sad from my natal hour my days have ran,

A much afflicted, much-enduring man!

Who, suppliant to the king and peers, implores

A speedy voyage to his native shores."

Euryalus

"Wide wanders, Laodam, thy erring tongue,
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The sports of glory to the brave belong,

(Retorts Euryalus:) he boasts no claim

Among the great, unlike the sons of Fame.

A wandering merchant he frequents the main;

Some mean sea-farer in pursuit of gain;
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Studious of freight, in naval trade well skill'd,

But dreads th' athletic labours of the field."

Ulysses
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Incens'd Ulysses with a frown replies:

"O forward to proclaim thy soul unwise!

With partial hands the gods their gifts dispense:
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Some greatly think, some speak with manly sense;

Here heaven an elegance of form denies,

But wisdom the defect of form supplies:

This man with energy of thought controls,

And steals with modest violence our souls;
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He speaks reserv'dly, but he speaks with force,

Nor can one word be changed but for a worse;

In public more than mortal he appears,

And, as he moves, the gazing crowd reveres.

While others, beauteous as th' ethereal kind,
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The nobler portion want, a knowing mind.

In outward show heaven gives thee to excel,

But heaven denies the praise of thinking well.

Ill bear the brave a rude ungovern'd tongue,

And, youth, my generous soul resents the wrong:
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Skill'd in heroic exercise, I claim

A post of honour with the sons of Fame.

Such was my boast while vigour crown'd my days,

Now care surrounds me, and my force decays;

Inur'd a melancholy part to bear,
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In scenes of death, by tempest and by war.

Yet thus by woes impair'd, no more I waive

To prove the hero. Slander stings the brave."

Then, striding forward with a furious bound,

He wrench'd a rocky fragment from the ground,

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By far more ponderous, and more huge by far,

Than what Phaeacia's sons discharged in air.

Fierce from his arm th' enormous load he flings;

Sonorous through the shaded air it sings;

Couch'd to the earth, tempestuous as it flies,

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The crowd gaze upward while it cleaves the skies.

Beyond all marks, with many a giddy round

Down-rushing, it up-turns a hill of ground.

That instant Pallas, bursting from a cloud,

Fix'd a distinguish'd mark, and cried aloud:

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Pallas

"Even he who sightless wants his visual ray

May by his touch alone award the day:

Thy signal throw transcends the utmost bound

Of every champion by a length of ground:

Securely bid the strongest of the train
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Arise to throw; the strongest throws in vain."

She spoke: and momentary mounts the sky:

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The friendly voice Ulysses hears with joy;

Then thus aloud, (elate with decent pride,)

Ulysses

"Rise, ye Phaeacians, try your force," (he cried;)
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"If with this throw the strongest caster vie,

Still, further still, I bid the discus fly.

Stand forth, ye champions, who the gauntlet wield,

Or ye, the swiftest racers of the field!

Stand forth, ye wrestlers, who these pastimes grace!
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I wield the gauntlet, and I run the race.

In such heroic games I yield to none,

Or yield to brave Laodamas alone:

Shall I with brave Laodamas contend?

A friend is sacred, and I style him friend.
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Ungenerous were the man, and base of heart,

Who takes the kind, and pays th' ungrateful part:

Chiefly the man, in foreign realms confin'd,

Base to his friend, to his own interest blind:

All, all your heroes I this day defy;
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Give me a man, that we our might may try:

Expert in every art, I boast the skill

To give the feather'd arrow wings to kill;

Should a whole host at once discharge the bow,

My well-aim'd shaft with death prevents the foe:
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Alone superior in the field of Troy,

Great Philoctetes taught the shaft to fly.

From all the sons of earth unrivall'd praise

I justly claim; but yield to better days;

To those fam'd days when great Alcides rose,
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And Eurytus, who bade the gods be foes:

(Vain Eurytus, whose art became his crime;⁴

Swept from the earth, he perish'd in his prime;

Sudden th' irremeable way he trod,

Who boldly durst defy the bowyer god.)
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In fighting fields as far the spear I throw

As flies an arrow from the well-drawn bow.

Sole in the race the contest I decline,⁵

Stiff are my weary joints, and I resign;

By storms and hunger worn; age well may fail,
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When storms and hunger both at once assail."

Abash'd, the numbers hear the godlike man,

Till great Alcinoüs mildly thus began:

Alcinous

"Well hast thou spoke, and well thy generous tongue

With decent pride refutes a public wrong:
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Warm are thy words, but warm without offence;

Fear only fools, secure in men of sense;

Thy worth is known. Then hear our country's claim,

And bear to heroes our heroic fame:

In distant realms our glorious deeds display,
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Repeat them frequent in the genial day;

When blest with ease thy woes and wanderings end,

Teach them thy consort, bid thy sons attend;

How, lov'd of Jove, he crown'd our sires with praise,

How we their offspring dignify our race.
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Let other realms the deathful gauntlet wield,

Or boast the glories of th' athletic field;

We in the course unrivall'd speed display,

Or through caerulean billows plough the way;

To dress, to dance, to sing, our sole delight,
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The feast or bath by day, and love by night:

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Rise, then, ye skill'd in measures; let him bear

Your fame to men that breathe a distant air:

And faithful say, to you the powers belong

To race, to sail, to dance, to chant the song.
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But, herald, to the palace swift repair,

And the soft lyre to grace our pastimes bear."

Swift at the word, obedient to the king,

The herald flies the tuneful lyre to bring.

Up rose nine seniors, chosen to survey

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The future games, the judges of the day.

With instant care they mark a spacious round,

And level for the dance th' allotted ground;

The herald bears the lyre; intent to play,

The bard advancing meditates the lay.

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Skill'd in the dance, tall youths, a blooming band,

Graceful before the heavenly minstrel stand:

Light-bounding from the earth, at once they rise,

Their feet half-viewless quiver in the skies:

Ulysses gaz'd, astonish'd to survey

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The glancing splendours as their sandals play.

Meantime the bard, alternate to the strings,

The loves of Mars and Cytherea sings;

How the stern god, enamour'd with her charms,

Clasp'd the gay panting goddess in his arms,

310

By bribes seduced; and how the sun, whose eye

Views the broad heavens, disclos'd the lawless joy.

Stung to the soul, indignant through the skies

To his black forge vindictive Vulcan flies:

Arriv'd, his sinewy arms incessant place

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Th' eternal anvil on the massy base.

A wondrous net he labours, to betray

The wanton lovers, as entwin'd they lay,

Indissolubly strong! Then instant bears

To his immortal dome the finish'd snares:

320

Above, below, around, with art dispread,

The sure inclosure folds the genial bed;

Whose texture even the search of gods deceives,

Thin as the filmy threads the spider weaves.

Then, as withdrawing from the starry bowers,

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He feigns a journey to the Lemnian shores,

His favourite isle: observant Mars descries

His wish'd recess, and to the goddess flies;

He glows, he burns; the fair-hair'd queen of love

Descends smooth gliding from the courts of Jove,

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Gay blooming in full charms: her hand he press'd

With eager joy, and with a sigh address'd:

Mars

"Come, my belov'd! and taste the soft delights;

Come, to repose the genial bed invites:

Thy absent spouse, neglectful of thy charms,
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Prefers his barbarous Sintians⁶ to thy arms!"

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Then, nothing loth, th' enamour'd fair he led,

And sunk transported on the conscious bed.

Down rush'd the toils, inwrapping as they lay

The careless lovers in their wanton play:

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In vain they strive; th' entangling snares deny

(Inextricably firm) the power to fly.

Warn'd by the god who sheds the golden day,

Stern Vulcan homeward treads the starry way:

Arriv'd, he sees, he grieves, with rage he burns:

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Full horribly he roars, his voice all heaven returns:

Vulcan

"O Jove," (he cried,) "O all ye powers above,

See the lewd dalliance of the queen of love!

Me, awkward me, she scorns; and yields her charms

To that fair lecher, the strong god of arms.
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If I am lame, that stain my natal hour

By fate impos'd; such me my parent bore.

Why was I born? See how the wanton lies!

Oh sight tormenting to a husband's eyes!

But yet I trust, this once even Mars would fly
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His fair-one's arms-he thinks her, once, too nigh.

But there remain, ye guilty, in my power,

Till Jove refunds his shameless daughter's dower.⁷

Too dear I priz'd a fair enchanting face:

Beauty unchaste is beauty in disgrace."
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Meanwhile the gods the dome of Vulcan throng;

Apollo comes, and Neptune comes along;

With these gay Hermes trod the starry plain;

But modesty withheld the goddess train.

All heaven beholds, imprison'd as they lie,

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And unextinguish'd laughter shakes the sky.

Then mutual thus they spoke: "Behold on wrong

Swift vengeance waits; and art subdues the strong!

Dwells there a god on all th' Olympian brow

More swift than Mars, and more than Vulcan slow?

370

Yet Vulcan conquers, and the god of arms

Must pay the penalty for lawless charms."

Thus serious they! but he who gilds the skies,

The gay Apollo, thus to Hermes cries:

Apollo

"Would'st thou enchain'd like Mars, O Hermes, lie,
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And bear the shame like Mars, to share the joy?"

Hermes

"O envied shame!" (the smiling youth rejoin'd;)

"Add thrice the chains, and thrice more firmly bind;

Gaze all ye gods, and every goddess gaze,

Yet eager would I bless the sweet disgrace."
380

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Loud laugh the rest, ev'n Neptune laughs aloud,

Yet sues importunate to loose the god:

Neptune

"And free," (he cries,) "O Vulcan! free from shame

Thy captives; I ensure the penal claim."

Vulcan

"Will Neptune" (Vulcan then) "the faithless trust?
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He suffers who gives surety for th' unjust:

But say, if that lewd scandal of the sky,

To liberty restor'd, perfidious fly;

Say wilt thou bear the mulct?"

Neptune

He instant cries;
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"The mulct I bear, if Mars perfidious flies."

Vulcan

To whom appeas'd: "No more I urge delay;

When Neptune sues, my part is to obey."

Then to the snares his force the god applies;

They burst; and Mars to Thrace indignant flies:

395

To the soft Cyprian shores the goddess moves,

To visit Paphos and her blooming groves,

Where to the Power an hundred altars rise,

And breathing odours scent the balmy skies;

Conceal'd she bathes in consecrated bowers,

400

The Graces unguents shed, ambrosial showers,

Unguents that charm the gods! she last assumes

Her wondrous robes; and full the goddess blooms.

Thus sung the bard: Ulysses hears with joy,

And loud applauses rend the vaulted sky.

405

Then to the sports his sons the king commands;

Each blooming youth before the monarch stands,

In dance unmatch'd. A wondrous ball is brought,

(The work of Polybus, divinely wrought;)

This youth with strength enormous hids it fly,

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And bending backward whirls it to the sky;

His brother, springing with an active bound,

At distance intercepts it from the ground.

The ball dismiss'd, in dance they skim the strand,

Turn and return, and scarce imprint the sand.

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Th' assembly gazes with astonish'd eyes,

And sends in shouts applauses to the skies.

Ulysses

Then thus Ulysses: "Happy king, whose name

The brightest shines in all the rolls of fame!

In subjects happy! with surprise I gaze;
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Thy praise was just; their skill transcends thy praise."

385

Pleas'd with his people's fame, the monarch hears,

And thus benevolent accosts the peers:

Alcinous

"Since wisdom's sacred guidance he pursues,

Give to the stranger-guest a stranger's dues:
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Twelve princes in our realm dominion share,

O'er whom supreme, imperial power I bear:

Bring gold, a pledge of love: a talent bring,

A vest, a robe, and imitate your king.

Be swift to give; that he this night may share
430

The social feast of joy, with joy sincere.

And thou, Euryalus, redeem thy wrong;

A generous heart repairs a slanderous tongue."

Th' assenting peers, obedient to the king,

In haste their heralds send the gifts to bring.

435

Euryalus

Then thus Euryalus: "O prince, whose sway

Rules this bless'd realm, repentant I obey!

Be his this sword, whose blade of brass displays

A ruddy gleam; whose hilt a silver blaze;

Whose ivory sheath, inwrought with curious pride,
440

Adds graceful terror to the wearer's side."

He said, and to his hand the sword consign'd;

"And if," he cried, "my words affect thy mind,

Far from thy mind those words, ye whirlwinds, bear,

And scatter them, ye storms, in empty air!
445

Crown, O ye heavens, with joy his peaceful hours,

And grant him to his spouse, and native shores!"

Ulysses

"And blest be thou, my friend," (Ulysses cries,)

"Crown him with every joy, ye favouring skies!

To thy calm hours continued peace afford,
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And never, never may'st thou want this sword."

He said, and o'er his shoulder flung the blade.

Now o'er the earth ascends the evening shade:

The precious gifts th' illustrious heralds bear,

And to the court the embodied peers repair.

455

Before the queen Alcinoüs' sons unfold

The vests, the robes, and heaps of shining gold;

Then to the radiant thrones they move in state:

Aloft the king in pomp imperial sate.

Alcinous

Thence to the queen: "O partner of our reign,
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O sole belov'd! command thy menial train

A polish'd chest and stately robes to bear,

And healing waters for the bath prepare;

That, bath'd, our guest may bid our sorrows cease,

Hear the sweet song, and taste the feast in peace.
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A bowl that flames with gold of wondrous frame,

Ourself we give, memorial of our name;

To raise in offerings to almighty Jove,

And every god that treads the courts above."

433

Instant the queen, observant of the king,

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Commands her train a spacious vase to bring,

The spacious vase with ample streams suffice,

Heap the high wood, and bid the flames arise.

The flames climb round it with a fierce embrace,

The fuming waters bubble o'er the blaze.

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Herself the chest prepares: (in order roll'd

The robes, the vests are ranged, and heaps of gold:)

And, adding a rich dress inwrought with art,

A gift expressive of her bounteous heart,

Arete

Thus spoke to Ithacus: "To guard with bands
480

Insolvable these gifts, thy care demands;

Lest, in thy slumbers on the watery main,

The hand of rapine make our bounty vain."

Then, bending with full force, around he roll'd

A labyrinth of bands in fold on fold,

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Clos'd with Circaean art.⁸ A train attends

Around the bath: the bath the king ascends;

(Untasted joy, since that disastrous hour

He sail'd ill-fated from Calypso's bower;)

Where, happy as the gods that range the sky,

490

He feasted every sense with every joy.

He bathes; the damsels, with official toil,

Shed sweets, shed unguents, in a shower of oil:

Then o'er his limbs a gorgeous robe he spreads,

And to the feast magnificently treads.

495

Full where the dome its shining valves expands,

Nausicaa blooming as a goddess stands;

With wondering eyes the hero she survey'd,

And graceful thus began the royal maid:

Nausicaa

"Hail, godlike stranger! and when heaven restores
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To thy fond wish thy long-expected shores,

This ever grateful in remembrance bear,

To me thou ow'st, to me, the vital air."

Ulysses

"O royal maid," (Ulysses straight returns,)

"Whose worth the splendours of thy race adorns,
505

So may dread Jove (whose arm in vengeance forms

The writhen bolt, and blackens heaven with storms,)

Restore me safe, through weary wanderings toss'd,

To my dear country's ever-pleasing coast,

As, while the spirit in this bosom glows,
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To thee, my goddess, I address my vows;

My life, thy gift I boast!"

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He said, and sate

Fast by Alcinoüs on a throne of state.

Now each partakes the feast, the wine prepares,

515

Portions the food, and each his portion shares.

The bard an herald guides; the gazing throng

Pay low obeisance as he moves along:

Beneath a sculptur'd arch he sits enthron'd,

The peers encircling form an awful round.

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Then, from the chine Ulysses carves with art,

Delicious food, an honorary part;

Ulysses

"This, let the master of the lyre receive,

A pledge of love! 'tis all a wretch can give.

Lives there a man beneath the spacious skies
525

Who sacred honours to the bard denies?

The Muse the bard inspires, exalts his mind;

The Muse indulgent loves th' harmonious kind."

The herald to his hand the charge conveys,

Not fond of flattery, nor unpleas'd with praise.

530

When now the rage of hunger was allay'd,

Thus to the lyrist wise Ulysses said:

Ulysses

"O more than man! thy soul the Muse inspires,

Or Phœbus animates with all his fires;

For who, by Phœbus uninform'd, could know
535

The woe of Greece, and sing so well the woe?

Just to the tale, as present at the fray,

Or taught the labours of the dreadful day:

The song recalls past horrors to my eyes,

And bids proud Ilion from her ashes rise.
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Once more harmonious strike the sounding string,

Th' Epean fabric,⁹ fram'd by Pallas, sing:

How stern Ulysses, furious to destroy,

With latent heroes sack'd imperial Troy.

If faithful thou record the tale of fame,
545

The god himself inspires thy breast with flame;

And mine shall be the task henceforth to raise

In every land thy monument of praise."

Full of the god he rais'd his lofty strain,

How the Greeks rush'd tumultuous to the main;

550

How blazing tents illumin'd half the skies,

While from the shores the winged navy flies;

How even in Ilion's walls, in deathful bands,

Came the stern Greeks by Troy's assisting hands:

All Troy up-heav'd the steed; of differing mind,

555

Various the Trojans counsell'd: part consign'd

The monster to the sword; part sentence gave

To plunge it headlong in the whelming wave;

Th' unwise award to lodge it in the towers,

An offering sacred to th' immortal powers:

560

Th' unwise prevail, they lodge it in the walls,

And by the gods' decree proud Ilion falls:

Destruction enters in the treacherous wood,

And vengeful slaughter, fierce for human blood.

He sung the Greeks stern-issuing from the steed,

565

How Ilion burns, how all her fathers bleed;

How to thy dome, Deïphobus, ascends

The Spartan king; how Ithacus attends

Horrid as Mars, and how with dire alarms

He fights, subdues; for Pallas strings his arms.

570

521

Thus while he sung, Ulysses' griefs renew,

Tears bathe his cheeks, and tears the ground bedew:

As some fond matron views in mortal fight

Her husband falling in his country's right:

Frantic through clashing swords she runs, she flies,

575

As ghastly pale he groans, and faints, and dies;

Close to his breast she grovels on the ground,

And bathes with floods of tears the gaping wound:

She cries, she shrieks: the fierce insulting foe

Relentless mocks her violence of woe:

580

To chains condemn'd, as wildly she deplores;

A widow, and a slave on foreign shores.

So from the sluices of Ulysses' eyes

Fast fell the tears, and sighs succeeded sighs:

Conceal'd he griev'd: the king observ'd alone

585

The silent tear and heard the secret groan:

Alcinous

Then to the bard aloud: "O cease to sing,

Dumb be thy voice, and mute the tuneful string;

To every note his tears responsive flow,

And his great heart heaves with tumultuous woe;
590

Thy lay too deeply moves: then cease the lay,

And o'er the banquet every heart be gay:

This social right demands: for him the sails,

Floating in air, invite th' impelling gales:

His are the gifts of love: the wise and good
595

Receive the stranger as a brother's blood.

But, friend, discover faithful what I crave;

Artful concealment ill becomes the brave:

550

Say what thy birth, and what the name you bore,

Impos'd by parents in the natal hour?
600

(For from the natal hour distinctive names,

One common right, the great and lowly claims :)

Say from what city, from what regions toss'd,

And what inhabitants those regions boast?

So shalt thou instant reach the realm assign'd,
605

In wondrous ships, self-mov'd, instinct with mind;

No helm secures their course, no pilot guides;

Like man intelligent, they plough the tides,

Conscious of every coast, and every bay,

That lies beneath the sun's all-seeing ray;
610

Though clouds and darkness veil th' encumber'd sky,

Fearless thro' darkness and thro' clouds they fly;

Though tempests rage, though rolls the swelling main,

The seas may roll, the tempest rage in vain;

Ev'n the stern god that o'er the waves presides,
615

Safe as they pass, and safe repass the tides,

With fury burns; while careless they convey

Promiscuous every guest to every bay.

These ears have heard my royal sire disclose

A dreadful story, big with future woes;
620

How Neptune raged, and how, by his command,

Firm rooted in the surge a ship should stand

A monument of wrath; how mound on mound

Should bury these proud towers beneath the ground.

But this the gods may frustrate or fulfil,
625

As suits the purpose of th' eternal will.

But say through what waste regions hast thou stray'd,

What customs noted, and what coasts survey'd:

Possess'd by wild barbarians fierce in arms,

Or men whose bosom tender pity warms?
630

Say why the fate of Troy awaked thy cares,

Why heav'd thy bosom, and why flow'd thy tears?

Just are the ways of Heaven: from Heaven proceed

The woes of man; Heaven doom'd the Greeks to bleed,

A theme of future song! Say, then, if slain
635

Some dear-lov'd brother press'd the Phrygian plain?

Or bled some friend, who bore a brother's part,

And claim'd by merit, not by blood, the heart?"

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.) — 8.1 focus

ἦμος δʼ ἠριγένεια φάνη ῥοδοδάκτυλος Ἠώς,

ὤρνυτʼ ἄρʼ ἐξ εὐνῆς ἱερὸν μένος Ἀλκινόοιο,

ἂν δʼ ἄρα διογενὴς ὦρτο πτολίπορθος Ὀδυσσεύς.

τοῖσιν δʼ ἡγεμόνευʼ ἱερὸν μένος Ἀλκινόοιο

Φαιήκων ἀγορήνδʼ, ἥ σφιν παρὰ νηυσὶ τέτυκτο.

ἐλθόντες δὲ καθῖζον ἐπὶ ξεστοῖσι λίθοισι

πλησίον. ἡ δʼ ἀνὰ ἄστυ μετῴχετο Παλλὰς Ἀθήνη

εἰδομένη κήρυκι δαΐφρονος Ἀλκινόοιο,

νόστον Ὀδυσσῆι μεγαλήτορι μητιόωσα,

καί ῥα ἑκάστῳ φωτὶ παρισταμένη φάτο μῦθον·

δεῦτʼ ἄγε, Φαιήκων ἡγήτορες ἠδὲ μέδοντες,

εἰς ἀγορὴν ἰέναι, ὄφρα ξείνοιο πύθησθε,

ὃς νέον Ἀλκινόοιο δαΐφρονος ἵκετο δῶμα

πόντον ἐπιπλαγχθείς, δέμας ἀθανάτοισιν ὁμοῖος.

ὣς εἰποῦσʼ ὤτρυνε μένος καὶ θυμὸν ἑκάστου.

καρπαλίμως δʼ ἔμπληντο βροτῶν ἀγοραί τε καὶ ἕδραι

ἀγρομένων· πολλοὶ δʼ ἄρʼ ἐθηήσαντο ἰδόντες

υἱὸν Λαέρταο δαΐφρονα· τῷ δʼ ἄρʼ Ἀθήνη

θεσπεσίην κατέχευε χάριν κεφαλῇ τε καὶ ὤμοις

καί μιν μακρότερον καὶ πάσσονα θῆκεν ἰδέσθαι,

ὥς κεν Φαιήκεσσι φίλος πάντεσσι γένοιτο

δεινός τʼ αἰδοῖός τε καὶ ἐκτελέσειεν ἀέθλους

πολλούς, τοὺς Φαίηκες ἐπειρήσαντʼ Ὀδυσῆος.

αὐτὰρ ἐπεί ῥʼ ἤγερθεν ὁμηγερέες τʼ ἐγένοντο,

τοῖσιν δʼ Ἀλκίνοος ἀγορήσατο καὶ μετέειπε·

κέκλυτε, Φαιήκων ἡγήτορες ἠδὲ μέδοντες,

ὄφρʼ εἴπω τά με θυμὸς ἐνὶ στήθεσσι κελεύει.

ξεῖνος ὅδʼ, οὐκ οἶδʼ ὅς τις, ἀλώμενος ἵκετʼ ἐμὸν δῶ,

ἠὲ πρὸς ἠοίων ἦ ἑσπερίων ἀνθρώπων·

πομπὴν δʼ ὀτρύνει, καὶ λίσσεται ἔμπεδον εἶναι.

ἡμεῖς δʼ, ὡς τὸ πάρος περ, ἐποτρυνώμεθα πομπήν.

οὐδὲ γὰρ οὐδέ τις ἄλλος, ὅτις κʼ ἐμὰ δώμαθʼ ἵκηται,

ἐνθάδʼ ὀδυρόμενος δηρὸν μένει εἵνεκα πομπῆς.

ἀλλʼ ἄγε νῆα μέλαιναν ἐρύσσομεν εἰς ἅλα δῖαν

πρωτόπλοον, κούρω δὲ δύω καὶ πεντήκοντα

κρινάσθων κατὰ δῆμον, ὅσοι πάρος εἰσὶν ἄριστοι.

δησάμενοι δʼ ἐὺ πάντες ἐπὶ κληῖσιν ἐρετμὰ

ἔκβητʼ· αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα θοὴν ἀλεγύνετε δαῖτα

ἡμέτερόνδʼ ἐλθόντες· ἐγὼ δʼ ἐὺ πᾶσι παρέξω.

κούροισιν μὲν ταῦτʼ ἐπιτέλλομαι· αὐτὰρ οἱ ἄλλοι

σκηπτοῦχοι βασιλῆες ἐμὰ πρὸς δώματα καλὰ

ἔρχεσθʼ, ὄφρα ξεῖνον ἐνὶ μεγάροισι φιλέωμεν,

μηδέ τις ἀρνείσθω. καλέσασθε δὲ θεῖον ἀοιδὸν

Δημόδοκον· τῷ γάρ ῥα θεὸς πέρι δῶκεν ἀοιδὴν

τέρπειν, ὅππῃ θυμὸς ἐποτρύνῃσιν ἀείδειν.

ὣς ἄρα φωνήσας ἡγήσατο, τοὶ δʼ ἅμʼ ἕποντο

σκηπτοῦχοι· κῆρυξ δὲ μετῴχετο θεῖον ἀοιδόν.

κούρω δὲ κρινθέντε δύω καὶ πεντήκοντα

βήτην, ὡς ἐκέλευσʼ, ἐπὶ θῖνʼ ἁλὸς ἀτρυγέτοιο.

αὐτὰρ ἐπεί ῥʼ ἐπὶ νῆα κατήλυθον ἠδὲ θάλασσαν,

νῆα μὲν οἵ γε μέλαιναν ἁλὸς βένθοσδε ἔρυσσαν,

ἐν δʼ ἱστόν τʼ ἐτίθεντο καὶ ἱστία νηὶ μελαίνῃ,

ἠρτύναντο δʼ ἐρετμὰ τροποῖς ἐν δερματίνοισι,

πάντα κατὰ μοῖραν, ἀνά θʼ ἱστία λευκὰ πέτασσαν.

ὑψοῦ δʼ ἐν νοτίῳ τήν γʼ ὥρμισαν· αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα

βάν ῥʼ ἴμεν Ἀλκινόοιο δαΐφρονος ἐς μέγα δῶμα.

πλῆντο δʼ ἄρʼ αἴθουσαί τε καὶ ἕρκεα καὶ δόμοι ἀνδρῶν

ἀγρομένων· πολλοὶ δʼ ἄρʼ ἔσαν, νέοι ἠδὲ παλαιοί.

τοῖσιν δʼ Ἀλκίνοος δυοκαίδεκα μῆλʼ ἱέρευσεν,

ὀκτὼ δʼ ἀργιόδοντας ὕας, δύο δʼ εἰλίποδας βοῦς·

τοὺς δέρον ἀμφί θʼ ἕπον, τετύκοντό τε δαῖτʼ ἐρατεινήν.

κῆρυξ δʼ ἐγγύθεν ἦλθεν ἄγων ἐρίηρον ἀοιδόν,

τὸν πέρι μοῦσʼ ἐφίλησε, δίδου δʼ ἀγαθόν τε κακόν τε·

ὀφθαλμῶν μὲν ἄμερσε, δίδου δʼ ἡδεῖαν ἀοιδήν.

τῷ δʼ ἄρα Ποντόνοος θῆκε θρόνον ἀργυρόηλον

μέσσῳ δαιτυμόνων, πρὸς κίονα μακρὸν ἐρείσας·

κὰδ δʼ ἐκ πασσαλόφι κρέμασεν φόρμιγγα λίγειαν

αὐτοῦ ὑπὲρ κεφαλῆς καὶ ἐπέφραδε χερσὶν ἑλέσθαι

κῆρυξ· πὰρ δʼ ἐτίθει κάνεον καλήν τε τράπεζαν,

πὰρ δὲ δέπας οἴνοιο, πιεῖν ὅτε θυμὸς ἀνώγοι.

οἱ δʼ ἐπʼ ὀνείαθʼ ἑτοῖμα προκείμενα χεῖρας ἴαλλον.

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ πόσιος καὶ ἐδητύος ἐξ ἔρον ἕντο,

μοῦσʼ ἄρʼ ἀοιδὸν ἀνῆκεν ἀειδέμεναι κλέα ἀνδρῶν,

οἴμης τῆς τότʼ ἄρα κλέος οὐρανὸν εὐρὺν ἵκανε,

νεῖκος Ὀδυσσῆος καὶ Πηλεΐδεω Ἀχιλῆος,

ὥς ποτε δηρίσαντο θεῶν ἐν δαιτὶ θαλείῃ

ἐκπάγλοις ἐπέεσσιν, ἄναξ δʼ ἀνδρῶν Ἀγαμέμνων

χαῖρε νόῳ, ὅ τʼ ἄριστοι Ἀχαιῶν δηριόωντο.

ὣς γάρ οἱ χρείων μυθήσατο Φοῖβος Ἀπόλλων

Πυθοῖ ἐν ἠγαθέῃ, ὅθʼ ὑπέρβη λάινον οὐδὸν

χρησόμενος· τότε γάρ ῥα κυλίνδετο πήματος ἀρχὴ

Τρωσί τε καὶ Δαναοῖσι Διὸς μεγάλου διὰ βουλάς.

ταῦτʼ ἄρʼ ἀοιδὸς ἄειδε περικλυτός· αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσεὺς

πορφύρεον μέγα φᾶρος ἑλὼν χερσὶ στιβαρῇσι

κὰκ κεφαλῆς εἴρυσσε, κάλυψε δὲ καλὰ πρόσωπα·

αἴδετο γὰρ Φαίηκας ὑπʼ ὀφρύσι δάκρυα λείβων.

ἦ τοι ὅτε λήξειεν ἀείδων θεῖος ἀοιδός,

δάκρυ ὀμορξάμενος κεφαλῆς ἄπο φᾶρος ἕλεσκε

καὶ δέπας ἀμφικύπελλον ἑλὼν σπείσασκε θεοῖσιν·

αὐτὰρ ὅτʼ ἂψ ἄρχοιτο καὶ ὀτρύνειαν ἀείδειν

Φαιήκων οἱ ἄριστοι, ἐπεὶ τέρποντʼ ἐπέεσσιν,

ἂψ Ὀδυσεὺς κατὰ κρᾶτα καλυψάμενος γοάασκεν.

ἔνθʼ ἄλλους μὲν πάντας ἐλάνθανε δάκρυα λείβων,

Ἀλκίνοος δέ μιν οἶος ἐπεφράσατʼ ἠδʼ ἐνόησεν

ἥμενος ἄγχʼ αὐτοῦ, βαρὺ δὲ στενάχοντος ἄκουσεν.

αἶψα δὲ Φαιήκεσσι φιληρέτμοισι μετηύδα·

κέκλυτε, Φαιήκων ἡγήτορες ἠδὲ μέδοντες.

ἤδη μὲν δαιτὸς κεκορήμεθα θυμὸν ἐίσης

φόρμιγγός θʼ, ἣ δαιτὶ συνήορός ἐστι θαλείῃ·

νῦν δʼ ἐξέλθωμεν καὶ ἀέθλων πειρηθῶμεν

100

πάντων, ὥς χʼ ὁ ξεῖνος ἐνίσπῃ οἷσι φίλοισιν

οἴκαδε νοστήσας, ὅσσον περιγιγνόμεθʼ ἄλλων

πύξ τε παλαιμοσύνῃ τε καὶ ἅλμασιν ἠδὲ πόδεσσιν.

ὣς ἄρα φωνήσας ἡγήσατο, τοὶ δʼ ἅμʼ ἕποντο.

κὰδ δʼ ἐκ πασσαλόφι κρέμασεν φόρμιγγα λίγειαν,

105

Δημοδόκου δʼ ἕλε χεῖρα καὶ ἔξαγεν ἐκ μεγάροιο

κῆρυξ· ἦρχε δὲ τῷ αὐτὴν ὁδὸν ἥν περ οἱ ἄλλοι

Φαιήκων οἱ ἄριστοι, ἀέθλια θαυμανέοντες.

βὰν δʼ ἴμεν εἰς ἀγορήν, ἅμα δʼ ἕσπετο πουλὺς ὅμιλος,

μυρίοι· ἂν δʼ ἵσταντο νέοι πολλοί τε καὶ ἐσθλοί.

110

ὦρτο μὲν Ἀκρόνεώς τε καὶ Ὠκύαλος καὶ Ἐλατρεύς,

Ναυτεύς τε Πρυμνεύς τε καὶ Ἀγχίαλος καὶ Ἐρετμεύς,

Ποντεύς τε Πρωρεύς τε, Θόων Ἀναβησίνεώς τε

Ἀμφίαλός θʼ, υἱὸς Πολυνήου Τεκτονίδαο·

ἂν δὲ καὶ Εὐρύαλος, βροτολοιγῷ ἶσος Ἄρηϊ,

115

Ναυβολίδης, ὃς ἄριστος ἔην εἶδός τε δέμας τε

πάντων Φαιήκων μετʼ ἀμύμονα Λαοδάμαντα.

ἂν δʼ ἔσταν τρεῖς παῖδες ἀμύμονος Ἀλκινόοιο,

Λαοδάμας θʼ Ἅλιός τε καὶ ἀντίθεος Κλυτόνηος.

οἱ δʼ ἦ τοι πρῶτον μὲν ἐπειρήσαντο πόδεσσι.

120

τοῖσι δʼ ἀπὸ νύσσης τέτατο δρόμος· οἱ δʼ ἅμα πάντες

καρπαλίμως ἐπέτοντο κονίοντες πεδίοιο·

τῶν δὲ θέειν ὄχʼ ἄριστος ἔην Κλυτόνηος ἀμύμων·

ὅσσον τʼ ἐν νειῷ οὖρον πέλει ἡμιόνοιιν,

τόσσον ὑπεκπροθέων λαοὺς ἵκεθʼ, οἱ δʼ ἐλίποντο.

125

οἱ δὲ παλαιμοσύνης ἀλεγεινῆς πειρήσαντο·

τῇ δʼ αὖτʼ Εὐρύαλος ἀπεκαίνυτο πάντας ἀρίστους.

ἅλματι δʼ Ἀμφίαλος πάντων προφερέστατος ἦεν·

δίσκῳ δʼ αὖ πάντων πολὺ φέρτατος ἦεν Ἐλατρεύς,

πὺξ δʼ αὖ Λαοδάμας, ἀγαθὸς πάϊς Ἀλκινόοιο.

130

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ δὴ πάντες ἐτέρφθησαν φρένʼ ἀέθλοις,

τοῖς ἄρα Λαοδάμας μετέφη πάϊς Ἀλκινόοιο·

δεῦτε, φίλοι, τὸν ξεῖνον ἐρώμεθα εἴ τινʼ ἄεθλον

οἶδέ τε καὶ δεδάηκε. φυήν γε μὲν οὐ κακός ἐστι,

μηρούς τε κνήμας τε καὶ ἄμφω χεῖρας ὕπερθεν

135

αὐχένα τε στιβαρὸν μέγα τε σθένος· οὐδέ τι ἥβης

δεύεται, ἀλλὰ κακοῖσι συνέρρηκται πολέεσσιν·

οὐ γὰρ ἐγώ γέ τί φημι κακώτερον ἄλλο θαλάσσης

ἄνδρα γε συγχεῦαι, εἰ καὶ μάλα καρτερὸς εἴη.

τὸν δʼ αὖτʼ Εὐρύαλος ἀπαμείβετο φώνησέν τε·

140

Λαοδάμα, μάλα τοῦτο ἔπος κατὰ μοῖραν ἔειπες.

αὐτὸς νῦν προκάλεσσαι ἰὼν καὶ πέφραδε μῦθον.

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ τό γʼ ἄκουσʼ ἀγαθὸς πάϊς Ἀλκινόοιο,

στῆ ῥʼ ἐς μέσσον ἰὼν καὶ Ὀδυσσῆα προσέειπε·

δεῦρʼ ἄγε καὶ σύ, ξεῖνε πάτερ, πείρησαι ἀέθλων,

145

εἴ τινά που δεδάηκας· ἔοικε δέ σʼ ἴδμεν ἀέθλους·

οὐ μὲν γὰρ μεῖζον κλέος ἀνέρος ὄφρα κʼ ἔῃσιν,

ἤ ὅ τι ποσσίν τε ῥέξῃ καὶ χερσὶν ἑῇσιν.

ἀλλʼ ἄγε πείρησαι, σκέδασον δʼ ἀπὸ κήδεα θυμοῦ.

σοὶ δʼ ὁδὸς οὐκέτι δηρὸν ἀπέσσεται, ἀλλά τοι ἤδη

150

νηῦς τε κατείρυσται καὶ ἐπαρτέες εἰσὶν ἑταῖροι.

τὸν δʼ ἀπαμειβόμενος προσέφη πολύμητις Ὀδυσσεύς·

Λαοδάμα, τί με ταῦτα κελεύετε κερτομέοντες;

κήδεά μοι καὶ μᾶλλον ἐνὶ φρεσὶν ἤ περ ἄεθλοι,

ὃς πρὶν μὲν μάλα πολλὰ πάθον καὶ πολλὰ μόγησα,

155

νῦν δὲ μεθʼ ὑμετέρῃ ἀγορῇ νόστοιο χατίζων

ἧμαι, λισσόμενος βασιλῆά τε πάντα τε δῆμον.

τὸν δʼ αὖτʼ Εὐρύαλος ἀπαμείβετο νείκεσέ τʼ ἄντην·

οὐ γάρ σʼ οὐδέ, ξεῖνε, δαήμονι φωτὶ ἐίσκω

ἄθλων, οἷά τε πολλὰ μετʼ ἀνθρώποισι πέλονται,

160

ἀλλὰ τῷ, ὅς θʼ ἅμα νηὶ πολυκλήιδι θαμίζων,

ἀρχὸς ναυτάων οἵ τε πρηκτῆρες ἔασιν,

φόρτου τε μνήμων καὶ ἐπίσκοπος ᾖσιν ὁδαίων

κερδέων θʼ ἁρπαλέων· οὐδʼ ἀθλητῆρι ἔοικας.

τὸν δʼ ἄρʼ ὑπόδρα ἰδὼν προσέφη πολύμητις Ὀδυσσεύς·

165

ξεῖνʼ, οὐ καλὸν ἔειπες· ἀτασθάλῳ ἀνδρὶ ἔοικας.

οὕτως οὐ πάντεσσι θεοὶ χαρίεντα διδοῦσιν

ἀνδράσιν, οὔτε φυὴν οὔτʼ ἂρ φρένας οὔτʼ ἀγορητύν.

ἄλλος μὲν γάρ τʼ εἶδος ἀκιδνότερος πέλει ἀνήρ,

ἀλλὰ θεὸς μορφὴν ἔπεσι στέφει, οἱ δέ τʼ ἐς αὐτὸν

170

τερπόμενοι λεύσσουσιν· ὁ δʼ ἀσφαλέως ἀγορεύει

αἰδοῖ μειλιχίῃ, μετὰ δὲ πρέπει ἀγρομένοισιν,

ἐρχόμενον δʼ ἀνὰ ἄστυ θεὸν ὣς εἰσορόωσιν.

ἄλλος δʼ αὖ εἶδος μὲν ἀλίγκιος ἀθανάτοισιν,

ἀλλʼ οὔ οἱ χάρις ἀμφιπεριστέφεται ἐπέεσσιν,

175

ὡς καὶ σοὶ εἶδος μὲν ἀριπρεπές, οὐδέ κεν ἄλλως

οὐδὲ θεὸς τεύξειε, νόον δʼ ἀποφώλιός ἐσσι.

ὤρινάς μοι θυμὸν ἐνὶ στήθεσσι φίλοισιν

εἰπὼν οὐ κατὰ κόσμον. ἐγὼ δʼ οὐ νῆις ἀέθλων,

ὡς σύ γε μυθεῖαι, ἀλλʼ ἐν πρώτοισιν ὀίω

180

ἔμμεναι, ὄφρʼ ἥβῃ τε πεποίθεα χερσί τʼ ἐμῇσι.

νῦν δʼ ἔχομαι κακότητι καὶ ἄλγεσι· πολλὰ γὰρ ἔτλην

ἀνδρῶν τε πτολέμους ἀλεγεινά τε κύματα πείρων.

ἀλλὰ καὶ ὥς, κακὰ πολλὰ παθών, πειρήσομʼ ἀέθλων·

θυμοδακὴς γὰρ μῦθος, ἐπώτρυνας δέ με εἰπών.

185

ἦ ῥα καὶ αὐτῷ φάρει ἀναΐξας λάβε δίσκον

μείζονα καὶ πάχετον, στιβαρώτερον οὐκ ὀλίγον περ

ἢ οἵῳ Φαίηκες ἐδίσκεον ἀλλήλοισι.

τόν ῥα περιστρέψας ἧκε στιβαρῆς ἀπὸ χειρός,

βόμβησεν δὲ λίθος· κατὰ δʼ ἔπτηξαν ποτὶ γαίῃ

190

Φαίηκες δολιχήρετμοι, ναυσίκλυτοι ἄνδρες,

λᾶος ὑπὸ ῥιπῆς· ὁ δʼ ὑπέρπτατο σήματα πάντων

ῥίμφα θέων ἀπὸ χειρός. ἔθηκε δὲ τέρματʼ Ἀθήνη

ἀνδρὶ δέμας ἐικυῖα, ἔπος τʼ ἔφατʼ ἔκ τʼ ὀνόμαζεν·

καί κʼ ἀλαός τοι, ξεῖνε, διακρίνειε τὸ σῆμα

195

ἀμφαφόων, ἐπεὶ οὔ τι μεμιγμένον ἐστὶν ὁμίλῳ,

ἀλλὰ πολὺ πρῶτον. σὺ δὲ θάρσει τόνδε γʼ ἄεθλον·

οὔ τις Φαιήκων τόδε γʼ ἵξεται, οὐδʼ ὑπερήσει.

ὣς φάτο, γήθησεν δὲ πολύτλας δῖος Ὀδυσσεύς,

χαίρων, οὕνεχʼ ἑταῖρον ἐνηέα λεῦσσʼ ἐν ἀγῶνι.

200

καὶ τότε κουφότερον μετεφώνεε Φαιήκεσσιν·

τοῦτον νῦν ἀφίκεσθε, νέοι. τάχα δʼ ὕστερον ἄλλον

ἥσειν ἢ τοσσοῦτον ὀίομαι ἢ ἔτι μᾶσσον.

