The Odyssey

Homer

• Publisher: Dover Publications
• Year: 2012
• ISBN:
  9780486111056
• Topic: Literatur
• Subtopic: Antike & klassische literarische Sammlungen

This excellent prose translation of Homer's epic poem of the 9th century BC recounts one of Western civilization's most glorious tales, a treasury of Greek folklore and myth that maintains an ageless appeal for modern readers. A cornerstone of Western literature, The Odyssey narrates the path of a fascinatingly complex hero through a world of wonders and danger-filled adventure.
After ten bloody years of fighting in the Trojan War, the intrepid Odysseus heads homeward, little imagining that it will take another ten years of desperate struggle to reclaim his kingdom and family. The wily hero circumvents the wrath of the sea god Poseidon and triumphs over an incredible array of obstacles, assisted by his patron goddess Athene and his own prodigious guile. From a literal descent into Hell to interrogate a dead prophet to a sojourn in the earthly paradise of the Lotus-eaters, the gripping narrative traverses the mythological world of ancient Greece to introduce an unforgettable cast of characters: one-eyed giants known as Cyclopses, the enchantress Circe, cannibals, sirens, the twin perils of Scylla and Charybdis, and a fantastic assortment of other creatures.
Remarkably modern in its skillful use of flashbacks and parallel line of action, Homer's monumental work is now available in this inexpensive, high-quality edition sure to be prized by students, teachers, and all who love the great myths and legends of the ancient world.
A selection of the Common Core State Standards Initiative.

IV,

AT LACEDAEMON

INTO THE low land now they came of caverned Lacedaemon and drove to the palace of famous Menelaus. They found him holding a wedding feast for all his kin in honor of the son and gentle daughter of his house. To the son of Achilles, that breaker of men’s ranks, he gave his daughter; for long ago, at Troy, he pledged himself to give her, and now the gods brought round their wedding. Accordingly to-day with horses and with chariots he sent her forth to the famed city of the Myrmidons, whose king her bridegroom was. Then for his son he took to wife Alector’s daughter out of Sparta, his son being now full grown, strong Megapenthes, the child of a slave mother. The gods gave Helen no more issue after she in the early time had borne her lovely child, Hermione, who had the grace of golden Aphrodite.

Thus at the feast in the great high-roofed house, neighbors and kinsmen of famous Menelaus sat and made merry. Among them sang the sacred bard and touched his lyre; a pair of dancers went whirling down the middle as he began the song.

Now at the palace gate two youths and their horses stopped, princely Telemachus and the proud son of Nestor. Great Eteoneus came forth and saw them,—he was a busy squire of famous Menelaus,—and hastened through the hall to tell the shepherd of the people, and standing close beside him he said in winged words:

“Here are two strangers, heaven-descended Menelaus, and they are like the seed of mighty Zeus. Say, shall we unharness their swift horses, or shall we send them forth for some one else to entertain?”

Then, deeply moved, said light-haired Menelaus: “You were no fool, Boëthoüs’ son, Eteoneus, before this time, but now you chatter folly like a child! Only because as guests we often had our food of strangers, are we here; and we must look to Zeus henceforth to keep us safe from harm. No! take the harness from the strangers’ horses and bring the men themselves within to share our feast.”

He spoke, and Eteoneus hastened along the hall and called on other busy squires to follow. They took the sweating horses from the yoke, tied them securely at the mangers, threw them some corn and mixed therewith white barley, then tipped the chariot up against the bright face-wall, and brought the men into the lordly house. And they, beholding, marveled at the dwelling of the heaven-descended king; for a sheen as of the sun or moon played through the high-roofed house of famous Menelaus. Now after they had satisfied their eyes with gazing, they went to the polished baths and bathed. And when the maids had bathed them and anointed them with oil, and put upon them fleecy coats and tunics, they took their seats by Menelaus, son of Atreus. And water for the hands a servant brought in a beautiful pitcher made of gold, and poured it out over a silver basin for their washing, and spread a polished table by their side. Then the grave housekeeper brought bread and placed before them, setting out food of many a kind, freely giving of her store. The carver, too, took platters of meat and placed before them, meat of all kinds, and set their golden goblets ready. And greeting the pair said light-haired Menelaus:

“Break bread, and have good cheer! and by and by when you have eaten, we will ask what men you are. Surely the parent line suffers no loss in you; but you are of some line of heaven-descended sceptred kings. For common men have no such children.”

So saying, he set before them fat slices of a chine of beef, taking up in his hands the roasted flesh which had been placed before him as the piece of honor; and on the food spread out before them they laid hands. But after they had stayed desire for drink and food, Telemachus said to Nestor’s son,—his head bent close, that others might not hear:

“0 son of Nestor, my heart’s delight, notice the blaze of bronze throughout the echoing halls, the gold, the amber, silver, and ivory! The court of Olympian Zeus within must be like this. What untold wealth is here! I am amazed to see.”