τῶν δʼ ἄλλων ὅτινα κραδίη θυμός τε κελεύει,

δεῦρʼ ἄγε πειρηθήτω, ἐπεί μʼ ἐχολώσατε λίην,

205

ἢ πὺξ ἠὲ πάλῃ ἢ καὶ ποσίν, οὔ τι μεγαίρω,

πάντων Φαιήκων, πλήν γʼ αὐτοῦ Λαοδάμαντος.

ξεῖνος γάρ μοι ὅδʼ ἐστί· τίς ἂν φιλέοντι μάχοιτο;

ἄφρων δὴ κεῖνός γε καὶ οὐτιδανὸς πέλει ἀνήρ,

ὅς τις ξεινοδόκῳ ἔριδα προφέρηται ἀέθλων

210

δήμῳ ἐν ἀλλοδαπῷ· ἕο δʼ αὐτοῦ πάντα κολούει.

τῶν δʼ ἄλλων οὔ πέρ τινʼ ἀναίνομαι οὐδʼ ἀθερίζω,

ἀλλʼ ἐθέλω ἴδμεν καὶ πειρηθήμεναι ἄντην.

πάντα γὰρ οὐ κακός εἰμι, μετʼ ἀνδράσιν ὅσσοι ἄεθλοι·

εὖ μὲν τόξον οἶδα ἐύξοον ἀμφαφάασθαι·

215

πρῶτός κʼ ἄνδρα βάλοιμι ὀιστεύσας ἐν ὁμίλῳ

ἀνδρῶν δυσμενέων, εἰ καὶ μάλα πολλοὶ ἑταῖροι

ἄγχι παρασταῖεν καὶ τοξαζοίατο φωτῶν.

οἶος δή με Φιλοκτήτης ἀπεκαίνυτο τόξῳ

δήμῳ ἔνι Τρώων, ὅτε τοξαζοίμεθʼ Ἀχαιοί.

220

τῶν δʼ ἄλλων ἐμέ φημι πολὺ προφερέστερον εἶναι,

ὅσσοι νῦν βροτοί εἰσιν ἐπὶ χθονὶ σῖτον ἔδοντες.

ἀνδράσι δὲ προτέροισιν ἐριζέμεν οὐκ ἐθελήσω,

οὔθʼ Ἡρακλῆι οὔτʼ Εὐρύτῳ Οἰχαλιῆι,

οἵ ῥα καὶ ἀθανάτοισιν ἐρίζεσκον περὶ τόξων.

225

τῷ ῥα καὶ αἶψʼ ἔθανεν μέγας Εὔρυτος, οὐδʼ ἐπὶ γῆρας

ἵκετʼ ἐνὶ μεγάροισι· χολωσάμενος γὰρ Ἀπόλλων

ἔκτανεν, οὕνεκά μιν προκαλίζετο τοξάζεσθαι.

δουρὶ δʼ ἀκοντίζω ὅσον οὐκ ἄλλος τις ὀιστῷ.

οἴοισιν δείδοικα ποσὶν μή τίς με παρέλθῃ

230

Φαιήκων· λίην γὰρ ἀεικελίως ἐδαμάσθην

κύμασιν ἐν πολλοῖς, ἐπεὶ οὐ κομιδὴ κατὰ νῆα

ἦεν ἐπηετανός· τῷ μοι φίλα γυῖα λέλυνται.

ὣς ἔφαθʼ, οἱ δʼ ἄρα πάντες ἀκὴν ἐγένοντο σιωπῇ.

Ἀλκίνοος δέ μιν οἶος ἀμειβόμενος προσέειπεν·

235

ξεῖνʼ, ἐπεὶ οὐκ ἀχάριστα μεθʼ ἡμῖν ταῦτʼ ἀγορεύεις,

ἀλλʼ ἐθέλεις ἀρετὴν σὴν φαινέμεν, ἥ τοι ὀπηδεῖ,

χωόμενος ὅτι σʼ οὗτος ἀνὴρ ἐν ἀγῶνι παραστὰς

νείκεσεν, ὡς ἂν σὴν ἀρετὴν βροτὸς οὔ τις ὄνοιτο,

ὅς τις ἐπίσταιτο ᾗσι φρεσὶν ἄρτια βάζειν·

240

ἀλλʼ ἄγε νῦν ἐμέθεν ξυνίει ἔπος, ὄφρα καὶ ἄλλῳ

εἴπῃς ἡρώων, ὅτε κεν σοῖς ἐν μεγάροισι

δαινύῃ παρὰ σῇ τʼ ἀλόχῳ καὶ σοῖσι τέκεσσιν,

ἡμετέρης ἀρετῆς μεμνημένος, οἷα καὶ ἡμῖν

Ζεὺς ἐπὶ ἔργα τίθησι διαμπερὲς ἐξ ἔτι πατρῶν.

245

οὐ γὰρ πυγμάχοι εἰμὲν ἀμύμονες οὐδὲ παλαισταί,

ἀλλὰ ποσὶ κραιπνῶς θέομεν καὶ νηυσὶν ἄριστοι,

αἰεὶ δʼ ἡμῖν δαίς τε φίλη κίθαρίς τε χοροί τε

εἵματά τʼ ἐξημοιβὰ λοετρά τε θερμὰ καὶ εὐναί.

250

ἀλλʼ ἄγε, Φαιήκων βητάρμονες ὅσσοι ἄριστοι,

250

παίσατε, ὥς χʼ ὁ ξεῖνος ἐνίσπῃ οἷσι φίλοισιν

οἴκαδε νοστήσας, ὅσσον περιγιγνόμεθʼ ἄλλων

ναυτιλίῃ καὶ ποσσὶ καὶ ὀρχηστυῖ καὶ ἀοιδῇ.

Δημοδόκῳ δέ τις αἶψα κιὼν φόρμιγγα λίγειαν

οἰσέτω, ἥ που κεῖται ἐν ἡμετέροισι δόμοισιν.

255

ὣς ἔφατʼ Ἀλκίνοος θεοείκελος, ὦρτο δὲ κῆρυξ

οἴσων φόρμιγγα γλαφυρὴν δόμου ἐκ βασιλῆος.

αἰσυμνῆται δὲ κριτοὶ ἐννέα πάντες ἀνέσταν

δήμιοι, οἳ κατʼ ἀγῶνας ἐὺ πρήσσεσκον ἕκαστα,

λείηναν δὲ χορόν, καλὸν δʼ εὔρυναν ἀγῶνα.

260

κῆρυξ δʼ ἐγγύθεν ἦλθε φέρων φόρμιγγα λίγειαν

Δημοδόκῳ· ὁ δʼ ἔπειτα κίʼ ἐς μέσον· ἀμφὶ δὲ κοῦροι

πρωθῆβαι ἵσταντο, δαήμονες ὀρχηθμοῖο,

πέπληγον δὲ χορὸν θεῖον ποσίν. αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσεὺς

μαρμαρυγὰς θηεῖτο ποδῶν, θαύμαζε δὲ θυμῷ.

265

αὐτὰρ ὁ φορμίζων ἀνεβάλλετο καλὸν ἀείδειν

ἀμφʼ Ἄρεος φιλότητος εὐστεφάνου τʼ Ἀφροδίτης,

ὡς τὰ πρῶτα μίγησαν ἐν Ἡφαίστοιο δόμοισι

λάθρῃ, πολλὰ δʼ ἔδωκε, λέχος δʼ ᾔσχυνε καὶ εὐνὴν

Ἡφαίστοιο ἄνακτος. ἄφαρ δέ οἱ ἄγγελος ἦλθεν

270

Ἥλιος, ὅ σφʼ ἐνόησε μιγαζομένους φιλότητι.

Ἥφαιστος δʼ ὡς οὖν θυμαλγέα μῦθον ἄκουσε,

βῆ ῥʼ ἴμεν ἐς χαλκεῶνα κακὰ φρεσὶ βυσσοδομεύων,

ἐν δʼ ἔθετʼ ἀκμοθέτῳ μέγαν ἄκμονα, κόπτε δὲ δεσμοὺς

ἀρρήκτους ἀλύτους, ὄφρʼ ἔμπεδον αὖθι μένοιεν.

275

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ δὴ τεῦξε δόλον κεχολωμένος Ἄρει,

βῆ ῥʼ ἴμεν ἐς θάλαμον, ὅθι οἱ φίλα δέμνιʼ ἔκειτο,

ἀμφὶ δʼ ἄρʼ ἑρμῖσιν χέε δέσματα κύκλῳ ἁπάντῃ·

πολλὰ δὲ καὶ καθύπερθε μελαθρόφιν ἐξεκέχυντο,

ἠύτʼ ἀράχνια λεπτά, τά γʼ οὔ κέ τις οὐδὲ ἴδοιτο,

280

οὐδὲ θεῶν μακάρων· πέρι γὰρ δολόεντα τέτυκτο.

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ δὴ πάντα δόλον περὶ δέμνια χεῦεν,

εἴσατʼ ἴμεν ἐς Λῆμνον, ἐυκτίμενον πτολίεθρον,

ἥ οἱ γαιάων πολὺ φιλτάτη ἐστὶν ἁπασέων.

οὐδʼ ἀλαοσκοπιὴν εἶχε χρυσήνιος Ἄρης,

285

ὡς ἴδεν Ἥφαιστον κλυτοτέχνην νόσφι κιόντα·

βῆ δʼ ἰέναι πρὸς δῶμα περικλυτοῦ Ἡφαίστοιο

ἰσχανόων φιλότητος ἐυστεφάνου Κυθερείης.

ἡ δὲ νέον παρὰ πατρὸς ἐρισθενέος Κρονίωνος

ἐρχομένη κατʼ ἄρʼ ἕζεθʼ· ὁ δʼ εἴσω δώματος ᾔει,

290

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

δεῦρο, φίλη, λέκτρονδε τραπείομεν εὐνηθέντες·

οὐ γὰρ ἔθʼ Ἥφαιστος μεταδήμιος, ἀλλά που ἤδη

οἴχεται ἐς Λῆμνον μετὰ Σίντιας ἀγριοφώνους.

ὣς φάτο, τῇ δʼ ἀσπαστὸν ἐείσατο κοιμηθῆναι.

295

τὼ δʼ ἐς δέμνια βάντε κατέδραθον· ἀμφὶ δὲ δεσμοὶ

τεχνήεντες ἔχυντο πολύφρονος Ἡφαίστοιο,

οὐδέ τι κινῆσαι μελέων ἦν οὐδʼ ἀναεῖραι.

καὶ τότε δὴ γίγνωσκον, ὅ τʼ οὐκέτι φυκτὰ πέλοντο.

ἀγχίμολον δέ σφʼ ἦλθε περικλυτὸς ἀμφιγυήεις,

300

αὖτις ὑποστρέψας πρὶν Λήμνου γαῖαν ἱκέσθαι·

Ἠέλιος γάρ οἱ σκοπιὴν ἔχεν εἶπέ τε μῦθον.

βῆ δʼ ἴμεναι πρὸς δῶμα φίλον τετιημένος ἦτορ·

ἔστη δʼ ἐν προθύροισι, χόλος δέ μιν ἄγριος ᾕρει·

σμερδαλέον δʼ ἐβόησε, γέγωνέ τε πᾶσι θεοῖσιν·

305

Ζεῦ πάτερ ἠδʼ ἄλλοι μάκαρες θεοὶ αἰὲν ἐόντες,

δεῦθʼ, ἵνα ἔργα γελαστὰ καὶ οὐκ ἐπιεικτὰ ἴδησθε,

ὡς ἐμὲ χωλὸν ἐόντα Διὸς θυγάτηρ Ἀφροδίτη

αἰὲν ἀτιμάζει, φιλέει δʼ ἀίδηλον Ἄρηα,

οὕνεχʼ ὁ μὲν καλός τε καὶ ἀρτίπος, αὐτὰρ ἐγώ γε

310

ἠπεδανὸς γενόμην. ἀτὰρ οὔ τί μοι αἴτιος ἄλλος,

ἀλλὰ τοκῆε δύω, τὼ μὴ γείνασθαι ὄφελλον.

ἀλλʼ ὄψεσθʼ, ἵνα τώ γε καθεύδετον ἐν φιλότητι

εἰς ἐμὰ δέμνια βάντες, ἐγὼ δʼ ὁρόων ἀκάχημαι.

οὐ μέν σφεας ἔτʼ ἔολπα μίνυνθά γε κειέμεν οὕτως

315

καὶ μάλα περ φιλέοντε· τάχʼ οὐκ ἐθελήσετον ἄμφω

εὕδειν· ἀλλά σφωε δόλος καὶ δεσμὸς ἐρύξει,

εἰς ὅ κέ μοι μάλα πάντα πατὴρ ἀποδῷσιν ἔεδνα,

ὅσσα οἱ ἐγγυάλιξα κυνώπιδος εἵνεκα κούρης,

οὕνεκά οἱ καλὴ θυγάτηρ, ἀτὰρ οὐκ ἐχέθυμος.

320

ὣς ἔφαθʼ, οἱ δʼ ἀγέροντο θεοὶ ποτὶ χαλκοβατὲς δῶ·

ἦλθε Ποσειδάων γαιήοχος, ἦλθʼ ἐριούνης

Ἑρμείας, ἦλθεν δὲ ἄναξ ἑκάεργος Ἀπόλλων.

θηλύτεραι δὲ θεαὶ μένον αἰδοῖ οἴκοι ἑκάστη.

ἔσταν δʼ ἐν προθύροισι θεοί, δωτῆρες ἑάων·

325

ἄσβεστος δʼ ἄρʼ ἐνῶρτο γέλως μακάρεσσι θεοῖσι

τέχνας εἰσορόωσι πολύφρονος Ἡφαίστοιο.

ὧδε δέ τις εἴπεσκεν ἰδὼν ἐς πλησίον ἄλλον·

οὐκ ἀρετᾷ κακὰ ἔργα· κιχάνει τοι βραδὺς ὠκύν,

ὡς καὶ νῦν Ἥφαιστος ἐὼν βραδὺς εἷλεν Ἄρηα

330

ὠκύτατόν περ ἐόντα θεῶν οἳ Ὄλυμπον ἔχουσιν,

χωλὸς ἐὼν τέχνῃσι· τὸ καὶ μοιχάγριʼ ὀφέλλει.

ὣς οἱ μὲν τοιαῦτα πρὸς ἀλλήλους ἀγόρευον·

Ἑρμῆν δὲ προσέειπεν ἄναξ Διὸς υἱὸς Ἀπόλλων·

Ἑρμεία, Διὸς υἱέ, διάκτορε, δῶτορ ἑάων,

335

ἦ ῥά κεν ἐν δεσμοῖς ἐθέλοις κρατεροῖσι πιεσθεὶς

εὕδειν ἐν λέκτροισι παρὰ χρυσέῃ Ἀφροδίτῃ;

τὸν δʼ ἠμείβετʼ ἔπειτα διάκτορος ἀργεϊφόντης·

αἲ γὰρ τοῦτο γένοιτο, ἄναξ ἑκατηβόλʼ Ἄπολλον·

δεσμοὶ μὲν τρὶς τόσσοι ἀπείρονες ἀμφὶς ἔχοιεν,

340

ὑμεῖς δʼ εἰσορόῳτε θεοὶ πᾶσαί τε θέαιναι,

αὐτὰρ ἐγὼν εὕδοιμι παρὰ χρυσέῃ Ἀφροδίτῃ.

ὣς ἔφατʼ, ἐν δὲ γέλως ὦρτʼ ἀθανάτοισι θεοῖσιν.

οὐδὲ Ποσειδάωνα γέλως ἔχε, λίσσετο δʼ αἰεὶ

Ἥφαιστον κλυτοεργὸν ὅπως λύσειεν Ἄρηα.

345

καί μιν φωνήσας ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα·

λῦσον· ἐγὼ δέ τοι αὐτὸν ὑπίσχομαι, ὡς σὺ κελεύεις,

τίσειν αἴσιμα πάντα μετʼ ἀθανάτοισι θεοῖσιν.

τὸν δʼ αὖτε προσέειπε περικλυτὸς ἀμφιγυήεις·

μή με, Ποσείδαον γαιήοχε, ταῦτα κέλευε·

350

δειλαί τοι δειλῶν γε καὶ ἐγγύαι ἐγγυάασθαι.

πῶς ἂν ἐγώ σε δέοιμι μετʼ ἀθανάτοισι θεοῖσιν,

εἴ κεν Ἄρης οἴχοιτο χρέος καὶ δεσμὸν ἀλύξας;

τὸν δʼ αὖτε προσέειπε Ποσειδάων ἐνοσίχθων·

Ἥφαιστʼ, εἴ περ γάρ κεν Ἄρης χρεῖος ὑπαλύξας

355

οἴχηται φεύγων, αὐτός τοι ἐγὼ τάδε τίσω.

τὸν δʼ ἠμείβετʼ ἔπειτα περικλυτὸς ἀμφιγυήεις·

οὐκ ἔστʼ οὐδὲ ἔοικε τεὸν ἔπος ἀρνήσασθαι.

ὣς εἰπὼν δεσμὸν ἀνίει μένος Ἡφαίστοιο.

τὼ δʼ ἐπεὶ ἐκ δεσμοῖο λύθεν, κρατεροῦ περ ἐόντος,

360

αὐτίκʼ ἀναΐξαντε ὁ μὲν Θρῄκηνδε βεβήκει,

ἡ δʼ ἄρα Κύπρον ἵκανε φιλομμειδὴς Ἀφροδίτη,

ἐς Πάφον· ἔνθα δέ οἱ τέμενος βωμός τε θυήεις.

ἔνθα δέ μιν Χάριτες λοῦσαν καὶ χρῖσαν ἐλαίῳ

ἀμβρότῳ, οἷα θεοὺς ἐπενήνοθεν αἰὲν ἐόντας,

365

ἀμφὶ δὲ εἵματα ἕσσαν ἐπήρατα, θαῦμα ἰδέσθαι.

ταῦτʼ ἄρʼ ἀοιδὸς ἄειδε περικλυτός· αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσεὺς

τέρπετʼ ἐνὶ φρεσὶν ᾗσιν ἀκούων ἠδὲ καὶ ἄλλοι

Φαίηκες δολιχήρετμοι, ναυσίκλυτοι ἄνδρες.

Ἀλκίνοος δʼ Ἅλιον καὶ Λαοδάμαντα κέλευσεν

370

μουνὰξ ὀρχήσασθαι, ἐπεί σφισιν οὔ τις ἔριζεν.

οἱ δʼ ἐπεὶ οὖν σφαῖραν καλὴν μετὰ χερσὶν ἕλοντο,

πορφυρέην, τήν σφιν Πόλυβος ποίησε δαΐφρων,

τὴν ἕτερος ῥίπτασκε ποτὶ νέφεα σκιόεντα

ἰδνωθεὶς ὀπίσω, ὁ δʼ ἀπὸ χθονὸς ὑψόσʼ ἀερθεὶς

375

ῥηιδίως μεθέλεσκε, πάρος ποσὶν οὖδας ἱκέσθαι.

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ δὴ σφαίρῃ ἀνʼ ἰθὺν πειρήσαντο,

ὠρχείσθην δὴ ἔπειτα ποτὶ χθονὶ πουλυβοτείρῃ

ταρφέʼ ἀμειβομένω· κοῦροι δʼ ἐπελήκεον ἄλλοι

ἑστεῶτες κατʼ ἀγῶνα, πολὺς δʼ ὑπὸ κόμπος ὀρώρει.

380

δὴ τότʼ ἄρʼ Ἀλκίνοον προσεφώνεε δῖος Ὀδυσσεύς·

Ἀλκίνοε κρεῖον, πάντων ἀριδείκετε λαῶν,

ἠμὲν ἀπείλησας βητάρμονας εἶναι ἀρίστους,

ἠδʼ ἄρʼ ἑτοῖμα τέτυκτο· σέβας μʼ ἔχει εἰσορόωντα.

ὣς φάτο, γήθησεν δʼ ἱερὸν μένος Ἀλκινόοιο,

385

αἶψα δὲ Φαιήκεσσι φιληρέτμοισι μετηύδα·

κέκλυτε, Φαιήκων ἡγήτορες ἠδὲ μέδοντες.

ὁ ξεῖνος μάλα μοι δοκέει πεπνυμένος εἶναι.

ἀλλʼ ἄγε οἱ δῶμεν ξεινήιον, ὡς ἐπιεικές.

δώδεκα γὰρ κατὰ δῆμον ἀριπρεπέες βασιλῆες

390

ἀρχοὶ κραίνουσι, τρισκαιδέκατος δʼ ἐγὼ αὐτός·

τῶν οἱ ἕκαστος φᾶρος ἐυπλυνὲς ἠδὲ χιτῶνα

καὶ χρυσοῖο τάλαντον ἐνείκατε τιμήεντος.

αἶψα δὲ πάντα φέρωμεν ἀολλέα, ὄφρʼ ἐνὶ χερσὶν

ξεῖνος ἔχων ἐπὶ δόρπον ἴῃ χαίρων ἐνὶ θυμῷ.

395

Εὐρύαλος δέ ἑ αὐτὸν ἀρεσσάσθω ἐπέεσσι

καὶ δώρῳ, ἐπεὶ οὔ τι ἔπος κατὰ μοῖραν ἔειπεν.

ὣς ἔφαθʼ, οἱ δʼ ἄρα πάντες ἐπῄνεον ἠδʼ ἐκέλευον,

δῶρα δʼ ἄρʼ οἰσέμεναι πρόεσαν κήρυκα ἕκαστος.

τὸν δʼ αὖτʼ Εὐρύαλος ἀπαμείβετο φώνησέν τε·

400

Ἀλκίνοε κρεῖον, πάντων ἀριδείκετε λαῶν,

τοιγὰρ ἐγὼ τὸν ξεῖνον ἀρέσσομαι, ὡς σὺ κελεύεις.

δώσω οἱ τόδʼ ἄορ παγχάλκεον, ᾧ ἔπι κώπη

ἀργυρέη, κολεὸν δὲ νεοπρίστου ἐλέφαντος

ἀμφιδεδίνηται· πολέος δέ οἱ ἄξιον ἔσται.

405

ὣς εἰπὼν ἐν χερσὶ τίθει ξίφος ἀργυρόηλον

καί μιν φωνήσας ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα·

χαῖρε, πάτερ ὦ ξεῖνε· ἔπος δʼ εἴ πέρ τι βέβακται

δεινόν, ἄφαρ τὸ φέροιεν ἀναρπάξασαι ἄελλαι.

σοὶ δὲ θεοὶ ἄλοχόν τʼ ἰδέειν καὶ πατρίδʼ ἱκέσθαι

410

δοῖεν, ἐπεὶ δὴ δηθὰ φίλων ἄπο πήματα πάσχεις.

τὸν δʼ ἀπαμειβόμενος προσέφη πολύμητις Ὀδυσσεύς·

καὶ σὺ φίλος μάλα χαῖρε, θεοὶ δέ τοι ὄλβια δοῖεν.

μηδέ τι τοι ξίφεός γε ποθὴ μετόπισθε γένοιτο

τούτου, ὃ δή μοι δῶκας ἀρεσσάμενος ἐπέεσσιν.

415

ἦ ῥα καὶ ἀμφʼ ὤμοισι θέτο ξίφος ἀργυρόηλον.

δύσετό τʼ ἠέλιος, καὶ τῷ κλυτὰ δῶρα παρῆεν.

καὶ τά γʼ ἐς Ἀλκινόοιο φέρον κήρυκες ἀγαυοί·

δεξάμενοι δʼ ἄρα παῖδες ἀμύμονος Ἀλκινόοιο

μητρὶ παρʼ αἰδοίῃ ἔθεσαν περικαλλέα δῶρα.

420

τοῖσιν δʼ ἡγεμόνευʼ ἱερὸν μένος Ἀλκινόοιο,

ἐλθόντες δὲ καθῖζον ἐν ὑψηλοῖσι θρόνοισι.

δή ῥα τότʼ Ἀρήτην προσέφη μένος Ἀλκινόοιο·

δεῦρο, γύναι, φέρε χηλὸν ἀριπρεπέʼ, ἥ τις ἀρίστη·

ἐν δʼ αὐτὴ θὲς φᾶρος ἐυπλυνὲς ἠδὲ χιτῶνα.

425

ἀμφὶ δέ οἱ πυρὶ χαλκὸν ἰήνατε, θέρμετε δʼ ὕδωρ,

ὄφρα λοεσσάμενός τε ἰδών τʼ ἐὺ κείμενα πάντα

δῶρα, τά οἱ Φαίηκες ἀμύμονες ἐνθάδʼ ἔνεικαν,

δαιτί τε τέρπηται καὶ ἀοιδῆς ὕμνον ἀκούων.

καί οἱ ἐγὼ τόδʼ ἄλεισον ἐμὸν περικαλλὲς ὀπάσσω,

430

χρύσεον, ὄφρʼ ἐμέθεν μεμνημένος ἤματα πάντα

σπένδῃ ἐνὶ μεγάρῳ Διί τʼ ἄλλοισίν τε θεοῖσιν.

ὣς ἔφατʼ, Ἀρήτη δὲ μετὰ δμῳῇσιν ἔειπεν

ἀμφὶ πυρὶ στῆσαι τρίποδα μέγαν ὅττι τάχιστα.

αἱ δὲ λοετροχόον τρίποδʼ ἵστασαν ἐν πυρὶ κηλέῳ,

435

ἔν δʼ ἄρʼ ὕδωρ ἔχεαν, ὑπὸ δὲ ξύλα δαῖον ἑλοῦσαι.

γάστρην μὲν τρίποδος πῦρ ἄμφεπε, θέρμετο δʼ ὕδωρ·

τόφρα δʼ ἄρʼ Ἀρήτη ξείνῳ περικαλλέα χηλὸν

ἐξέφερεν θαλάμοιο, τίθει δʼ ἐνὶ κάλλιμα δῶρα,

ἐσθῆτα χρυσόν τε, τά οἱ Φαίηκες ἔδωκαν·

440

ἐν δʼ αὐτὴ φᾶρος θῆκεν καλόν τε χιτῶνα,

καί μιν φωνήσασʼ ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα·

αὐτὸς νῦν ἴδε πῶμα, θοῶς δʼ ἐπὶ δεσμὸν ἴηλον,

μή τίς τοι καθʼ ὁδὸν δηλήσεται, ὁππότʼ ἂν αὖτε

εὕδῃσθα γλυκὺν ὕπνον ἰὼν ἐν νηὶ μελαίνῃ.

445

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ τό γʼ ἄκουσε πολύτλας δῖος Ὀδυσσεύς,

αὐτίκʼ ἐπήρτυε πῶμα, θοῶς δʼ ἐπὶ δεσμὸν ἴηλεν

ποικίλον, ὅν ποτέ μιν δέδαε φρεσὶ πότνια Κίρκη·

αὐτόδιον δʼ ἄρα μιν ταμίη λούσασθαι ἀνώγει

ἔς ῥʼ ἀσάμινθον βάνθʼ· ὁ δʼ ἄρ ἀσπασίως ἴδε θυμῷ

450

θερμὰ λοέτρʼ, ἐπεὶ οὔ τι κομιζόμενός γε θάμιζεν,

ἐπεὶ δὴ λίπε δῶμα Καλυψοῦς ἠυκόμοιο.

τόφρα δέ οἱ κομιδή γε θεῷ ὣς ἔμπεδος ἦεν.

τὸν δʼ ἐπεὶ οὖν δμῳαὶ λοῦσαν καὶ χρῖσαν ἐλαίῳ,

ἀμφὶ δέ μιν χλαῖναν καλὴν βάλον ἠδὲ χιτῶνα,

455

ἔκ ῥʼ ἀσαμίνθου βὰς ἄνδρας μέτα οἰνοποτῆρας

ἤιε· Ναυσικάα δὲ θεῶν ἄπο κάλλος ἔχουσα

στῆ ῥα παρὰ σταθμὸν τέγεος πύκα ποιητοῖο,

θαύμαζεν δʼ Ὀδυσῆα ἐν ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ὁρῶσα,

καί μιν φωνήσασʼ ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα·

460

χαῖρε, ξεῖνʼ, ἵνα καί ποτʼ ἐὼν ἐν πατρίδι γαίῃ

μνήσῃ ἐμεῦ, ὅτι μοι πρώτῃ ζωάγριʼ ὀφέλλεις.

τὴν δʼ ἀπαμειβόμενος προσέφη πολύμητις Ὀδυσσεύς.

Ναυσικάα θύγατερ μεγαλήτορος Ἀλκινόοιο,

οὕτω νῦν Ζεὺς θείη, ἐρίγδουπος πόσις Ἥρης,

465

οἴκαδέ τʼ ἐλθέμεναι καὶ νόστιμον ἦμαρ ἰδέσθαι·

τῷ κέν τοι καὶ κεῖθι θεῷ ὣς εὐχετοῴμην

αἰεὶ ἤματα πάντα· σὺ γάρ μʼ ἐβιώσαο, κούρη.

ἦ ῥα καὶ ἐς θρόνον ἷζε παρʼ Ἀλκίνοον βασιλῆα·

οἱ δʼ ἤδη μοίρας τʼ ἔνεμον κερόωντό τε οἶνον.

470

κῆρυξ δʼ ἐγγύθεν ἦλθεν ἄγων ἐρίηρον ἀοιδόν,

Δημόδοκον λαοῖσι τετιμένον· εἷσε δʼ ἄρʼ αὐτὸν

μέσσῳ δαιτυμόνων, πρὸς κίονα μακρὸν ἐρείσας.

δὴ τότε κήρυκα προσέφη πολύμητις Ὀδυσσεύς,

νώτου ἀποπροταμών, ἐπὶ δὲ πλεῖον ἐλέλειπτο,

475

ἀργιόδοντος ὑός, θαλερὴ δʼ ἦν ἀμφὶς ἀλοιφή·

κῆρυξ, τῆ δή, τοῦτο πόρε κρέας, ὄφρα φάγῃσιν,

Δημοδόκῳ· καί μιν προσπτύξομαι ἀχνύμενός περ·

πᾶσι γὰρ ἀνθρώποισιν ἐπιχθονίοισιν ἀοιδοὶ

τιμῆς ἔμμοροί εἰσι καὶ αἰδοῦς, οὕνεκʼ ἄρα σφέας

480

οἴμας μοῦσʼ ἐδίδαξε, φίλησε δὲ φῦλον ἀοιδῶν.

ὣς ἄρʼ ἔφη, κῆρυξ δὲ φέρων ἐν χερσὶν ἔθηκεν

ἥρῳ Δημοδόκῳ· ὁ δʼ ἐδέξατο, χαῖρε δὲ θυμῷ.

οἱ δʼ ἐπʼ ὀνείαθʼ ἑτοῖμα προκείμενα χεῖρας ἴαλλον.

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ πόσιος καὶ ἐδητύος ἐξ ἔρον ἕντο,

485

δὴ τότε Δημόδοκον προσέφη πολύμητις Ὀδυσσεύς·

Δημόδοκʼ, ἔξοχα δή σε βροτῶν αἰνίζομʼ ἁπάντων.

ἢ σέ γε μοῦσʼ ἐδίδαξε, Διὸς πάϊς, ἢ σέ γʼ Ἀπόλλων·

λίην γὰρ κατὰ κόσμον Ἀχαιῶν οἶτον ἀείδεις,

ὅσσʼ ἔρξαν τʼ ἔπαθόν τε καὶ ὅσσʼ ἐμόγησαν Ἀχαιοί,

490

ὥς τέ που ἢ αὐτὸς παρεὼν ἢ ἄλλου ἀκούσας.

ἀλλʼ ἄγε δὴ μετάβηθι καὶ ἵππου κόσμον ἄεισον

δουρατέου, τὸν Ἐπειὸς ἐποίησεν σὺν Ἀθήνῃ,

ὅν ποτʼ ἐς ἀκρόπολιν δόλον ἤγαγε δῖος Ὀδυσσεὺς

ἀνδρῶν ἐμπλήσας οἵ ῥʼ Ἴλιον ἐξαλάπαξαν.

495

αἴ κεν δή μοι ταῦτα κατὰ μοῖραν καταλέξῃς,

αὐτίκʼ ἐγὼ πᾶσιν μυθήσομαι ἀνθρώποισιν,

ὡς ἄρα τοι πρόφρων θεὸς ὤπασε θέσπιν ἀοιδήν.

ὣς φάθʼ, ὁ δʼ ὁρμηθεὶς θεοῦ ἤρχετο, φαῖνε δʼ ἀοιδήν,

ἔνθεν ἑλὼν ὡς οἱ μὲν ἐυσσέλμων ἐπὶ νηῶν

500

βάντες ἀπέπλειον, πῦρ ἐν κλισίῃσι βαλόντες,

Ἀργεῖοι, τοὶ δʼ ἤδη ἀγακλυτὸν ἀμφʼ Ὀδυσῆα

ἥατʼ ἐνὶ Τρώων ἀγορῇ κεκαλυμμένοι ἵππῳ·

αὐτοὶ γάρ μιν Τρῶες ἐς ἀκρόπολιν ἐρύσαντο.

ὣς ὁ μὲν ἑστήκει, τοὶ δʼ ἄκριτα πόλλʼ ἀγόρευον

505

ἥμενοι ἀμφʼ αὐτόν· τρίχα δέ σφισιν ἥνδανε βουλή,

ἠὲ διαπλῆξαι κοῖλον δόρυ νηλέι χαλκῷ,

ἢ κατὰ πετράων βαλέειν ἐρύσαντας ἐπʼ ἄκρης,

ἢ ἐάαν μέγʼ ἄγαλμα θεῶν θελκτήριον εἶναι,

τῇ περ δὴ καὶ ἔπειτα τελευτήσεσθαι ἔμελλεν·

510

αἶσα γὰρ ἦν ἀπολέσθαι, ἐπὴν πόλις ἀμφικαλύψῃ

δουράτεον μέγαν ἵππον, ὅθʼ ἥατο πάντες ἄριστοι

Ἀργείων Τρώεσσι φόνον καὶ κῆρα φέροντες.

ἤειδεν δʼ ὡς ἄστυ διέπραθον υἷες Ἀχαιῶν

ἱππόθεν ἐκχύμενοι, κοῖλον λόχον ἐκπρολιπόντες.

515

ἄλλον δʼ ἄλλῃ ἄειδε πόλιν κεραϊζέμεν αἰπήν,

αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσῆα προτὶ δώματα Δηιφόβοιο

βήμεναι, ἠύτʼ Ἄρηα σὺν ἀντιθέῳ Μενελάῳ.

κεῖθι δὴ αἰνότατον πόλεμον φάτο τολμήσαντα

νικῆσαι καὶ ἔπειτα διὰ μεγάθυμον Ἀθήνην.

520

ταῦτʼ ἄρʼ ἀοιδὸς ἄειδε περικλυτός· αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσεὺς

τήκετο, δάκρυ δʼ ἔδευεν ὑπὸ βλεφάροισι παρειάς.

ὡς δὲ γυνὴ κλαίῃσι φίλον πόσιν ἀμφιπεσοῦσα,

ὅς τε ἑῆς πρόσθεν πόλιος λαῶν τε πέσῃσιν,

ἄστεϊ καὶ τεκέεσσιν ἀμύνων νηλεὲς ἦμαρ·

525

ἡ μὲν τὸν θνήσκοντα καὶ ἀσπαίροντα ἰδοῦσα

ἀμφʼ αὐτῷ χυμένη λίγα κωκύει· οἱ δέ τʼ ὄπισθε

κόπτοντες δούρεσσι μετάφρενον ἠδὲ καὶ ὤμους

εἴρερον εἰσανάγουσι, πόνον τʼ ἐχέμεν καὶ ὀιζύν·

τῆς δʼ ἐλεεινοτάτῳ ἄχεϊ φθινύθουσι παρειαί·

530

ὣς Ὀδυσεὺς ἐλεεινὸν ὑπʼ ὀφρύσι δάκρυον εἶβεν.

ἔνθʼ ἄλλους μὲν πάντας ἐλάνθανε δάκρυα λείβων,

Ἀλκίνοος δέ μιν οἶος ἐπεφράσατʼ ἠδʼ ἐνόησεν,

ἥμενος ἄγχʼ αὐτοῦ, βαρὺ δὲ στενάχοντος ἄκουσεν.

αἶψα δὲ Φαιήκεσσι φιληρέτμοισι μετηύδα·

535

κέκλυτε, Φαιήκων ἡγήτορες ἠδὲ μέδοντες,

Δημόδοκος δʼ ἤδη σχεθέτω φόρμιγγα λίγειαν·

οὐ γάρ πως πάντεσσι χαριζόμενος τάδʼ ἀείδει.

ἐξ οὗ δορπέομέν τε καὶ ὤρορε θεῖος ἀοιδός,

ἐκ τοῦ δʼ οὔ πω παύσατʼ ὀιζυροῖο γόοιο

540

ὁ ξεῖνος· μάλα πού μιν ἄχος φρένας ἀμφιβέβηκεν.

ἀλλʼ ἄγʼ ὁ μὲν σχεθέτω, ἵνʼ ὁμῶς τερπώμεθα πάντες,

ξεινοδόκοι καὶ ξεῖνος, ἐπεὶ πολὺ κάλλιον οὕτως·

εἵνεκα γὰρ ξείνοιο τάδʼ αἰδοίοιο τέτυκται,

πομπὴ καὶ φίλα δῶρα, τά οἱ δίδομεν φιλέοντες.

545

ἀντὶ κασιγνήτου ξεῖνός θʼ ἱκέτης τε τέτυκται

ἀνέρι, ὅς τʼ ὀλίγον περ ἐπιψαύῃ πραπίδεσσι.

τῷ νῦν μηδὲ σὺ κεῦθε νοήμασι κερδαλέοισιν

ὅττι κέ σʼ εἴρωμαι· φάσθαι δέ σε κάλλιόν ἐστιν.

550

εἴπʼ ὄνομʼ ὅττι σε κεῖθι κάλεον μήτηρ τε πατήρ τε

550

ἄλλοι θʼ οἳ κατὰ ἄστυ καὶ οἳ περιναιετάουσιν.

οὐ μὲν γάρ τις πάμπαν ἀνώνυμός ἐστʼ ἀνθρώπων,

οὐ κακὸς οὐδὲ μὲν ἐσθλός, ἐπὴν τὰ πρῶτα γένηται,

ἀλλʼ ἐπὶ πᾶσι τίθενται, ἐπεί κε τέκωσι, τοκῆες.

εἰπὲ δέ μοι γαῖάν τε· τεὴν δῆμόν τε πόλιν τε,

555

ὄφρα σε τῇ πέμπωσι τιτυσκόμεναι φρεσὶ νῆες·

οὐ γὰρ Φαιήκεσσι κυβερνητῆρες ἔασιν,

οὐδέ τι πηδάλιʼ ἔστι, τά τʼ ἄλλαι νῆες ἔχουσιν·

ἀλλʼ αὐταὶ ἴσασι νοήματα καὶ φρένας ἀνδρῶν,

καὶ πάντων ἴσασι πόλιας καὶ πίονας ἀγροὺς

560

ἀνθρώπων, καὶ λαῖτμα τάχισθʼ ἁλὸς ἐκπερόωσιν

ἠέρι καὶ νεφέλῃ κεκαλυμμέναι· οὐδέ ποτέ σφιν

οὔτε τι πημανθῆναι ἔπι δέος οὔτʼ ἀπολέσθαι.

ἀλλὰ τόδʼ ὥς ποτε πατρὸς ἐγὼν εἰπόντος ἄκουσα

Ναυσιθόου, ὃς ἔφασκε Ποσειδάωνʼ ἀγάσασθαι

565

ἡμῖν, οὕνεκα πομποὶ ἀπήμονές εἰμεν ἁπάντων.

φῆ ποτὲ Φαιήκων ἀνδρῶν ἐυεργέα νῆα

ἐκ πομπῆς ἀνιοῦσαν ἐν ἠεροειδέι πόντῳ

ῥαισέμεναι, μέγα δʼ ἧμιν ὄρος πόλει ἀμφικαλύψειν.

ὣς ἀγόρευʼ ὁ γέρων· τὰ δέ κεν θεὸς ἢ τελέσειεν

570

ἤ κʼ ἀτέλεστʼ εἴη, ὥς οἱ φίλον ἔπλετο θυμῷ·

ἀλλʼ ἄγε μοι τόδε εἰπὲ καὶ ἀτρεκέως κατάλεξον,

ὅππῃ ἀπεπλάγχθης τε καὶ ἅς τινας ἵκεο χώρας

ἀνθρώπων, αὐτούς τε πόλιάς τʼ ἐὺ ναιετοώσας,

ἠμὲν ὅσοι χαλεποί τε καὶ ἄγριοι οὐδὲ δίκαιοι,

575

οἵ τε φιλόξεινοι, καί σφιν νόος ἐστὶ θεουδής.

εἰπὲ δʼ ὅ τι κλαίεις καὶ ὀδύρεαι ἔνδοθι θυμῷ

Ἀργείων Δαναῶν ἠδʼ Ἰλίου οἶτον ἀκούων.

τὸν δὲ θεοὶ μὲν τεῦξαν, ἐπεκλώσαντο δʼ ὄλεθρον

ἀνθρώποις, ἵνα ᾖσι καὶ ἐσσομένοισιν ἀοιδή.

580

ἦ τίς τοι καὶ πηὸς ἀπέφθιτο Ἰλιόθι πρὸ

ἐσθλὸς ἐών, γαμβρὸς ἢ πενθερός, οἵ τε μάλιστα

κήδιστοι τελέθουσι μεθʼ αἷμά τε καὶ γένος αὐτῶν;

ἦ τίς που καὶ ἑταῖρος ἀνὴρ κεχαρισμένα εἰδώς,

ἐσθλός; ἐπεὶ οὐ μέν τι κασιγνήτοιο χερείων

585

γίγνεται, ὅς κεν ἑταῖρος ἐὼν πεπνυμένα εἰδῇ.

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.) — 8.1 focus

1 As soon as early Dawn appeared, the rosy-fingered, the strong and mighty Alcinous rose from his couch, and up rose also Zeus-born Odysseus, the sacker of cities. And the strong and mighty Alcinous led the way 5 to the place of assembly of the Phaeacians, which was builded for them hard by their ships. Thither they came and sat down on the polished stones close by one another; and Pallas Athena went throughout the city, in the likeness of the herald of wise Alcinous, devising a return for great-hearted Odysseus. 10 To each man's side she came, and spoke and said: “Hither now, leaders and counsellors of the Phaeacians, come to the place of assembly, that you may learn of the stranger who has newly come to the palace of wise Alcinous after his wanderings over the sea, and in form is like unto the immortals.” 15 So saying she roused the spirit and heart of each man, and speedily the place of assembly and the seats were filled with men that gathered. And many marvelled at the sight of the wise son of Laertes, for wondrous was the grace that Athena shed upon his head and shoulders; 20 and she made him taller and sturdier to behold, that he might be welcomed by all the Phaeacians, and win awe and reverence, and might accomplish the many feats wherein the Phaeacians made trial of Odysseus. Now when they were assembled and met together, 25 Alcinous addressed their assembly and spoke among them: “Hearken to me, leaders and counsellors of the Phaeacians, that I may speak what the heart in my breast bids me. This stranger—I know not who he is—has come to my house in his wanderings, whether from men of the east or of the west. 30 He urges that he be sent on his way, and prays for assurance, and let us on our part, as of old we were wont, speed on his sending; for verily no man soever who comes to my house, abides here long in sorrow for lack of sending. Nay come, let us draw a black ship down to the bright sea 35 for her first voyage, and let men choose two and fifty youths from out the people, even those that have heretofore been the best. And when you have all duly lashed the oars to the thole-pins,¹ go ashore, and then go your way to my house, and prepare a feast with speed; and I will provide bountifully for all. 40 To the youths this is my command, but do you others, the sceptred kings, come to my fair palace, that we may entertain yon stranger in the halls; and let no man say me nay. And summon hither the divine minstrel, Demodocus; for to him above all others has the god granted skill in song, 45 to give delight in whatever way his spirit prompts him to sing.”

So saying, he led the way, and the sceptred kings followed him, while a herald went for the divine minstrel. And chosen youths, two and fifty, went, as he bade, to the shore of the unresting sea. 50 And when they had come down to the ship and to the sea, they drew the black ship down to the deep water, and placed the mast and sail in the black ship, and fitted the oars in the leathern thole-straps, all in due order, and spread the white sail. 55 Well out in the roadstead they moored the ship, and then went their way to the great palace of the wise Alcinous. Filled were the porticoes and courts and rooms with the men that gathered, for many there were, both young and old. For them Alcinous slaughtered twelve sheep, 60 and eight white-tusked boars, and two oxen of shambling gait. These they flayed and dressed, and made ready a goodly feast. Then the herald drew near, leading the good minstrel, whom the Muse loved above all other men, and gave him both good and evil; of his sight she deprived him, but gave him the gift of sweet song. 65 For him Pontonous, the herald, set a silver-studded chair in the midst of the banqueters, leaning it against a tall pillar, and he hung the clear-toned lyre from a peg close above his head, and showed him how to reach it with his hands. And beside him he placed a basket and a beautiful table, 70 and a cup of wine, to drink when his heart should bid him. So they put forth their hands to the good cheer lying ready before them. But when they had put from them the desire of food and drink, the Muse moved the minstrel to sing of the glorious deeds of warriors, from that lay the fame whereof had then reached broad heaven, 75 even the quarrel of Odysseus and Achilles, son of Peleus, how once they strove with furious words at a rich feast of the gods, and Agamemnon, king of men, was glad at heart that the best of the Achaeans were quarrelling; for thus Phoebus Apollo, in giving his response, had told him that it should be, 80 in sacred Pytho , when he passed over the threshold of stone to enquire of the oracle. For then the beginning of woe was rolling upon Trojans and Danaans through the will of great Zeus.

This song the famous minstrel sang; but Odysseus grasped his great purple cloak with his stout hands, 85 and drew it down over his head, and hid his comely face; for he had shame of the Phaeacians as he let fall tears from beneath his eyebrows. Yea, and as often as the divine minstrel ceased his singing, Odysseus would wipe away his tears and draw the cloak from off his head, and taking the two-handled cup would pour libations to the gods. 90 But as often as he began again, and the nobles of the Phaeacians bade him sing, because they took pleasure in his lay, Odysseus would again cover his head and moan. Now from all the rest he concealed the tears that he shed, but Alcinous alone marked him and took heed, 95 for he sat by him, and heard him groaning heavily. And straightway he spoke among the Phaeacians, lovers of the oar: “Hear me, ye leaders and counsellors of the Phaeacians, already have we satisfied our hearts with the equal banquet and with the lyre, which is the companion of the rich feast. 100 But now let us go forth, and make trial of all manner of games, that yon stranger may tell his friends, when he returns home, how far we excel other men in boxing and wrestling and leaping and in speed of foot.” So saying, he led the way, and they followed him. 105 From the peg the herald hung the clear-toned lyre, and took Demodocus by the hand, and led him forth from the hall, guiding him by the self-same road by which the others, the nobles of the Phaeacians, had gone to gaze upon the games. They went their way to the place of assembly, and with them went a great throng, 110 past counting; and up rose many noble youths. There rose Acroneus, and Ocyalus, and Elatreus, and Nauteus, and Prymneus, and Anchialus, and Eretmeus, and Ponteus, and Proreus, Thoon and Anabesineus, 115 and Amphialus, son of Polyneus, son of Tecton; and up rose also Euryalus, the peer of man-destroying Ares, the son of Naubolus, who in comeliness and form was the best of all the Phaeacians after peerless Laodamas; and up rose the three sons of noble Alcinous, Laodamas, and Halius, and godlike Clytoneus. 120 These then first made trial in the foot-race.

A course was marked out for them from the turning point,² and they all sped swiftly, raising the dust of the plain; but among them noble Clytoneus was far the best at running, and by as far as is the range³ of a team of mules in fallow land, 125 by so far he shot to the front and reached the host, and the others were left behind. Then they made trial of toilsome wrestling, and here in turn Euryalus excelled all the princes. And in leaping Amphialus was best of all, and with the discus again far the best of all was Elatreus, 130 and in boxing Laodamas, the good son of Alcinous. But when the hearts of all had taken pleasure in the contests, Laodamas, the son of Alcinous, spoke among them: “Come, friends, let us ask yon stranger whether he knows and has learned any contests. In build, surely, he is no mean man, 135 in thighs and calves, and in his two arms above, his stout neck, and his great might. In no wise does he lack aught of the strength of youth, but he has been broken by many troubles. For to my mind there is naught worse than the sea to confound a man, be he never so strong.” 140 And Euryalus in turn answered him, and said:“Laodamas, this word of thine is right fitly spoken. Go now thyself and challenge him, and make known thy word.” Now when the good son of Alcinous heard this he came and took his stand in the midst and spoke to Odysseus: 145 “Come, Sir stranger, do thou, too, make trial of the contests, if thou knowest any; and it must be that thou knowest contests, for there is no greater glory for a man so long as he lives than that which he achieves by his own hands and his feet. Nay, come, make trial, and cast away care from thy heart. 150 Thy journey shall no more be long delayed, nay, even now thy ship is launched and the crew is ready.” Then Odysseus of many wiles answered him, and said: “Laodamas, why do ye mock me with this challenge? Sorrow is in my mind far more than contests, 155 seeing that in time past I have suffered much and toiled much, and now I sit in the midst of your assembly, longing for my return home, and making my prayer to the king and to all the people.” Then again Euryalus made answer and taunted him to his face: “Nay verily, stranger, for I do not liken thee to a man that is skilled 160 in contests, such as abound among men, but to one who, faring to and fro with his benched ship, is a captain of sailors who are merchantmen, one who is mindful of his freight, and has charge of a home-borne cargo, and the gains of his greed. Thou dost not look like an athlete.”

165 Then with an angry glance from beneath his brows Odysseus of many wiles answered him: “Stranger, thou hast not spoken well; thou art as one blind with folly. So true is it that the gods do not give gracious gifts to all alike, not form nor mind nor eloquence. For one man is inferior in comeliness, 170 but the god sets a crown⁴ of beauty upon his words, and men look upon him with delight, and he speaks on unfalteringly with sweet modesty, and is conspicuous among the gathered people, and as he goes through the city men gaze upon him as upon a god. Another again is in comeliness like the immortals, 175 but no crown of grace is set about his words. So, in thy case, thy comeliness is preeminent, nor could a god himself mend it, but in mind thou art stunted. Thou hast stirred the spirit in my breast by speaking thus unmannerly. I am not unskilled in sports 180 as thou pratest, nay, methinks I was among the first so long as I trusted in my youth and in my hands. But now I am bound by suffering and pains; for much have I endured in passing through wars of men and the grievous waves. But even so, though I have suffered much, I will make trial of the contests, 185 for thy word has stung me to the heart, and thou hast provoked me with thy speech.” He spoke, and, leaping up with his cloak about him as it was, seized a discus larger than the rest and thick, no little heavier than those with which the Phaeacians were wont to contend one with another. This with a whirl he sent from his stout hand, 190 and the stone hummed as it flew; and down they crouched to the earth, the Phaeacians of the long oars, men famed for their ships, beneath the rush of the stone. Past the marks of all it flew, speeding lightly from his hand, and Athena, in the likeness of a man, set the mark, and she spoke and addressed him: 195 “Even a blind man, stranger, could distinguish this mark, groping for it with his hands, for it is in nowise confused with the throng of the others, but is far the first. Be thou of good cheer for this bout at least: no one of the Phaeacians will reach this, or cast beyond it.”

So she spoke, and the much-enduring goodly Odysseus was glad, 200 rejoicing that he saw a true friend in the lists. Then with a lighter heart he spoke among the Phaeacians: “Reach this now, young men; and presently, methinks, I will send another after it, as far or even further. Of the rest, if any man's heart and spirit bid him, 205 let him come hither and make trial—for ye have greatly angered me—be it in boxing or in wrestling, aye, or in running, I care not; let any one come of all the Phaeacians, save Laodamas alone. For he is my host, and who would quarrel with one that entertains him? Foolish is that man and worthless, 210 who challenges to a contest the host who receives him in a strange land; he does but mar his own fortunes. But of all the rest I refuse none, and make light of none, but am fain to know them, and make trial of them man to man. For in all things I am no weakling, even in all the contests that are practised among men. 215 Well do I know how to handle the polished bow, and ever would I be the first to shoot and smite my man in the throng of the foe, even though many comrades stood by me and were shooting at the men. Only Philoctetes excelled me with the bow 220 in the land of the Trojans, when we Achaeans shot. But of all others I declare that I am best by far, of all mortals that are now upon the earth and eat bread. Yet with men of former days I will not seek to vie, with Heracles or with Eurytus of Oechalia , 225 who strove even with the immortals in archery. Wherefore great Eurytus died soon, nor did old age come upon him in his halls, for Apollo waxed wroth and slew him, because he had challenged him to a contest with the bow. And with the spear I throw farther than any other man can shoot with an arrow. 230 In the foot race alone I fear that someone of the Phaeacians may out strip me, for cruelly have I been broken amid the many waves, since there was in my ship no lasting store of provisions; therefore my limbs are loosened.” So he spoke and they were all hushed in silence; 235 but Alcinous alone answered him and said: “Stranger, since not ungraciously dost thou speak thus in our midst, but art minded to shew forth the prowess which waits upon thee, in anger that yonder man came up to thee in the lists and taunted thee in a way in which no mortal would make light of thy prowess, 240 who knew in his heart how to speak fitly; come, now, hearken to my words, that thou mayest tell to another hero, when in thy halls thou art feasting with thy wife and children, and rememberest our skill, what feats 245 Zeus has vouchsafed to us from our fathers' days even until now. For we are not faultless boxers or wrestlers, but in the foot race we run swiftly, and we are the best seamen; and ever to us is the banquet dear, and the lyre, and the dance, and changes of raiment, and warm baths, and the couch.

250 But come now, all ye that are the best dancers of the Phaeacians, make sport, that the stranger may tell his friends on reaching home how far we surpass others in seamanship and in fleetness of foot, and in the dance and in song. And let one go straightway 255 and fetch for Demodocus the clear-toned lyre which lies somewhere in our halls.” So spoke Alcinous the godlike, and the herald rose to fetch the hollow lyre from the palace of the king. Then stood up masters of the lists, nine in all, men chosen from out the people, who in their gatherings were wont to order all things aright. 260 They levelled a place for the dance, and marked out a fair wide ring, and the herald came near, bearing the clear-toned lyre for Demodocus. He then moved into the midst, and around him stood boys in the first bloom of youth, well skilled in the dance, and they smote the goodly dancing floor with their feet. And Odysseus 265 gazed at the twinklings of their feet and marvelled in spirit. But the minstrel struck the chords in prelude to his sweet lay and sang of the love of Ares and Aphrodite of the fair crown, how first they lay together in the house of Hephaestus secretly; and Ares gave her many gifts, and shamed the bed 270 of the lord Hephaestus. But straightway one came to him with tidings, even Helius, who had marked them as they lay together in love. And when Hephaestus heard the grievous tale, he went his way to his smithy, pondering evil in the deep of his heart, and set on the anvil block the great anvil and forged bonds 275 which might not be broken or loosed, that the lovers⁵ might bide fast where they were. But when he had fashioned the snare in his wrath against Ares, he went to his chamber where lay his bed, and everywhere round about the bed-posts he spread the bonds, and many too were hung from above, from the roof-beams, 280 fine as spiders' webs, so that no one even of the blessed gods could see them, so exceeding craftily were they fashioned. But when he had spread all his snare about the couch, he made as though he would go to Lemnos , that well-built citadel, which is in his eyes far the dearest of all lands. 285 And no blind watch did Ares of the golden rein keep, when he saw Hephaestus, famed for his handicraft, departing, but he went his way to the house of famous Hephaestus, eager for the love of Cytherea of the fair crown. Now she had but newly come from the presence of her father, the mighty son of Cronos, 290 and had sat her down. And Ares came into the house and clasped her hand and spoke and addressed her: “Come, love, let us to bed and take our joy, couched together. For Hephaestus is no longer here in the land, but has now gone, I ween, to Lemnos , to visit the Sintians of savage speech.”

295 So he spoke, and a welcome thing it seemed to her to lie with him. So they two went to the couch, and lay them down to sleep, and about them clung the cunning bonds of the wise Hephaestus, nor could they in any wise stir their limbs or raise them up. Then at length they learned that there was no more escaping. 300 And near to them came the famous god of the two strong arms,⁶ having turned back before he reached the land of Lemnos ; for Helius had kept watch for him and had brought him word. So he went to his house with a heavy heart, and stood at the gateway, and fierce anger seized him. 305 And terribly he cried out and called to all the gods: “Father Zeus, and ye other blessed gods that are forever, come hither that ye may see a laughable matter and a monstrous,⁷ even how Aphrodite, daughter of Zeus, scorns me for that I am lame and loves destructive Ares 310 because he is comely and strong of limb, whereas I was born misshapen. Yet for this is none other to blame but my two parents—would they had never begotten me! But ye shall see where these two have gone up into my bed and sleep together in love; and I am troubled at the sight. 315 Yet, methinks, they will not wish to lie longer thus, no, not for a moment, how loving soever they are. Soon shall both lose their desire to sleep; but the snare and the bonds shall hold them until her father pays back to me all the gifts of wooing that I gave him for the sake of his shameless girl; 320 for his daughter is fair but bridles not her passion.”⁸ So he spoke and the gods gathered to the house of the brazen floor.⁹ Poseidon came, the earth-enfolder, and the helper Hermes came, and the lord Apollo, the archer god.¹⁰ Now the goddesses abode for shame each in her own house, 325 but the gods, the givers of good things, stood in the gateway; and unquenchable laughter arose among the blessed gods as they saw the craft of wise Hephaestus. And thus would one speak, with a glance at his neighbor: “Ill deeds thrive not. The slow catches the swift; 330 even as now Hephaestus, slow though he is, has out-stripped Ares for all that he is the swiftest of the gods who hold Olympus . Lame though he is, he has caught him by craft, wherefore Ares owes the fine of the adulterer.” Thus they spoke to one another. But to Hermes the lord Apollo, son of Zeus, said: 335 “Hermes, son of Zeus, messenger, giver of good things, wouldst thou in sooth be willing, even though ensnared with strong bonds, to lie on a couch by the side of golden Aphrodite?” Then the messenger, Argeiphontes, answered him:“Would that this might befall, lord Apollo, thou archer god— 340 that thrice as many bonds inextricable might clasp me about and ye gods, aye, and all the goddesses too might be looking on, but that I might sleep by the side of golden Aphrodite.”

So he spoke and laughter arose among the immortal gods. Yet Poseidon laughed not, but ever besought 345 Hephaestus, the famous craftsman, to set Ares free; and he spoke, and addressed him with winged words: “Loose him, and I promise, as thou biddest me, that he shall himself pay thee all that is right in the presence of the immortal gods.” Then the famous god of the two strong arms answered him: 350 “Ask not this of me, Poseidon, thou earth-enfolder. A sorry thing to be sure of is the surety for a sorry knave. How could I put thee in bonds among the immortal gods, if Ares should avoid both the debt and the bonds and depart?” Then again Poseidon, the earth-shaker, answered him: 355 “Hephaestus, even if Ares shall avoid the debt and flee away, I will myself pay thee this.” Then the famous god of the two strong arms answered him: “It may not be that I should say thee nay, nor were it seemly.” So saying the mighty Hephaestus loosed the bonds 360 and the two, when they were freed from that bond so strong, sprang up straightway. And Ares departed to Thrace , but she, the laughter-loving Aphrodite, went to Cyprus , to Paphos , where is her demesne and fragrant altar. There the Graces bathed her and anointed her with 365 immortal oil, such as gleams¹¹ upon the gods that are forever. And they clothed her in lovely raiment, a wonder to behold. This song the famous minstrel sang; and Odysseus was glad at heart as he listened, and so too were the Phaeacians of the long oars, men famed for their ships. 370 Then Alcinous bade Halius and Laodamas dance alone, for no one could vie with them. And when they had taken in their hands the beautiful ball of purple, which wise Polybus had made for them, the one 375 would lean backward and toss it toward the shadowy clouds, and the other would leap up from the earth and skilfully catch it before his feet touched the ground again. But when they had tried their skill in throwing the ball straight up, the two fell to dancing on the bounteous earth, ever tossing the ball to and fro, and the other youths 380 stood in the lists and beat time, and thereat a great din arose. Then to Alcinous spoke goodly Odysseus: “Lord Alcinous, renowned above all men,¹² thou didst boast that thy dancers were the best, and lo, thy words are made good; amazement holds me as I look on them.”

385 So he spoke, and the strong and mighty Alcinous was glad; and straightway he spoke among the Phaeacians, lovers of the oar: “Hear me, leaders and counsellors of the Phaeacians. This stranger verily seems to me a man of understanding. Come then, let us give him a gift of friendship, as is fitting; 390 for twelve glorious kings bear sway in our land as rulers, and I myself am the thirteenth. Now do you, each of the twelve, bring a newly washed cloak and tunic, and a talent of precious gold, and let us straightway bring all together, 395 that the stranger with our gifts in his hands may go to his supper glad at heart. And let Euryalus make amends to the stranger himself with words and with a gift, for the word that he spoke was in no wise seemly.” So he spoke, and they all praised his words and bade that so it should be, and sent forth every man a herald to fetch the gifts. 400 And Euryalus in turn made answer, and said: “Lord Alcinous, renowned above all men, I will indeed make amends to the stranger, as thou biddest me. I will give him this sword, all of bronze, whereon is a hilt of silver, and a scabbard of new-sawn ivory 405 is wrought about it; and it shall be to him a thing of great worth.” So saying, he put into his hands the silver-studded sword, and spoke, and addressed him with winged words: “Hail, Sir stranger; but if any word has been spoken that was harsh, may the storm-winds straightway snatch it and bear it away. 410 And for thyself, may the gods grant thee to see thy wife, and to come to thy native land, for long time hast thou been suffering woes far from thy friends.” And Odysseus of many wiles answered him: “All hail to thee, too, friend; and may the gods grant thee happiness, and mayest thou never hereafter miss 415 this sword which thou hast given me, making amends with gentle speech.” He spoke, and about his shoulders hung the silver-studded sword. And the sun set, and the glorious gifts were brought him. These the lordly heralds bore to the palace of Alcinous, and the sons of peerless Alcinous 420 took the beautiful gifts and set them before their honored mother. And the strong and mighty Alcinous led the way, and they came in and sat down on the high seats. Then to Arete spoke the mighty Alcinous: “Bring hither, wife, a goodly chest, the best thou hast, 425 and thyself place in it a newly-washed cloak and tunic; and do ye heat for the stranger a cauldron on the fire, and warm water, that when he has bathed and has seen well bestowed all the gifts which the noble Phaeacians have brought hither, he may take pleasure in the feast, and in hearing the strains of the song. 430 And I will give him this beautiful cup of mine, wrought of gold, that he may remember me all his days as he pours libations in his halls to Zeus and to the other gods.”

So he spoke, and Arete bade her handmaids to set a great cauldron on the fire with all speed. 435 And they set on the blazing fire the cauldron for filling the bath, and poured in water, and took billets of wood and kindled them beneath it. Then the fire played about the belly of the cauldron, and the water grew warm; but meanwhile Arete brought forth for the stranger a beautiful chest from the treasure chamber, and placed in it the goodly gifts, 440 the raiment and the gold, which the Phaeacians gave. And therein she herself placed a cloak and a fair tunic; and she spoke and addressed Odysseus with winged words: “Look now thyself to the lid, and quickly cast a cord upon it, lest some one despoil thee of thy goods on the way, when later on¹³ 445 thou art lying in sweet sleep, as thou farest in the black ship.” Now when the much-enduring goodly Odysseus heard these words, he straightway fitted on the lid, and quickly cast a cord upon it—a cunning knot, which queenly Circe once had taught him. Then forthwith the housewife bade him 450 go to the bath and bathe; and his heart was glad when he saw the warm bath, for he had not been wont to have such tendance from the time that he left the house of faired-haired Calypso, but until then he had tendance continually as a god. Now when the handmaids had bathed him and anointed him with oil, 455 and had cast about him a fair cloak and a tunic, he came forth from the bath, and went to join the men at their wine. And Nausicaa, gifted with beauty by the gods, stood by the door-post of the well-built hall, and she marvelled at Odysseus, as her eyes beheld him, 460 and she spoke, and addressed him with winged words: “Farewell, stranger, and hereafter even in thy own native land mayest thou remember me, for to me first thou owest the price of thy life.” Then Odysseus of many wiles answered her:“Nausicaa, daughter of great-hearted Alcinous, 465 so may Zeus grant, the loud-thundering lord of Here, that I may reach my home and see the day of my returning. Then will I even there pray to thee as to a god all my days, for thou, maiden, hast given me life.”

He spoke, and sat down on a chair beside king Alcinous. 470 And now they were serving out portions and mixing the wine. Then the herald came near, leading the good minstrel, Demodocus, held in honor by the people, and seated him in the midst of the banqueters, leaning his chair against a high pillar. Then to the herald said Odysseus of many wiles, 475 cutting off a portion of the chine of a white-tusked boar, whereof yet more was left, and there was rich fat on either side: “Herald, take and give this portion to Demodocus, that he may eat, and I will greet him, despite my grief. For among all men that are upon the earth minstrels 480 win honor and reverence, for that the Muse has taught them the paths of song, and loves the tribe of minstrels.” So he spoke, and the herald bore the portion and placed it in the hands of the lord Demodocus, and he took it and was glad at heart. So they put forth their hands to the good cheer lying ready before them. 485 But when they had put from them the desire of food and drink, then to Demodocus said Odysseus of many wiles: “Demodocus, verily above all mortal men do I praise thee, whether it was the Muse, the daughter of Zeus, that taught thee, or Apollo; for well and truly dost thou sing of the fate of the Achaeans, 490 all that they wrought and suffered, and all the toils they endured, as though haply thou hadst thyself been present, or hadst heard the tale from another. But come now, change thy theme, and sing of the building of the horse of wood, which Epeius made with Athena's help, the horse which once Odysseus led up into the citadel as a thing of guile, 495 when he had filled it with the men who sacked Ilios . If thou dost indeed tell me this tale aright, I will declare to all mankind that the god has of a ready heart granted thee the gift of divine song.” So he spoke, and the minstrel, moved by the god, began, and let his song be heard, 500 taking up the tale where the Argives had embarked on their benched ships and were sailing away, after casting fire on their huts, while those others led by glorious Odysseus were now sitting in the place of assembly of the Trojans, hidden in the horse; for the Trojans had themselves dragged it to the citadel. 505 So there it stood, while the people talked long as they sat about it, and could form no resolve. Nay, in three ways did counsel find favour in their minds: either to cleave the hollow timber with the pitiless bronze, or to drag it to the height and cast it down the rocks, or to let it stand as a great offering to propitiate the gods, 510 even as in the end it was to be brought to pass; for it was their fate to perish when their city should enclose the great horse of wood, wherein were sitting all the best of the Argives, bearing to the Trojans death and fate. And he sang how the sons of the Achaeans 515 poured forth from the horse and, leaving their hollow ambush, sacked the city. Of the others he sang how in divers ways they wasted the lofty city, but of Odysseus, how he went like Ares to the house of Deiphobus together with godlike Menelaus. There it was, he said, that Odysseus braved the most terrible fight 520 and in the end conquered by the aid of great-hearted Athena.

This song the famous minstrel sang. But the heart of Odysseus was melted and tears wet his cheeks beneath his eyelids. And as a woman wails and flings herself about her dear husband, who has fallen in front of his city and his people, 525 seeking toward off from his city and his children the pitiless day; and as she beholds him dying and gasping for breath, she clings to him and shrieks aloud, while the foe behind her smite her back and shoulders with their spears, and lead her away to captivity to bear toil and woe, 530 while with most pitiful grief her cheeks are wasted: even so did Odysseus let fall pitiful tears from beneath his brows. Now from all the rest he concealed the tears that he shed, but Alcinous alone marked him and took heed, 535 for he sat by him and heard him groaning heavily. And straightway he spoke among the Phaeacians, lovers of the oar: “Hear me, leaders and counsellors of the Phaeacians, and let Demodocus now check his clear-toned lyre, for in no wise to all alike does he give pleasure with this song. Ever since we began to sup and the divine minstrel was moved to sing, 540 from that time yon stranger has never ceased from sorrowful lamentation; surely, methinks, grief has encompassed his heart. Nay, let the minstrel cease, that we may all make merry, hosts and guest alike, since it is better thus. Lo, for the sake of the honored stranger all these things have been made ready, 545 his sending and the gifts of friendship which we give him of our love. Dear as a brother is the stranger and the suppliant to a man whose wits have never so short a range. Therefore do not thou longer hide with crafty thought whatever I shall ask thee;to speak out plainly is the better course.

550 Tell me the name by which they were wont to call thee in thy home, even thy mother and thy father and other folk besides, thy townsmen and the dwellers round about. For there is no one of all mankind who is nameless, be he base man or noble, when once he has been born, but parents bestow names on all when they give them birth. 555 And tell me thy country, thy people, and thy city, that our ships may convey thee thither, discerning the course by their wits. For the Phaeacians have no pilots, nor steering-oars such as other ships have, but their ships of themselves understand the thoughts and minds of men, 560 and they know the cities and rich fields of all peoples, and most swiftly do they cross over the gulf of the sea, hidden in mist and cloud, nor ever have they fear of harm or ruin. Yet this story I once heard thus told by my father 565 Nausithous, who was wont to say that Poseidon was wroth with us because we give safe convoy to all men. He said that someday, as a well-built ship of the Phaeacians was returning from a convoy over the misty deep, Poseidon would smite her and would fling a great mountain about our city.¹⁴ 570 So that old man spoke, and these things the god will haply bring to pass, or will leave unfulfilled, as may be his good pleasure. But come, now, tell me this and declare it truly: whither thou hast wandered and to what countries of men thou hast come; tell me of the people and of their well-built cities, 575 both of those who are cruel and wild and unjust, and of those who love strangers and fear the gods in their thoughts. And tell me why thou dost weep and wail in spirit as thou hearest the doom of the Argive Danaans and of Ilios . This the gods wrought, and spun the skein of ruin 580 for men, that there might be a song for those yet to be born. Did some kinsman of thine fall before Ilios , some good, true man, thy daughter's husband or thy wife's father, such as are nearest to one after one's own kin and blood? Or was it haply some comrade dear to thy heart, 585 some good, true man? For no whit worse than a brother is a comrade who has an understanding heart.”

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.) — 8.1 focus

1 Now when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, Alkinoos and Odysseus both rose, and Alkinoos led the way to the Phaeacian place of assembly, which was near the ships. When they got there they sat down side by side on a seat of polished stone, while Athena took the form of one of Alkinoos’ servants, and went round the town in order to contrive nostos for great-hearted Odysseus. She went up to the citizens, man by man, and said, "Aldermen and town councilors of the Phaeacians, come to the assembly all of you and listen to the stranger who has just come off a long voyage to the house of King Alkinoos; he looks like an immortal god."

15 With these words she made them all want to come, and they flocked to the assembly till seats and standing room were alike crowded. Every one was struck with the appearance of Odysseus, for Athena had beautified [ kharis] him about the head and shoulders, making him look taller and stouter than he really was, that he might impress the Phaeacians favorably as being a very remarkable man, and might come off well in the many trials [ athlos] of skill to which they would challenge him. Then, when they were got together, Alkinoos spoke:

26 "Hear me," said he, "aldermen and town councilors of the Phaeacians, that I may speak even as I am minded. This stranger, whoever he may be, has found his way to my house from somewhere or other either East or West. He wants an escort and wishes to have the matter settled. Let us then get one ready for him, as we have done for others before him; indeed, no one who ever yet came to my house has been able to complain of me for not speeding on his way soon enough. Let us draw a ship into the sea - one that has never yet made a voyage - and man her with two and fifty of our choicest [ krînô] young sailors in the dêmos. Then when you have made fast your oars each by his own seat, leave the ship and come to my house to prepare a feast. I will provide you with everything. I am giving these instructions to the young men who will form the crew, for as regards you aldermen and town councilors, you will join me in entertaining our guest in the cloisters. I can take no excuses, and we will have Demodokos to sing to us; for there is no bard like him whatever he may choose to sing about."

46 Alkinoos then led the way, and the others followed after, while a servant went to fetch Demodokos. The fifty-two picked [ krînô] oarsmen went to the sea shore as they had been told, and when they got there they drew the ship into the water, got her mast and sails inside her, bound the oars to the thole-pins with twisted thongs of leather, all in due course, and spread the white sails aloft. They moored the vessel a little way out from land, and then came on shore and went to the house of King Alkinoos. The outhouses, yards, and all the precincts were filled with crowds of men in great multitudes both old and young; and Alkinoos killed them a dozen sheep, eight full grown pigs, and two oxen. These they skinned and dressed so as to provide a magnificent banquet.

62 A servant presently led in the famous bard Demodokos, whom the muse had dearly loved, but to whom she had given both good and evil, for though she had endowed him with a divine gift of song, she had robbed him of his eyesight. Pontonoos set a seat for him among the guests, leaning it up against a bearing-post. He hung the lyre for him on a peg over his head, and showed him where he was to feel for it with his hands. He also set a fair table with a basket of victuals by his side, and a cup of wine from which he might drink whenever he was so disposed.

71 The company then laid their hands upon the good things that were before them, but as soon as they had had enough to eat and drink, the muse inspired Demodokos to sing the feats [ kleos] of heroes, and most especially a matter whose kleos at that time reached wide heaven, to wit, the quarrel [ neikos] between Odysseus and Achilles, and the fierce words that they heaped on one another as they sat together at a banquet. But Agamemnon was glad in his noos when he heard his chieftains quarreling with one another, for Apollo had foretold him this at Pytho when he crossed the stone floor to consult the oracle. Here the beginning of the evil started rolling down, by the will of Zeus, toward both Danaans and Trojans.

83 Thus sang the bard, but Odysseus drew his purple mantle over his head and covered his face, for he was ashamed to let the Phaeacians see that he was weeping. When the bard left off singing he wiped the tears from his eyes, uncovered his face, and, taking his cup, made a drink-offering to the gods; but when the Phaeacians pressed Demodokos to sing further, for they delighted in his lays, then Odysseus again drew his mantle over his head and wept bitterly. No one noticed his distress except Alkinoos, who was sitting near him, and heard the heavy sighs that he was heaving. So he at once said, "Aldermen and town councilors of the Phaeacians, we have had enough now, both of the feast, and of the minstrelsy that is its due accompaniment; let us proceed therefore to the athletic sports [ athlos], so that our guest on his return home may be able to tell his friends how much we surpass all other nations as boxers, wrestlers, jumpers, and runners."

104 With these words he led the way, and the others followed after. A servant hung Demodokos’ lyre on its peg for him, led him out of the room, and set him on the same way as that along which all the chief men of the Phaeacians were going to see the sports; a crowd of several thousand people followed them, and there were many excellent competitors for all the prizes. Akroneos, Okyalos, Elatreus, Nauteus, Prymneus, Anchialos, Eretmeus, Ponteus, Proreus, Thoon, Anabesineos, and Amphialos son of Polyneos son of Tekton. There was also Euryalos son of Naubolos, who was like Ares himself, and was the best looking man among the Phaeacians except Laodamas. Three sons of Alkinoos, Laodamas, Halios, and Clytoneus, competed also.

120 The foot races came first. The course was set out for them from the starting post, and they raised a dust upon the plain as they all flew forward at the same moment. Clytoneus came in first by a long way; he left every one else behind him by the length of the furrow that a couple of mules can plough in a fallow field. They then turned to the painful art of wrestling, and here Euryalos proved to be the best man. Amphialos excelled all the others in jumping, while at throwing the disc there was no one who could approach Elatreus. Alkinoos’ son Laodamas was the best boxer, and he it was who presently said, when they had all been diverted with the games [ athlos], "Let us ask the stranger whether he excels in any of these sports [ athlos]; he seems very powerfully built; his thighs, calves, hands, and neck are of prodigious strength, nor is he at all old, but he has suffered much lately, and there is nothing like the sea for making havoc with a man, no matter how strong he is."

140 "You are quite right, Laodamas," replied Euryalos, "go up to your guest and speak to him about it yourself."

143 When Laodamas heard this he made his way into the middle of the crowd and said to Odysseus, "I hope, sir, that you will enter yourself in some one or other of our competitions [ athloi] if you are skilled in any of them - for you seem to know of athloi . There is no greater kleos for a man all his life long as the showing himself good with his hands and feet. Have a try therefore at something, and banish all sorrow from your mind. Your return home will not be long delayed, for the ship is already drawn into the water, and the crew is found."

152 Odysseus answered, "Laodamas, why do you taunt me in this way? My mind is set rather on cares than contests athloi; I have been through infinite trouble, and am come among you now as a suppliant, praying your king and dêmos to further me on my return home [ nostos ]."

158 Then Euryalos reviled him outright and said, "I gather, then, that you are unskilled in any of the many sports athloi that men generally delight in. I suppose you are one of those grasping traders that go about in ships as captains or merchants, and who think of nothing but of their outward freights and homeward cargoes. There does not seem to be much of the athlete [ athlêtês] about you."

165 "For shame, sir," answered Odysseus, fiercely, "you are an insolent man - so true is it that the gods do not grace all men alike in speech, person, and understanding. One man may be of weak presence, but heaven has adorned this with such a good conversation that he charms every one who sees him; his honeyed moderation [ aidôs] carries his hearers with him so that he is leader in all assemblies of his fellows, and wherever he goes he is looked up to. Another may be as handsome as a god, but his good looks are not crowned with verbal grace [ kharis]. This is your case. No god could make a finer looking man than you are, but you are empty with respect to noos. Your ill-judged remarks [contrary to kosmos] have made me exceedingly angry, for I excel in a great many athletic exercises [ athlos]; indeed, so long as I had youth and strength, I was among the first athletes of the age. Now, however, I am worn out by labor and sorrow, for I have gone through much both on the field of battle and by the waves of the weary sea; still, in spite of all this I will compete [ athlos], for your taunts have stung me to the quick."

186 So he hurried up without even taking his cloak off, and seized a disc, larger, more massive and much heavier than those used by the Phaeacians when disc-throwing among themselves. Then, swinging it back, he threw it from his brawny hand, and it made a humming sound in the air as he did so. The Phaeacians quailed beneath the rushing of its flight as it sped gracefully from his hand, and flew beyond any mark [ sêma] that had been made yet. Athena, in the form of a man, came and marked the place where it had fallen. "A blind man, sir," said she, "could easily tell your mark [ sêma] by groping for it - it is so far ahead of any other. You may make your mind easy about this contest [ athlos], for no Phaeacian can come near to such a throw as yours."

199 Odysseus was glad when he found he had a friend among the lookers-on, so he began to speak more pleasantly. "Young men," said he, "come up to that throw if you can, and I will throw another disc as heavy or even heavier. If anyone wants to have a bout with me let him come on, for I am exceedingly angry; I will box, wrestle, or run, I do not care what it is, with any man of you all except Laodamas, but not with him because I am his guest, and one cannot compete with one's own personal friend. At least I do not think it a prudent or a sensible thing for a guest to challenge his host's family at any game [ athlos], especially when he is in a foreign dêmos. He will cut the ground from under his own feet if he does; but I make no exception as regards any one else, for I want to have the matter out and know which is the best man. I am a good hand at every kind of athletic sport [ athlos] known among humankind. I am an excellent archer. In battle I am always the first to bring a man down with my arrow, no matter how many more are taking aim at him alongside of me. Philoctetes was the only man who could shoot better than I could when we Achaeans were before the dêmos of the Trojans. I far excel every one else in the whole world, of those who still eat bread upon the face of the earth, but I should not like to shoot against the mighty dead, such as Herakles, or Eurytos the Cechalian- men who could shoot against the gods themselves. This in fact was how Eurytos came prematurely by his end, for Apollo was angry with him and killed him because he challenged him as an archer. I can throw a dart farther than any one else can shoot an arrow. Running is the only point in respect of which I am afraid some of the Phaeacians might beat me, for I have been brought down very low at sea; my provisions ran short, and therefore I am still weak."

234 They all held their peace except King Alkinoos, who began, "Sir, we have had much pleasure in hearing all that you have told us, from which I understand that you are willing to show your prowess [ aretê], as having been displeased with some insolent remarks that have been made to you by one of our athletes, and which could never have been uttered by any one who knows how to talk with propriety. I hope you will apprehend my meaning, and will explain to any one of your chief men who may be dining with yourself and your family when you get home, that we have an hereditary aptitude [ aretê] for accomplishments of all kinds. We are not particularly remarkable for our boxing, nor yet as wrestlers, but we are singularly fleet of foot and are excellent sailors. We are extremely fond of good dinners, music, and dancing [ khoros]; we also like frequent changes of linen, warm baths, and good beds; so now, please, some of you who are the best dancers set about dancing, that our guest on his return home may be able to tell his friends how much we surpass all other nations as sailors, runners, dancers, minstrels. Demodokos has left his lyre at my house, so run some one or other of you and fetch it for him."

256 On this a servant hurried off to bring the lyre from the king's house, and the nine men who had been chosen as stewards stood forward. It was their business to manage everything connected with the sports, so they made the ground smooth and marked a wide space for the dancers [ khoros]. Presently the servant came back with Demodokos’ lyre, and he took his place in the midst of them, whereon the best young dancers [ khoros] in the town began to foot and trip it so nimbly that Odysseus was delighted with the merry twinkling of their feet.

266 Meanwhile the bard began to sing the loves of Ares and Aphrodite, and how they first began their intrigue in the house of Hephaistos. Ares made Aphrodite many presents, and defiled lord Hephaistos’ marriage bed, so the sun, who saw what they were about, told Hephaistos. Hephaistos was very angry when he heard such dreadful news, so he went to his smithy brooding mischief, got his great anvil into its place, and began to forge some chains which none could either unloose or break, so that they might stay there in that place. When he had finished his snare he went into his bedroom and festooned the bed-posts all over with chains like cobwebs; he also let many hang down from the great beam of the ceiling. Not even a god could see them, so fine and subtle were they. As soon as he had spread the chains all over the bed, he made as though he were setting out for the fair state of Lemnos , which of all places in the world was the one he was most fond of. But Ares kept no blind look out, and as soon as he saw him start, hurried off to his house, burning with love for Aphrodite.

289 Now Aphrodite was just come in from a visit to her father Zeus, and was about sitting down when Ares came inside the house, and said as he took her hand in his own, "Let us go to the couch of Hephaistos: he is not at home, but is gone off to Lemnos among the Sintians, whose speech is barbarous."

295 She was not unwilling, so they went to the couch to take their rest, whereon they were caught in the toils which cunning Hephaistos had spread for them, and could neither get up nor stir hand or foot, but found too late that they were in a trap. Then Hephaistos came up to them, for he had turned back before reaching Lemnos , when his scout the sun told him what was going on. He was in a furious passion, and stood in the vestibule making a dreadful noise as he shouted to all the gods.

306 "Father Zeus," he cried, "and all you other blessed gods who live for ever, come here and see the ridiculous and disgraceful sight that I will show you. Zeus’ daughter Aphrodite is always dishonoring me because I am lame. She is in love with Ares, who is handsome and clean built, whereas I am a cripple - but my parents are responsible [ aitioi] for that, not I; they ought never to have begotten me. Come and see the pair together asleep on my bed. It makes me furious to look at them. They are very fond of one another, but I do not think they will lie there longer than they can help, nor do I think that they will sleep much; there, however, they shall stay till her father has repaid me the sum I gave him for his baggage of a daughter, who is fair but not honest."

321 On this the gods gathered to the house of Hephaistos. Earth-encircling Poseidon came, and Hermes the bringer of luck, and lord Apollo, but the goddesses stayed at home all of them for shame. Then the givers of all good things stood in the doorway, and the blessed gods roared with inextinguishable laughter, as they saw how cunning Hephaistos had been, whereon one would turn towards his neighbor saying:

329 "Ill deeds do not bring aretê, and the weak confound the strong. See how limping Hephaistos, lame as he is, has caught Ares who is the fleetest god in heaven; and now Ares will be cast in heavy damages."

333 Thus did they converse, but lord Apollo said to Hermes, "Messenger Hermes, giver of good things, you would not care how strong the chains were, would you, if you could sleep with Aphrodite?"

338 "King Apollo," answered Hermes, "I only wish I might get the chance, though there were three times as many chains - and you might look on, all of you, gods and goddesses, but I would sleep with her if I could."

343 The immortal gods burst out laughing as they heard him, but Poseidon took it all seriously, and kept on imploring Hephaistos to set Ares free again. "Let him go," he cried, "and I will undertake, as you require, that he shall pay you all the damages that are held reasonable among the immortal gods."

349 "Do not," replied Hephaistos, "ask me to do this; a bad man's bond is bad security; what remedy could I enforce against you if Ares should go away and leave his debts behind him along with his chains?"

354 "Hephaistos," said Poseidon, "if Ares goes away without paying his damages, I will pay you myself." So Hephaistos answered, "In this case I cannot and must not refuse you."

359 Thereon he loosed the bonds that bound them, and as soon as they were free they scampered off, Ares to Thrace and laughter-loving Aphrodite to Cyprus and to Paphos , where is her grove and her altar fragrant with burnt offerings. Here the Graces bathed her, and anointed her with oil of ambrosia such as the immortal gods make use of, and they clothed her in raiment of the most enchanting beauty.

367 Thus sang the bard, and both Odysseus and the seafaring Phaeacians were charmed as they heard him.

370 Then Alkinoos told Laodamas and Halios to dance alone, for there was no one to compete with them. So they took a red ball which Polybos had made for them, and one of them bent himself backwards and threw it up towards the clouds, while the other jumped from off the ground and caught it with ease before it came down again. When they had done throwing the ball straight up into the air they began to dance, and at the same time kept on throwing it backwards and forwards to one another, while all the young men in the ring applauded and made a great stamping with their feet. Then Odysseus said:

382 "King Alkinoos, you said your people were the nimblest dancers in the world, and indeed they have proved themselves to be so. I was astonished as I saw them."

385 The king was delighted at this, and exclaimed to the Phaeacians "Aldermen and town councilors, our guest seems to be a person of singular judgment; let us give him such proof of our hospitality as he may reasonably expect. There are twelve chief men throughout the dêmos, and counting myself there are thirteen; contribute, each of you, a clean cloak, a shirt, and a talent of fine gold; let us give him all this in a lump down at once, so that when he gets his supper he may do so with a light heart. As for Euryalos, he will have to make a formal apology and a present too, for he has been rude."

398 Thus did he speak. The others all of them applauded his saying, and sent their servants to fetch the presents. Then Euryalos said, "King Alkinoos, I will give the stranger all the satisfaction you require. He shall have sword, which is of bronze, all but the hilt, which is of silver. I will also give him the scabbard of newly sawn ivory into which it fits. It will be worth a great deal to him."

406 As he spoke he placed the sword in the hands of Odysseus and said, "Good luck to you, father stranger; if anything has been said amiss may the winds blow it away with them, and may heaven grant you a safe return, for I understand you have been long away from home, and have gone through much hardship."

412 To which Odysseus answered, "Good luck to you too my friend, and may the gods grant you every happiness [ olbos]. I hope you will not miss the sword you have given me along with your apology."

416 With these words he girded the sword about his shoulders and towards sundown the presents began to make their appearance, as the servants of the donors kept bringing them to the house of King Alkinoos; here his sons received them, and placed them under their mother's charge. Then Alkinoos led the way to the house and bade his guests take their seats.

424 "Wife," said he, turning to Queen Arete, "Go, fetch the best chest we have, and put a clean cloak and shirt in it. Also, set a copper on the fire and heat some water; our guest will take a warm bath; see also to the careful packing of the presents that the noble Phaeacians have made him; he will thus better enjoy both his supper and the singing that will follow. I shall myself give him this golden goblet - which is of exquisite workmanship - that he may be reminded of me for the rest of his life whenever he makes a drink-offering to Zeus, or to any of the gods."

433 Then Arete told her maids to set a large tripod upon the fire as fast as they could, whereon they set a tripod full of bath water on to a clear fire; they threw on sticks to make it blaze, and the water became hot as the flame played about the belly of the tripod. Meanwhile Arete brought a magnificent chest her own room, and inside it she packed all the beautiful presents of gold and raiment which the Phaeacians had brought. Lastly she added a cloak and a good shirt from Alkinoos, and said to Odysseus:

443 "See to the lid yourself, and have the whole bound round at once, for fear any one should rob you by the way when you are asleep in your ship."

446 When Odysseus heard this he put the lid on the chest and made it fast with a bond that Circe had taught him. He had done so before an upper servant told him to come to the bath and wash himself. He was very glad of a warm bath, for he had had no one to wait upon him ever since he left the house of Calypso, who as long as he remained with her had taken as good care of him as though he had been a god. When the servants had done washing and anointing him with oil, and had given him a clean cloak and shirt, he left the bath room and joined the guests who were sitting over their wine. Lovely Nausicaa stood by one of the bearing-posts supporting the roof of the room, and admired him as she saw him pass. "Farewell stranger," said she, "do not forget me when you are safe at home again, for it is to me first that you owe a ransom for having saved your life."

463 And Odysseus said, "Nausicaa, daughter of great Alkinoos, may Zeus the mighty husband of Hera, grant that I may reach my home and see my day of nostos; so shall I bless you as a goddess all my days, for it was you who saved me."

469 When he had said this, he seated himself beside Alkinoos. Supper was then served, and the wine was mixed for drinking. A servant led in the favorite bard Demodokos, and set him in the midst of the company, near one of the bearing-posts supporting the room, that he might lean against it. Then Odysseus cut off a piece of roast pork with plenty of fat (for there was abundance left on the joint) and said to a servant, "Take this piece of pork over to Demodokos and tell him to eat it; for all the pain his lays may cause me I will salute him none the less; bards get honor and respect [ aidôs] throughout the world, for the Muse teaches them their songs and loves them."

482 The servant carried the pork in his fingers over to Demodokos, who took it and was very much pleased. They then laid their hands on the good things that were before them, and as soon as they had had enough to eat and drink, Odysseus said to Demodokos, "Demodokos, there is no one in the world whom I praise with admiration more than I do you. You must have studied under the Muse, Zeus’ daughter, and under Apollo, - with such a sense of order [ kosmos] do you sing the return of the Achaeans with all their sufferings and adventures. If you were not there yourself, you must have heard it all from some one who was. Now, however, change your song and tell us of the construction [ kosmos] of the wooden horse which Epeios made with the assistance of Athena, and which Odysseus got by stratagem into the fort of Troy after freighting it with the men who afterwards sacked the city. If you will sing this tale aright I will tell all the world how magnificently heaven has endowed you."

499 The bard, inspired by a god, lit up the picture of his story, starting at the point where some of the Argives set fire to their tents and sailed away while others, hidden within the horse, were waiting with Odysseus in the Trojan place of assembly. For the Trojans themselves had drawn the horse into their fortress, and it stood there while they sat in council round it, and were in three minds as to what they should do. Some were for breaking it up then and there; others would have it dragged to the top of the rock on which the fortress stood, and then thrown down the precipice; while yet others were for letting it remain as an offering and propitiation for the gods. And this was how they settled it in the end, for the city was doomed when it took in that horse, within which were all the bravest of the Argives waiting to bring death and destruction on the Trojans. Anon he sang how the sons of the Achaeans issued from the horse, and sacked the town, breaking out from their ambuscade. He sang how they overran the city here and there and ravaged it, and how Odysseus went raging like Ares along with Menelaos to the house of Deiphobos. It was there that the fight raged most furiously, nevertheless by Athena's help he was victorious.

521 All this he told, but Odysseus was overcome as he heard him, and his cheeks were wet with tears. He wept as a woman weeps when she throws herself on the body of her husband who has fallen before his own city and people, fighting bravely in defense of his home and children. She screams aloud and flings her arms about him as he lies gasping for breath and dying, but her enemies beat her from behind about the back and shoulders, and carry her off into slavery, to a life of labor [ ponos] and sorrow, and the beauty fades from her cheeks - even so piteously did Odysseus weep, but none of those present perceived his tears except Alkinoos, who was sitting near him, and could hear the sobs and sighs that he was heaving. The king, therefore, at once rose and said:

536 "Aldermen and town councilors of the Phaeacians, let Demodokos cease his song, for there are those present who do not seem to like it. From the moment that we had done supper and Demodokos began to sing, our guest has been all the time groaning and lamenting. He is evidently in great distress [ akhos], so let the bard leave off, that we may all enjoy ourselves, hosts and guest alike. This will be much more as it should be, for all these festivities, with the escort and the presents that we are making with so much good will, are wholly in his honor, and any one with even a moderate amount of right feeling knows that he ought to treat a guest and a suppliant as though he were his own brother.

548 "Therefore, sir, do you on your part affect no more concealment nor reserve in the matter about which I shall ask you; it will be more polite in you to give me a plain answer; tell me the name by which your father and mother over yonder used to call you, and by which you were known among your neighbors and fellow-citizens. There is no one, neither rich nor poor, who is absolutely without any name whatever, for people's fathers and mothers give them names as soon as they are born. Tell me also your country, nation dêmos, and city, that our ships may shape their purpose accordingly and take you there. For the Phaeacians have no pilots; their vessels have no rudders as those of other nations have, but the ships themselves understand what it is that we are thinking about and want; they know all the cities and countries in the whole world, and can traverse the sea just as well even when it is covered with mist and cloud, so that there is no danger of being wrecked or coming to any harm. Still I do remember hearing my father say that Poseidon was angry with us for being too easy-going in the matter of giving people escorts. He said that one of these days he should wreck a ship of ours as it was returning from having escorted some one, and envelop our city with a high mountain. This is what the old man used to say, but whether the god will carry out his threat or no is a matter which he will decide for himself.

572 And now, tell me and tell me true. Where have you been wandering, and in what countries have you traveled? Tell us of the peoples themselves, and of their cities - who were hostile, savage and uncivilized [not dikaios], and who, on the other hand, hospitable and endowed with a god-fearing noos. Tell us also why you are made unhappy on hearing about the return of the Argive Danaans from Troy . The gods arranged all this, and sent them their misfortunes in order that future generations might have something to sing about. Did you lose some brave kinsman of your wife's when you were before Troy ? A son-in-law or father-in-law - which are the nearest relations a man has outside his own flesh and blood? Or was it some brave and kindly-natured comrade - for a good friend is as dear to a man as his own brother?" 586

English (Butler, rev. Nagy et al., 2020) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Butler, rev. Nagy et al., 2020)) — 8 focus

Rhapsody 8

1 Now when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, Alkinoos, the hallowed prince, and Odysseus, ransacker of cities, both rose, and Alkinoos led the way [5] to the Phaeacian place of assembly, which was near the ships. When they got there they sat down side-by-side on a seat of polished stone, while Athena took the form of one of the servants of the high-spirited Alkinoos, and went round the town in order to contrive nostos for great-hearted Odysseus. [10] She went up to the townspeople, man by man, and said, “Aldermen and town councilors of the Phaeacians, come to the assembly all of you and listen to the stranger who has just come off a long voyage to the house of high-spirited King Alkinoos; he looks like an immortal god.”

[15] With these words she made them all want to come, and they flocked to the assembly till seats and standing room were alike crowded. Every one was struck with the appearance of Odysseus, high-spirited son of Laertes, for Athena had given him gracefulness [ kharis] about the head and shoulders, [20] making him look taller and stouter than he really was, that he might impress the Phaeacians favorably as being a very remarkable man, and might come off well in the many trials [ āthlos] of skill to which they would challenge him. Then, when they were got together, [25] Alkinoos spoke:

“Hear me,” said he, “aldermen and town councilors of the Phaeacians, that I may speak even as I am minded. This stranger, whoever he may be, has found his way to my house from somewhere or other either East or West. [30] He wants an escort and wishes to have the matter settled. Let us then get one ready for him, as we have done for others before him; indeed, no one who ever yet came to my house has been able to complain of me for not speeding on his way soon enough. Let us draw a ship into the sea— [35] one that has never yet made a voyage—and man her with two and fifty of our choicest [ krinein] young sailors in the dēmos. Then when you have made fast your oars each by his own seat, leave the ship and come to my house to prepare a feast. I will provide you with everything. [40] I am giving these instructions to the young men who will form the crew, for as regards you sceptered kings, you will join me in entertaining our guest in the halls. I can take no excuses, and we will have Demodokos to sing to us; for there is no bard like him [45] whatever he may choose to sing about.”

Alkinoos then led the way, and the others followed after, while a herald [ kērux] went to fetch Demodokos. 46 The fifty-two picked [ krinein] oarsmen went to the sea shore as they had been told, [50] and when they got there they drew the ship into the water, got her mast and sails inside her, bound the oars to the thole-pins with twisted thongs of leather, all in due course, and spread the white sails aloft. [55] They moored the vessel a little way out from land, and then came on shore and went to the house of high-spirited King Alkinoos. The outhouses, yards, and all the precincts were filled with crowds of men in great multitudes both old and young; and Alkinoos killed them a dozen sheep, eight [60] full grown pigs, and two oxen. These they skinned and dressed so as to provide a magnificent banquet.

62 The herald came near, bringing with him a singer, very trusted, 63 whom the Muse loved exceedingly. She gave him both a good thing and a bad thing. 64 For she took away from him his eyes but gave him the sweetness of song [ aoidē]. [65] For him did Pontonoos place a chair, silver studded, 66 right in the midst of the people who were feasting, propping the chair against a tall column, 67 and the herald took from a peg the clear-sounding phorminx that was hanging there 68 above his head, and he presented it to him so he could take it in his hands. 69 The herald did this. And next to him he [= the herald] put a beautiful basket and a table. [70] He put next to him also a cup of wine to drink from whenever he [= Demodokos] felt in his heart the need to do so. 71 And, with hands reaching out swiftly, they made for the good things that were prepared and waiting.

72 When they had satisfied their desire for drinking and eating, 73 the Muse impelled the singer to sing the glories [ kleos plural] of men, 74 starting from a thread [ oimē] [of a song] that had at that time a glory [ kleos] reaching all the way up to the vast sky. [75] It was the quarrel [ neikos] of Odysseus and Achilles son of Peleus, 76 how they once upon a time [ pote] fought at a sumptuous feast of the gods, 77 with terrible words, and the king of men, Agamemnon, 78 was happy in his mind [ noos] that the best of the Achaeans [ aristoi Akhaiōn] were fighting. 79 For [ gar] thus had oracular Phoebus Apollo prophesied to him, [80] at holy Delphi, when he [Agamemnon] had crossed the stone threshold 81 to consult the oracle. For [ gar] then [ tote] it was that the beginning of pain [ pēma] started rolling down [ kulindesthai] 82 upon both Trojans and Danaans [= Achaeans], all on account of the plans [ boulai] of great Zeus. 83 83 These things, then, the singer sang, whose fame goes far and wide.

As for Odysseus 84 he took hold of his great purple cloak in his powerful hands [85] and he pulled it over his head, veiling that face of his with its comely looks, 86 since he felt shame in front of the Phaeacians as tears started flowing from beneath his brows. 87 And whenever the divine singer would leave off [ lēgein] the singing, 88 he would wipe away the tears as he removed the cloak from his head, 89 and, holding up a drinking cup, he would offer a libation to the gods. [90] But then, whenever he [= the singer] started [ arkhesthai] singing all over again [ aps], urged to do so 91 by the best of the Phaeacians, since they took delight [ terpesthai] in the words of his song, 92 Odysseus would veil his head and start lamenting [ goân] all over again.

93 So there he was, escaping the notice of all while he kept pouring out his tears [ dakrua]. 94 But Alkinoos was the only one of all of them who was aware, and he took note [ noeîn]; [95] he was sitting near him, and heard the heavy sighs that he was heaving. So he at once said, “Aldermen and town councilors of the oar-loving Phaeacians, we have had enough now, both of the feast, and of the minstrelsy that is its due accompaniment; [100] let us proceed therefore to the athletic sports [ āthlos], so that our guest on his return home may be able to tell his friends how much we surpass all other nations as boxers, wrestlers, jumpers, and runners.”

With these words he led the way, and the others followed after. [105] A servant hung Demodokos’ lyre on its peg for him, led him out of the hall, and set him on the same way as that along which all the chief men of the Phaeacians were going to see the sports; a crowd of several thousand people followed them, [110] and there were many excellent competitors for all the prizes: Akroneos, Okyalos, Elatreus, Nauteus, Prymneus, Ankhialos, Eretmeus, Ponteus, Proreus, Thoön, Anabesineos, and Amphialos, son of Polyneos, son of Tekton. [115] There was also Euryalos, son of Naubolos, who was like manslaughtering Arēs himself, and was the best looking man among the Phaeacians except Laodamas. Three sons of stately Alkinoos, stately Laodamas, Halios, and godlike Klytoneus, competed also.

[120] 121 The foot races came first. The course was set out for them from the starting post, and they raised a dust upon the plain as they all flew forward at the same moment. Stately Klytoneus came in first by a long way; he left every one else behind him by the length of the furrow that a couple of mules can plow [125] in a fallow field. They then turned to the painful art of wrestling, and here Euryalos proved to be the best man. Amphialos excelled all the others in jumping, while at throwing the disc there was no one who could approach Elatreus. [130] Alkinoos’ fine son Laodamas was the best boxer, and he it was who presently said, when they had all been diverted with the games [ āthlos], “Let us ask the stranger whether he excels in any of these sports [ āthlos]; he seems very powerfully built; [135] his thighs, calves, hands, and neck are of prodigious strength, nor is he at all old, but he has suffered much lately, and there is nothing like the sea for making havoc with a man, no matter how strong he is.”

[140] “You are quite right, Laodamas,” replied Euryalos, “go up to your guest and speak to him about it yourself.”

When Laodamas heard this he made his way into the middle of the crowd and said to Odysseus, [145] “I hope, sir, that you will enter yourself in some one or other of our competitions [ āthloi] if you are skilled in any of them—for you seem to know of sports [ āthloi]. There is no greater kleos for a man all his life long as the showing himself good with his hands and feet. Have a try therefore at something, and banish all sorrow from your mind. [150] Your return home will not be long delayed, for the ship is already drawn into the water, and the crew is found.”

Resourceful Odysseus answered, “Laodamas, why do you taunt me in this way? My mind is set rather on cares than contests [ āthloi]; [155] I have been through infinite trouble, and am come among you now as a suppliant, praying your king and people [ dēmos] to further my homecoming [ nostos].”

Then Euryalos reviled him outright and said, “I gather, then, that you are unskilled [160] in any of the many sports [ āthloi] that men generally delight in. I suppose you are one of those grasping traders that go about in ships as captains or merchants, and who think of nothing but of their outward freights and homeward cargoes. There does not seem to be much of the athlete [ āthlētēs] about you.”

[165] 165 “For shame, sir,” answered resourceful Odysseus, fiercely, “you are an insolent man—so true is it that the gods do not grace all men alike in speech, person, and understanding. One man may be of weak presence, [170] but the gods have adorned him with such a good conversation that he charms every one who sees him; his honeyed moderation [ aidōs] carries his hearers with him so that he is leader in all assemblies of his fellows, and wherever he goes he is looked up to. Another may be as handsome as a god, [175] but his good looks are not crowned with verbal grace [ kharis]. This is your case. No god could make a finer looking man than you are, but you are empty with respect to noos. Your ill-judged [= without kosmos] remarks have made me exceedingly angry, for I excel [180] in a great many athletic exercises [ āthlos]; indeed, so long as I had youth and strength, I was among the first athletes of the age. Now, however, I am worn out by labor and sorrow, for I have gone through much both on the field of battle and by the waves of the weary sea; still, in spite of all this I will engage in the competition [ āthlos], [185] for your taunts have stung me to the quick.”

So he hurried up without even taking his cloak off, and seized a disc, larger, more massive and much heavier than those used by the Phaeacians when disc-throwing among themselves. Then, swinging it back, he threw it from his brawny hand, [190] and it made a humming sound in the air as he did so. The Phaeacians quailed beneath the rushing of its flight as it sped gracefully from his hand, and flew beyond any mark [ sēma] that had been made yet. Athena, in the form of a man, came and marked the place where it had fallen. [195] “A blind man, sir,” said she, “could easily tell your mark [ sēma] by groping for it—it is so far ahead of any other. You may make your mind easy about this contest [ āthlos], for no Phaeacian can come near to such a throw as yours.”

199 Much-enduring great Odysseus was glad [200] when he found he had a friend among the lookers-on, so he began to speak more pleasantly. “Young men,” said he, “come up to that throw if you can, and I will throw another disc as heavy or even heavier. If anyone wants to have a bout with me [205] let him come on, for I am exceedingly angry; I will box, wrestle, or run, I do not care what it is, with any man of you all except Laodamas, but not with him because I am his guest, and one cannot compete with one’s own personal friend. At least I do not think it a prudent or a sensible thing [210] for a guest to challenge his host’s family at any game [ āthlos], especially when he is in a foreign dēmos. He will cut the ground from under his own feet if he does; but I make no exception as regards any one else, for I want to have the matter out and know which is the best man. I am a good hand at every kind of athletic sport [ āthlos] known among humankind. [215] I am an excellent archer. In battle I am always the first to bring a man down with my arrow, no matter how many more are taking aim at him alongside of me. Philoctetes was the only man who could shoot better than I could [220] when we Achaeans were before the dēmos of the Trojans. I far excel every one else in the whole world, of those who still eat bread upon the face of the earth, but I should not like to shoot against the mighty dead, such as Hēraklēs, or Eurytos of Oikhalia— [225] men who could shoot against the gods themselves. This in fact was how great Eurytos came prematurely by his end, for Apollo was angry with him and killed him because he challenged him as an archer. I can throw a dart farther than any one else can shoot an arrow. [230] Running is the only point in respect of which I am afraid some of the Phaeacians might beat me, for I have been brought down very low at sea; my provisions ran short, and therefore I am still weak.”

They all held their peace [235] except King Alkinoos, who began, “Sir, we have had much pleasure in hearing all that you have told us, from which I understand that you are willing to show your prowess [ aretē], as having been displeased with some insolent remarks that have been made to you by one of our athletes, and which could never have been uttered [240] by any one who knows how to talk with propriety. I hope you will apprehend my meaning, and will explain to any one of your chief men who may be dining with yourself and your family when you get home, that we have an hereditary aptitude [ aretē] [245] for accomplishments of all kinds. We are not particularly remarkable for our boxing, nor yet as wrestlers, but we are singularly fleet of foot and are excellent sailors. 248 Dear to us always is feasting [ dais], also the kitharis, and occasions of singing and dancing [ khoroi], 249 also the changing of costumes from one occasion to the next, also warm baths and lying around in bed. [250] 250 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, 252when he gets home, how much better we (Phaeacians) are than anyone else 253 in sailing and in footwork, in dance and song. 254 One of you go and get for Demodokos the clear-sounding 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 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 phorminx 262 for Demodokos. He moved to the center 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 phorminx [ phormizein], started [ anaballesthai] singing beautifully 267 about [ amphi] the bonding [ philotēs] of Arēs 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 Arēs made Aphrodite many presents, and defiled [270] lord Hephaistos’ marriage bed, so the sun, who saw what they were about, told Hephaistos. Hephaistos was very angry when he heard such dreadful news, so he went to his smithy brooding mischief, got his great anvil into its place, and began to forge some chains [275] which none could either unloose or break, so that they might stay there in that place. When he had finished his snare he went into his bedroom and festooned the bed-posts all over [280] with chains like cobwebs; he also let many hang down from the great beam of the ceiling. Not even a god could see them, so fine and subtle were they. As soon as he had spread the chains all over the bed, he made as though he were setting out for the fair state of strong-founded Lemnos, which of all places in the world was the one he was most fond of. [285] But Arēs kept no blind look out, and as soon as he saw him start, hurried off to his house, burning with love for sweet-garlanded Aphrodite.

Now Aphrodite was just come in from a visit [290] to her father Zeus, the powerful son of Kronos, and was about sitting down when Arēs came inside the house, and said as he took her hand in his own, “Let us go to the couch of Hephaistos: he is not at home, but is gone off to Lemnos among the Sintians, whose speech is barbarous.”

[295] 295 She was not unwilling, so they went to the couch to take their rest, whereon they were caught in the toils which cunning Hephaistos had spread for them, and could neither get up nor stir hand or foot, but found too late that they were in a trap. [300] Then glorious Hephaistos of the strong arms came up to them, for he had turned back before reaching Lemnos, when his scout the sun told him what was going on. He was in a furious passion, [305] and stood in the vestibule making a dreadful noise as he shouted to all the gods.

“Father Zeus,” he cried, “and all you other blessed gods who live for ever, come here and see the ridiculous and disgraceful sight that I will show you. Zeus’ daughter Aphrodite is always dishonoring me because I am lame. She is in love with ruinous Arēs, [310] who is handsome and clean built, whereas I am a cripple—but my parents are responsible [ aitioi] for that, not I; they ought never to have begotten me. Come and see the pair together asleep on my bed. It makes me furious to look at them. [315] They are very fond of one another, but I do not think they will lie there longer than they can help, nor do I think that they will sleep much; there, however, they shall stay till her father has repaid me the sum I gave him for his bitch-eyed daughter, [320] who is fair but not honest.”

Then the gods gathered to the house of Hephaistos. Earth-encircling Poseidon came, and kindly Hermes, the bringer of luck, and lord Apollo, but the goddesses stayed at home all of them for shame. [325] Then the givers of all good things stood in the doorway, and the blessed gods roared with inextinguishable laughter, as they saw how cunning Hephaistos had been, whereon one would turn towards his neighbor saying:

“Ill deeds do not bring excellence [ aretē], and the weak [330] confound the strong. See how limping Hephaistos, lame as he is, has caught Arēs who is the fleetest god in the sky; and now Arēs will be cast in heavy damages.”

Thus did they converse, but lord Apollo said to Hermes, [335] “Messenger Hermes, giver of good things, you would not care how strong the chains were, would you, if you could sleep with Aphrodite the golden?”

“King Apollo,” answered Hermes, “I only wish [340] I might get the chance, though there were three times as many chains—and you might look on, all of you, gods and goddesses, but I would sleep with her if I could.”

343 The immortal gods burst out laughing as they heard him, but Poseidon took it all seriously, and kept on imploring [345] Hephaistos to set Arēs free again. “Let him go,” he cried, “and I will undertake, as you require, that he shall pay you all the damages that are held reasonable among the immortal gods.”

“Do not,” replied renowned Hephaistos of the strong arms, [350] “ask me to do this; a bad man’s bond is bad security; what remedy could I enforce against you if Arēs should go away and leave his debts behind him along with his chains?”

“Hephaistos,” said Poseidon, shaker of the Earth, [355] “if Arēs goes away without paying his damages, I will pay you myself.” So mighty Hephaistos answered, “In this case I cannot and must not refuse you.”

Then he loosed the bonds that bound them, [360] and as soon as they were free they scampered off, Arēs to Thrace and laughter-loving Aphrodite to Cyprus and to Paphos, where is her grove and her altar fragrant with burnt offerings. Here the Graces bathed her, and anointed her with oil of ambrosia [365] such as the immortal gods make use of, and they clothed her in raiment of the most enchanting beauty.

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.

[370] Then Alkinoos told Laodamas and Halios to dance alone, for there was no one to compete with them. So they took a red ball which Polybos, the skilled craftsman, had made for them, and one of them bent himself backwards and threw it up towards the clouds, [375] while the other jumped from off the ground and caught it with ease before it came down again. When they had done throwing the ball straight up into the air they began to dance, and at the same time kept on throwing it backwards and forwards to one another, while all the young men [380] in the ring applauded and made a great stamping with their feet. Then great Odysseus said:

“King Alkinoos, pre-eminent among all people, you said your people were the nimblest dancers in the world, and indeed they have proved themselves to be so. I was astonished as I saw them.”

[385] 385 The hallowed king was delighted at this, and exclaimed to the oar-loving Phaeacians “Aldermen and town councilors, our guest seems to be a person of singular judgment; let us give him such proof of our hospitality as he may reasonably expect. [390] There are twelve chief men throughout the dēmos, and counting myself there are thirteen; contribute, each of you, a clean cloak, a khiton, and a talent of fine gold; let us give him all this in a lump down at once, [395] so that when he gets his supper he may do so with a light heart. As for Euryalos, he will have to make a formal apology and a present too, for he has been rude.”

Thus did he speak. The others all of them applauded his saying, and sent their servants to fetch the presents. [400] Then Euryalos said, “Great King Alkinoos, I will give the stranger all the satisfaction you require. He shall have a sword, which is of bronze, all but the hilt, which is of silver. I will also give him the scabbard of newly sawn ivory [405] into which it fits. It will be worth a great deal to him.”

As he spoke he placed the sword in the hands of Odysseus and said, “Good luck to you, father stranger; if anything has been said amiss may the winds blow it away [410] with them, and may the gods grant you a safe return, for I understand you have been long away from home, and have gone through much hardship.”

To which resourceful Odysseus answered, “Good luck to you too my friend, and may the gods grant you every happiness [ olbos]. I hope you will not miss the sword you have given [415] me along with your apology.”

With these words he girded the sword about his shoulders and towards sundown the presents began to make their appearance, as the servants of the donors kept bringing them to the house of King Alkinoos; here his sons [420] received them, and placed them under their mother’s charge. Then Alkinoos led the way to the house and bade his guests take their seats.

“Wife,” said he, turning to Queen Arete, “Go, fetch the best chest we have, [425] and put a clean cloak and khiton in it. Also, set a copper on the fire and heat some water; our guest will take a warm bath; see also to the careful packing of the presents that the noble Phaeacians have made him 429 so that he [= Odysseus] might take delight [ terpesthai] in the feast [ dais] and in listening to the humnos of the song. [430] I shall myself give him this golden goblet—which is of exquisite workmanship—that he may be reminded of me for the rest of his life whenever he makes a drink-offering to Zeus, or to any of the gods.”

433 Then Arete told her maids to set a large tripod upon the fire as fast as they could, [435] whereon they set a tripod full of bath water on to a clear fire; they threw on sticks to make it blaze, and the water became hot as the flame played about the belly of the tripod. Meanwhile Arete brought a magnificent chest from her own room, and inside it she packed all the beautiful presents [440] of gold and raiment which the Phaeacians had brought. Lastly she added a cloak and a good khiton from Alkinoos, and said to Odysseus:

“See to the lid yourself, and have the whole bound round at once, for fear any one should rob you [445] by the way when you are asleep in your ship.”

When long-suffering great Odysseus heard this he put the lid on the chest and made it fast with a bond that Circe had taught him. He had done so before an upper servant told him to come [450] to the bath and wash himself. He was very glad of a warm bath, for he had had no one to wait upon him ever since he left the house of fair-haired Kalypsō, who as long as he remained with her had taken as good care of him as though he had been a god. When the servants had done washing and anointing him with oil, [455] and had given him a clean cloak and khiton, he left the bathing room and joined the guests who were sitting over their wine. Lovely Nausicaa, with the gods’ loveliness on her, stood by one of the bearing-posts supporting the roof of the hall, and admired him as she saw him pass. [460] “Farewell stranger,” said she, “do not forget me when you are safe at home again, for it is to me first that you owe a ransom for having saved your life.”

And resourceful Odysseus said, “Nausicaa, daughter of great-hearted Alkinoos, [465] may Zeus, the mighty, high-thundering husband of Hera, grant that I may reach my home and see my day of homecoming [ nostos]; so shall I bless you as a goddess all my days, for it was you who saved me.”

469 When he had said this, he seated himself beside Alkinoos. [470] Supper was then served, and the wine was mixed for drinking. A servant led in the favorite bard, Demodokos, and set him in the midst of the company, near one of the bearing-posts supporting the hall, that he might lean against it. [475] Then resourceful Odysseus cut off a piece of roast pork with plenty of fat (for there was abundance left on the joint) and said to a servant, “Take this piece of pork over to Demodokos and tell him to eat it; for all the pain his lays may cause me I will salute him none the less; bards are honored [480] and get respect [ aidōs] throughout the world, for the Muse teaches them their songs and loves them.”

The servant carried the pork in his fingers over to the hero Demodokos, who took it and was very much pleased. They then laid their hands on the good things that were before them. [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 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 kosmos of the horse, 493 the wooden horse that Epeios made with the help of Athena, 494 the one that Odysseus, the radiant one, once upon a time took to the acropolis as a stratagem, [495] having filled it with men, who ransacked Ilion. 496. If you can tell me in due order [ katalegein], in accord with proper apportioning [ moira], 497 then right away I will say the authoritative word [ mūthos] to all mortals: 498 I will say, and I see it as I say it, that the god, favorably disposed toward you, granted you a divinely sounding song.”

499 And he [= Demodokos], setting his point of departure [ hormētheis], started [ arkhesthai] from the god. And he made visible [ phainein] the song, [500] taking it from the point where they [= the Achaeans], boarding their ships with the strong benches, 501sailed 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 most famed, 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, and they talked a great deal about it, in doubt about what to do, 506 sitting around it. There were three different plans: 507 to split the hollow wood with pitiless bronze, 508 or to drag it to the heights and push it down from the rocks, 509 or to leave it, great artifact that it was, a charm [ thelktērion] of the gods [510] —which, I now see it, was exactly the way it was going to end [ 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 Arēs, 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 heart [ thūmos].

521 521 So these were the things that the singer [ aoidos] most famed was singing. As for Odysseus, 522 he 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 that is 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 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]. [535] The king, therefore, at once rose and said:

“Aldermen and town councilors of the oar-loving Phaeacians, 537 It is high time for Demodokos to hold off and stop the song of that lyre of his with its clear sound. 538 I say that because the beauty and the pleasure he gives [ kharizestai] as he sings these things does not at all extend to everyone here. 539 As soon as we began dining and as soon as the divine singer got started, [540] ever since then there has been no pause in grief-filled lamentation [ goos] on the part of this one, 541 I mean, on the part of this guest here. It seems to me that sorrow [ akhos] has overcome his thinking, very much so. 542 This one [= the singer] must now hold off [on his singing], so that we may take delight [ terpesthai] all together 543 —I mean, not only we as the hosts but also he as the guest. It would be much more beautiful that way. For all these festivities, with the escort and the presents that we are making with so much good will, are wholly in his honor, [545] and any one with even a moderate amount of right feeling knows that he ought to treat a guest and a suppliant as though he were his own brother.

550 Therefore, sir, do you on your part affect no more concealment nor reserve in the matter about which I shall ask you; it will be more polite in you to give me a plain answer; [550] tell me the name by which your father and mother over yonder used to call you, and by which you were known among your neighbors and fellow-townspeople. There is no one, neither rich nor poor, who is absolutely without any name whatever, for people’s fathers and mothers give them names as soon as they are born. [555] Tell me also your country, district [ dēmos], and city, that our ships may shape their purpose accordingly and take you there. For the Phaeacians have no pilots; their vessels have no rudders as those of other nations have, but the ships themselves understand what it is that we are thinking about and want; [560] they know all the cities and countries in the whole world, and can traverse the sea just as well even when it is covered with mist and cloud, so that there is no danger of being wrecked or coming to any harm. Still I do remember hearing my father say [565] that Poseidon was angry with us for being too easy-going in the matter of giving people escorts. He said that one of these days he should wreck a ship of ours as it was returning from having escorted some one, and bury our city under a high mountain. [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.

And now, tell me and tell me true. Where have you been wandering, and in what countries have you traveled? Tell us of the peoples themselves, [575] and of their cities—who were hostile, savage and uncivilized [non- dikaios], and who, on the other hand, hospitable and endowed with a god-fearing mind [ noos]. 577 Tell us why you are weeping and lamenting in your heart [ thūmos] 578 when you hear the fate of the Argive Danaans [= Achaeans] or the fate of Troy. 579 The gods arranged all this, and they wove the fate of doom [580] for mortals, so that future generations might have something to sing about. 581 Did you lose some kinsman of your wife’s when you were at Troy? 582Some such noble person? Or a son-in-law or father-in-law? Such people are most certainly 583 the nearest relations a man has outside his own flesh and blood. 584 Or was it perhaps a comrade [ hetairos] who was well aware of the things that were most pleasing to you? [585] Some such noble person? For not any less prized than your own brother 586 is a comrade [ hetairos] who is well aware of things you think about.”

English (William Cullen Bryant, 1873) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (William Cullen Bryant, 1873)) — 8 focus

BOOK VIII.

WHEN Morn appeared, the rosy-fingered child

Of Dawn, Alcinoüs, mighty and revered,

Rose from his bed. Ulysses, noble chief,

Spoiler of cities, also left his couch.

Alcinoüs, mighty and revered, went forth

Before, and led him to the market-place

Of the Phæacians, built beside the fleet,

And there on polished stones they took their seats

Near to each other. Pallas, who now seemed

A herald of the wise Alcinoüs, went

Through all the city, planning how to send

Magnanimous Ulysses to his home,

And came and stood by every chief and said : -

"Leaders and chiefs of the Phæacians, come

Speedily to the market-place, and there

Hear of the stranger who from wandering o'er

The deep has come where wise Alcinoüs holds

His court; in aspect he is like the gods."

She spake, and every mind and heart was moved,

And all the market-place and all its seats

Were quickly filled with people. Many gazed,

Admiring, on Laertes' well-graced son;

For on his face and form had Pallas shed

A glory, and had made him seem more tall

And of an ampler bulk, that he might find

Favor with the Phæacians, and be deemed

Worthy of awe and able to achieve

The many feats which the Phæacian chiefs,

To try the stranger's prowess, might propose.

And now when all the summoned had arrived,

Alcinoüs to the full assembly spake : -

"Princes and chiefs of the Phæacians, hear:

I speak the promptings of my heart. This guest -

I know him not - has come to my abode,

A wanderer, - haply from the tribes who dwell

In the far East, or haply from the West, 一

And asked an escort and safe-conduct home;

And let us make them ready, as our wont

Has ever been. No stranger ever comes

Across my threshold who is suffered long

To pine for his departure. Let us draw

A dark-hulled ship down to the holy sea

On her first voyage. Let us choose her crew

Among the people, two-and-fifty youths

Of our best seamen. Then make fast the oars

Beside the benches, leave them there, and come

Into our palace and partake in haste

A feast which I will liberally spread

For all of you. This I command the youths ;

But you, ye sceptred princes, come at once

To my fair palace, that we there may pay

The honors due our guest; let none refuse.

Call also the divine Demodocus,

The bard, on whom a deity bestowed

In ample measure the sweet gift of song,

Delightful when the spirit prompts the lay."

He spake, and led the way; the sceptred train

Of princes followed him. The herald sought

Meantime the sacred bard. The chosen youths

Fifty-and-two betook them to the marge

Of the unfruitful sea; and when they reached

The ship and beach they drew the dark hull down

To the deep water, put the mast on board

And the ship's sails, and fitted well the oars

Into the leathern rings, and, having moored

Their bark in the deep water, went with speed

To their wise monarch in his spacious halls.

There portico and court and hall were thronged

With people, young and old in multitude;

And there Alcinoüs sacrificed twelve sheep,

Eight white-toothed swine, and two splay-footed beeves.

And these they flayed, and duly dressed, and made

A noble banquet ready. Then appeareď

The herald, leading the sweet singer in,

Him whom the Muse with an exceeding love

Had cherished, and had visited with good

And evil, quenched his eyesight and bestowed

Sweetness of song. Pontonoüs mid the guests

Placed for the bard a silver-studded throne,

Against a lofty column hung his harp

Above his head, and taught him how to find

And take it down. Near him the herald set

A basket and fair table, and a cup

Of wine, that he might drink when he desired;

Then all put forth their hands and shared the feast.

And when their thirst and hunger were allayed,

The Muse inspired the bard to sing the praise

Of heroes; 't was a song whose fame had reached

To the high heaven, a story of the strife

Between Ulysses and Achilles, son

Of Peleus, wrangling at a solemn feast

Made for the gods. They strove with angry words,

And Agamemnon, king of men, rejoiced

To hear the noblest of the Achaian host

Contending; for all this had been foretold

To him in sacred Pythia by the voice

Of Phœbus, when the monarch to inquire

At the oracle had crossed the rock which formed

Its threshold. Then began the train of woes

Which at the will of sovereign Jupiter

100

Befell the sons of Ilium and of Greece.

So sang renowned Demodocus. Meanwhile

Ulysses took into his brawny hands

An ample veil of purple, drawing it

Around his head to hide his noble face,

105

Ashamed that the Phæacians should behold

The tears that flowed so freely from his lids.

But when the sacred bard had ceased his song,

He wiped the tears away and laid the veil

Aside, and took a double beaker filled

110

With wine, and poured libations to the gods.

Yet when again the minstrel sang, and all

The chiefs of the Phæacian people, charmed

To hear his music, bade the strain proceed,

Again Ulysses hid his face and wept.

115

No other eye beheld the tears he shed.

Alcinoüs only watched him, and perceived

His grief, and heard the sighs he drew, and spake

To the Phæacians, lovers of the sea :

"Now that we all, to our content, have shared

120

The feast and heard the harp, whose notes so well

Suit with a liberal banquet, let us forth

And try our skill in games, that this our guest,

Returning to his country, may relate

How in the boxing and the wrestling match,

125

In leaping and in running, we excel."

He spake, and went before; they followed him.

Then did the herald hang the clear-toned harp

Again on high, and taking by the hand

Demodocus, he led him from the place,

130

Guiding him in the way which just before

The princes of Phæacia trod to see

The public games. Into the market-place

They went; a vast innumerable crowd

Pressed after. Then did many a valiant youth

135

Arise, - Acroneus and Ocyalus,

Elatreus, Nauteus, Prymneus, after whom

Upstood Anchialus, and by his side

Eretmeus, Ponteus, Proreus, Thoön, rose ;

Anabasineüs and Amphialus,

140

A son of Polyneius, Tecton's son ;

Then rose the son of Naubolus, like Mars

In warlike port, Euryalus by name,

And goodliest both in feature and in form

Of all Phæacia's sons save one alone,

145

Laodamas the faultless. Next three sons

Of King Alcinoüs rose: Laodamas,

Halius, and Clytoneius, like a god

In aspect. Some of these began the games,

121

Contending in the race. For them a course

150

Was marked from goal to goal. They darted forth

At once and swiftly, raising, as they ran,

The dust along the plain. The swiftest there

Was Clytoneius in the race. As far

As mules, in furrowing the fallow ground,

155

Gain on the steers, he ran before the rest,

And reached the crowd, and left them all behind.

Others in wrestling strove laboriously, -

And here Euryalus excelled them all;

But in the leap Amphialus was first;

160

Elatreus flung the quoit with firmest hand;

And in the boxer's art Laodamas,

The monarch's valiant son, was conqueror.

This when the admiring multitude had seen,

Thus spake the monarch's son, Laodamas : -

165

"And now, my friends, inquire we of our guest

If he has learned and practised feats like these.

For he is not ill-made in legs and thighs

And in both arms, in firmly planted neck

And strong-built frame; nor does he seem to lack

170

A certain youthful vigor, though impaired

By many hardships, - for I know of naught

That more severely tries the strongest man,

And breaks him down, than perils of the sea."

Euryalus replied: "Laodamas,

175

Well hast thou said, and rightly: go thou now

And speak to him thyself, and challenge him."

The son of King Alcinoüs, as he heard,

Came forward, and bespake Ulysses thus :

"Thou also, guest and father, try these feats,

180

If thou perchance wert trained to them. I think

Thou must be skilled in games, since there is not

A greater glory for a man while yet

He lives on earth than what he hath wrought out,

By strenuous effort, with his feet and hands.

185

Try, then, thy skill, and give no place to grief.

Not long will thy departure be delayed ;

Thy bark is launched; the crew are ready here."

Ulysses, the sagacious, answered thus : -

"Why press me, O Laodamas! to try

190

These feats, when all my thoughts are of my woes,

And not of games? I, who have borne so much

Of pain and toil, sit pining for my home

In your assembly, supplicating here

Your king and all the people of your land."

195

Then spake Euryalus with chiding words :-

"Stranger, I well perceive thou canst not boast,

As many others can, of skill in games ;

But thou art one of those who dwell in ships

With many benches, rulers o'er a crew

200

Of sailors, - a mere trader looking out

For freight, and watching o'er the wares that form

The cargo. Thou hast doubtless gathered wealth

By rapine, and art surely no athlete."

165

Ulysses, the sagacious, frowned and said : -

205

"Stranger, thou speakest not becomingly,

But like a man who recks not what he says.

The gods bestow not equally on all

The gifts that men desire, - the grace of form,

The mind, the eloquence. One man to sight

210

Is undistinguished, but on him the gods

Bestow the power of words. All look on him

Gladly; he knows whereof he speaks; his speech

Is mild and modest; he is eminent

In all assemblies, and, whene'er he walks

215

The city, men regard him as a god.

Another in the form he wears is like

The immortals, yet has he no power to speak

Becoming words. So thou hast comely looks, -

A god would not have shaped thee otherwise

220

Than we behold thee, - yet thy wit is small,

And thy unmannerly words have angered me

Even to the heart. Not quite unskilled am I

In games, as thou dost idly talk, and once,

When I could trust my youth and my strong arms,

225

I think that in these contests I was deemed

Among the first. But I am now pressed down

With toil and sorrow; much have I endured

In wars with heroes and on stormy seas.

Yet even thus, a sufferer as I am,

230

Will I essay these feats; for sharp have been

Thy words, and they provoke me to the proof."

He spake, and rising with his mantle on

He seized a broader, thicker, heavier quoit,

By no small odds, than the Phæacians used,

235

And swinging it around with vigorous arm

He sent it forth; it sounded as it went;

And the Phæacians, skilful with the oar

And sail, bent low as o'er them, from his hand,

Flew the swift stone beyond the other marks.

240

And Pallas, in a human form, set up

A mark where it descended, and exclaimed:

"Stranger! a blind man, groping here, could find

Thy mark full easily, since it is not

Among the many, but beyond them all.

245

Then fear thou nothing in this game at least;

For no Phæacian here can throw the quoit

As far as thou, much less exceed thy cast."

199

She spake; Ulysses the great sufferer

Heard, and rejoiced to know he had a friend

250

In that great circle. With a lighter heart

Thus said the chief to the Phæacian crowd:

"Follow that cast, young men, and I will send

Another stone, at once, as far, perchance,

Or further still. If there are others yet

255

Who feel the wish, let them come forward here,

For much your words have chafed me, - let them try

With me the boxing or the wrestling match,

Or foot-race; there is naught that I refuse, —

Any of the Phæacians. I except

260

Laodamas; he is my host, and who

Would enter such a contest with a friend?

A senseless, worthless man is he who seeks

A strife like this with one who shelters him

In a strange land; he mars the welcome given.

265

As for the rest, there is no rival here

Whom I reject or scorn; for I would know

Their prowess, and would try my own with theirs

Before you all. At any of the games

Practised among mankind I am not ill,

270

Whatever they may be. The polished bow

I well know how to handle. I should be

The first to strike a foe by arrows sent

Among a hostile squadron, though there stood

A crowd of fellow-warriors by my side

275

And also aimed their shafts. The only one

Whose skill in archery excelled my own,

When we Achaians drew the bow at Troy,

Was Philoctetes; to all other men

On earth that live by bread I hold myself

280

Superior. Yet I claim no rivalry

With men of ancient times, - with Hercules

And Eurytus the Echalian, who defied

The immortals to a contest with the bow.

Therefore was mighty Eurytus cut off.

285

Apollo, angry to be challenged, slew

The hero. I can hurl a spear beyond

Where others send an arrow. All my fear

Is for my feet, so weakened have I been

Among the stormy waves with want of food

290

At sea, and thus my limbs have lost their strength."

He ended here, and all the assembly sat

In silence; King Alcinoüs only spake : -

"Stranger, since thou dost speak without offence,

And but to assert the prowess of thine arm,

295

Indignant that amid the public games

This man should rail at thee, and since thy wish

Is only that all others who can speak

Becomingly may not in time to come

Dispraise that prowess, now, then, heed my words,

300

And speak of them within thy palace halls

To other heroes when thou banquetest

Beside thy wife and children, and dost think

Of things that we excel in, arts which Jove

Gives us, transmitted from our ancestors.

305

In boxing and in wrestling small renown

Have we, but we are swift of foot; we guide

Our galleys bravely o'er the deep; we take

Delight in feasts; we love the harp, the dance,

And change of raiment, the warm bath and bed.

310

250

Rise, then, Phæacian masters of the dance,

And tread your measures, that our guest may tell

His friends at home how greatly we surpass

All other men in seamanship, the race,

The dance, the art of song. Go, one of you,

315

And bring Demodocus his clear-toned harp,

That somewhere in our palace has been left."

Thus spake the godlike king. The herald rose

To bring the sweet harp from the royal house.

Then the nine umpires also rose, who ruled

320

The games; they smoothed the floor, and made the ring

Of gazers wider. Next the herald came,

And brought Demodocus the clear-toned harp.

The minstrel went into the midst, and there

Gathered the graceful dancers; they were youths

325

In life's first bloom. With even steps they smote

The sacred floor. Ulysses, gazing, saw

The twinkle of their feet and was amazed.

The minstrel struck the chords and gracefully

Began the lay: he sang the loves of Mars

330

And Venus of the glittering crown, who first

Had met each other stealthily beneath

The roof of Vulcan. Mars with many gifts

Won her, and wronged her spouse, the King of Fire ;

But from the Sun, who saw their guilt, there came

335

A messenger to Vulcan. When he heard

The unwelcome tidings, planning his revenge,

He hastened to his smithy, where he forged

Chains that no power might loosen or might break,

Made to hold fast forever. When the snare

340

In all its parts was finished, he repaired,

Angry with Mars, to where the marriage-bed

Stood in his chamber. To the posts he tied

The encircling chains on every side, and made

Fast to the ceiling many, like the threads

345

Spun by the spider, which no eye could see,

Not even of the gods, so artfully

He wrought them. Then, as soon as he had wrapped

The snare about the bed, he feigned to go

To Lemnos nobly built, most dear to him

350

Of all the lands. But Mars, the god who holds

The shining reins, had kept no careless watch,

And when he saw the great artificer

Depart he went with speed to Vulcan's house,

Drawn thither by the love of her who wears

355

The glittering crown. There Cytherea sat,

Arrived that moment from a visit paid.

Entering, he took her by the hand and said: -

"Come, my beloved, let us to the couch.

Vulcan is here no longer; he is gone,

360

And is among the Sintians, men who speak

A barbarous tongue, in Lemnos far away."

295

He spake, and she approved his words, and both

Lay down upon the bed, when suddenly

The network, wrought by Vulcan's skilful hand,

365

Caught them, and clasped them round, nor could they lift

Or move a limb, and saw that no escape

Was possible. And now approached the King

Of Fire, returning ere he reached the isle

Of Lemnos, for the Sun in his behalf

370

Kept watch and told him all. He hastened home

In bitterness of heart, but when he reached

The threshold stopped. A fury without bounds

Possessed him, and he shouted terribly,

And called aloud on all the gods of heaven :-

375

"O Father Jove, and all ye blessed ones,

And deathless! Come, for here is what will move

Your laughter, yet is not to be endured.

Jove's daughter, Venus, thus dishonors me,

Lame as I am, and loves the butcher Mars;

380

For he is well to look at, and is sound

Of foot, while I am weakly, - but for this

Are none but my two parents to be blamed,

Who never should have given me birth. Behold

Where lie embraced the lovers in my bed, 一

385

A hateful sight. Yet they will hardly take

Even a short slumber there, though side by side,

Enamored as they are; nor will they both

Be drowsy very soon. The net and chains

Will hold them till her father shall restore

390

All the large gifts which, on our marriage-day,

I gave him to possess the impudent minx

His daughter, who is fair, indeed, but false."

He spake, and to the brazen palace flocked

The gods; there Neptune came, who shakes the earth;

395

There came beneficent Hermes; there too came

Apollo, archer-god; the goddesses,

Through womanly reserve, remained at home.

Meantime the gods, the givers of all good,

Stood in the entrance; and as they beheld

400

The cunning snare of Vulcan, there arose

Infinite laughter from the blessed ones,

And one of them bespake his neighbor thus : -

"Wrong prospers not; the slow o'ertakes the swift.

Vulcan the slow has trapped the fleetest god

405

Upon Olympus, Mars; though lame himself,

His net has taken the adulterer,

Who now must pay the forfeit of his crime."

So talked they with each other. Then the son

Of Jove, Apollo, thus to Hermes said : -

410

"Hermes, thou son and messenger of Jove,

And bountiful of gifts, couldst thou endure,

Fettered with such strong chains as these, to lie

Upon a couch with Venus at thy side?"

343

The herald-god, the Argus-queller, thus

415

Made answer: "Nay, I would that it were so,

O archer-king, Apollo; I could bear

Chains thrice as many, and of infinite strength,

And all the gods and all the goddesses

Might come to look upon me, I would keep

420

My place with golden Venus at my side."

He spake, and all the immortals laughed to hear.

Neptune alone laughed not, but earnestly

Prayed Vulcan, the renowned artificer,

To set Mars free, and spake these winged words :-

425

"Release thy prisoner. What thou dost require

I promise here, - that he shall make to thee

Due recompense in presence of the gods."

Illustrious Vulcan answered: "Do not lay,

Earth-shaking Neptune, this command on me,

430

Since little is the worth of pledges given

For worthless debtors. How could I demand

My right from thee among the assembled gods,

If Mars, set free, escape from debt and chains?"

Again the god who shakes the earth replied:

435

"Vulcan, though Mars deny the forfeit due,

And take to flight, it shall be paid by me."

Again illustrious Vulcan said: "Thy word

I ought not and I seek not to decline."

He spake, and then the might of Vulcan loosed

440

The net, and, freed from those strong fetters, both

The prisoners sprang away. Mars flew to Thrace,

And laughter-loving Venus to the isle

Of Cyprus, where at Paphos stand her grove

And perfumed altar. Here the Graces gave

445

The bath, anointed with ambrosial qil

Her limbs, - such oil as to the eternal gods

Lends a fresh beauty, and arrayed her last

In graceful robes, a marvel to behold.

So sang the famous bard, while inly pleased

450

Ulysses heard, and pleased were all the rest,

Phæacia's sons, expert with oar and sail.

Alcinoüs called his sons Laodamas

And Halius forth, and bade them dance alone,

For none of all the others equalled them.

455

Then taking a fair purple ball, the work

Of skilful Polybus, and, bending back,

One flung it toward the shadowy clouds on high,

The other springing upward easily

Grasped it before he touched the ground again.

460

And when they thus had tossed the ball awhile,

They danced upon the nourishing earth, and oft

Changed places with each other, while the youths,

That stood within the circle filled the air

With their applauses; mighty was the din.

465

Then great Ulysses to Alcinoüs said : -

"O King Alcinoüs! mightiest of the race

For whom thou hast engaged that they excel

All others in the dance, what thou hast said

Is amply proved. I look and am amazed."

470

385

Well pleased Alcinoüs the mighty heard,

And thus to his seafaring people spake :-

"Leaders and chiefs of the Phæacians, hear!

Wise seems the stranger. Haste.we to bestow

Gifts that may well beseem his liberal hests.

475

Twelve honored princes in our land bear sway,

The thirteenth prince am I. Let each one bring

A well-bleached cloak, a tunic, and beside

Of precious gold a talent Let them all

Be brought at once, that, having seen them here,

480

Our guest may with a cheerful heart partake

The evening meal. And let Euryalus,

Who spake but now so unbecomingly,

Appease him both with words and with a gift."

He spake; they all approved, and each one sent

485

His herald with a charge to bring the gifts,

And thus Euryalus addressed the king: -

"O King Alcinoüs, mightiest of our race,

I will obey thee, and will seek to appease

Our guest. This sword of brass will I bestow,

490

With hilt of silver, and an ivory sheath

New wrought, which he may deem a gift of price."

He spake, and gave the silver-studded sword

Into his hand, and spake these winged words : -

"Stranger and father, hail! If any word

495

That hath been uttered gave offence, may storms

Sweep it away forever. May the gods

Give thee to see thy wife again, and reach

Thy native land, where all thy sufferings

And this long absence from thy friends shall end!"

500

Ulysses, the sagacious, thus replied :

"Hail also, friend! and may the gods confer

On thee all happiness, and may the time

Never arrive when thou shalt miss the sword

Placed in my hands with reconciling words!"

505

He spake, and slung the silver-studded sword

Upon his shoulders. Now the sun went down,

And the rich presents were already brought.

The noble heralds came and carried them

Into the palace of Alcinoüs, where

510

His blameless sons received and ranged them all

In fair array before the queenly dame

Their mother. Meantime had the mighty king

Alcinoüs to his palace led the way,

Where they who followed took the lofty seats,

515

And thus Alcinoüs to Aretè said:-

"Bring now a coffer hither, fairly shaped,

The best we have, and lay a well-bleached cloak

And tunic in it; set upon the fire

A brazen caldron for our guest, to warm

520

The water of his bath, that having bathed

And viewed the gifts which the Phæacian chiefs

Have brought him, ranged in order, he may sit

Delighted at the banquet and enjoy

The music. I will give this beautiful cup

525

Of gold, that he, in memory of me,

May daily in his palace pour to Jove

Libations, and to all the other gods."

He spake; Aretè bade her maidens haste

To place an ample tripod on the fire.

530

Forthwith upon the blazing fire they set

A laver with three feet, and in it poured

Water, and heaped fresh fuel on the flames.

The flames crept up the vessel's swelling sides,

And warmed the water. Meantime from her room

535

Aretè brought a beautiful chest, in which

She laid the presents destined for her guest,

Garments and gold which the Phæacians gave, -

And laid the cloak and tunic with the rest,

And thus in winged words addressed the chief : -

540

"Look to the lid thyself, and cast a cord

Around it, lest, upon thy voyage home,

Thou suffer loss, when haply thou shalt take

A pleasant slumber in the dark-hulled ship."

433

Ulysses, the sagacious, heard, and straight

545

He fitted to its place the lid, and wound

And knotted artfully around the chest

A cord, as queenly Circè long before

Had taught him. Then to call him to the bath

The housewife of the palace came. He saw

550

Gladly the steaming laver, for not oft

Had he been cared for thus, since he had left

The dwelling of the nymph with amber hair,

Calypso, though attended while with her

As if he were a god. Now when the maids

555

Had seen him bathed, and had anointed him

With oil, and put his sumptuous mantle on,

And tunic, forth he issued from the bath,

And came to those who sat before their wine.

Nausicaä, goddess-like in beauty, stood

560

Beside a pillar of that noble roof,

And looking on Ulysses as he passed,

Admired, and said to him in winged words :-

"Stranger, farewell, and in thy native land

Remember thou hast owed thy life to me."

565

Ulysses, the sagacious, answering said : -

"Nausicaä, daughter of the large-souled king

Alcinoüs! so may Jove, the Thunderer,

Husband of Juno, grant that I behold

My home, returning safe, as I will make

570

To thee as to a goddess day by day

My prayer; for, lady, thou hast saved my life."

469

He spake, and near Alcinoüs took his place

Upon a throne. And now they served the feast

To each, and mingled wine. A herald led

575

Thither the gentle bard Demodocus,

Whom all the people honored. Him they placed

Amidst the assembly, where he leaned against

A lofty column. Sage Ulysses then

Carved from the broad loin of a white-tusked boar

580

A part, where yet a mass of flesh remained

Bordered with fat, and to the herald said:-

"Bear this, O herald, to Demodocus,

That he may eat. Him, even in my grief,

Will I embrace, for worthily the bards

585

Are honored and revered o'er all the earth

By every race of men. The Muse herself

Hath taught them song; she loves the minstrel tribe."

He spake; the herald laid the flesh before

Demodocus the hero, who received

590

The gift well pleased. Then all the guests put forth

Their hands and shared the viands on the board;

And when their thirst and hunger were allayed,

Thus to the minstrel sage Ulysses spake : -

"Demodocus, above all other men

595

I give thee praise, for either has the Muse,

Jove's daughter, or Apollo, visited

And taught thee. Truly hast thou sung the fate

Of the Achaian warriors, - what they did

And suffered, - all their labors as if thou

600

Hadst been among them, or hadst heard the tale

From an eye-witness. Now, I pray, proceed,

And sing the invention of the wooden horse

Made by Epeius with Minerva's aid,

And by the chief Ulysses artfully

605

Conveyed into the Trojan citadel,

With armed warriors in its womb to lay

The city waste. And I, if thou relate

The story rightly, will at once declare

To all that largely hath some bounteous god

610

Bestowed on thee the holy gift of song."

He spake; the poet felt the inspiring god,

And sang, beginning where the Argives hurled

Firebrands among their tents, and sailed away

In their good galleys, save the band that sat

615

Beside renowned Ulysses in the horse,

Concealed from sight, amid the Trojan crowd,

Who now had drawn it to the citadel.

So there it stood, while, sitting round it, talked

The men of Troy, and wist not what to do.

620

By turns three counsels pleased them, - to hew down

The hollow trunk with the remorseless steel;

Or drag it to a height, and cast it thence

Headlong among the rocks; or, lastly, leave

The enormous image standing and unharmed,

625

An offering to appease the gods. And this

At last was done; for so had fate decreed

That they should be destroyed whene'er their town

Should hold within its walls the horse of wood,

In which the mightiest of the Argives came

630

Among the sons of Troy to smite and slay.

Then sang the bard how, issuing from the womb

Of that deceitful horse, the sons of Greece

Laid Ilium waste; how each in different ways

Ravaged the town, while, terrible as Mars,

635

Ulysses, joined with Menelaus, sought

The palace of Deiphobus, and there

Maintained a desperate battle, till the aid

Of mighty Pallas made the victory his.

521

So sang renowned Demodocus; the strain

640

Melted to tears Ulysses, from whose lids

They dropped and wet his cheeks. As when a wife

Weeps her beloved husband, slain before

His town and people, fighting to defend

Them and his own dear babes from deadly harm,

645

She sees him gasp and die, and at the sight

She falls with piercing cries upon his corpse,

Meantime the victors beat her on the back

And shoulders with their spears, and bear her off

To toil and grieve in slavery, where her cheeks

650

In that long bitter sorrow lose their bloom;

So from the eyelids of Ulysses fell

The tears, yet fell unnoticed by them all

Save that Alcinoüs, sitting at his side,

Saw them, and heard his heavy sighs, and thus

655

Bespake his people, masters of the oar : -

"Princes and chiefs of the Phæacian race,

Give ear. Let now Demodocus lay by

His clear-toned harp. The matter of his song

Delights not all alike. Since first we sat

660

At meat, and since our noble bard began

His lay, our guest has never ceased to grieve ;

Some mighty sorrow weighs upon his heart.

Now let the bard refrain, that we may all

Enjoy the banquet, both our guest and we

665

Who welcome him, for it is fitting thus.

And now are all things for our worthy guest

Made ready, both the escort and these gifts,

The pledges of our kind regard. A guest,

A suppliant, is a brother, even to him

670

Who bears a heart not easy to be moved.

No longer, then, keep back with studied art

What I shall ask; 't were better far to speak

With freedom. Tell the name thy mother gave,

Thy father, and all those who dwell within,

675

And round thy city. For no living man

Is nameless from the time that he is born.

Humble or high in station, at their birth

The parents give them names.

550

Declare thy land,

Thy people, and thy city, that our ships

680

May learn, and bear thee to the place; for here

In our Phæacian ships no pilots are,

Nor rudders, as in ships of other lands.

Ours know the thoughts and the intents of men.

To them all cities and all fertile coasts

685

Inhabited by men are known; they cross

The great sea scudding fast, involved in mist

And darkness, with no fear of perishing

Or meeting harm. I heard Nausithoüs,

My father, say that Neptune was displeased

690

With us for safely bearing to their homes

So many men, and that he would destroy

In after time some good Phæacian ship,

Returning from a convoy, in the waves

Of the dark sea, and leave her planted there,

695

A mountain huge and high, before our town.

So did the aged chieftain prophesy;

The god, as best may please him, will fulfil

My father's words, or leave them unfulfilled.

Now tell me truly whither thou hast roamed,

700

And what the tribes of men that thou hast seen;

Tell which of them are savage, rude, unjust,

And which are hospitable and revere

The blessed gods. Declare why thou didst weep

And sigh when hearing what unhappy fate

705

Befell the Argive and Achaian host

And town of Troy. The gods decreed it; they

Ordain destruction to the sons of men,

A theme of song thereafter. Hadst thou not

Some valiant kinsman who was slain at Troy?

710

A son-in-law? the father of thy wife?

Nearest of all are they to us, save those

Of our own blood. Or haply might it be

Some bosom-friend, one eminently graced

With all that wins our love; for not less dear

715

Than if he were a brother should we hold

The wise and gentle man who is our friend."

English (Thomas Hobbes, 1667, ed. Molesworth 1843) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Thomas Hobbes, 1667, ed. Molesworth 1843)) — 8 focus

ODYSSEY.

LIB. VIII.

The next day's entertainment of Ulysses, where lie sees them contend in wrestling and other exercises, and, upon provocation, took up a greater stone than that which they were throwing, and overthrew them all; and how the king asked liis name, his coun. try, and his ad. venture.

SOON as Aurora was again espied,

The king Alcinous rose from his bed.

Up rose Ulysses and came to his side,

And to the public place the king him led,

To sit in counsel with his princes there ;

And being there they sat together nigh.

Pallas the while, that did great favour bear,

T'Ulysses' welfare always had an eye,

In likeness of Alcinous his squire

(Who, by his office, did the counsel call)

Their favour for Ulysses to acquire,

Went through the streets, and there unto them all

Said one by one, Make haste. To counsel go.

A stranger, new come to the king, you'll see,

That like a God immortal is in show.

This said, unto the counsel house they flee.

And filled was the house, and ev'ry seat;

And of his person all admired the grace ;

For Pallas made him had more tall and great,

And laid more majesty upon his face.

To make him welcome to those men she meant,

And to gain him honour at their exercises

When they should put him to experiment.

Alcinous unto them then arises;

Hear, said he, princes of Phœacia,

This man (who 'tis, or whence, I cannot say)

Cast here ashore, till then I never saw.

Since 'tis our custom, grant him a convoy.

For no man yet unto my house did come,

By force of weather wandering on the main,

Lamenting and desiring to go home,

That can affirm he sought our help in vain.

Come then, let's launch a good new ship, and choose

Out two-and-fifty lusty youths to row;

And let them ready have their oars to use,

And to my house, when that's done, let them go.

And you the princes thither come with me,

That we may well the stranger entertain.

And let the singer too sent thither be,

To give us sometimes of his art a strain.

This said, the princes to his house he led.

The squire unto the house the singer sent.

The fifty-two, as they were ordered,

Down to the haven where the ship lay went.

The ship they launch, and up they set the mast;

And then the yards and sails they hoisted high ;

Their oars, where they be placed should, they plac'd.

This done they let her in the water lie.

Then also to the house these men went up.

The porches, court, and rooms with men were fill'd,

Some old, some young. The king to make them sup,

Two kine, eight swine, and twice six fat sheep kill'd.

These flay'd and dress'd, and to the tables brought,

Came in the singer, whom the muses kind

Had taught to sing divinely; but, could not

Or would not him preserve from being blind.

Pontonous the squire then led him in,

And set him by a pillar in the hall,

And hung his fiddle o'er him on a pin,

And how to reach it showed him withal:

Sets him a table and a basket by,

And a great bowl of wine before him plac'd,

To drink as often as he should be dry.

And when their thirst and hunger was displac'd,

The singer sung the song in most request,

How once Ulysses and Achilles great

In high and bitter language did contest,

When at a sacred feast they sate at meat;

And how king Agamemnon pleased was,

To see the two best of the Greeks fall out.

For Phœbus told him so 'twould come to pass,

When he at Pythos asked him about

The issue of the fleet design'd for Troy.

This song Demodocus sung to them then;

Which to Ulysses was of little joy;

But he his tears to hide before those men,

Before his eyes his cloak of purple drew,

And when the singer ceas'd, his eyes he dried,

And from before his face his cloak withdrew,

And of the wine perform'd the sacrifice.

And when the lords call'd for the song anew,

(For they to hear him took no small delight),

His cloak again before his eyes he drew,

And as before again he sobb'd and sigh'd.

Alcinous, none else, observed it,

And well enough could hear him sigh and groan;

For he the nearest there did to him sit,

And would not to the princes make it known.

But speaking to them all said only this:

Since you with feasting are well satisfied,

And music (which to feasts annexed is),

Let now our men's activity be tried,

That when the stranger is where he doth dwell,

He to his friends and countrymen may tell

How much we do all other men excel

At wrestling, buffets, leaping, running well.

Then went the king and princes out a door;

The squire then took the singer by the hand,

And hung the fiddle where it hung before,

And him led out amongst the rest to stand.

100

Unto the place they went; and follow'd were

By people numberless the sports to see;

And many lusty youths amongst them there,

Stood out to show their great ability.

Out stood Elatreus and Acroneus,

105

Eretmeus, Thoon, Nautes, and Prymneus,

Ambasineus and Amphialus,

Proteus, and Ponteus, and Anchialus;

Otyalus, warlike Euryalus,

And he that of them most their eye did please,

110

(Except the first son of Alcinous),

For countenance and shape, Naubolides,

And then Alcinous his three sons rise,

Laodamas, Halius, Clitoneus.

And first they all contended for the prize

115

Of who at running could his feet best use.

121

Then start they all at once, and swiftly run

As if they flew. And here the victory

The king's son noble Clytoneus won,

And pass'd them all a land's length very nigh.

120

Euryalus at wrestling was the best.

Amphialus at leaping victor was.

Elatreus surpassed all the rest

To throw the stone. At cuffs Laodamas.

When all was done Laodamas up stood.

125

Come friends, said he, let us the stranger try

If he at any of these games be good;

For in his person no defect I spy.

His thighs, his knees, his arms, his neck, are strong,

Nor over aged yet he seems to me;

130

Only he hath endured the sea so long,

As for that cause he may excused be.

For than the sea nothing more potent is

To break a man how strong soe'er he be.

Go, said Euryalus, 'tis not amiss

135

T'invite him to it, and his mind to see.

Then to Ulysses said Laodamas,

Come, stranger, father, pray, your virtue show;

'Tis no dishonour for you in this place

To show your skill at any game you know,

140

As long as feet and hands continue strong.

' Come, try, and cast your careful thoughts away:

Your convoy ready is. 'Twill not be long

Before you shall be set upon your way.

Laodamas, then said Ulysses, why

145

To these your games invite you me in scorn,

Upon whose heart so many sorrows lie,

And am to nothing with much hardship worn,

And publicly a suppliant now sit,

And to the king and people grief profess?

150

Think you that pastimes for such men are fit,

As from their country wander in distress?

Then spake Euryalus, uncivilly:

No, no, said he, I do not think you are

Much us'd to pastimes of activity,

155

But rather one that of a ship takes care,

That merchantmen from place to place conveys,

And mindful of your fraught are, and can tell

Which are to sudden wealth the nearest ways,

What merchandise will not, and what will sell,

160

And in such boisterous games has little skill.

165

Ulysses frowning on him then replied:

My friend, such words are indiscreet and ill.

The Gods the gifts as they think fit divide.

To one, of beauty they deny the grace,

165

But give him language steady and discreet,

Whereby he honour'd is i' th' public place,

And men gaze on him going in the street.

T'another they have giv'n a fair aspect,

Like that o' th' Gods, but have denied him wit.

170

So find I in your person no defect;

Only you want the grace to say what's fit.

Your words have put me into passion.

In these your games you say no skill have I.

I thought myself interior to none,

175

Whilst on my youth and hands I could rely.

But tamed now my strength is with much woe,

Wandering at sea, and often hurt in fight.

Yet of your games I'll make a trial so,

Weak as I am. So much your words me bite.

180

This said, he took up a much greater stone

Than that which the Phceacians had flung,

Now hollow as a quoit, his cloak still on.

And when above his head he had it swung,

Swiftly away the stone flew with a hum,

185

Which made the brave Phceacian seamen couch,

As o'er their heads they heard it singing come,

And outwent all the other marks by much.

For Pallas in the likeness of a man

Did set a mark at where the stone did light,

190

And said the difference be discerned can

By feeling, though a man had lost his sight.

And to Ulysses said he, Do not fear

That any man i' th' town shall out-throw this.

199

Ulysses very glad was this to hear,

195

And that amongst them stood one friend of his.

Then of himself began to speak more high.

Come youths, throw first as far as I have done,

And then as far or further throw will I.

And for the other games come any one,

200

Since your sharp words provok'd me have thereto,

Buffets, or wrestling, or to run the race,

And see if you at these can me out-do,

Any of you except Laodamas.

For I to him have come as to a friend

205

Of whom I hope for succour in my need.

He were a fool that with him would contend,

Without whose help his business cannot speed.

But of the rest not any I refuse;

And will contend with them for mastery.

210

For I know all the games the best men use.

To use the bow none abler is than I.

When many of us had a mind to kill

Some noted foe, and all at once did shoot,

Though every one of us had the same will,

215

My arrow was the first that found him out.

At Ilium in trials of the bow

None found I better than myself but one;

'Twas Polyctetes. Of those that are now

I think myself inferior to none.

220

With those of former time I'll not compare,

As Hercules, or Eurytus that durst

Challenge Apollo. Apollo took a care

That prize should not be play'd, and kill'd him first.

As far as other men can shoot an arrow,

225

So far I able am to dart a spear.

But lodging I have had at sea so narrow,

That I may be out-run by some man here.

So said Ulysses; and all silent sat

Except the king, who thus unto him said:

230

Stranger, there's no man here offended at

The words you say. For open you have laid

Your virtue, when you were thereto constrain'd

By the unjust reproaches of this man.

For such it is as by none can be stain'd,

235

But those that nothing say discreetly can.

And hear me farther what I have to say,

That t'other heroes you the same may tell,

Who with you and your wife shall feasting stay,

In what from other men we bear the bell.

240

For cuffs and wrestling, not much praise we merit,

But our good ships and fleets are wondrous swift.

And these gifts from our fathers we inherit,

Dance, song, feasts, fiddle, and of garments shift,

And baths, and beds. Dance you that dance the best

245

Before the stranger, that his friends among

He may say how much we exceed the rest

Of men, in ships, in running, dance, and song.

250

Fetch out the fiddle. Then the squire went in

To fetch the fiddle. And the judges rise,

250

In number nine, who had elected been

By public vote, of games to hold assize;

And order took for large room in the middle,

And made it to be planed well and even.

When this was done, then brought out was the fiddle,

255

And by the squire was to the singer given.

Then came the young men that had learnt to dance,

And of their age were yet but in the flower,

And to the middest of the place advance.

Their feet play up and down like drops in show'r;

260

Such sparkling feet Ulysses ne'er had seen.

The singer as he played sung the song

Of Mars and Venus, and what love had been

Held secretly between them all along;

And how in Vulcan's house they used to meet;

265

And what he gave her; how the prying Run,

As they embrae'd each other, chanc'd to see't,

And told her husband Vulcan what was done-

How Vulcan to his forge in anger went,

And on his anvil hammered out strong chains,

270

Which neither could be broken, nor relent;

And when he made an end had of his pains,

Into the chamber went where stood his bed.

His net o'th'bed-posts, and the beams he threw,

Like spider-webs about a chamber spread;

275

And then to go to Lemnos made a show.

So subtle were the chains and finely wrought,

They could by none, although a God, be seen.

How Mars to watch his going failed not.

When Vulcan was gone out, then Mars went in.

280

How Venus entered in, new come from Jove,

And by him sate. Mars took her by the hand,

And to her said, Let's go to bed, my love.

Vulcan is now at Lemnos gone a land.

And how they went to bed and made the net

285

Fall down upon, and hold them as they lay.

And how they knew no way from thence to get,

But must till Vulcan came to free them stay.

How Vulcan from hard by came quickly in;

For back he came before he was half way:

290

295

For by the Sun advertised he had been,

And angrily turn'd back without delay;

And roaring to the Gods, he said, Dye see

What work is here, and how unseemly 'tis?

And how Jove's daughter does dishonour me,

295

Because my limbs are maim d, and whole are his ?

I grant he's fair, nor doth as I do halt;

Ought she to love him therefore more than me?

For that my parents' is, and not my fault.

But come, ye Gods all, and their posture see;

300

I hate the sight, yet they must not therefore

Hope e'er the sooner for that, to be free.

The net will suffer them to move no more,

How keen soever on their love they be;

And till her father shall the dow'r repay

305

Which for the girl, although incontinent,

I paid him down, 'cause fair she was and gay,

There they shall lie. This said, the Gods straight went

To Vulcan's house. Neptune and Mercury,

And with them, with his silver bow, Apollo,

310

And many others. But (for modesty)

No Goddess could persuaded be to follow.

As soon as they perceived had the craft,

Which standing in the door they had survey'd;

At first aloud they altogether laugh,

315

And by-and-by to one another said,

I see that evil works do ill succeed.

The slow has gotten of the swift the better ;

Vulcan of Mars the God of greatest speed,

And that by arts which make his ransom greater.

320

And how Apollo did the question put

To Mercury, if he content would be

In such strong chains with Venus to be shut,

While all the Gods are standing by and see.

How Hermes said, O Phoebus, that I were

325

In Mars his place, and did with Venus lie,

And thrice as many chains about us there,

Though all the Gods and Goddesses stood by.

And how the Gods at this laugh'd out again,

Save Neptune only, who did never cease

330

T'importune Vulcan and his wrath restrain,

And that he would the God of war release;

And that himself would pay him what was due

If Mars did not. How Vulcan said again,

If Mars should fly, shall I imprison you ?

335

Unsure the suretyship is of fled men.

And that again Neptune replying said,

Though Mars should run away, yet I will not.

And how that Vulcan at the last obey'd,

And Mars and Venus out of prison got,

340

And he to Thrace went, but to Cyprus she;

Where she a temple and an altar had,

343

And by the Graces that her servants be

Bath'd and anointed was and Godlike clad.

These of the merry song were the contents.

345

Ulysses was well pleased with the same;

And of the rest delighted was the sense.

Alcinous then called out by name

Laodamas and Halius to dance.

None else for either of them was a match.

350

And they into the midst themselves advance

The one to throw a ball, th' other to catch.

One threw't up high, reclining on his hip;

The other of the same the downfall watch'd,

And taking from the ground a lusty skip,

355

His feet above ground, in the air it catch'd.

When this was done, they laid aside the ball,

And danc'd with often changes on the ground;

Applauded much by the spectators all,

Who with their praises made the place resound.

360

O king, then said Ulysses, what you said

Of how your men pass all the world beside

In noble dance, can never be gainsaid.

I see it to my wonder justified.

The king well pleased to the princes spake:

365

A worthy man the stranger seems to me;

Let's think upon what present him to make.

Twelve princes in Phœacia there be,

And I the thirteenth am. Let's ev'ry one

Bestow on him a handsome cloak and coat,

370

Besides a talent of pure gold. That done,

Let it be altogether to him brought,

That he at supper may sit cheerfully.

And you, Euryalus, go speak him fair,

For what you said before was injury;

375

Go therefore with some gift your fault repair.

This said, to fetch the gifts they sent the squire.

Then said Euryalus, O king, since 'tis,

That also I present him, your desire;

I will for reconcilement give him this

380

My sword, with scabbard all of ivory,

And silver hilt. The present is not poor.

385

And giving it: O father, though, said he,

I said amiss, pray think upon't no more;

And may the Gods restore you to your land,

385

Since absent from your friends you live in pain.

Ulysses took the sword into his hand,

And to Euryalus thus said again:

And you, my friend, may you still happy be,

And of this sword for ever need have none,

390

Which reconciling you have given me.

And as he speaking was he put it on.

The sun now set, the king no longer tarried,

But with the lords went to his house to sup.

Along with them the squires the presents carried

395

Unto the queen Arete to lay up.

Alcinous then said unto the queen,

Let a fair chest be straightway hither brought,

And for the stranger see there be laid in

A comely and well-wash'd cloak and coat,

400

And of warm water let a bath stand by,

That washing he may see the presents there,

And sit at supper the more joyfully,

And hearken to the song with better cheer;

And I will give him this my cup of gold,

405

That off'ring up unto the Gods the wine,

As often as he doth the cup behold,

He may both for his own health pray and mine.

433

This said, the maids, commanded by the queen,

Set up a cauldron with a triple foot,

410

Then make fire under, and pour water in.

Keen was the fire, and soon the water hot.

Meanwhile the queen came in, and with her brought

A curious chest, and into it laid in

The gold, and with it every cloak and coat,

415

That by the princes given him had been.

And then unto Ulysses said, Take care

You bind it fast, lest you be robb'd by one

Or other, whilst aboard you sleeping are,

Lest anything should missing be and gone.

420

And when she thus had him admonished,

Ulysses of the chest pull'd down the lid,

And girt it with a cord of various thread,

Thereby to know if any it undid,

For that trick he by Circe taught had been.

425

A woman then unto Ulysses said,

There stands your bath, which way you please go in.

Then went he in, and not a little joy'd;

For after he had left Calypso's house,

Warm and sweet water he had never seen,

430

But roll'd by Neptune always was in souse,

But had with her carefully treated been.

When him the maids wash'd and anointed had,

Out from the bath he came amongst the men,

With a clean cloak and comely garments clad.

435

To th' door the bright Nausicaa came then,

And to Ulysses said, Stranger, farewell,

And may you safely at your land arrive;

Remember that into my hand you fell,

And owe to me that you were kept alive.

440

O, said Ulysses, daughter of the king,

To you the ransom of my life is due,

And if the Gods me to my country bring,

As to a Goddess I will pray to you.

469

This said, he went and sat down by the king.

445

And now the meat in messes some divided,

Others the lusty wine were tempering,

And by a squire the singer in was guided,

And at a pillar in the midst made sit.

Ulysses half a chine of pork and fat

450

Cuts off, and in the squire's hands putteth it,

And said unto him, Give the singer that;

Singers through all the world have reputation,

And well respected be in ev'ry land;

The Muses teach them song, and love the nation.

455

Then went the squire and put it in his hand;

Demodocus received it and was glad.

Then fell they to the meat before them laid.

When thirst and hunger overcome they had,

Unto the singer then Ulysses said:

460

Demodocus, you all men else excel.

The Muses sure did teach you, or it was

Phoebus himself. For you have sung so well

The acts that did 'twixt Greeks and Trojans pass,

And all related that they did at Troy,

465

Or suffer'd there, or when they homeward came,

As if yourself beheld had their annoy,

Or had from some spectator heard the same.

Stand forth and sing now of the horse of wood

Made by Epeius, but by Pallas help'd,

470

Stuff'd by Ulysses full of warriors good,

Which in Troy town destruction to it whelp'd:

If this you sing in order as 'twas done,

I'll make the world with your just praises ring.

Then at the Gods Demodocus begun,

475

And how the fleet went off the shore did sing;

And how they fir'd their tents; and how the lords

Of Greece i' th' council of the Trojans sate,

Inclos'd and hidden in the horse of boards,

That by the Trojans was fetch'd in in state.

480

The Trojans sitting round about debate,

And many a foolish speech they uttered,

And on three points they there deliberate,

And voted what the Gods determined.

The three points which were most insisted on,

485

Were, whether they should cut the horse in twain,

Or throw it down the rock it stood upon,

Or let it, to appease the Gods, remain.

r th' end they all resolved on the last.

For by the Fates it was determined

490

That Ilium should then be layed waste,

When o'er its walls a great horse entered,

And in his belly brought the enemy.

And how the Argives from the horse came out,

How divers ways they went and cruelly

495

Killed and burned as they went about.

Ulysses then, like Mars, with Menelaus

Unto Deiphobus together hie,

And for awhile there sharp the battle was,

But to Ulysses fell the victory.

500

521

This sung Demodocus. And then upon

Ulysses' cheeks the tears ran down apace.

As when in fight a woman looketh on,

And sees her husband fallen on the place,

That fought had for his town and children dear;

505

There sprawleth he, she o'er him falls and cries,

But back and shoulders is well basted there,

And carried captive by the enemy.

As wofully as then this woman wept,

So wofully Ulysses now sheds tears;

510

But from the king it was not secret kept,

Who sitting next him all his groaning hears.

And speaking to the princes sitting by,

Let us, said he, Demodocus release,

His song not pleaseth all the company;

515

It makes the stranger's sorrow to increase,

And brings some grief or other to his mind.

Then let him hold; that we and he together

May in this meeting equal pleasure find.

The cause we met here was his coming hither,

520

That we might give him gifts and send him hence.

A guest is as a brother to be used,

As all men know that but pretend to sense.

And you, my guest, you cannot be excus'd,

If you not answer truth to all I ask.

525

550

Say what's the name your parents call you by?

You must no longer now keep on your mask,

Children new-born not long unnamed lie;

Tell me your land and city where it

That my good ship may know where you would be,

530

For in Phœacia no steersman is,

Nor rudder as in other ships you see;

Whither men bid them go they understand,

And pass in clouds concealed o'er the main,

And where the havens be in every land.

535

No fear they have of perishing or pain,

And yet my father to me once did say,

That with our convoys Neptune was offended,

And that one day our good ship to destoy

As it returned homewards he intended,

540

And from men hide our city with a hill.

But whether that shall be performed now,

I cannot tell. It lies in Neptune's will,

And not concerneth you at all to know.

But tell me now what lands you wand'ring saw,

545

What nations, and what cities you came to;

What kind of people, civil, or without law;

Civil or kind to strangers, godly or no.

When you heard sung the woful fate of Troy,

Why did you weep ? The Gods that built the town

550

Decreed thereat much people to destroy,

And that their fate should be sung up and down.

Lost you some kinsmen there or near ally,

Which might in time of danger you bestead ?

Or some good friend ? A wise friend standing by

555

Is worth a kinsman in a time of need.

English (George Chapman, 1667, ed. Hooper 1857) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (George Chapman, 1667, ed. Hooper 1857)) — 8 focus

THE EIGHTH BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEYS.

THE ARGUMENT.

The peers of the Phæacian State

A council call, to consolate

Ulysses with all means for home.

The council to a banquet come,

Invited by the king. Which done,

Assays for hurling of the stone

The youths make with the stranger king.

Demodocus, at feast, doth sing

Th' adultery of the God of Arms

With Her that rules in amorous charms;

And after sings the entercourse

Of acts about th' Epæan horse.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

θῆτα. The council's frame

At fleet applied.

In strifes of game

Ulysses tried.

NOW when the rosy-finger'd Morn arose,

The sacred power Alcinous did dispose

Did likewise rise; and, like him, left his ease

The city-razer Laertiades.

The Council at the navy was design'd;

To which Alcinous, with the sacred mind,

Came first of all. On polish'd stones they sate,

Near to the navy. To increase the state,

Minerva took the herald's form on her,

That served Alcinous, studious to prefer

Ulysses' suit for home. About the town

She made quick way, and fill'd with the renown

Of that design the ears of every man,

Proclaiming thus: "Peers Phæacensian!

And men of council, all haste to the court,

To hear the stranger that made late resort

To king Alcinous, long time lost at sea,

And is in person like a Deity."

This all their powers set up, and spirit instill'd,

And straight the court and seats with men were fill'd.

The whole state wonder'd at Laertes' son,

When they beheld him. Pallas put him on

A supernatural and heavenly dress,

Enlarged him with a height, and goodliness

In breast and shoulders, that he might appear

Gracious, and grave, and reverend, and bear

A perfect hand on his performance there

In all the trials they resolv'd t' impose.

All met, and gather'd in attention close,

Alcinous thus bespake them : "Dukes, and lords,

Hear me digest my hearty thoughts in words.

This stranger here, whose travels found my court,

I know not, nor can tell if his resort

From east or west comes; but his suit is this :

That to his country earth we would dismiss

His hither-forced person, and doth bear

The mind to pass it under every peer;

¹²

Whom I prepare, and stir up, making known

My free desire of his deduction.

Nor shall there ever any other man

That tries the goodness Phæacensian

In me, and my court's entertainment, stay,

Mourning for passage, under least delay.

Come then, a ship into the sacred seas,

New-built, now launch we; and from out our prease

Choose two and fifty youths, of all, the best

To use an oar. All which see straight impress'd,

And in their oar-bound seats. Let others hie

Home to our court, commanding instantly

The solemn preparation of a feast,

In which provision may for any guest

Be made at my charge. Charge of these low things

I give our youth. You, sceptre-bearing kings,

Consort me home, and help with grace to use

This guest of ours; no one man shall refuse.

Some other of you haste, and call to us

The sacred singer, grave Demodocus,

To whom hath God given song that can excite

The heart of whom he listeth with delight."

This said, he led. The sceptre-bearers lent

Their free attendance; and with all speed went

The herald for the sacred man in song.

Youths two and fifty, chosen from the throng,

Went, as was will'd, to the untam'd sea's shore ;

Where come, they launch'd the ship, the mast it bore

Advanc'd, sails hoised, every seat his oar

Gave with a leather thong. The deep moist then

They further reach'd. The dry streets flow'd with men,

That troop'd up to the king's capacious court,

Whose porticos were chok'd with the resort,

Whose walls were hung with men, young, old, thrust there

In mighty concourse; for whose promis'd cheer

Alcinous slew twelve sheep, eight white-tooth'd swine,

Two crook-haunch'd beeves; which flay'd and dress'd, divine

The show was of so many a jocund guest,

All set together at so set a feast.

To whose accomplish'd state the herald then

The lovely singer led; who past all mean

The Muse affected, gave him good, and ill,

His eyes put out, but put in soul at will.

His place was given him in a chair all grac'd

With silver studs, and 'gainst a pillar placed;

Where, as the centre to the state, he rests,

And round about the circle of the guests.

The herald on a pin above his head

His soundful harp hung, to whose height he led

His hand for taking of it down at will,

A board set by with food, and forth did fill

A bowl of wine, to drink at his desire.

The rest then fell to feast, and, when the fire

Of appetite was quench'd, the Muse inflam'd

The sacred singer. Of men highliest fam'd

He sung the glories, and a poem penn'd,

That in applause did ample heaven ascend.

Whose subject was, the stern Contention

Betwixt Ulysses and great Thetis' son,

As, at a banquet sacred to the Gods,

In dreadful language they express'd their odds.

When Agamemnon sat rejoic'd in soul

To hear the Greek peers jar in terms so foul;

100

For augur Phœbus in presage had told

The king of men (desirous to unfold

The war's perplex'd end, and being therefore gone

In heavenly Pythia to the porch of stone,)

That then the end of all griefs should begin

105

'Twixt Greece, and Troy, when Greece (with strife to win

That wish'd conclusion) in her kings should jar,

And plead, if force or wit must end the war.

This brave Contention did the poet sing,

Expressing so the spleen of either king,

110

That his large purple weed Ulysses held

Before his face and eyes, since thence distill'd

Tears uncontain'd; which he obscur'd, in fear

To let th' observing presence note a tear.

But, when his sacred song the mere divine

115

Had given an end, a goblet crown'd with wine

Ulysses, drying his wet eyes, did seize,

And sacrificed to those Gods that would please

T' inspire the poet with a song so fit

To do him honour, and renown his wit.

120

His tears then stay'd. But when again began,

By all the kings' desires, the moving man,

Again Ulysses could not choose but yield

To that soft passion, which again, withheld, gradient

He kept so cunningly from sight, that none,

125

Except Alcinous himself alone,

³⁴

Discern'd him mov'd so much. But he sat next,

And heard him deeply sigh; which his pretext

Could not keep hid from him. Yet he conceal'd

His utterance of it, and would have it held

130

From all the rest, brake off the song, and this

Said to those oar-affecting peers of his :

"Princes, and peers! We now are satiate

With sacred song that fits a feast of state,

With wine and food. Now then to field, and try

135

In all kinds our approv'd activity,

That this our guest may give his friends to know,

In his return, that we as little owe

To fights and wrestlings, leaping, speed of race,

As these our court-rites; and commend our grace

140

In all to all superior." Forth he led,

The peers and people troop'd up to their head.

Nor must Demodocus be left within;

Whose harp the herald hung upon the pin,

His hand in his took, and abroad he brought

145

The heavenly poet, out the same way wrought

That did the princes, and what they would see

With admiration, with his company

They wish'd to honour. To the place of game

These throng'd; and after routs of other came,

150

Of all sort, infinite. Of youths that strove,

Many and strong rose to their trial's love.

Up rose Acroneus, and Ocyalus,

Elatreus, Prymneus, and Anchialus,

⁵

Nauteus, Eretmeus, Thoon, Proreus,

155

Ponteus, and the strong Amphialus

Son to Tectonides Polyneus.

Up rose to these the great Euryalus,

In action like the Homicide of War.

Naubolides, that was for person far

160

Past all the rest, but one he could not pass,

Nor any thought improve, Laodamas.

Up Anabesineus then arose ;

And three sons of the Sceptre-state, and those

Were Halius, the fore-praised Laodamas,

165

And Clytoneus like a God in grace.

121

These first the foot-game tried, and from the lists

Took start together. Up the dust in mists

They hurl'd about, as in their speed they flew;

But Clytoneus first of all the crew

170

A stitch's length in any fallow field

Made good his pace; when, where the judges yield

The prise and praise, his glorious speed arriv'd.

Next, for the boisterous wrestling game they striv'd;

At which Euryalus the rest outshone.

175

At leap Amphialus. At the hollow stone

Elatreus excell'd. At buffets, last,

Laodamas, the king's fair son, surpast.

When all had striv'd in these assays their fill,

Laodamas said: "Come friends, let's prove what skill

180

This stranger hath attain'd to in our sport.

Methinks, he must be of the active sort,

His calves, thighs, hands, and well-knit shoulders show

That Nature disposition did bestow

To fit with fact their form. Nor wants he prime.

185

⁶⁷

But sour affliction, made a mate with time,

Makes time the more seen. Nor imagine I,

A worse thing to enforce debility

Than is the sea, though nature ne'er so strong

Knits one together." "Nor conceive you wrong,"

190

Replied Euryalus, " but prove his blood

With what you question." In the midst then stood

Renown'd Laodamas, and prov'd him thus :

"Come, stranger father, and assay with us

Your powers in these contentions. If your show

195

Be answer'd with your worth, 'tis fit that you

Should know these conflicts. Nor doth glory stand

On any worth more, in a man's command,

Than to be strenuous both of foot and hand.

Come then, make proof with us, discharge your mind

200

Of discontentments; for not far behind

Comes your deduction, ship is ready now,

And men, and all things." "Why," said he, "dost thou

Mock me, Laodamas, and these strifes bind

My powers to answer? I am more inclin'd

205

To cares than conflict. Much sustain'd I have,

And still am suffering. I come here to crave,

In your assemblies, means to be dismiss'd,

And pray both kings and subjects to assist."

Euryalus an open brawl began,

210

And said: "I take you, sir, for no such man

As fits these honour'd strifes. A number more

Strange men there are that I would choose before.

To one that loves to lie a ship-board much,

⁸

Or is the prince of sailors; or to such

215

As traffic far and near, and nothing mind

But freight, and passage, and a foreright wind;

Or to a victualler of a ship; or men

That set up all their powers for rampant gain;

I can compare, or hold you like to be :

220

But, for a wrestler, or of quality

Fit for contentions noble, you abhor

From worth of any such competitor."

165

Ulysses, frowning, answer'd: "Stranger, far

Thy words are from the fashions regular

225

Of kind, or honour. Thou art in thy guise

Like to a man that authors injuries.

I see, the Gods to all men give not all

Manly addiction, wisdom, words that fall,

Like dice, upon the square still. Some man takes

230

Ill form from parents, but God often makes

That fault of form up with observ'd repair

Of pleasing speech, that makes him held for fair,

That makes him speak securely, makes him shine

In an assembly with a grace divine.

235

Men take delight to see how evenly lie

His words asteep in honey modesty.

Another, then, hath fashion like a God,

But in his language he is foul and broad.

And such art thou. A person fair is given,

240

But nothing else is in thee sent from heaven;

For in thee lurks a base and earthy soul,

And t' hast compell'd me, with a speech most foul,

To be thus bitter. I am not unseen

In these fair strifes, as thy words overween,

245

⁹

But in the first rank of the best I stand;

At least I did, when youth and strength of hand

Made me thus confident, but now am worn

With woes and labours, as a human born

To bear all anguish. Suffer'd much I have.

250

The war of men, and the inhuman wave,

Have I driven through at all parts. But with all

My waste in sufferance, what yet may fall

In my performance, at these strifes I'll try.

Thy speech hath mov'd, and made my wrath run high."

255

This said, with robe and all, he grasp'd a stone,

A little graver than was ever thrown

By these Phæacians in their wrestling rout,

More firm, more massy; which, turn'd round about,

He hurried from him with a hand so strong

260

It sung, and flew, and over all the throng,

That at the others' marks stood, quite it went;

Yet down fell all beneath it, fearing spent

The force that drave it flying from his hand,

As it a dart were, or a walking wand;

265

And far past all the marks of all the rest

His wing stole way; when Pallas straight impress'd

A mark at fall of it, resembling then

One of the navy-given Phæacian men,

And thus advanc'd Ulysses: "One, though blind,

270

O stranger, groping, may thy stone's fall find,

For not amidst the rout of marks it fell,

But far before all. Of thy worth think well,

And stand in all strifes. No Phæacian here

This bound can either better or come near."

275

¹⁰ 199

Ulysses joy'd to hear that one man yet

Used him benignly, and would truth abet

In those contentions; and then thus smooth

He took his speech down: "Reach me that now, youth,

You shall, and straight, I think, have one such more,

280

And one beyond it too. And now, whose core

Stands sound and great within him, since ye have

Thus put my spleen up, come again and brave

The guest ye tempted, with such gross disgrace,

At wrestling, buffets, whirlbat, speed of race;

285

At all, or either, I except at none,

But urge the whole state of you; only one,

I will not challenge in my forced boast,

And that's Laodamas, for he's mine host.

And who will fight, or wrangle, with his friend?

290

Unwise he is, and base, that will contend

With him that feeds him, in a foreign place;

And takes all edge off from his own sought grace.

None else except I here, nor none despise,

But wish to know, and prove his faculties,

295

That dares appear now. No strife ye can name

Am I unskill'd in; reckon any game

Of all that are, as many as there are

In use with men. For archery I dare

Affirm myself not mean. Of all a troop

300

I'll make the first foe with mine arrow stoop,

Though with me ne'er so many fellows bend

Their bows at mark'd men, and affect their end.

¹¹¹²

Only was Philoctetes with his bow

Still my superior, when we Greeks would show

305

Our archery against our foes of Troy.

But all, that now by bread frail life enjoy,

I far hold my inferiors. Men of old,

None now alive shall witness me so bold,

To vaunt equality with, such men as these,

310

Echalian Eurytus, Hercules,

Who with their bows durst with the Gods contend;

And therefore caught Eurytus soon his end,

Nor died at home, in age, a reverend man,

But by the great incensed Delphian

315

Was shot to death, for daring competence

With him in all an archer's excellence.

A spear I'll hurl as far as any man

Shall shoot a shaft. How at a race I can

Bestir my feet, I only yield to fear,

320

And doubt to meet with my superior here.

So many seas so too much have misused

My limbs for race, and therefore have diffused

A dissolution through my loved knees."

This said, he still'd all talking properties;

325

Alcinous only answer'd: "O my guest,

In good part take we what you have been prest

With speech to answer. You would make appear

Your virtues therefore, that will still shine where

Your only look is. Yet must this man give

330

Your worth ill language; when, he does not live

In sort of mortals (whencesoe'er he springs,

¹³¹⁴

That judgment hath to speak becoming things)

That will deprave your virtues. Note then now

My speech, and what my love presents to you,

335

That you may tell heroës, when you come

To banquet with your wife and birth at home,

(Mindful of our worth) what deservings Jove

Hath put on our parts likewise, in remove

From sire to son, as an inherent grace

340

Kind, and perpetual. We must needs give place

To other countrymen, and freely yield

We are not blameless in our fights of field,

Buffets, nor wrestlings; but in speed of feet,

And all the equipage that fits a fleet,

345

We boast us best; for table ever spread

With neighbour feasts, for garments varied,

For poesy, music, dancing, baths, and beds.

250

And now, Phæacians, you that bear your heads

And feet with best grace in enamouring dance,

350

Enflame our guest here, that he may advance

Our worth past all the world's to his home friends,

As well for the unmatch'd grace that commends

Your skill in footing of a dance, as theirs

That fly a race best. And so, all affairs,

355

At which we boast us best, he best may try,

As sea-race, land-race, dance, and poesy.

Some one with instant speed to court retire,

And fetch Demodocus's soundful lyre."

This said the God-graced king; and quick resort

360

Pontonous made for that fair harp to court.

Nine of the lot-choos'd public rulers rose,

That all in those contentions did dispose,

Commanding a most smooth ground, and a wide,

And all the people in fair game aside.

365

Then with the rich harp came Pontonous,

And in the midst took place Demodocus.

About him then stood forth the choice young men,

That on man's first youth made fresh entry then,

Had art to make their natural motion sweet,

370

And shook a most divine dance from their feet,

That twinkled star-like, mov'd as swift, and fine,

And beat the air so thin, they made it shine.

Ulysses wonder'd at it, but amaz'd

He stood in mind to hear the dance so phras'd.

375

For, as they danc'd, Demodocus did sing,

The bright-crown'd Venus' love with Battle's King;

As first they closely mixed in th' house of fire.

What worlds of gifts won her to his desire,

Who then the night-and-day-bed did defile

380

Of good king Vulcan. But in little while

The Sun their mixture saw, and came and told.

The bitter news did by his ears take hold

Of Vulcan's heart. Then to his forge he went,

And in his shrewd mind deep stuff did invent.

385

His mighty anvil in the stock he put,

And forged a net that none could lose or cut,

That when it had them it might hold them fast.

Which having finish'd, he made utmost haste

Up to the dear room where his wife he woo'd,

390

And, madly wrath with Mars, he all bestrow'd

The bed, and bed-posts, all the beam above

That cross'd the chamber; and a circle strove

¹⁵

Of his device to wrap in all the room.

And 'twas as pure, as of a spider's loom

395

The woof before 'tis woven. No man nor God

Could set his eye on it, a sleight so odd

His art show'd in it. All his craft bespent

About the bed, he feign'd as if he went

To well-built Lemnos, his most loved town

400

Of all towns earthly; nor left this unknown

To golden-bridle-using Mars, who kept

No blind watch over him, but, seeing stept

His rival so aside, he hasted home

With fair-wreath'd Venus' love stung, who was come

405

New from the court of her most mighty Sire.

Mars enter'd, wrung her hand, and the retire

Her husband made to Lemnos told, and said:

"Now, love, is Vulcan gone, let us to bed,

He's for the barbarous Sintians."

410

295

Well appay'd

410

Was Venus with it; and afresh assay'd

Their old encounter. Down they went; and straight

About them cling'd the artificial sleight

Of most wise Vulcan; and were so ensnar'd,

That neither they could stir their course prepar'd

415

In any limb about them, nor arise.

And then they knew, they would no more disguise

Their close conveyance, but lay, forc'd, stone still.

Back rush'd the both-foot-cook'd, but straight in skill,

From his near scout-hole turn'd, nor ever went

420

To any Lemnos, but the sure event

Left Phœbus to discover, who told all.

Then home hopp'd Vulcan, full of grief and gall,

¹⁶

Stood in the portal, and cried out so high,

That all the Gods heard: "Father of the sky

425

And every other deathless God," said he,

" Come all, and a ridiculous object see,

And yet not sufferable neither. Come,

And witness how, when still I step from home,

Lame that I am, Jove's daughter doth profess

430

To do me all the shameful offices,

Indignities, despites, that can be thought;

And loves this all-things-making-come-to-nought,

Since he is fair forsooth, foot-sound, and I

Took in my brain a little, legg'd awry;

435

And no fault mine, but all my parent's fault,

Who should not get, if mock me, with my halt.

But see how fast they sleep, while I, in moan,

Am only made an idle looker on.

One bed their turn serves, and it must be mine;

440

I think yet, I have made their self-loves shine.

They shall no more wrong me, and none perceive;

Nor will they sleep together, I believe,

With too hot haste again. Thus both shall lie

In craft, and force, till the extremity

445

Of all the dower I gave her sire (to gain

A dogged set-fac'd girl, that will not stain

Her face with blushing, though she shame her head)

He pays me back. She's fair, but was no maid."

343

While this long speech was making, all were come

450

To Vulcan's wholly-brazen-founded home,

Earth-shaking Neptune, useful Mercury,

And far-shot Phœbus. No She-Deity,

For shame, would show there. All the give-good Gods

Stood in the portal, and past periods

455

Gave length to laughters, all rejoic'd to see

That which they said, that no impiety

Finds good success at th' end. And now," said one,

"The slow outgoes the swift. Lame Vulcan, known

To be the slowest of the Gods, outgoes

460

Mars the most swift. And this is that which grows

To greatest justice: that adult'ry's sport,

Obtain'd by craft, by craft of other sort

(And lame craft too) is plagued, which grieves the more,

That sound limbs turning lame the lame restore."

465

This speech amongst themselves they entertain'd,

When Phœbus thus ask'd Hermes : "Thus enchain'd

Wouldst thou be Hermes, to be thus disclosed?

Though with thee golden Venus were reposed?"

He soon gave that an answer: " O," said he,

470

" Thou king of archers, would 'twere thus with me.

Though thrice so much shame; nay, though infinite

Were pour'd about me, and that every light,

In great heaven shining, witness'd all my harms,

So golden Venus slumber'd in mine arms."

475

The Gods again laugh'd; even the Wat'ry State

Wrung out a laughter, but propitiate

Was still for Mars, and pray'd the God of Fire

He would dissolve him, offering the desire

He made to Jove to pay himself, and said,

480

All due debts should be by the Gods repaid.

"Pay me, no words," said he, "where deeds lend pain,

Wretched the words are given for wretched men.

¹⁷¹⁸¹⁹

How shall I bind you in th' Immortals' sight,

If Mars be once loos'd, nor will pay his right?"

485

" Vulcan," said he, " if Mars should fly, nor see

Thy right repaid, it should be paid by me."

"Your word, so given, I must accept," said he.

Which said, he loos'd them. Mars then rush'd from sky,

And stoop'd cold Thrace. The laughing Deity

490

For Cyprus was, and took her Paphian state,

Where she a grove, ne'er cut, had consecrate,

All with Arabian odours fum'd, and hath

An altar there, at which the Graces bathe,

And with immortal balms besmooth her skin,

495

Fit for the bliss Immortals solace in;

Deck'd her in to-be-studied attire,

And apt to set beholders' hearts on fire.

This sung the sacred muse, whose notes and words

The dancers' feet kept as his hands his cords.

500

Ulysses much was pleased, and all the crew.

This would the king have varied with a new

And pleasing measure, and performed by

Two, with whom none would strive in dancery;

And those his sons were, that must therefore dance

505

Alone, and only to the harp advance,

Without the words. And this sweet couple was

Young Halius, and divine Laodamas;

Who danc'd a ball dance. Then the rich-wrought ball,

That Polybus had made, of purple all,

510

They took to hand. One threw it to the sky,

And then danc'd back; the other, capering high,

Would surely catch it ere his foot touch'd ground,

And up again advanc'd it, and so found

The other cause of dance; and then did he

515

Dance lofty tricks, till next it came to be

His turn to catch, and serve the other still.

When they had kept it up to either's will,

They then danced ground tricks, oft mix'd hand in hand,

And did so gracefully their change command,

520

That all the other youth that stood at pause,

With deaf'ning shouts, gave them the great applause.

Then said Ulysses: "O, past all men here

Clear, not in power, but in desert as clear,

You said your dancers did the world surpass,

525

And they perform it clear, and to amaze."

385

This won Alcinous' heart, and equal prize

He gave Ulysses, saying: "Matchless wise,

Princes and rulers, I perceive our guest,

And therefore let our hospitable best

530

In fitting gifts be given him: Twelve chief kings

There are that order all the glorious things

Of this our kingdom; and, the thirteenth, I

Exist, as crown to all. Let instantly

Be thirteen garments given him, and of gold

535

Precious, and fine, a talent. While we hold

This our assembly, be all fetch'd, and given,

That to our feast prepar'd, as to his heaven,

Our guest may enter. And, that nothing be

Left unperform'd that fits his dignity,

540

Euryalus shall here conciliate

Himself with words and gifts, since past our rate

He gave bad language." This did all commend

And give in charge; and every king did send

His herald for his gift. Euryalus,

545

Answering for his part, said: "Alcinous!

Our chief of all, since you command, I will

To this our guest by all means reconcile,

And give him this entirely-metall'd sword,

The handle massy silver, and the board

550

That gives it cover all of ivory,

New, and in all kinds worth his quality."

This put he straight into his hand, and said:

"Frolic, O guest and father; if words fled

Have been offensive, let swift whirlwinds take

555

And ravish them from thought. May all Gods make

Thy wife's sight good to thee, in quick retreat

To all thy friends, and best-loved breeding seat,

Their long miss quitting with the greater joy;

In whose sweet vanish all thy worst annoy."

560

" And frolic thou to all height, friend," said he,

"Which heaven confirm with wish'd felicity;

Nor ever give again desire to thee

Of this sword's use, which with affects so free,

In my reclaim, thou hast bestow'd on me."

565

This said, athwart his shoulders he put on

The right fair sword; and then did set the sun.

When all the gifts were brought, which back again

(With king Alcinous in all the train)

Were by the honour'd heralds borne to court;

570

Which his fair sons took, and from the resort

Laid by their reverend mother. Each his throne

Of all the peers (which yet were overshone

In king Alcinous' command) ascended;

Whom he to pass as much in gifts contended,

575

And to his queen said: "Wife! See brought me here

The fairest cabinet I have, and there

Impose a well-cleans'd in, and utter, weed.

A caldron heat with water, that with speed

Our guest well bath'd, and all his gifts made sure,

580

It may a joyful appetite procure

To his succeeding feast, and make him hear

The poet's hymn with the securer ear.

To all which I will add my bowl of gold,

In all frame curious, to make him hold

585

My memory always dear, and sacrifice

With it at home to all the Deities."

433

Then Arete her maids charg'd to set on

A well-sized caldron quickly. Which was done,

Clear water pour'd in, flame made so entire,

590

It gilt the brass, and made the water fire.

In mean space, from her chamber brought the queen

A wealthy cabinet, where, pure and clean,

She put the garments, and the gold bestow'd

By that free state, and then the other vow'd

595

By her Alcinous, and said: "Now, guest,

Make close and fast your gifts, lest, when you rest

A-ship-board sweetly, in your way you meet

Some loss, that less may make your next sleep sweet."

This when Ulysses heard, all sure he made,

600

Enclosed and bound safe; for the saving trade

The reverend-for-her-wisdom, Circe, had

In foreyears taught him. Then the handmaid bad

His worth to bathing; which rejoic'd his heart,

For since he did with his Calypso part,

605

He had no hot baths; none had favour'd him,

Nor been so tender of his kingly limb.

But all the time he spent in her abode,

He lived respected as he were a God.

Cleans'd then and balm'd, fair shirt and robe put on,

610

Fresh come from bath, and to the feasters gone,

Nausicaa, that from the Gods' hands took

The sovereign beauty of her blessed look,

Stood by a well-carv'd column of the room,

And through her eye her heart was overcome

615

With admiration of the port impress'd

In his aspect, and said: "God save you, guest!

Be cheerful, as in all the future state

Your home will show you in your better fate.

But yet, even then, let this remember'd be,

620

Your life's price I lent, and you owe it me."

The varied-in-all-counsels gave reply:

"Nausicaa! Flower of all this empery!

So Juno's husband, that the strife for noise

Makes in the clouds, bless me with strife of joys,

625

In the desired day that my house shall show,

As I, as I to a Goddess there shall vow,

To thy fair hand that did my being give,

Which I'll acknowledge every hour I live."

469

This said, Alcinous plac'd him by his side.

630

Then took they feast, and did in parts divide

The several dishes, fill'd out wine, and then

The strived-for-for-his-worth of worthy men,

And reverenc'd-of-the-state, Demodocus

Was brought in by the good Pontonous.

635

In midst of all the guests they gave him place,

Against a lofty pillar, when this grace

²⁰

The grac'd-with-wisdom did him: From the chine,

That stood before him, of a white-tooth'd swine,

Being far the daintiest joint, mixed through with fat,

640

He carv'd to him, and sent it where he sat

By his old friend the herald, willing thus:

" Herald, reach this to grave Demodocus,

Say, I salute him, and his worth embrace.

Poets deserve, past all the human race,

645

Reverend respect and honour, since the queen

Of knowledge, and the supreme worth in men,

The Muse, informs them, and loves all their race."

This reach'd the herald to him, who the grace

Received encouraged; which, when feast was spent,

650

Ulysses amplified to this ascent:

"Demodocus! I must prefer you far,

Past all your sort, if, or the Muse of war,

Jove's daughter, prompts you, that the Greeks respects,

Or if the Sun, that those of Troy affects.

655

For I have heard you, since my coming, sing

The fate of Greece to an admired string.

How much our suff'rance was, how much we wrought,

How much the actions rose to when we fought.

So lively forming, as you had been there,

660

Or to some free relater lent your ear.

Forth then, and sing the wooden horse's frame,

Built by Epeus, by the martial Dame

Taught the whole fabric; which, by force of sleight,

Ulysses brought into the city's height,

665

When he had stuff'd it with as many men

As levell'd lofty Ilion with the plain.

With all which if you can as well enchant,

As with expression quick and elegant"

You sung the rest, I will pronounce you clear

670

Inspired by God, past all that ever were."

This said, even stirr'd by God up, he began,

And to his song fell, past the form of man,

Beginning where the Greeks aship-board went,

And every chief had set on fire his tent,

675

When th' other kings, in great Ulysses guide,

In Troy's vast market place the horse did hide,

From whence the Trojans up to Ilion drew

The dreadful engine. Where sat all arew

Their kings about it; many counsels given

680

How to dispose it. In three ways were driven

Their whole distractions. First, if they should feel

The hollow wood's heart, search'd with piercing steel;

Or from the battlements drawn higher yet

Deject it headlong; or that counterfeit

685

So vast and novel set on sacred fire,

Vow'd to appease each anger'd Godhead's ire.

On which opinion, they, thereafter, saw,

They then should have resolved; th' unalter'd law

Of fate presaging, that Troy then should end,

690

When th' hostile horse she should receive to friend,

For therein should the Grecian kings lie hid,

To bring the fate and death they after did.

He sung, besides, the Greeks' eruption

From those their hollow crafts, and horse forgone;

695

And how they made depopulation tread

Beneath her feet so high a city's head.

In which affair, he sung in other place,

That of that ambush some man else did race

The Ilion towers than Laertiades;

700

But here he sung, that he alone did seize,

With Menelaus, the ascended roof

Of prince Deiphobus, and Mars-like proof

Made of his valour, a most dreadful fight

Daring against him; and there vanquish'd quite,

705

In little time, by great Minerva's aid,

All Ilion's remnant, and Troy level laid.

521

This the divine expressor did so give

Both act and passion, that he made it live,

And to Ulysses' facts did breathe a fire

710

So deadly quick'ning, that it did inspire

Old death with life, and render'd life so sweet,

And passionate, that all there felt it fleet;

Which made him pity his own cruelty,

And put into that ruth so pure an eye

715

Of human frailty, that to see a man

Could so revive from death, yet no way can

Defend from death, his own quick powers it made

Feel there death's horrors, and he felt life fade

In tears his feeling brain swet; for, in things

720

That move past utterance, tears ope all their springs.

Nor are there in the powers that all life bears

More true interpreters of all than tears.

And as a lady mourns her sole-loved lord,

That fall'n before his city by the sword,

725

Fighting to rescue from a cruel fate

His town and children, and in dead estate

²¹²²²³²⁴

Yet panting seeing him, wraps him in her arms,

Weeps, shrieks, and pours her health into his arms,

Lies on him, striving to become his shield

730

From foes that still assail him, spears impell'd

Through back and shoulders, by whose points embrued,

They raise and lead him into servitude,

Labour, and languor; for all which the dame

Eats down her cheeks with tears, and feeds life's flame

735

With miserable suff'rance; so this king

Of tear-swet anguish op'd a boundless spring;

Nor yet was seen to any one man there

But king Alcinous, who sat so near

He could not 'scape him, sighs, so choked, so brake

740

From all his tempers; which the king did take

Both note and grave respect of, and thus spake :

"Hear me, Phæacian counsellors and peers,

And cease Demodocus; perhaps all ears

Are not delighted with his song, for, ever

745

Since the divine Muse sung, our guest hath never

Contain'd from secret mournings. It may fall,

That something sung he hath been grieved withal,

As touching his particular. Forbear,

That feast may jointly comfort all hearts here,

750

And we may cheer our guest up; 'tis our best

In all due honour. For our reverend guest

Is all our celebration, gifts, and all,

His love hath added to our festival.

A guest, and suppliant too, we should esteem

755

Dear as our brother, one that doth but dream

He hath a soul, or touch but at a mind

Deathless and manly, should stand so inclined.

550

Nor cloak you longer with your curious wit,

Loved guest, what ever we shall ask of it.

760

It now stands on your honest state to tell,

And therefore give your name, nor more conceal

What of your parents, and the town that bears

Name of your native, or of foreigners

That near us border, you are call'd in fame.

765

There's no man living walks without a name,

Noble nor base, but had one from his birth

Imposed as fit as to be borne. What earth,

People, and city, own you, give to know.

Tell but our ships all, that your way must show.

770

For our ships know th' expressed minds of men,

And will so most intentively retain

Their scopes appointed, that they never err,

And yet use never any man to steer,

Nor any rudders have, as others need.

775

They know men's thoughts, and whither tends their speed,

And there will set them; for you cannot name

A city to them, nor fat soil, that Fame

Hath any notice given, but well they know,

And will fly to them, though they ebb and flow

780

In blackest clouds and nights; and never bear

Of any wrack or rock the slend'rest fear.

But this I heard my sire Nausithous say

Long since, that Neptune, seeing us convey

²⁵

So safely passengers of all degrees,

785

Was angry with us; and upon our seas

A well-built ship we had, near harbour come

From safe deduction of some stranger home,

Made in his flitting billows stick stone still;

And dimm'd our city, like a mighty hill

790

With shade cast round about it. This report,

The old king made; in which miraculous sort,

If God had done such things, or left undone,

At his good pleasure be it. But now, on,

And truth relate us, both [from] whence you err'd,

795

And to what clime of men would be transferr'd,

With all their fair towns, be they as they are,

If rude, unjust, and all irregular,

Or hospitable, bearing minds that please

The mighty Deity. Which one of these

800

You would be set at, say, and you are there.

And therefore what afflicts you? Why, to hear

The fate of Greece and Ilion, mourn you so?

The Gods have done it; as to all they do

Destine destruction, that from thence may rise

805

A poem to instruct posterities.

Fell any kinsman before Ilion?

Some worthy sire-in-law, or like-near son,

Whom next our own blood and self-race we love?

Or any friend perhaps, in whom did move

810

A knowing soul, and no unpleasing thing?

Since such a good one is no underling

To any brother; for, what fits true friends,

True wisdom is, that blood and birth transcends."

²⁶²⁷

English (William Cowper, 1791, ed. Southey) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (William Cowper, 1791, ed. Southey)) — 8 focus

THE EIGHTH BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEYS.

ARGUMENT OF THE EIGHTH BOOK.

The Phæacians consult on the subject of Ulysses. Preparation

is made for his departure. Alcinoüs entertains them at his

table. Games follow the entertainment. Demodocus the

bard, sings, first the loves of Mars and Venus, then the intro-

duction of the wooden horse into Troy. Ulysses, much affected

by his song, is questioned by Alcinoüs, whence, and who

he is, and what is the cause of his sorrow.

THE ODYSSEY.
BOOK VIII.

BUT when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,

Blush'd in the East, then from his bed arose

The sacred might of the Phæacian King.

Then uprose also, city-waster Chief,

Ulysses, whom the King Alcinoüs

Led forth to council at the ships convened.

There, side by side, on polish'd stones they sat

Frequent; meantime, Minerva in the form

Of King Alcinoüs' herald ranged the town,

With purpose to accelerate the return

Of brave Ulysses to his native home,

And thus to every Chief the Goddess spake.

Phæacian Chiefs and Senators, away!

Haste all to council on the stranger held,

Who hath of late beneath Alcinoüs' roof

Our King arrived, a wanderer o'er the Deep,

But in his form, majestic as a God.

So saying, she roused the people, and at once

The seats of all the senate-court were fill'd

With fast-assembling throngs, no few of whom

Had mark'd Ulysses with admiring eyes.

Then Pallas o'er his head and shoulders broad

Diffusing grace celestial, his whole form

Dilated, and to statelier height advanced,

That worthier of all reverence he might seem

To the Phæacians, and might many a feat

Atchieve, with which they should assay his force.

When, therefore, the assembly now was full,

Alcinoüs, them addressing, thus began.

Phæacian Chiefs and Senators! I speak

The dictates of my mind, therefore attend.

This guest unknown to me, hath, wandering, found

My palace, either from the East arrived,

Or from some nation on our western side.

Safe conduct home he asks, and our consent

Here wishes ratified, whose quick return

Be it our part, as usual, to promote ;

For at no time the stranger, from what coast

Soe'er, who hath resorted to our doors,

Hath long complain'd of his detention here.

Haste—draw ye down into the sacred Deep

A vessel of prime speed, and from among

The people, fifty and two youths select,

Approved the best; then lashing fast the oars,

Leave her, that at my palace ye may make

Short feast, for which myself will all provide.

Thus I enjoin the crew; but as for those

Of sceptred rank, I bid them all alike

To my own board, that here we may regale

The stranger nobly, and let none refuse.

Call, too, Demodocus, the bard divine,

To share my banquet, whom the Gods have blest

With powers of song delectable, unmatch'd

By any, when his genius once is fired.

He ceased, and led the way, whom follow'd all

The sceptred senators, while to the house

An herald hasted of the bard divine.

Then, fifty mariners and two, from all

The rest selected, to the coast repair'd,

And, from her station on the sea-bank, launched

The galley down into the sacred Deep.

They placed the canvass and the mast on board,

Arranged the oars, unfurl'd the shining sail,

And leaving her in depth of water moor'd,

All sought the palace of Alcinoüs.

There soon the portico, the court, the hall

Were fill'd with multitudes of young and old,

For whose regale the mighty monarch slew

Two beeves, twelve sheep, and twice four fatted brawns.

They flay'd them first, then busily their task

Administering, prepared the joyous feast.

And now the herald came, leading with care

The tuneful bard; dear to the muse was he,

Who yet appointed him both good and ill,

Took from him sight, but gave him strains divine.

For him Pontonoüs in the midst disposed

An argent-studded throne, thrusting it close

To a tall column, where he hung his lyre

Above his head, and taught him where it hung.

He set before him, next, a polish'd board

And basket, and a goblet fill'd with wine

For his own use, and at his own command.

Then, all assail'd at once the ready feast,

And when nor hunger more nor thirst they felt,

Then came the muse, and roused the bard to sing Exploits of men renown'd; it was a song,

In that day to the highest heaven extoll'd.

He sang of a dispute kindled between

The son of Peleus, and Laertes' son,

Both seated at a feast held to the Gods.

That contest Agamemnon, King of men,

Between the noblest of Achaia's host

Hearing, rejoiced; for when in Pytho erst

He pass'd the marble threshold to consult

The oracle of Apollo, such dispute

The voice divine had to his ear announced;

For then it was that, first, the storm of war

Come rolling on, ordain'd long time to afflict

Troy and the Greecians, by the will of Jove.

So sang the bard illustrious; then his robe

Of purple dye with both hands o'er his head

100

Ulysses drew, behind its ample folds

Veiling his face, through fear to be observed

By the Phæacians weeping at the song;

And ever as the bard harmonious ceased,

He wiped his tears, and, drawing from his brows

105

The mantle pour'd libation to the Gods.

But when the Chiefs (for they delighted heard

Those sounds,) solicited again the bard,

And he renew'd the strain, then covering close

His countenance, as before, Ulysses wept.

110

Thus, unperceived by all, the Hero mourn'd,

Save by Alcinoüs; he alone his tears,

(Beside him seated) mark'd, and his deep sighs

O'erhearing, the Phæacians thus bespake.

Phæacia's Chiefs and Senators, attend!

115

We have regaled sufficient, and the harp

Heard to satiety, companion sweet

And seasonable of the festive hour.

Now go we forth for honourable proof

Of our address in games of every kind,

120

That this our guest may to his friends report,

At home arrived, that none like us have learn'd

To leap, to box, to wrestle, and to run.

So saying, he led them forth, whose steps the guests

All follow'd, and the herald hanging high

125

The sprightly lyre, took by his hand the bard

Demodocus, whom he the self-same way

Conducted forth by which the Chiefs had gone

Themselves, for that great spectacle prepared.

They sought the forum; countless swarm'd the throng

130

Behind them as they went, and many a youth

Strong and courageous to the strife arose.

Upstood Acroneus and Ocyalus,

Elatreus, Nauteus, Prymneus, after whom

Anchialus with Anabeesineus

135

Arose, Eretmeus, Ponteus, Proreus bold,

Amphialus and Thöon. Then arose,

In aspect dread as homicidal Mars,

Euryalus, and for his graceful form

(After Laodamas) distinguish'd most

140

Of all Phæacia's sons, Naubolides.

Three also from Alcinoüs sprung, arose,

Laodamas, his eldest; Halius, next,

His second-born; and godlike Clytoneus.

Of these, some started for the runner's prize.

145

121

They gave the race its limits. All at once

Along the dusty champaign swift they flew.

But Clytoneus, illustrious youth, outstripp'd

All competition; far as mules surpass

Slow oxen furrowing the fallow ground,

150

So far before all others he arrived

Victorious, where the throng'd spectators stood.

Some tried the wrestler's toil severe, in which

Euryalus superior proved to all.

In the long leap Amphialus prevail'd;

155

Elatreus most successful hurl'd the quoit,

And at the cestus, last, the noble son

²³

Of Scheria's King, Laodamas excell'd.

When thus with contemplation of the games

All had been gratified, Alcinoüs' son

160

Laodamas, arising, them address'd.

Friends! ask we now the stranger, if he boast

Proficiency in aught. His figure seems

Not ill; in thighs, and legs, and arms he shews

Much strength, and in his brawny neck; nor youth

165

Hath left him yet, though batter'd he appears

With numerous troubles, and misfortune-flaw'd.

Nor know I hardships in the world so sure

To break the strongest down, as those by sea.

Then answer thus Euryalus return'd.

170

Thou hast well said, Laodamas; thyself

Approaching, speak to him, and call him forth.

Which when Alcinoüs' noble offspring heard,

Advancing from his seat, amid them all

He stood, and to Ulysses thus began.

175

Stand forth, oh guest, thou also: prove thy skill

(If any such thou boast) in games like ours,

Which likeliest thou hast learn'd; for greater praise

Hath no man, while he lives, than that he know

His feet to exercise and hands aright.

180

Come then; make trial; scatter wide thy cares ;

We will not hold thee long; the ship is launch'd

Already, and the crew stand all prepared.

To whom replied the wily Chief renown'd.

Wherefore, as in derision, have ye call'd

185

Me forth, Laodamas, to these exploits?

No games have I, but many a grief, at heart,

And with far other struggles worn, here sit

Desirous only of conveyance home,

For which both King and people I implore.

190

Then him Euryalus aloud reproach'd.

I well believed it, friend! in thee the guise

I see not of a man expert in feats

Athletic, of which various are perform'd

In every land; thou rather seem'st with ships

195

Familiar; one accustom'd to controul

Some crew of trading mariners; well-learn'd

In stowage, pilotage, and wealth acquired

By rapine, but of no gymnastic powers.

165

To whom Ulysses, frowning dark, replied.

200

Thou hast ill spoken, sir, and like a man

Regardless whom he wrongs. Therefore the Gods

Give not endowments graceful in each kind,

Of body, mind, and utterance, all to one.

This man in figure less excels, yet Jove

205

Crowns him with eloquence; his hearers charm'd

Behold him, while with modest confidence

He bears the prize of fluent speech from all,

And in the streets is gazed on as a God!

Another, in his form the Powers above

210

Resembles, but no grace around his words

Twines itself elegant. So, thou in form

Hast excellence to boast; a God employ'd

To make a master-piece in human shape,

Could but produce proportions just as thine;

215

Yet hast thou an untutor'd intellect.

Thou much hast moved me; thy unhandsome phrase

Hath roused my wrath; I am not, as thou say'st,

A novice in these sports, but took the lead

In all, while youth and strength were on my side.

220

But I am now in bands of sorrow held,

And of misfortune, having much endured

In war, and buffeting the boisterous waves.

Yet, though with misery worn, I will essay

My strength among you; for thy words had teeth

225

Whose bite hath pinch'd and pain'd me to the proof.

He said; and mantled as he was, a quoit

Upstarting, seized, in bulk and weight all those

Transcending far, by the Phæacians used.

With vigorous hand he swung, and from his grasp

230

Sent it. Loud sang the stone, and as it flew

The maritime Phæacians low inclined

Their heads beneath it; over all the marks,

And far beyond them, sped the flying rock.

Minerva in a human form, the cast

235

Prodigious measured, and aloud exclaim'd.

Stranger! the blind himself might with his hands

Feel out the 'vantage here. Thy quoit disdains

Fellowship with a crowd, borne far beyond.

Fear not a losing game; Phæacian none

240

Will reach thy measure, much less overcast.

199

She ceased; Ulysses, hardy Chief, rejoiced

That in the circus he had found a judge

So favourable, and with brisker tone,

As less in wrath, the multitude address'd.

245

Young men, reach this, and I will quickly heave

Another such, or yet a heavier quoit.

Then, come the man whose courage prompts him forth

To box, to wrestle with me, or to run;

For ye have chafed me much, and I decline

250

No strife with any here, but challenge all

Phæacia, save Laodamas alone.

He is mine host. Who combats with his friend?

To call to proof of hardiment the man

Who entertains him in a foreign land,

255

Would but evince the challenger a fool,

Who, so, should cripple his own interest there.

As for the rest, I none refuse, scorn none,

But wish for trial of you, and to match

In opposition fair my force with yours.

260

There is no game athletic in the use

Of all mankind, too difficult for me;

I handle well the polish'd bow, and first

Amid a thousand foes strike whom I mark,

Although a throng of warriors at my side

265

Imbattled, speed their shafts at the same time.

Of all Achaia's sons who erst at Troy

Drew bow, the sole who bore the prize from me

Was Philoctetes; I resign it else

To none now nourish'd with the fruits of earth.

270

Yet mean I no comparison of myself

With men of antient times, with Hercules,

Or with Oechalian Eurytus, who, both,

The Gods themselves in archery defied.

Soon, therefore, died huge Eurytus, ere yet

275

Old age he reach'd; him, angry to be call'd

To proof of archership, Apollo slew.

But if ye name the spear, mine flies a length

By no man's arrow reach'd; I fear no foil

From the Phæacians, save in speed alone;

280

For I have suffer'd hardships, dash'd and drench'd

By many a wave, nor had I food on board

At all times, therefore am I much unstrung.

He spake, and silent the Phæacians sat,

Of whom alone Alcinoüs thus replied.

285

Since, stranger, not ungraceful is thy speech,

Who hast but vindicated in our ears

Thy question's prowess, angry that this youth

Reproach'd thee in the presence of us all,

That no man qualified to give his voice

290

In public might affront thy courage more;

Now mark me, therefore, that in time to come,

While feasting with thy children and thy spouse,

Thou may'st inform the Heroes of thy land

Even of our proficiency in arts

295

By Jove enjoin'd us in our father's days.

We boast not much the boxer's skill, nor yet

The wrestler's; but light-footed in the race

Are we, and navigators well inform'd.

Our pleasures are the feast, the harp, the dance,

300

Garments for change; the tepid bath; the bed.

250

Come, ye Phæacians, beyond others skill'd

To tread the circus with harmonious steps,

Come, play before us; that our guest, arrived

In his own country, may inform his friends

305

How far in seamanship we all excel,

In running, in the dance, and in the song.

Haste! bring ye to Demodocus his lyre

Clear-toned, left somewhere in our hall at home.

So spake the godlike King, at whose command

310

The herald to the palace quick return'd

To seek the charming lyre. Meantime arose

Nine arbiters, appointed to intend

The whole arrangement of the public games,

To smooth the circus-floor, and give the ring

315

Its compass, widening the attentive throng.

Court long the herald came, bearing the harp,

With which Demodocus supplied, advanced

Into the middle area, around whom

Stood blooming youths, all skilful in the dance.

320

With footsteps justly timed all smote at once The sacred floor; Ulysses wonder-fixt,

The ceaseless play of twinkling feet admired.

Then tuning his sweet chords, Demodocus

A jocund strain began, his theme, the loves

Of Mars and Cytherea chaplet-crown'd;

325

How first, clandestine, they embraced beneath

The roof of Vulcan; her, by many a gift

Seduced, Mars won, and with adulterous lust

The bed dishonour'd of the King of fire.

The Sun, a witness of their amorous sport,

330

Bore swift the tale to Vulcan; he, apprized

⁴

Of that foul deed, at once his smithy sought,

In secret darkness of his inmost soul

Contriving vengeance; to the stock he heaved

His anvil huge, on which he forged a snare

335

Of bands indissoluble, by no art

To be untied, durance for ever firm.

The net prepared, he bore it, fiery-wroth

To his own chamber and his nuptial couch,

Where stretching them from post to post, he wrapp'd

340

With those fine meshes all his bed around,

And hung them numerous from the roof, diffused

Like spiders' filaments, which not the Gods

Themselves could see, so subtle were the toils.

When thus he had encircled all his bed

345

On every side, he feign'd a journey thence

To Lemnos, of all cities that adorn

The earth, the city that he favours most.

Nor kept the God of the resplendent reins

Mars, drowsy watch, but seeing that the famed

350

Artificer of heaven had left his home,

Flew to the house of Vulcan, hot to enjoy

The Goddess with the wreath-encircled brows.

She, newly from her potent Sire return'd

The son of Saturn, sat. Mars, entering, seized

355

Her hand, hung on it, and thus urged his suit.

To bed, my fair, and let us love! for lo!

Thine husband is from home, to Lemnos gone,

And to the Sintians, men of barbarous speech.

295

He spake, nor she was loth, but bedward too

360

Like him inclined; so then, to bed they went,

And by the crafty net of Vulcan caught

Fixed motionless remain'd; leg could they none

And as they lay'd them down, down stream'd the net

Around them, labour exquisite of hands

365

By ingenuity divine inform'd.

Small room they found, so prison'd; not a limb

Could either lift, or move, but felt at once

Entanglement from which was no escape.

And now the glorious artist, ere he yet

370

Had reach'd the Lemnian isle, limping, return'd

From his feign'd journey, for his spy the Sun

Had told him all. With aching heart he sought

His home, and, standing in the vestibule,

Frantic with indignation roar'd to heaven,

375

And roar'd again, summoning all the Gods.—

Oh Jove! and all ye Powers for ever blest!

Here! hither look, that ye may view a sight

Ludicrous, yet too monstrous to be borne,

How Venus always with dishonour loads

380

Her cripple spouse, doating on fiery Mars!

And wherefore? for that he is fair in form

And sound of foot, I ricket-boned, and weak.

Whose fault is this? Their fault, and theirs alone

Who gave me being; ill-employ'd were they

385

Begetting me, one better far unborn.

See where they couch together on my bed

Lascivious! ah, sight hateful to my eyes!

Yet cooler wishes will they feel, I ween,

To press my bed hereafter; here to sleep

390

Will little please them, fondly as they love.

But these my toils and tangles will suffice

To hold them here, till Jove shall yield me back

Complete, the sum of all my nuptial gifts

Paid to him for the shameless strumpet's sake

395

His daughter, as incontinent as fair.

He said, and in the brazen-floor'd abode

Of Jove the Gods assembled. Neptune came

Earth-circling Power; came Hermes friend of man,

And regent of the far-commanding bow,

400

Apollo also came; but chaste reserve

Bashful kept all the Goddesses at home.

The Gods by whose beneficence all live,

Stood in the portal; infinite arose

The laugh of heaven, all looking down intent

405

On that shrewd project of the smith divine,

And, turning to each other, thus they said.

Bad works speed ill. The slow o'ertakes the swift.

So Vulcan, tardy as he is, by craft

Hath outstript Mars, although the fleetest far

410

Of all who dwell in heaven, and the light-heel'd

Must pay the adulterer's forfeit to the lame.

So spake the Powers immortal; then the King

Of radiant shafts thus question'd Mercury.

Jove's son, heaven's herald, Hermes, bounteous God!

415

Would'st thou such stricture close of bands endure

For golden Venus lying at thy side;

Whom answer'd thus the messenger of heaven.

Archer divine! yea, and with all my heart;

And be the bands which wind us round about

420

Thrice these, innumerable, and let all

The Gods and Goddesses in heaven look on,

So I may clasp Vulcan's fair spouse the while.

343

He spake; then laugh'd the Immortal powers again.

But not so Neptune; he with earnest suit

425

The glorious artist urged to the release

Of Mars, and thus in accents wing'd he said.

Loose him; accept my promise; he shall pay

Full recompense in presence of us all.

Then thus the limping smith far-famed replied.

430

Earth-circler Neptune, spare me that request.

Lame suitor, lame security. What bands

Could I devise for thee among the Gods,

Should Mars, emancipated once, escape,

Leaving both debt and durance far behind?

435

Him answer'd then the Shaker of the shores.

I tell thee, Vulcan, that if Mars by flight

Shun payment, I will pay, myself, the fine.

To whom the glorious artist of the skies.

Thou must not, canst not, shalt not be refused.

440

So saying the might of Vulcan loosed the snare,

And they, detain'd by those coercive bands

No longer, from the couch upstarting flew,

Mars into Thrace, and to her Paphian home

The Queen of smiles, where deep in myrtle groves

445

Her incense-breathing altar stands embower'd.

⁵

Her there, the Graces laved, and oils diffused

O'er all her form, ambrosial, such as add

Fresh beauty to the Gods for ever young,

And cloathed her in the loveliest robes of heaven.

450

Such was the theme of the illustrious bard.

Ulysses with delight that song, and all

The maritime Phæacian concourse heard.

Alcinoüs, then, (for in the dance they pass'd

All others,) call'd his sons to dance alone,

455

Halius and Laodamas; they gave

The purple ball into their hands, the work

Exact of Polybus; one, re-supine,

Upcast it high toward the dusky clouds,

The other springing into air, with ease

460

Received it, ere he sank to earth again.

When thus they oft had sported with the ball

Thrown upward, next, with nimble interchange

They pass'd it to each other many a time,

Footing the plain, while every youth of all

465

The circus clapp'd his hands, and from beneath

The din of stamping feet fill'd all the air.

Then, turning to Alcinoüs, thus the wise

Ulysses spake. Alcinoüs! mighty King!

Illustrious above all Phæacia's sons!

470

Incomparable are ye in the dance,

Even as thou said'st. Amazement-fixt I stand!

385

So he, whom hearing, the imperial might

Exulted of Alcinoüs, and aloud

To his oar-skill'd Phæacians thus he spake.

475

Phæacian Chiefs and Senators, attend!

Wisdom beyond the common stint I mark

In this our guest; good cause in my account,

For which we should present him with a pledge

Of hospitality and love. The Chiefs

480

Are twelve, who, highest in command, controul

The people, and the thirteenth Chief am I.

Bring each a golden talent, with a vest

Well-bleach'd, and tunic; gratified with these,

The stranger to our banquet shall repair

485

Exulting; bring them all without delay;

And let Euryalus by word and gift

Appease him, for his speech was unadvised.

He ceased, whom all applauded, and at once

Each sent his herald forth to bring the gifts,

490

When thus Euryalus his Sire address'd.

Alcinoüs! o'er Phæacia's sons supreme!

I will appease our guest as thou command'st.

This sword shall be his own, the blade all steel,

The hilt of silver, and the unsullied sheath

495

Of ivory recent from the carver's hand.

A gift like this he shall not need despise.

So saying, his silver-studded sword he gave

Into his grasp, and courteous, thus began.

Hail, honour'd stranger! and if word of mine

500

Have harm'd thee, rashly spoken, let the winds

Bear all remembrance of it swift away!

May the Gods give thee to behold again

Thy wife, and to attain thy native shore,

Whence absent long, thou hast so much endured!

505

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

Hail also thou, and may the Gods, my friend,

Grant thee felicity, and may never want

Of this thy sword touch thee in time to come,

By whose kind phrase appeased my wrath subsides!

510

He ended, and athwart his shoulders threw

The weapon bright-emboss'd. Now sank the sun,

And those rich gifts arrived, which to the house

Of King Alcinous the heralds bore,

Alcinoüs' sons received them, and beside

515

Their royal mother placed the precious charge.

The King then led the way, at whose abode

Arrived, again they press'd their lofty thrones,

And to Areta thus the monarch spake.

Haste, bring a coffer; bring thy best, and store

520

A mantle and a sumptuous vest within ;

Warm for him, next a brazen bath, by which

Refresh'd, and viewing in fair order placed

The noble gifts by the Phæacian Lords

Conferr'd on him, he may the more enjoy

525

Our banquet, and the bard's harmonious song.

I give him also this my golden cup

Splendid, elaborate; that, while he lives,

What time he pours libation forth to Jove

And all the Gods, he may remember me.

530

433

He ended, at whose words Areta bade

Her maidens with dispatch place o'er the fire

A tripod ample-womb'd; obedient they

Advanced a laver to the glowing hearth,

Water infused, and kindled wood beneath.

535

The flames encircling bright the bellied vase,

Warm'd soon the flood within. Meantime, the queen

Producing from her chamber-stores a chest

All-elegant, within it placed the gold

And raiment, gifts of the Phæacian Chiefs,

540

With her own gifts, the mantle and the vest,

And in wing'd accents to Ulysses said.

Now take, thyself, the coffer's lid in charge;

Girdle it quickly with a cord, lest loss

Befall thee on thy way, while thou perchance

545

Shall sleep secure on board the sable bark.

Which when Ulysses heard, Hero renown'd,

Adjusting close the lid, he cast a cord

Around it, which with many a mazy knot

He tied, by Circe taught him long before.

550

And now, the mistress of the household charge

Summon'd him to his bath; glad he beheld

The steaming vase, uncustom'd to its use

E'er since his voyage from the isle of fair

Calypso, although, while a guest with her,

555

Ever familiar with it, as a God.

Laved by attendant damsels, and with oil

Refresh'd, he put his sumptuous tunic on

And mantle, and proceeding from the bath

To the symposium, join'd the numerous guests;

560

But, as he pass'd, the Princess all divine

Beside the pillars of the portal lost

In admiration of his graceful form,

Stood, and in accents wing'd him thus address'd.

Hail, stranger! at thy native home arrived

565

Remember me, thy first deliverer here.

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

Nausicaa! daughter of the noble King

Alcinoüs! So may Jove, high-thundering mate

Of Juno, grant me to behold again

570

My native land, and my delightful home,

As, even there, I will present my vows

To thee, adoring thee as I adore

The Gods themselves, virgin, by whom I live!

469

He said, and on his throne beside the King

575

Alcinoüs sat. And now they portion'd out

The feast to all, and charged the cups with wine,

And introducing by his hand the bard

Phæacia's glory, at the column's side

The herald placed Demodocus again.

580

Then, carving forth a portion from the loins

Of a huge brawn, of which uneaten still

Large part and delicate remain'd, thus spake

Ulysses—Herald! bear it to the bard

For his regale, whom I will soon embrace

585

In spite of sorrow; for respect is due

And veneration to the sacred bard

From all mankind, for that the muse inspires

Herself his song, and loves the tuneful tribe.

He ended, and the herald bore his charge

590

To the old Hero, who with joy received

That meed of honour at the bearer's hand.

Then, all, at once, assail'd the ready feast,

And hunger now, and thirst both satisfied,

Thus to Demodocus Ulysses spake.

595

Demodocus! I give thee praise above

All mortals, for that either thee the muse

Jove's daughter teaches, or the King, himself,

Apollo; since thou so record'st the fate,

With such clear method, of Achaia's host,

600

Their deeds heroic, and their numerous toils,

As thou hadst present been thyself, or learnt

From others present there, the glorious tale.

Come, then, proceed; that rare invention sing,

The horse of wood, which by Minerva's aid

605

Epeus framed, and which Ulysses erst

Convey'd into the citadel of Troy

With warriors fill'd, who laid all Ilium waste.

These things rehearse regular, and myself

Will, instant, publish in the ears of all

610

Thy fame, reporting thee a bard to whom

Apollo free imparts celestial song.

He ended; then Apollo with full force

Rush'd on Demodocus, and he began

What time the Greeks, first firing their own camp,

615

Steer'd all their galleys from the shore of Troy.

Already, in the horse conceal'd, his band

Around Ulysses sat; for Ilium's sons

Themselves had drawn it to the citadel,

And there the mischief stood. Then, strife arose

620

Among the Trojans compassing the horse,

And threefold was the doubt; whether to cleave

The hollow trunk asunder, or updrawn

Aloft, to cast it headlong from the rocks,

Or to permit the enormous image, kept

625

Entire, to stand an offering to the Gods,

Which was their destined course; for Fate had fix'd

Their ruin sure, when once they had received

Within their walls that engine huge, in which

Sat all the bravest Greecians with the fate

630

Of Ilium charged, and slaughter of her sons.

He sang, how, from the horse effused, the Greeks

Left their capacious ambush, and the town

Made desolate. To others, in his song,

He gave the praise of wasting all beside,

635

But told how, fierce as Mars, Ulysses join'd

With godlike Menelaus, to the house

Flew of Deiphobus; him there engaged

In direst fight he sang, and through the aid

Of glorious Pallas, conqueror over all.

640

521

So sang the bard illustrious, at whose song

Ulysses melted, and tear after tear

Fell on his cheeks. As when a woman weeps,

Her husband, who hath fallen in defence

Of his own city and his babes before

645

The gates; she, sinking, folds him in her arms,

And, gazing on him as he pants and dies,

Shrieks at the sight; meantime, the enemy

Smiting her shoulders with the spear, to toil

Command her and to bondage far away,

650

And her cheek fades with horror at the sound;

Ulysses, so, from his moist lids let fall

The frequent tear. Unnoticed by the rest

Those drops, but not by King Alcinoüs, fell,

Who, seated at his side, his heavy sighs

655

Remark'd, and the Phæacians thus spake.

Phæacian Chiefs and Senators, attend!

Now let Demodocus enjoin his harp

Silence, for not alike grateful to all

His music sounds; during our feast, and since

660

The bard divine began, continual flow

The stranger's sorrows, by remembrance caused

Of some great woe which wraps his soul around.

Now, let the bard suspend his song, that all

(As most befits the occasion,) may rejoice,

665

Both guest and hosts together; since we make

This voyage, and these gifts confer, in proof

Of hospitality and unfeign'd love,

Judging, with all wise men, the stranger-guest

And suppliant worthy of a brother's place.

670

And thou conceal not, artfully reserved,

What I shall ask, far better plain declared

550

Than smother'd close; who art thou? speak thy name,

The name by which thy father, mother, friends

And fellow-citizens, with all who dwell

675

Around thy native city, in times past

Have known thee; for of all things human none

Lives altogether nameless, whether good

Or whether bad, but every man receives

Even in the moment of his birth, a name.

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Thy country, people, city, tell; the mark

At which my ships, intelligent, shall aim,

That they may bear thee thither; for our ships

No pilot need or helm, as ships are wont,

But know, themselves, our purpose; know beside

685

All cities, and all fruitful regions well

Of all the earth, and with dark clouds involved

Plough rapid the rough Deep, fearless of harm,

(Whate'er betide) and of disastrous wreck.

Yet thus, long since, my father I have heard

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Nausithoüs speaking; Neptune, he would say,

Is angry with us, for that safe we bear

Strangers of every nation to their home;

And he foretold a time when he would smite

In vengeance some Phæacian gallant bark

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Returning after convoy of her charge,

And fix her in the sable flood, transform'd

Into a mountain, right before the town.

So spake my hoary Sire, which let the God

At his own pleasure do, or leave undone.

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But tell me truth, and plainly. Where have been

Thy wanderings? in what regions of the earth

Hast thou arrived? what nations hast thou seen,

What cities? say, how many hast thou found

Harsh, savage and unjust? how many, kind

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To strangers, and disposed to fear the Gods?

Say also, from what secret grief of heart

Thy sorrows flow, oft as thou hear'st the fate

Of the Achaians, or of Ilium sung?

That fate the Gods prepared; they spin the thread

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Of man's destruction, that in after days

The bard may make the sad event his theme.

Perish'd thy father or thy brother there?

Or hast thou at the siege of Ilium lost

Father-in-law, or son-in-law? for such

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Are next and dearest to us after those

Who share our own descent; or was the dead

Thy bosom-friend, whose heart was as thy own?

For worthy as a brother of our love

The constant friend and the discrete I deem.

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English (H. B. Cotterill, 1911) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (H. B. Cotterill, 1911)) — 8 focus

ODYSSEY BOOK VIII

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

Rose from his couch King Alcinous the revered and the mighty,

Rose too heaven-descended Odysseus, the sacker of cities.

Then did the monarch revered lead forth to the place of the galleys

Where Phaeacian elders had built their court of assembly.

Here they arrived and on seats well-polished of marble they set them

Closely together. But thoro' the town went Pallas Athene,

Like to the herald himself of the wise Phaeacian monarch,

Planning to bring to his home once more great-hearted Odysseus.

So to them all and to each she addressed her and made proclamation:

"Hither assemble, ye leaders and high Phaeacian chieftains!

Come to the place of the council, and there ye shall learn of the stranger

Newly arrived at the palace of Alcinous wise-hearted,

One that hath voyaged the seas and in favour is like the immortals."

Thus as she spake, in the minds of them all she excited a longing:

Speedily filled were all of the places of council, and benches

Throng by the gathering crowds, and soon full many in wonder

Gazed at the wise-souled son of Laertes; and Pallas Athene

Wonderful beauty and grace poured forth on his head and his shoulders,

Making him larger in person to look at and greater in stature,

So as to gain him the favour of all Phaeacian people,

Ay and their awe and respect and so as to win him the contests

Many and great wherewith Phaeacians tested Odysseus.

Now when they all had collected together and formed an assembly

Rose King Alcinous in the midst and thus he addressed them :

"Hearken, I pray, to my words, Phaeacian leaders and chieftains,

So that I utter the things that the heart in my bosom commands me.

Lo, this stranger—I know not his name—is arrived at my palace,

Wandering come from the land of a nation of dawn or of sunset.

Escort he urgently begs us to give and to promise for certain.

So, as was ever the wont in the past, let us grant him an escort,

Since no other of mortals that ever arrived at my palace

Here lamenting remained long time for the want of a convoy.

Come, let us drag to the vast salt ocean a black-hulled vessel

New from the stocks, and of youths let two and fifty as oarsmen

Out of the people be chosen, who best have proved them aforetime.

Then, so soon as the men have fastened the oars to the thole-pins,

Leave ye the vessel, and come to my palace, and make preparation

There for a hasty repast; and provision for all will I offer.

Such the commands that I give to the youths; but the others, whoever

Beareth the sceptre as chief, in the halls of my beautiful mansion

Gather together and there entertain at a banquet the stranger.

Neither let any refuse. And summon the singer, the godlike

Demodocus; for to him as to none God granted by singing

All to enrapture, whenever his spirit to singing incites him."

These words uttered he led from the council; him followed the chieftains

Bearing their rods, and a herald departed to summon the singer.

Then were chosen the youths, and two and fifty in number

Went, as he bade, to the beach of the barren expanse of the ocean.

Now when at last they had gotten them down to the sea and the vessel,

Firstly the black-hulled vessel they drew to the deep salt water,

Then, embarking the mast and the sails on the black-hulled vessel,

All of the oars to the tholes they attached with the lashings of leather,

Each in its place, and the white sails hoisting aloft on the yardarm

Anchored her far from the shore in the midst of the haven, and forthwith

Went on their way to the mansion of Alcinous wise-hearted.

Filled were all of the porches and garths and the buildings, as countless

Gathered together the guests, both many a youth and an elder.

These to regale had the king of his fat sheep slaughtered a dozen,

Eight of his white-tusked swine, and a yoke of his slow-paced cattle;

These they had flayed and prepared and had furnished a beautiful banquet.

Now did the herald approach conducting the sweet-voiced minstrel.

Loved by the Muse was the bard; but she gave him of good and of evil:

Reft was the light of his eyes, but with sweetest song he was dowered.

Forthwith Pontonous set a chair bright-studded with silver

Midst of the feasters, and close to a high roof-pillar he placed it.

Then from a peg down-hanging the clear-toned lute he suspended

Over his head, and he showed him to reach with the hand and to grasp it.

Thus did the henchman, and bringing a basket and beautiful table

Gave him of wine in a goblet to drink when his spirit enjoined him.

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

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

Stirred by the Muse was the singer to sing of the glories of heroes,

Sing of the theme whose fame to the infinite heaven was reaching,

Even the strife of Odysseus and great Pelean Achilles, —

How at a beautiful feast of the gods contending in anger

Words outrageous they spake ; and the warrior-king Agamemnon

Joyed in his spirit, beholding the best of the Greeks in contention.

This had the answer of Phoebus Apollo in beautiful Pytho

Tell him, when passing the threshold of stone he had entered the temple

Seeking the rede of the god; for beginning to roll was disaster

Over the Trojans and Greeks by the counsels of Zeus the Almighty.

Such was the lay that he sang, that singer renowned; but Odysseus,

Grasping with stalwart hand at the folds of his mantle of purple,

Over his head down drew it, till all of his face he had covered,

Loth that the men might mark tears falling from under his eyebrows.

Yea and as oft as the godlike singer had ceased from his singing,

Drying the tears and back from his head withdrawing the mantle,

Taking a two-cupped goblet he poured to the gods a libation.

Yet, when again a beginning he made for to sing they impelled him,

All Phaeacia's nobles, so much in his lays they delighted—

Then did Odysseus, enwrapping his head once more, make moaning.

Thus did he sit there weeping, unnoted by all of the others,

All save Alcinous, who alone was aware and observed it,

Sitting anigh to his side; and hearing him heavily groaning,

Quickly he turned to the lovers of oars, Phaeacia's princes :

"Hearken, I pray, to my words, Phaeacian leaders and chieftains.

Now in us all is the spirit content with abundance of feasting,

Ay and content with the lute, loved consort of bountiful banquets.

So let us forth from the palace and prove our prowess at contests,

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Every kind, for the stranger to tell, when he reaches his homeland,

Unto his friends, how skilful we are, all others excelling,

Either to box or to wrestle or leap, or to run in the foot-race."

These words uttered, he led from the hall, and they followed the monarch.

Then, when the clear-toned lute on the peg he had hung, did the herald,

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Grasping the hand of the singer and guiding him forth from the palace,

Lead him away by the road on the which were wending the others,

All Phaeacia's nobles, who, eager to witness the contest,

Pressed to the place of the games; and a crowd came thronging behind them,

Thousands and thousands; and youths stood forth right many and noble :

110

Acroneos upstood, and Ocyalus and Elatreus,

Nauteus and Prymneus and Anchialus and Eretmeus;

Then Anabésineos and Thoön, and Ponteus and Proreus;

Amphialus, whose father was Tekton's son Polynéus;

Euryalus too, equal of Ares the Slayer of mortals,

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Naubolus' son, uprose, surpassing in form and in favour

All Phaeacia's fairest but Laodamas the unrivalled.

Last rose three of the children of Alcinous the heroic,

Laodamas, Halius, and the godlike youth Clytonéus.

These then firstly of all made trial of speed in the foot-race.

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Straight from the start all straining their utmost they raced and together

Over the plain went flying and raising behind them a dust-cloud.

Fleetest of all in the race was by far Clytonéus the peerless;

Far as the length of a furrow that mules might draw in a fallow

Darting ahead he arrived at the crowd, outstripping the others.

125

Then did they test their strength in the wrestler's toilsome contest.

Here it was Euryalus that of all of the strong was the strongest.

Far to the fore of the others was Amphialus in the leaping,

While with cast of the quoit far best of them all was Elatreus.

Best at the boxing was Laodamas, brave son of the monarch.

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Now when the hearts of them all were fully content with the contests

Thus spake Laodamas and addressed them, the son of the monarch:

"Hither, my friends! Let us ask if in feats athletic the stranger

Knowledge possesseth and skill. Not feeble in frame he appeareth.

Look at the thigh and the leg and the arm from the hand to the shoulder!

135

Stalwart the neck and enormous its might; nor at all doth his manhood

Lack of its prime; but his vigour is broken by many a hardship;

Neither, believe me, is aught to be found which worse than the ocean

Ruins the strength of a man, how hardy soever his body."

Forthwith Euryalus made answer and thus he addressed him:

140

"Laodamas, full wise is thy word and is spoken in season.

Nay but approach him thyself and accost him and give him a challenge."

Straight, as he heard these words, did the gallant son of the monarch

Step to the fore, and standing in front of Odysseus address him:

"Come, Sir stranger, and make thou a trial thyself in a contest,

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Beest thou practised in any—and surely thou knowest of contests,

Seeing that nought for a man is a glory, as long as he liveth,

Greater than suchlike deeds with his hands or his feet to accomplish.

Nay, come, make but a trial and scatter the gloom of thy spirit.

Not much longer deferred is thy homeward return, for already

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Launched is the ship and already equipped are waiting thy shipmates."

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

"Laodamas, why thus do ye challenge me, only to mock me?

Mourning and grief are filling my mind much more than a contest,

Since right many a woe did I suffer and many a hardship;

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Yea and amidst these throngs with a craving at heart for my homeland

Now I am sitting, a suppliant still of the king and his people."

PATTEN WILSON
ODYSSEUS TAKES PART IN THE CONTESTS

Then spake Euryalus, to his face thus taunting Odysseus:

"Nay, O stranger, and truly I liken thee not to a mortal

Practised in any of all of the contests known to the nations;

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Rather to one who frequents with his well-benched vessel the harbours,

Skipper, methinks, of a folk of the sea who traffic as chapmen,

Mindful of nought but the bales and careful of nought but the cargo,

Ay and the grab and the gain. Sooth, thou wert never an athlete!"

Glaring askance at the man thus answered the wileful Odysseus:

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"Stranger, thy speech is indecent. Thou seemest an insolent mortal.

So was it ever! The gods vouchsafe not gifts that be gracious

All to the one—both beauty and wit and the skill of a speaker.

One is by nature a man of contemptible presence, but heaven

Crowneth his words with enchantment of grace; and the people that hear him

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Gaze in delight as he speaks with an easy and modest assurance

Eloquent words; him only they see midst all the assembly;

Him, as he walks in the city, they view, as it were an immortal.

Then will another in beauty resemble a god of Olympus,

Yet, for his words—no garland of gracefulness resteth upon them.

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Such is thy lot: for in beauty preeminent (comelier scarcely

Heaven itself might make thee) in mind thou art utterly futile.

See! thou stirrest my spirit to wrath in the bosom within me,

Prating indecently. No! not a churl unpractised in contests,

Such as thou sayest, am I—but, I trow, in the rank of the foremost

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Ever I stood in the days when I trusted my hands and my manhood.

Now am I holden of pain and affliction; for sorely I suffered,

Tossed on the billows of war and the grievous waves of the ocean.

Yet, e'en so, though many my woes, I will enter the contest,

Since I am stung to the heart, and my wrath is aroused by thy prating."

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Spake and arose; nor doffed he his mantle, but seized on a discus

Greater than others and thicker and weightier not by a little

Than Phaeacians use competing the one with the other.

Swinging it strongly around, from his sinewy hand he released it.

Booming it flew, while down to the ground crouched low in amazement

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All those masters of oars, those famed Phaeacian seamen,

Under the rush of the stone; and it flew far over the limits,

Speeding so swift from his hand. And the casts were marked by Athene,

Likened in outward form to a man, and she spake and addressed him:

"E'en might one that is blind such mark, O stranger, discover,

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Groping around. Not lost in the throng of the others it lieth,

Nay but afar to the fore. Canst hope this time to be victor.

Never a man of them all will be able to pass it, or reach it."

Thus did she speak, and he joyed, long-suffering godlike Odysseus,

Glad to behold in the crowd some favouring friend to applaud him.

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Then with a lightened heart to the youths Phaeacian turning :

"There now! Beat it, my lads! Soon cometh another to follow!

Even as far as the first will I hurl it, or farther, believe me,

Ay and if any will come, if his heart and his spirit incite him

Trial to make, let him come—so mightily stirred is my anger—

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Whether to box or to wrestle or race—what he will! —for I care not—

Any of all of the others!—but Laodamas be excepted!

He is my host. Is it seemly to fight with the man that befriends one?

Verily only a fool or a fellow worthless by nature

Thus would offer a challenge of strife to the friend that received him

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Here in an alien land. 'Twould sever him clean from his fortune.

All of the others can come! I will neither refuse nor disdain them.

Nay, I am fain to acquaint me with all and to prove them in public.

Nor am I utterly wanting in every manly achievement.

Well do I know as an archer a bow well-polished to handle.

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First was I ever to smite with the arrow my man in the combat,

Warring with hostile hosts—ay, even if many companions

Stood there close to my side, all aiming with shafts at the foemen.

Only Philoctetes as an archer excelled me whenever

There in the country of Troy we Achaeans contended as bowmen.

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Yea of the archers on earth I avow me as easily foremost,

All now living amidst bread-nourished races of mortals.

Only with heroes of old am I nowise willing to match me,

Neither with Heracles nor the famed Oechalian monarch.

These with the gods everlasting themselves contended as bowmen;

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Wherefore suddenly perished the prince, great Eurytus, neither

Age crept slowly upon him at home, for in anger Apollo

Killed him because he had ventured to challenge the god as an archer.

Further I hurl with a lance than another can shoot with an arrow.

Only on foot do I fear lest some Phaeacian runner

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Leave me behind, for indeed I am shamefully broken and weakened

Tossing so long on the waves; nor with food in sufficing abundance

Found was my ship; so loosened is every joint of my body."

Thus did he speak, and they all stood utterly silent and speechless,

Till King Alcinous found words to reply and addressed him :

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"Stranger, assure thee! for nothing unpleasing thou speakest amongst us,

Wishing to give fair proof of the prowess that ever attends thee,

Wroth with the fellow who here in the lists and in public before thee

Tauntingly spake, in a manner in which would speak of thy prowess

None, if he e'er was accustomed to utter a word that is seemly.

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Now come, mark what I say. It will give thee a tale to another

Warrior friend to relate, when at home in the hall of thy palace,

Sitting at supper by side of thy well-loved wife and thy children,

This our prowess thou callest to mind and the feats that on us too

Zeus hath bestowed, as he did in the days of the fathers before us.

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Neither as boxers we boast us unrivalled nor perfect as wrestlers,

Only in fleetness of foot we excel and in sailing a vessel ;

Ever is feasting a thing that delights us, and music and dancing;

Changes of raiment we love, warm baths and luxurious slumber.

Come now, all of the deftest to tread Phaeacian measures,

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Dance for us, dance! that the stranger may see and relate, when he cometh

Unto his friends, what skill we possess, all others excelling,

Both in the sailing of ships and in running and dancing and singing.

Also for Demodocus let the clear-toned lute by the herald

Quickly be fetched; it is lying, I ween, in the hall of the palace."

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Thus spake Alcinous the heroic. The herald uprising

Started to bring for the singer the hollow harp from the palace.

Then upstanding, the stewards of games—nine judges, elected

Out of the people, by whom in the lists all duly was ordered—

Levelled a space for the dance, and a fair broad ring they encircled.

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Now did the herald approach and the clear-toned lute that he carried

Give to the blind old singer, who stepp'd to the midst and around him

Boys in the bloom of their youth took stand right skilful in dancing;

So with a wonderful measure they smote on the ground, and Odysseus

Gazed at the flash and the twinkle of feet, and he marvelled in spirit.

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Then to his harp uplifting his beautiful voice did the singer

Sing of the passion of Ares for fair-crowned Queen Aphrodite,

How they as lovers at first held tryst at the house of Hephaestus

Secretly meeting; and how by his gifts he prevailed and dishonour

Brought on the bed of her lord; but as messenger hasted to tell him

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Eëlios, who had noted them meeting in tender embracement.

Then did Hephaestus, as soon as the grievous tidings had reached him,

Go to his forge, devising revenge in the depths of his bosom.

Here on the stithy he set the enormous anvil and forged him

Fetters not to be broken or loosed, to entrap and to hold them.

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Now when at last he had fashioned the toils, in his anger at Ares,

Into the chamber he entered wherein, as of old, was his bedstead.

Here to the posts of the bed, all round it, he fastened the netting;

Much of it also he fastened above it, attached to a rafter,

Fine as the web of a spider, that none could ever perceive it

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E'en of the blesséd immortals: so cunningly fine was it fashioned.

So, when at last he had fastened the toils all over the bedstead,

Then he pretended to go to the well-built city of Lemnos,

Land that was dear to his heart—far dearer than every other.

Neither was blind as a watcher the god, gold-glistering Ares.

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Seeing Hephaestus, the worker renowned, set forth on a journey,

Speedily unto the house of the far-famed god he betook him

Filled with the longing of love for the fair-crowned queen Cytherea.

Newly arrived from the home of her father, the mighty Cronion,

Resting she quietly sat; and he entering into the mansion

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Tenderly clung to her hand; then he opened his lips and addressed her :

"Come, let us go, my belovéd, and lie on the bed and enjoy us !

Nowhere nigh is Hephaestus, but started already for Lemnos,

Gone to the Sintian folk, that people of barbarous language."

Thus did he speak, and a thing right pleasant it seemed to the goddess.

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So they ascended the bed and reclined them to sleep; but the netting,

Cunningly wrought by the crafty Hephaestus, descended upon them:

Suddenly gone was the power of lifting a limb, or of moving.

Then at the last they perceived it when all too late to escape it;

Ay and already at hand was the famed deft-handed Hephaestus,

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Back from his journey returned ere reaching the island of Lemnos.

Eëlios on the watch had remained and had brought him the tidings.

Homeward straight he returned with a heart sore troubled within him;

Up to the portal he strode, and he stood; fierce anger possessed him;

Then with a terrible cry to the gods of Olympus he shouted :

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"Father Zeus and ye other immortals eternally blesséd,

Come and behold! 'Tis a matter to laugh at, but not to be suffer'd.

Lo now, me that am lame this daughter of Zeus, Aphrodite,

Ever dishonours and loveth instead man-murdering Ares,

Since he is fair to the sight and in limb he is straight; but a body

310

Weakly was mine from my birth—Nor verily blame I another,

Only my parents. I would they had never begotten and borne me!

Come! ye shall see these twain now lying in loving embracement;

Here on my bed they are mounted—behold! At the sight I am maddened!

Scarce for a moment more, do I think, they are longing to lie here,

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E'en though hotly in love—nor quickly again will be longing

Thus to be bedded together. But here they are trapped and imprisoned

Till that her father repay, to the last one, every bride-gift,

All that I left in his hands as the price of the impudent baggage—

Ay, for his daughter is fair, but she knows not to bridle her passions.”

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Thus did he speak, and the gods to his brass-floor'd mansion collected:

Hither Poseidaon, Earth-girdler, hastened and Hermes,

Bringer of fortune, and hither the prince far-working Apollo,

While that behind with a womanly shame stay'd every goddess.

Soon at the porch were standing the deities, bringers of blessings.

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Then an unquenchable laughter arose mid the blesséd immortals

While they beheld the device that was wrought by the cunning Hephaestus,

Looking whereon thus whispered the one to the other beside him:

"Ill deed prospereth never; the slow oft catcheth the nimble :

Even as now by the tardy Hephaestus o'ertaken is Ares,

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Ares, the swiftest of all of the gods that inhabit Olympus,

Caught in the toils of the Limper—and compensation he oweth."

Thus conversing together they whispered, the one to the other;

Then spake lordly Apollo, the son of Cronion, to Hermes:

"Zeus-born Hermes, the herald of heaven and bringer of blessings,

335

Say now, feelst thou a longing in such strong fetters imprisoned

Lying beside her in bed to embrace Aphrodite the golden?"

Him thus answered the herald of heaven, the Slayer of Argus :

"Had I but only the luck, O lord, far-darting Apollo!

E'en though triple in number the toils—yea endless—that held me;

340

E'en though all of you gods stood gazing, and every goddess,

Give me to lie by her side and embrace Aphrodite the golden!"

Thus did he speak, and anew fell laughter upon the immortals,

All but Poseidaon; unsmiling he stood and entreaty

Made to Hephaestus the cunning to loosen the fetters of Ares.

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Thus then raising his voice these swift-winged words he addressed him :

"Loose him, I pray ! and I promise that whatsoever thou biddest,

All he shall pay that is held to be fair with the gods everlasting."

Him then addressing in turn gave answer the famous Craftsman :

"Nay but, Poseidaon, Earth-girdler, thou shouldst not demand it!

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Worthless is ever a pledge that is offered by one that is worthless.

How can I hold thee bound in the eyes of the blesséd immortals

Should our Ares depart and escape both fetters and forfeit?"

Him then again gave answer the King Earth-shaking Poseidon:

"Nay but, Hephaestus, if ever it hap that avoiding the forfeit

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Ares elude thee, I promise myself all dues to repay thee."

Him then addressing again gave answer the famous Craftsman :

"Truly 'tis neither becoming nor possible this to refuse thee."

These words uttered, the mighty Hephaestus unfastened the fetters.

Then did the twain, set free from the grievous constraint of the netting,

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Spring straight upward and vanish—To Thracia Ares departed,

She to the Cyprian isle, Aphrodite, the lover of laughter,

Even to Paphos for here is her shrine and her altar of incense.

Here did the Graces receive her and bathe and anoint her with unguent

Not of the earth; but it lieth as bloom on the limbs of immortals.

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Then did they clothe her in beautiful raiment, a wonder to gaze at.

Such was the story he sang, this singer renown'd, and Odysseus

Listened rejoicing in spirit, as also the rest of the hearers,

All those lovers of oars, those famed Phaeacian seamen.

Bidden was now Halius, and Laodamas, by the monarch

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Single to dance; for in dancing was no one able to match them.

These then, into the hand when a beautiful ball they had taken,

Purple in hue, by the skilful artificer Polybus fashioned,

One of them hurled it aloft to the shadowy clouds of the heaven,

Bending him back for the throw. From the ground upleaping, the other

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Easily caught it before with his feet on the earth he alighted.

Now when the trial was ended of casting the ball straight upward,

Then did they set them to dance on the earth's all-nourishing bosom,

Rapidly flinging in turn, while comrades clapping in measure

Stood in the lists, and around them arose a tumultuous uproar.

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Turning to Alcinous, then addressed him the godlike Odysseus :

"Ο King Alcinous, illustrious prince of the people,

Truly thou claimst for thy people a skill unrivalled in dancing,

Yea, for the fact is approved: as I look I am filled with amazement."

Thus as he spake, the revered and powerful monarch exulted.

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Quickly he turned to the lovers of oars, Phaeacia's nobles :

"Hearken, I pray, to my words, Phaeacian leaders and chieftains!

Truly the stranger appeareth endowed right richly with wisdom.

Come, let us find him a gift, as is meet and is due to a stranger!

Seeing that over the land are twelve illustrious princes

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Ruling as chiefs, and myself as a thirteenth wielding the sceptre,

Each might give to the stranger a robe well-washed and a doublet,

Also of precious gold be the weight of a talent collected.

Quickly together let all of the presents be brought, that the stranger

Having them safe in his hands may joyfully go to his supper.

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Thou too, Euryalus, shouldst find soft words to appease him,

Ay and a gift, for in truth was the speech that thou madest unseemly."

So did he speak, and the others assented thereto and approved it,

Each of the nobles despatching a herald to fetch him the presents;

Neither did Euryalus keep silence, but thus he addressed him :

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"O King Alcinous, illustrious prince of the people,

Lo, I perform thy behest and will make to the stranger atonement.

This is the present I offer a hanger of bronze with a handle

Silver-embossed, and around it, of new-sawn ivory fashioned,

Waveth a sheath. He will find it methinks no worthless possession."

405

These words spoken, he handed the broadsword studded with silver

Unto Odysseus, and loudly with swift-winged words he addressed him :

"Hail, Sir stranger! If any at all of the words that I uttered

Pained thee, I would that the winds might carry it hence in a storm-blast,

Yea and I wish thee a speedy return to thy wife and thy homeland.

410

Grant it the gods! for indeed too long thou hast suffered in exile."

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

"Hail thou also, my friend, and the gods all happiness grant thee !

Never, I hope, will it pain thee in future when missing thy hanger,

E'en this blade that thou gav'st while offering words of atonement."

415

Speaking he hung to his shoulder the broadsword studded with silver.

Now was a-setting the sun, and arrived had the glorious presents;

These to the house of the king were borne by magnificent heralds;

Then by the hands of the children of Alcinous the unrivalled

Laid at the side of their mother revered was the beautiful treasure.

420

Following now in the steps of the mighty and reverend monarch

All to the palace returned, and on high-raised seats they reclined them.

Then did the powerful king call Arete and address her :

"Hither, my queen—bring hither a chest right goodly—thy best one—

Placing therein for the stranger a well-washed robe and a doublet.

425

Then on the hearth set boiling a cauldron for heating of water.

After a bath he shall look at the gifts all lying in order,

All of the presents bestowed by the high Phaeacian nobles;

So will he joy in the feast and in hearing the lay of the singer.

Also a thing of my own will I give—this beautiful goblet

430

Solid of gold—that of me it remind him whene'er he shall use it

Pouring at home a libation to Zeus and the other immortals."

Thus did he speak, and the queen Arete ordered her maidens

Station a three-legged pot on the fire, as quickly as might be.

They on the glow of the hearth put a tripod, and water for bathing

435

Poured in the kettle and brought fresh faggots and set them a-blazing.

Licked was the cauldron's belly by flames, and warmed was the water.

Meantime Arete brought forth a magnificent coffer

Out of her room for the stranger, and laid fair presents within it,

Even the raiment and gold that the chiefs Phaeacian gave him,

440

Adding thereto of her treasures a beautiful mantle and doublet.

Then did she open her lips and with swift-winged words she addressed him :

"Lo now, look to the lid and a cord cast quickly around it,

Lest on the voyage perchance some robber despoil thee, if haply

Slumbering sweetly aboard of the black-hulled vessel thou liest."

445

Hearing the words that she spake long-suffering godlike Odysseus

Forthwith fastened the lid and a cord cast quickly around it

Cleverly tied with a knot he had learnt of the beautiful Circe.

Scarce was it done when the house-dame entered to fetch him for bathing,

Bidding him come to the tub; and he joyed in his spirit beholding

450

Warm bath-water—to such an attention all unaccustomed

Since he had come from the home of the fair-haired goddess Calypso.

(While he was there he had comfort continual, like an immortal.)

Now when Odysseus was bathed and anointed with oil of the olive,

Round him the maids cast raiment—a beautiful mantle and tunic.

455

So from the bath he returned, and he came to the chiefs at their wine-cups

Even as Nausicaa in her beauty, the dower of heaven,

Stood by the post of the door of the massively builded apartment.

There as he passed her she looked at Odysseus with wondering glances ;

Then did she open her lips and with swift-winged words she addressed him :

460

"Stranger, farewell—and at times, while happy and safe in thy homeland,

Think upon me—since mostly to me thou owest thy safety."

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

"Nausicaa, fair daughter of Alcinous great-hearted,

So may omnipotent Zeus, loud-thundering husband of Hera,

465

Grant me the day of return and to come back safe to my country,

Then e'en there in my home will I offer thee prayers as a goddess

All of the days of my life—for my life thou gavest me, maiden."

These words spoken, he sank in a seat by the side of the monarch,

While that the men were serving the portions and mixing the wine-bowls.

470

Then drew nearer the herald conducting the sweet-voiced singer

Demodocus, the revered, the belov'd of the people, and brought him

Midst of the feasters, and close to a high roof-pillar he set him.

Then to the herald addressed him aloud deep-plotting Odysseus,

Showing a slice he had cut from a chine (still more was remaining),

475

Flesh of a white-tusked boar, with the rich fat hanging around it :

"Take, O herald, and offer this meat as a mess to the minstrel,

Demodocus. I will give him a greeting in spite of my sorrow;

Yea, for amongst all mortals that dwell on the earth is the singer

Granted a guerdon of honour and reverence, since that he learneth

480

All of his song from the Muse; for she loveth the race of the poets."

Thus did he speak to the herald, who bore the repast to the hero

Demodocus. In his hands he received it rejoicing in spirit.

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

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

485

Calling to Demodocus thus spake deep-plotting Odysseus:

"Demodocus, far more than thy fellow-mortals I praise thee;

Surely the heavenly Muse was thy teacher, or even Apollo,

Such is thy skill to relate all duly the fates of the Grecians,

All of the feats they performed and all of the travail they suffered,

490

Even as one who was present himself or had learnt from another.

Come, pray, changing thy strain now sing of the horse that was builded,

Fashioned of wood and devised by Epéus with help of Athene—

How to the citadel's height it was brought by the godlike Odysseus

Craftily, filled with the fighters who plundered the town of the Trojans.

495

Shouldst thou relate it aright and tell all duly the story,

Then shall I never be weary proclaiming to every mortal

How by the favour of heaven divine is the skill of thy singing."

Moved by the words, and impelled by the god to exhibit his singing,

Thence he began how some on the well-benched vessels embarking

500

Put from the shore, where flame they had hurled in the huts of encampment—

Some of the Greeks—but the others already with noble Odysseus

Sat concealed in the horse in the market-square of the Trojans;

Yea, it was Trojans themselves who aloft to the citadel hauled it.

There did it stand mid a babel of people confusedly talking,

505

Sitting around; and in three was the vote of the council divided,

Either to smite and to shatter the bulk with the pitiless broad-axe,

Or to a height to uphaul it and over the precipice hurl it,

Or to permit it to stand as a gift to the gods and atonement.

Thus too ended the matter at last, as to end it was fated,

510

Seeing that doomed was the city to perish as soon as her ramparts

Closed on the horse, that monster of wood, where lurked of the Argives

All of the bravest, to bring on the Trojans bloodshed and ruin.

Then did he sing of the sack of the town by the sons of Achaea,

How from the horse outpouring and leaving the lair of the ambush

515

Hither and thither they scattered, the steep-built city to ravage;

Sang of Odysseus too, how unto the house of the hero

Deïphobus like Ares he went with divine Menelaus.

Here did Odysseus (so sang he) adventure a terrible conflict,

Ay and prevailed in the end by the grace of Athena the dauntless.

520

Such was the story he sang, this singer renowned; and Odysseus

Melted in tears and the great drops fell on his cheeks from his eyelids.

E'en as a woman with wailings her well-loved husband embraceth

Fallen in front of the city, in front of the host of the fighters,

Warding the pitiless day from his native town and his children;

525

E'en as beholding him lying before her gasping and dying

Piercingly shrieking she claspeth his body—but foemen behind her

Smiting her oft with the shafts of their spears on the back and the shoulders

Drive her away as a slave and to slavery's toils and afflictions,

Where with her withering cheeks she in pitiful misery pineth—

530

So did the pitiful tears fall fast from the eyes of Odysseus.

Thus then weeping he sat and unnoted of all of the others,

All save Alcinous, who alone was aware and observed it,

Sitting anigh to his side; and hearing him heavily groaning

Quickly he turned to the lovers of oars, Phaeacia's princes :

535

"Hearken, I pray, to my words, Phaeacian leaders and chieftains!

Time is for Demodocus from his clear-toned lute to refrain him,

Seeing that not to us all seems pleasing the song that he singeth.

Since our supper began and the godlike singer aroused him

Never as yet hath the stranger with pitiful grieving and groaning

540

Ceased to lament. Sore sorrow, I ween, investeth his spirit.

Bid him refrain from his song. Let us all make merry together,

Whether as guest or as host—for certainly thus it is better.

Yea, it is even because we revere him as guest that we granted

Escort safe to his home and the gifts that we gave him in friendship.

545

Ever indeed is a guest and a suppliant held as a brother

E'en by the mortal that only a few with his sympathy reacheth.

Therefore attempt not, stranger, to hide with a crafty invention

What I shall ask thee to tell; more seemly it were to relate it.

Tell me the name that thou bearest at home with thy mother and father,

550

Ay and with others who dwell in thy town and the neighbouring country.

Never is any on earth to be found that is utterly nameless,

Whether for evil or good he is come to the land of the living;

Every child at his birth hath a name bestowed by his parents.

Tell to me also the name of thy land and thy people and city,

555

Then will the vessels, prepared in their minds, know where to convey thee,

Since Phaeacian ships need never a pilot to steer them,

Neither a rudder at all, as is wont with the vessels of others.

Straightway known to the ship is her master's thought and intention;

Known to her too are the cities and fertile lands of the nations,

560

All of them—thus right swiftly they traverse the gulf of the ocean

Shrouded from sight in a cloud and a darkness, and never upon them

Resteth a dread to be harmed by the storm or to perish in shipwreck.

Once howbeit it happed that I heard what my father related,

Nausithous, who was wont to assert that Poseidon was angered,

565

Jealous because we afforded infallible escort to all men.

'Some day' (so did he speak) as a fine Phaeacian vessel

Over the mist-bound deep from a convoy returns shall the sea-god

Smite her to pieces and whelm with the mass of a mountain the city.'

Such was the rede of my sire ; and the god peradventure will do so,

570

Or he will never perform it, as seemeth the best to his spirit.

Come now, tell me a thing that I ask thee, and clearly explain it :

Where did thy wanderings lead thee? to what strange races and regions?

Tell us to what far peoples and fair-built cities thou camest,

Whether to savages wanton and wild and despisers of justice,

575

Or to the lovers of strangers with hearts that revere the immortals.

Say too, why dost thou weep and lament in thy spirit within thee,

Hearing of Trojans and Greeks and the fate of the Ilian city?

This was the work of the gods; such doom did they spin, and destruction

Bring on the men, that it aye shall remain as a song for the singer.

580

Perished perchance some kinsman of thine 'neath Ilian ramparts,

Good-man true of a daughter, or father or brother by marriage,

Such as a man holds, next to his blood, as the nearest and dearest?

Was't peradventure a friend well skilled in the things that delight thee,

Comrade trusty and brave? Since nowise less than a brother

585

Proveth the man who as friend is endowed with a soul of discretion."

Notes on the current edition

Odyssey

1. It was the opinion of Maximus Tyrius, that Homer, in this short history of the Phaeacian bard, gives us in reality his own. Cowper.

2. Before the opening of the war of Troy, Agamemnon consulted the oracle concerning the issue of it; Apollo answered, that Troy should be taken when two princes most renowned, the one for valour and the other for wisdom, should contend at a sacrifice of the gods; after the death of Hector, a contest arose between Achilles and Ulysses, whether force or stratagem should be employed to take the city; Agamemnon rejoiced to see the prediction fulfilled, knowing that the destruction of Troy was at hand, the oracle being accomplished by the contest of Ulysses and Achilles. Pope.

3. Aristarchus, as Didymus informs us, thus interprets Homer, "As much as a yoke of mules set to work at the same time with a yoke of oxen, outgoes the oxen, (for mules are swifter than oxen,) so much Clytoneus outwent his competitors."

4. A king of Œchalia, who defied even Apollo to equal him in archery.

5. This is directly contrary to his challenge in the beginning of the speech, where he mentions the race amongst the other games. How then is this difference to be reconciled? Very naturally. Ulysses speaks with a generous warmth, and is transported with anger in the beginning of his oration. Here the heat of it is cooled, and consequently reason takes place, and he has time to reflect, that a man so disabled by calamities is not an equal match for a younger and less fatigued antagonist. This is an exact representation of human nature; when our passions remit, the vehemence of our speech remits; at first he speaks like a man in anger, here like the wise Ulysses. Pope.

6. A people of Lemnos. See Il. B. i. 765.

7. See Note on B. ii. ver. 154.

8. Eustathius observes that keys were not in use in these ages, but were afterwards invented by the Lacedaemonians. This knot of Ulysses became a proverb, to express an insolvable difficulty. This is the reason why he is said to have learned it from Circe. Pope.

9. That is, the Trojan horse, made by Epeus. See B. iv. 374.

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.

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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.

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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).

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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).

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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).

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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)

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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).

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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.

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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).

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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.

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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).

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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).

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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)

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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).

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Douglas Frame

use of nḗpioi echoes Od. IX.44-46

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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

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comparison of “foolish” companions to Odysseus, archetype of intelligence. Signifies traditional association of companions’ loss of nóstos with their lack of nóos

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citation of Zeus’ characterization of Odysseus’ preeminent quality, nóos

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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

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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

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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

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quoted as evidence that Homer understood neȋai as simply meaning “you will return home”

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citation of Nestor’s appraisal of Odysseus as the “shrewdest” of the Achaeans. Suggests that whereas Nestor symbolizes nóos, Odysseus makes nóos effective

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example of relationship between verbs signifying mind as nóstos. Compare to Il. X.509, Od. III.142

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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

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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

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reference to Homeric passage where nóos is connected to traditional sense of return.

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citation of Phaeacian epithet, ankhítheoi, “close to the gods”

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analysis of the role of Hermes’ staff in suggesting that that the return of Odysseus is a return to consciousness and life

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analysis of original notion of verb halṓō, “to be seized by death”

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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”

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analysis of the use of nóēma to describe the Phaeacian ships. The simile “as quick as thought” is unique in Homer

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analysis of the equation of sleep with death. Argues that details show that sleep is a basic part of the “return” motif

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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)

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analysis of lḗthē as the “forgetfulness of death” in the description of the sleeping hero because his nóos is removed by lḗthē

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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

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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.

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analysis of the role of Phaeacians as sea-faring escorts who have a peculiar status halfway between gods and men

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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

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analysis of the use of nóos and nóēma as the proper reappearance of Odysseus’ nóos when he awakens in his homeland

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example of the appearance of nóos linked to Odysseus’ return

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example of the appearance of nóos linked to Odysseus’ return. Analysis of Athena as representation of the intelligence of Odysseus

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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

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analysis of the verb stugéō and its Stygian (Stúx) connotations

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analysis of the Phaeacians’ preparation for Odysseus’ sleep. Argues that details show that sleep is a basic part of the “return” motif

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reference to special pride of the Phaeacians as escorts, same lines appear in Od. VIII.174

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reference to connection between description of the Phaeacian of ships and nóos and néomai

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reference to the conventional nature of Homer’s description the sacking of the Ciconian city

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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

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use of nḗpioi echoes Od. I.8-9

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reference to the conventional nature of the Ciconian warriors who stand closest the world of the Iliad

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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

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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

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example of similarities between the Laestrygonians and the Cyclopes

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analysis of Homer’s reinterpretation of the traditional collocation ásmenoi ek thanátoio, as phúgomen thánaton

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analysis of the collocation ásmenoi ek thanátoio. Proposes ásmenos is derivative of *nes- and suggests collocation originally meant “having returned from death”

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suggestion that collocation nóstou te lathésthai, “to forget their homecoming,” is related to a loss of “mind”

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suggestion that collocation nóstoio láthētai, “that he might forget his homecoming,” is related to theme of a loss of “mind”

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reference to the modification of the traditional full refrain seen at the end of the first, third, and fifth episodes

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citation of the offshore island as a threshold to the encounter with the Cyclops [MRBTP: 'ff']

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comparison to Paṇi myth in which a cave dwelling demon keeps flocks he encloses at night and releases by day

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evidence of the role of Odysseus’ intelligence in the Cyclops episode

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evidence of the role of Odysseus’ intelligence in the Cyclops episode

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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

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analysis of close connection between the latent “return from death” and words denoting intelligence

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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

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evidence of the role of Odysseus’ intelligence in the Cyclops episode

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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”

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suggests connection between “counsels” and the return from the Cyclops’ cave as a manifestation of a “return to life.”

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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

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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)

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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

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citation of the offshore island as a threshold to the encounter with the Cyclops [MRBTP: 'ff']

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analysis of the location and context of the appearance of the traditional refrain

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analysis of the collocation ásmenoi ek thanátoio. Proposes ásmenos is derivative of *nes- and suggests collocation originally meant “having returned from death”

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example of Aeolus adventure as another instance of the “mindlessness” of the companions

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example of Aeolus adventure as another instance of the “mindlessness” of the companions

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reference to the modification of the traditional full refrain seen at the end of the first, third, and fifth episodes

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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.)

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description of the Laestrygonian harbor, which is compared to the cave of the Cyclops

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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

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suggestion that the episode with the Laestrygonian queen shows this episodes original underworld context

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analysis of Homer’s reinterpretation of traditional ásmenoi as aspasíōs… phúge, which shows that Homer understood ásmenoi to mean “happy”

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analysis of the collocation ásmenoi ek thanátoio. Proposes ásmenos is derivative of *nes- and suggests collocation originally meant “having returned from death”

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Homer says Circe was the daughter of Helios

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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”

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evidence of “witlessness” of the companions as a negative indication of the thematic presence of nóos

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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

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analysis of ambiguity about nature of companions who are turned into swine but retain their nóos

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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

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suggests a comparison between pent up companions of Odysseus and the imprisoned beasts of the Sun

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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

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evidence for notion that Hermes as psychopomp leads Odysseus to death and back to life

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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

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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

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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

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evidence for Circe episode as a “return from death”

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evidence for Circe episode as a “return from death”

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evidence for Circe episode as a “return from death”

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analysis of Homer’s use of the verb nostḗsein

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analysis of Teiresias’ retention of nóos as the distinguishing characteristic which separates him from the dead

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analysis of Homer’s emphasis on journey to Hades as a journey “to gain knowledge”

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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

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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

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analysis of Homer’s emphasis on journey to Hades as a journey “to gain knowledge”

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analysis of Homer’s emphasis on journey to Hades as a journey “to gain knowledge”

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analysis of the Sun’s apparent endowment with an all-embracing consciousness. Compare to Xenophanes frag.20 (Diehl)

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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

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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.

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traditionally an essential part of a Nekuomanteίa

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evidence for connection of prophesy of Teiresias with the theme of “life and death”

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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

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analysis of language used to describe the imprisonment of Melampus

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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”

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brief analysis of the Dioscuri, who as a combination of immortal and mortal elements, experience an alternation between life and death

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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."

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analysis of antithetical fates of Achilles and Odysseus as contrasted by the by the “wits” of Odysseus and Achilles’ fate amongst the “mindless” dead

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reference to Odysseus’s remarks that Achilles is even a king in the underworld

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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)

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citation of Odysseus’s appraisal of himself and Nestor as the foremost Greek counselors. Suggests that whereas Nestor symbolizes nóos, Odysseus makes nóos effective

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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

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analysis of the traditional story in which Nestor alone survived the attack of Heracles on Pylos

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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”

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analysis of Circe’s emphatic connection of Nekyia with theme of a “return from death”

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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.)

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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

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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

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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.

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analysis of the relation between escape and intelligence. Suggests that Homer was “dimly” aware of the relation between “mind” and the “return from death”

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analysis of the Sun’s apparent endowment with an all-embracing consciousness. Compare to Xenophanes frag.20 (Diehl)

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interpretation of Helios episode as “return from death.” Sleep, or unconsciousness, is analyzed as the death from which nóstos is the “return”

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analysis of possible reminiscence of Helios’ descent into Hades as the means by which the companions, who equated with sunset, were put to death

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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

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example of stock nature of the description of Odysseus’ possessions

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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

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evidence for reading nései instead of anései in Od. XVIII.256-266

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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

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analysis of the release of Malampus – ékfuge kêra, he “escaped death,” a phrase similar to phúgomen thánaton

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evidence for contention that Odysseus’ voyage home is passage through darkness to light

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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

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analysis of language used to describe the imprisonment of Melampus.

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comparison to Od. IX.56-59

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suggests that transitive force of Nestor’s name could have created new transitive verb néō, which was restricted to hieratic contexts

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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”

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reference to Odysseus’ statement that he did not think all the Achaeans would return home

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evidence not to postulate sn- initial for etymology of nóos

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analysis of the close relationship between metis. Suggests that Homer was “dimly” aware of the relation between “mind” and the “return from death”

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evidence for the description of D.B. Monro’s understanding of the verb anései, as a compound verb meaning “to place” or “set upon”

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analysis of original notion of verb halṓō, “to be seized by death”

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evidence for rarity of ἠέ κεν instead of ἤ κεν. Appears to appear only once

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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.

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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.

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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.

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|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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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(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.

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|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.

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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.

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Here Ithaca is figured as one single dēmos ‘community, district’.

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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.

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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.

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The theme of abduction by gusts of wind is analyzed at length in the comment at O.15.250-251.

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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).

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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.

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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.

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|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.

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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.

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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.

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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’.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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This epithet of Ēōs, goddess of the dawn, has a prefix ēri-, meaning ‘early’. See the comment at O.19.320.

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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.

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Thanks to mentoring by the goddess Athena, Telemachus takes the initiative of assembling an assembly.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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See the comment on O.02.032.

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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.

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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.

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The gesture here of throwing the scepter to the ground is comparable with what happens at I.01.233–246. See the comment there.

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This speech is most noteworthy for its incorporation of the myth about the continual weaving and unweaving of the web of Penelope.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Athena speaks as mentor and as Méntōr.

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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.

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On this back-formation from nēpios ‘disconnected’, see again the comment on O.02.047.

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From the context here, we can see that the dēmos ‘community’ of Ithaca is populated not only by the families of the suitors.

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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.

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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’

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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’.

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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.

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The verb lōbeuein ‘say words of insult’ is parallel to kertomeîn ‘say words of insult’, on which see the comment at I.02.256.

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This word may be related to the name Larikhos: Nagy 2015.10.01 §54.

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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

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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.

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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

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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.

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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).

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See the comments on I.01.423–425 and I.04.048.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Metaphors of fabric-work can have negative connotations, as here.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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|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.

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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.

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variants for I.09.653 [MRBTP: scholia]

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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.

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These two negative terms hubris ‘outrage’ and atasthalo- ‘reckless’ are closely linked with each other in Homeric diction.

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On the use of this word aethloi (āthloi) ‘ordeal’ with reference to the Trojan War, see the comment on I.03.125–128.

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In the scholia for O.03.267 we see the only incontrovertible reference to Demetrius of Phaleron.

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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.

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(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.

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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.

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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.

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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]’.

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|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.

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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

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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.

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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.

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On aethlos (āthlos) ‘ordeal’ in the specific sense of ‘ordeal of war’, see the comment on I.03.125–128.

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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.

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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.

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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’.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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’.

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Helen refers to her elopement with Paris=Alexandros as an atē ‘aberration’ caused by Aphrodite.

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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.

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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.

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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.)

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|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.

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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.

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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

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This description of Pharos is most relevant to the charter myth narrated in Plutarch Life of Alexander 26.5 about the Library of Alexandria.

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See the comments on I.01.155.

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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’.

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|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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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See the comment on O.01.241.

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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.

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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).

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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The goddess Artemis shoots Orion with her arrows.

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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.

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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’.

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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.

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We see here a specialized sense of this noun harmoniā ‘joint’, derived from the root ar- as in arariskein ‘join’.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.

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For this translation of epiphrosunē, ‘impulse of wisdom’, see HPC 45n33.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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?

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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The comparison of hair here to hyacinth blossoms is analogous to the comparison of hair with myrtle blossoms, as at I.17.051–052.

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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.

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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.

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The mythical Gigantes 'Giants' are relevant to Athenian mythology.

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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.

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|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.]

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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.

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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.

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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.

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The idea of forgetting as expressed by lēth- is the poetic foil for the idea of remembering as expressed by mnē- 'mentally connect'.

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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’.

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The project of Calypso was to make Odysseus immortal, he reports.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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).

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The god who is the hymnic subject of Demodokos’ ongoing humnos and who presides over the stylized festival is ultimately Zeus.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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).

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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[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.

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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.

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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.

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The singers as represented in Homeric poetry are traditionally pictured as accompanying themselves on a string instrument or ‘lyre’, called a phorminx here.

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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’.

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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’.

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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

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\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

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analysis of Demodokos as an idealization of an artist by the art form of epic

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\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

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\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

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\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

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\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

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\r\nanalysis of the name of Achilles, as associated with pēma decreed by the Will of Zeus

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\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

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\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

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\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

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\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

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\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)

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\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.

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\n\n Here oimē can be translated as ‘song’ in the context of analyzing the meanings of prooimion, oimos, oimē.

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\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

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\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

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\r\nanalysis of the Plan of Zeus as a sign of Homeric poetry

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\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

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\n\n analysis of the dais of the Phaeacians as a stylized festival

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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?

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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analysis of the leaving off and restarting of the hymnos in Demodokos’ songs and Odysseus’ reaction of dissolving into tears each time Demodokos restarts

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.)

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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.

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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.

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|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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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verses matching these quoted in the Derveni Papyrus and considered by the commentator as Orphic (Obbink 1997:41n4)

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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.

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|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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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|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.

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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.

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|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.

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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.

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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

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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.

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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.

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See the comment on O.13.175–177, where the lines are quoted and translated.

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the convention of the Dios boulē as at I.01.005 treated as a foil in this verse

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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.

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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.

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|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.

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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.'

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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.

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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.

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(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.

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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.

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(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.

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analysis of Eustathius’ notion (1.9) of the ancient rationale of distinct color schemes

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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.

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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.

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(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.

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(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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.

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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.

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This name for the island of Circe will be a marker for a coincidence of opposites that reveals itself at O.12.001–004.

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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.

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|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.

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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.

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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’.

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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.

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See the anchor comment at O.07.256. The ceremonial washing and anointing here is uninterrupted and therefore ritually effective.

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|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).

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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See the comment on O.10.521.

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The death of Elpenor will be most relevant to the homecoming of Odysseus, and this relevance will be signaled at O.11.051–083.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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|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’.

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|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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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].

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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.

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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.

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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.

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This word thesphaton is ordinarily linked with the utterance of a mantis ‘seer’.

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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.

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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.

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On this epithet, see the anchor comment at I.03.374.

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The comparison of a psūkhē ‘spirit’ to a dream is relevant to questions about the connotations of this word with reference to unconsciousness.

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I defer here to the definitive analysis of Frame 2009:227-329.

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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’.

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See the comment on O.11.290.

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Kastōr and Poludeukēs, the Divine Twins, are also mentioned at I.03.237. See the comment there.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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The nekroi ‘dead’ who are in Hādēs, O.11.475, have no consciousness: they are aphradees ‘non-conscious’—precisely because they are in Hādēs.

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Odysseus pays Achilles the compliment of addressing him here as phertatos 'the best'.

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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.

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It is implied here that Ajax, not Odysseus, is really the second-best of the Achaeans.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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On the use of bíē Hēraklēeíē ‘force of Hēraklēs’ to name Hēraklēs, see the comment on I.02.658.

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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’.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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(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).

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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.

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Just as the Greek goddess Ēōs is a dancer, so too is the Vedic goddess Uṣas: her epithet sūnr̥tāvatī means ‘good dancer’.

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|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.

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|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.

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Here the thuella ‘gust of wind’ is linked with fire, and this link evokes a visualization of fire caused by the thunderbolt of Zeus.

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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.

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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).

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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|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.

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(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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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|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.

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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.

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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

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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.

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|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.

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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.

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|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.

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|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.

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(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.

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|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.

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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)

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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.

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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.

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|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.

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|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.

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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.

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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.

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|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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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See the comment on O.14.063.

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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.

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Here again Ithaca is figured as one single dēmos ‘community, district’. See already the comment on O.01.103.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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(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.

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See the comment on O.14.063.

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The theme of abduction by gusts of winds is analyzed at length in the comment at O.15.250–251.

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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.

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We see here a rare Homeric glimpse of a sacrificial practice where sacrificers deposit choice cuts of meat in honor of the gods.

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Syntactically, the premise here reinforces the probability of the wish.

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|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.

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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.

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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).

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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.

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(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.

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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.

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See further details in the comment on O.08.061; also in the comment on I.03.059.

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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).

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The morphology of this name Polupheídēs can be interpreted as meaning ‘having parsimony in many different ways’ or ‘... many times’.

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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.

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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).

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Besides the anchor comment on endukéōs ‘continuously, uninterruptedly’ at O.07.256, see also the comment on O.14.063.

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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.

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Syntactically, the premise here reinforces the probability of the wish. See also the comment on O.14.440–441.

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Besides the anchor comment on endukéōs ‘continuously, uninterruptedly’ at O.07.256, see also the comment on O.14.063.

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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’.

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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.

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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.

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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’.

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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.

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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.

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The act of noticing is sometimes connected with special signals, as here: neuein ‘nod’; see also the comment on I.09.223.

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|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.

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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.

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The act of noticing is here again connected with a special signal: neuein ‘nod’; see the comment on I.16.164.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Again, a dais is a dais, even for beggars.

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See the anchor comment at O.07.256.

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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.

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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.

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See again the anchor comment at O.07.256.

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The element al- of an–al–tos ‘unnourished’ here is cognate with the root al- of Latin alō ‘nourish’.

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The outrageousness of the wish here is correlated with the self-deluding assumption that is built into the premise.

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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.

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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.

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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’.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Here at O.17.494 the premise is indicated simply by way of houtōs ‘thus’.

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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.

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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.

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|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.

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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.

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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.

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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’.

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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.

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|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'.

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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’.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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See the comments at O.05.160–161 and I.01.052.

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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.

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Syntactically, the premise here reinforces the probability of the wish. See also the comments on O.14.440–441 and O.15.341–342.

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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.

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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.

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See the comment on lōbeuein ‘say words of insult’ at O.02.323.

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On kertomeîn ‘say words of insult’, see the comments at O.02.323 and I.02.256.

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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.

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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.

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In the immediate context, here at O.18.424, only the surface meaning of therapōn as ‘attendant’ is evident.

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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.

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|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).

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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.’

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For more on tēkesthai ‘melt away, dissolve’ as a metaphor for weeping, see the note at O.19.204–212.

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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.

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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.

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|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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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|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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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’.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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|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.

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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.

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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”’.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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

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

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

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(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.

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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.

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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.

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The noun enīpē ‘scolding’ is correlated with the verb eniptein ‘scold’, on which see especially the comment at O.18.321–326.

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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.

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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

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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)

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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

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in a list of passages with eukhesthai + infinitive (aorist)

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comment on the contrast between eti and aiei in this passage

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example of the pairing of question and answer regarding identity (between man and god) in Ancient Greek that matches the Avestan model

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example of the pairing of question and answer regarding identity (between man and god) in Ancient Greek that matches the Avestan model

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in a list of attestations of genos eukhesthai einai and its transformations

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analysis of philotēs and timē going together with this passage as an example

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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

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in a list of attestations of genos eukhesthai einai and its transformations and analysis of the archaism in this verse

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analysis of the functional overlap between hiketēs and xeinos, argument that in Homer hiketēs still means ‘he who comes, arrives’

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in a list of eukhesthai einai + social relationship (xeinos, hiketēs)

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in the discussion of the rationale of the classification of the attestations of eukhesthai + dative

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in the discussion of the rationale of the classification of the attestations of eukhesthai + dative

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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

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in the discussion of the rationale of the classification of the attestations of eukhesthai + dative

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analysis of the interconnections of mēnis, exchange rules, and timē for xenoi

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in the list of offenses that (threaten to) incur mēnis

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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)

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transformation Dii patri  Dii t’alloisin te theoisin, in the context of the analysis of O.15.353 and I.08.526

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analysis of philotēs and timē going together with this passage as an example

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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)

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in a list of attestations of genos eukhesthai einai and its transformations

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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)’

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comparison of the diction here with that in I.24.039-048 regarding persons incurring mēnis, here with reference to biē and themis

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comparison of the diction here with that in I.24.039-048 regarding persons incurring mēnis, here with reference to biē and themis

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in a list of examples of the functional relationship between eukhesthai and phanai (in the context of analyzing genos eukhesthai einai formulas)

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analysis of the interconnections of mēnis, exchange rules, and timē for xenoi

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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)’

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transformation Dii patri  Dii t’alloisin te theoisin, in the context of the analysis of O.15.353 and I.08.526

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in a list of attestations of genos eukhesthai einai and its transformations

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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

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comment on Ktesippos as a villain in terms of the morality of the Odyssey

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analysis of thuoskoos as not a particularly prestigious occupation, in the context of analyzing Odysseus’ response to Leodes in O.22.321

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analysis of the versatility of poetic technique to report prayers (invocation, grant of favor, request of favor)

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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

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analysis of extending the formula beyond the verse-end in pairings of akouein and eukhesthai, as in this verse

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in a list of passages with eukhesthai + infinitive (aorist)

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analysis of the attestations of eukhesthai + aorist infinitive (and the series to which O.21.210-211 belongs)

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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)

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hand as regular metonym for a warrior’s biē

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in a list of attestations of genos eukhesthai einai and its transformations

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in a list of passages exemplifying the complementary metrical distribution of eukhos and kudos

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hand as regular metonym for a warrior’s biē

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analysis of the attestations of eukhesthai + aorist infinitive (and the series to which this verse belongs)

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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)

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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

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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)

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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

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analysis of thuoskoos as not a particularly prestigious occupation, in the context of analyzing Odysseus’ response to Leodes in O.22.321

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analysis of Odysseus’ response to Leodes in O.22.231 as taking him to take pride in his relationship with the suitors

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comparison of this use of secular eukhesthai to specify social relationships as marks of privilege and identity with Vedic parallels

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analysis of thuoskoos as not a particularly prestigious occupation, in the context of analyzing Odysseus’ response to Leodes in O.22.321

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in a list of eukhesthai einai + social relationship

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analysis of Odysseus’ response to Leodes in this verse as taking him to take pride in his relationship with the suitors

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comparison of this use of secular eukhesthai to specify social relationships as marks of privilege and identity with Vedic parallels

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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

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the morality of the Odyssey, here the forbidding of big talk over dead bodies

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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

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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)

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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’

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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.

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comment on the identification of Patroklos with Achilles

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in a list of eukhesthai einai + social relationship (xeinos, hiketēs)

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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

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example of where xeinos de toi eukhomai einai is used to justify asking a host for a special favor

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analysis of the development of Greek posis compared with Vedic pati-

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analysis of phanai as contrasting with and substituting for eukhomai, in the context of analyzing the meaning of eukhesthai in genos eukhesthai einai formulas

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in a list of attestations of genos eukhesthai einai and its transformations

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interpretation of kathaptein as “get hold of, grab” and so “restrain”

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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

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in a list of examples of eukhesthai + dative (formulas which report prayers)

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in a list of examples of eukhesthai + dative (formulas which report prayers)

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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

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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.

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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

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Homer Odyssey 8

Search the Perseus Catalog for:

BOOK VIII.

Minerva

"Nobles and chiefs who rule Phaeacia's states,

The king in council your attendance waits;

A prince of grace divine your aid implores,

O'er unknown seas arriv'd from unknown shores."

Euryalus

"Well hast thou spoke," (Euryalus replies,)

"Thine is the guest, invite him thou to rise."

Pallas

"Even he who sightless wants his visual ray

May by his touch alone award the day:

Thy signal throw transcends the utmost bound

Of every champion by a length of ground:

Securely bid the strongest of the train
225

Arise to throw; the strongest throws in vain."

Mars

"Come, my belov'd! and taste the soft delights;

Come, to repose the genial bed invites:

Thy absent spouse, neglectful of thy charms,
335

Prefers his barbarous Sintians⁶ to thy arms!"

Apollo

"Would'st thou enchain'd like Mars, O Hermes, lie,
375

And bear the shame like Mars, to share the joy?"

Hermes

"O envied shame!" (the smiling youth rejoin'd;)

"Add thrice the chains, and thrice more firmly bind;

Gaze all ye gods, and every goddess gaze,

Yet eager would I bless the sweet disgrace."
380

Neptune

"And free," (he cries,) "O Vulcan! free from shame

Thy captives; I ensure the penal claim."

Vulcan

"Will Neptune" (Vulcan then) "the faithless trust?
385

He suffers who gives surety for th' unjust:

But say, if that lewd scandal of the sky,

To liberty restor'd, perfidious fly;

Say wilt thou bear the mulct?"

Neptune

He instant cries;
390

"The mulct I bear, if Mars perfidious flies."

Vulcan

To whom appeas'd: "No more I urge delay;

When Neptune sues, my part is to obey."

Ulysses

Then thus Ulysses: "Happy king, whose name

The brightest shines in all the rolls of fame!

In subjects happy! with surprise I gaze;
420

Thy praise was just; their skill transcends thy praise."

Ulysses

"And blest be thou, my friend," (Ulysses cries,)

"Crown him with every joy, ye favouring skies!

To thy calm hours continued peace afford,
450

And never, never may'st thou want this sword."

Arete

Thus spoke to Ithacus: "To guard with bands
480

Insolvable these gifts, thy care demands;

Lest, in thy slumbers on the watery main,

The hand of rapine make our bounty vain."

Nausicaa

"Hail, godlike stranger! and when heaven restores
500

To thy fond wish thy long-expected shores,

This ever grateful in remembrance bear,

To me thou ow'st, to me, the vital air."

Ulysses

"This, let the master of the lyre receive,

A pledge of love! 'tis all a wretch can give.

Lives there a man beneath the spacious skies
525

Who sacred honours to the bard denies?

The Muse the bard inspires, exalts his mind;

The Muse indulgent loves th' harmonious kind."

Current edition Experimental

Rhapsody 8

BOOK VIII.

ODYSSEY.

THE EIGHTH BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEYS.

THE ARGUMENT.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

THE EIGHTH BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEYS.

ARGUMENT OF THE EIGHTH BOOK.

THE ODYSSEY.
BOOK VIII.

ODYSSEY BOOK VIII

PATTEN WILSON
ODYSSEUS TAKES PART IN THE CONTESTS

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 VIII.

Minerva "Nobles and chiefs who rule Phaeacia's states, The king in council your attendance waits; A prince of grace divine your aid implores, O'er unknown seas arriv'd from unknown shores."

Euryalus "Well hast thou spoke," (Euryalus replies,) "Thine is the guest, invite him thou to rise."

Pallas "Even he who sightless wants his visual ray May by his touch alone award the day: Thy signal throw transcends the utmost bound Of every champion by a length of ground: Securely bid the strongest of the train 225 Arise to throw; the strongest throws in vain."

Mars "Come, my belov'd! and taste the soft delights; Come, to repose the genial bed invites: Thy absent spouse, neglectful of thy charms, 335 Prefers his barbarous Sintians 6 to thy arms!"

Apollo "Would'st thou enchain'd like Mars, O Hermes, lie, 375 And bear the shame like Mars, to share the joy?"

Hermes "O envied shame!" (the smiling youth rejoin'd;) "Add thrice the chains, and thrice more firmly bind; Gaze all ye gods, and every goddess gaze, Yet eager would I bless the sweet disgrace." 380

Neptune "And free," (he cries,) "O Vulcan! free from shame Thy captives; I ensure the penal claim."

Vulcan "Will Neptune" (Vulcan then) "the faithless trust? 385 He suffers who gives surety for th' unjust: But say, if that lewd scandal of the sky, To liberty restor'd, perfidious fly; Say wilt thou bear the mulct?"

Neptune He instant cries; 390 "The mulct I bear, if Mars perfidious flies."

Vulcan To whom appeas'd: "No more I urge delay; When Neptune sues, my part is to obey."

Ulysses Then thus Ulysses: "Happy king, whose name The brightest shines in all the rolls of fame! In subjects happy! with surprise I gaze; 420 Thy praise was just; their skill transcends thy praise."

Ulysses "And blest be thou, my friend," (Ulysses cries,) "Crown him with every joy, ye favouring skies! To thy calm hours continued peace afford, 450 And never, never may'st thou want this sword."

Arete Thus spoke to Ithacus: "To guard with bands 480 Insolvable these gifts, thy care demands; Lest, in thy slumbers on the watery main, The hand of rapine make our bounty vain."

Nausicaa "Hail, godlike stranger! and when heaven restores 500 To thy fond wish thy long-expected shores, This ever grateful in remembrance bear, To me thou ow'st, to me, the vital air."

Ulysses "This, let the master of the lyre receive, A pledge of love! 'tis all a wretch can give. Lives there a man beneath the spacious skies 525 Who sacred honours to the bard denies? The Muse the bard inspires, exalts his mind; The Muse indulgent loves th' harmonious kind."

Current edition Experimental

Rhapsody 8

BOOK VIII.

ODYSSEY.

THE EIGHTH BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEYS.

THE ARGUMENT.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

THE EIGHTH BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEYS.

ARGUMENT OF THE EIGHTH BOOK.

THE ODYSSEY. BOOK VIII.

ODYSSEY BOOK VIII

PATTEN WILSON ODYSSEUS TAKES PART IN THE CONTESTS

Notes on the current edition

New Alexandria Commentaries

menos ‘mental power’

Footnotes

Bibliography

Stable identifiers

Minerva

"Nobles and chiefs who rule Phaeacia's states,

The king in council your attendance waits;

A prince of grace divine your aid implores,

O'er unknown seas arriv'd from unknown shores."

Euryalus

"Well hast thou spoke," (Euryalus replies,)

"Thine is the guest, invite him thou to rise."

Pallas

"Even he who sightless wants his visual ray

May by his touch alone award the day:

Thy signal throw transcends the utmost bound

Of every champion by a length of ground:

Securely bid the strongest of the train
225

Arise to throw; the strongest throws in vain."

Mars

"Come, my belov'd! and taste the soft delights;

Come, to repose the genial bed invites:

Thy absent spouse, neglectful of thy charms,
335

Prefers his barbarous Sintians⁶ to thy arms!"

Apollo

"Would'st thou enchain'd like Mars, O Hermes, lie,
375

And bear the shame like Mars, to share the joy?"

Hermes

"O envied shame!" (the smiling youth rejoin'd;)

"Add thrice the chains, and thrice more firmly bind;

Gaze all ye gods, and every goddess gaze,

Yet eager would I bless the sweet disgrace."
380

Neptune

"And free," (he cries,) "O Vulcan! free from shame

Thy captives; I ensure the penal claim."

Vulcan

"Will Neptune" (Vulcan then) "the faithless trust?
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He suffers who gives surety for th' unjust:

But say, if that lewd scandal of the sky,

To liberty restor'd, perfidious fly;

Say wilt thou bear the mulct?"

Neptune

He instant cries;
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"The mulct I bear, if Mars perfidious flies."

Vulcan

To whom appeas'd: "No more I urge delay;

When Neptune sues, my part is to obey."

Ulysses

Then thus Ulysses: "Happy king, whose name

The brightest shines in all the rolls of fame!

In subjects happy! with surprise I gaze;
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Thy praise was just; their skill transcends thy praise."

Ulysses

"And blest be thou, my friend," (Ulysses cries,)

"Crown him with every joy, ye favouring skies!

To thy calm hours continued peace afford,
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And never, never may'st thou want this sword."

Arete

Thus spoke to Ithacus: "To guard with bands
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Insolvable these gifts, thy care demands;

Lest, in thy slumbers on the watery main,

The hand of rapine make our bounty vain."

Nausicaa

"Hail, godlike stranger! and when heaven restores
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To thy fond wish thy long-expected shores,

This ever grateful in remembrance bear,

To me thou ow'st, to me, the vital air."

Ulysses

"This, let the master of the lyre receive,

A pledge of love! 'tis all a wretch can give.

Lives there a man beneath the spacious skies
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Who sacred honours to the bard denies?

The Muse the bard inspires, exalts his mind;

The Muse indulgent loves th' harmonious kind."

THE ODYSSEY.
BOOK VIII.

PATTEN WILSON
ODYSSEUS TAKES PART IN THE CONTESTS