What he was saying light-haired Menelaus overheard, and speaking in winged words he said: “Dear children, no! No mortal man could vie with Zeus; eternal are his halls and his possessions; but one of humankind to vie with me in wealth there may or may not be. Through many woes and wanderings I brought it in my ships, and I was eight years on the way. Cyprus, Phœnicia, Egypt, I wandered over; I came to the Ethiopians, Sidonians, and Erembians, and into Libya, where the lambs are full-horned at their birth. Three times a year the flocks bear young. No prince or peasant there lacks cheese, meat, or sweet milk, but the ewes always give their milk the whole year round. While I was gathering thereabouts much wealth and wandering on, a stranger slew my brother while off his guard, by stealth, and through the craft of his accursed wife. Here too I have no joy as lord of my possessions. But from your fathers you will have heard that tale, whoever they may be; for great was my affliction, and desolate my house which once stood fair and stored with many blessings. Would I were here at home with but the third part of my wealth, and they were safe to-day who fell on the plain of Troy, far off from grazing Argos! But no! and for them all I often grieve and mourn when sitting in my halls. Now with a sigh I ease my heart, then check myself; soon comes a surfeit of benumbing sorrow. Yet in my grief it is not all I so much mourn as one alone, who makes me loathe my sleep and food when I remember him; for no Achaean met the contests that Odysseus met and won. And still on him it was appointed woe should fall, and upon me a ceaseless pain because of him; so long he tarries, whether alive or dead we do not know. For him now mourn the old Laërtes, steadfast Penelope, and Telemachus, whom he left at home a new-born child.”

So he spoke, and stirred in Telemachus yearnings to mourn his father. Tears from his eyelids dropped upon the ground when he heard his father’s name, and he held with both his hands his purple cloak before his eyes. This Menelaus noticed, and hesitated in his mind and heart whether to leave him to make mention of his father or first to question him and prove him through and through.

While he thus doubted in his mind and heart, forth from her fragrant high-roofed chamber Helen came, like golden-shafted Artemis. For her, Adraste placed a carven chair; Alcippe brought a covering of soft wool, and Phylo a silver basket which Alcandra gave, the wife of Polybus, who lived at Thebes in Egypt, where abundant wealth is in the houses. He gave to Menelaus two silver bath-tubs, a pair of kettles, and ten talents of gold. And then, besides, his wife gave Helen beautiful gifts; she gave a golden distaff and a basket upon rollers, fashioned of silver, and its rim finished with gold. This her attendant Phylo now brought and set beside her, filled with a fine-spun yarn; across it lay the distaff, charged with dark wool. Seated upon her chair,—upon whose lower part there was a rest for feet,—she straightway questioned thus her husband closely:

“Do we know, heaven-descended Menelaus, who these men here assert themselves to be? Shall I disguise my thought or speak it plainly? My heart bids speak. None have I ever seen, I think, so like another—no man, no woman; amazed am I to see!—as this man here is like the son of brave Odysseus, even like Telemachus, whom his father left at home a new-born child, when you Achaeans, for the sake of worthless me, came under the walls of Troy, eager for valorous fighting.”

Then, answering her, said light-haired Menelaus: “Now I too note it, wife, even as you suggest; such were Odysseus’ feet and hands, his turn of eye, his head, and hair above. And even now, as I began to call to mind Odysseus and to tell what grievous toils he bore in my behalf, this youth let fall a bitter tear from under his brows and held his purple cloak before his eyes.”

Then Nestor’s son, Peisistratus, made answer: “0 son of Atreus, heaven-descended Menelaus, leader of hosts, this is in truth his son, as you have said; but he is modest and too bashful in his heart to make display of talk on his first coming here, before you too, whose voice we both enjoy as if it were a god’s. The Gerenian horseman, Nestor, sent me forth to be his guide; for he desired to see you, hoping that you might give him aid by word or deed. Ah, many a grief the son of an absent father meets at home, when other helpers are not by. So with Telemachus; the one is gone, and others there are none throughout the land to ward off ill.”

Then, answering him, said light-haired Menelaus: “What! Is there then within my house the son of one so dear, one who for me bore many a conflict! I used to say I should rejoice over his coming home far more than over that of all the other Argives, if through the seas Olympian far-seeing Zeus let our swift ships find passage. In Argos I would have granted him a city, and would here have built his house, and I would have brought him out of Ithaca,—him and his goods, his child, and all his people,—clearing its dwellers from some single city that lies within my neighborhood and owns me as its lord. So living here we had been much together; and nothing further could have parted then our joyous friendship till death’s dark cloud closed round. But God himself must have been envious of a life like this, and made that hapless man alone to fail of coming.”

So he spoke, and stirred in all a yearning after tears. Then Argive Helen wept, the child of Zeus; Telemachus too wept, and Menelaus, son of Atreus; nor yet did Nestor’s son keep his eyes tearless. For in his mind he mused on good Antilochus, whom the illustrious son of the bright dawn had slain. Remembering whom, he spoke in winged words:

“0 son of Atreus, that you were wise beyond the wont of men old Nestor used to say, when we would mention you at home, talking with one another. And now if it is well, give heed to me; for after a feast I do not like to sit and grieve. There is to-morrow. Not that I think it ill to weep for one who dies, when he has met his doom. It is the only honor sorrowing men can pay, to cut the hair and let the tear fall down the cheek. A brother of mine once died, one not the meanest of the Argives. You must have known him. I never myself looked on his face and never knew him; but Antilochus, they say, was very swift of foot, a famous fighter.”

Then answering him said light-haired Menelaus: “Friend, you have said just what a man of understanding might say and even do, were he indeed your elder; for sprung from such a father you too talk with understanding. Easily is his offspring known to whom the son of Kronos allots a boon in birth and marriage. And thus has he blessed Nestor continually, all his days, granting him hale old age at home and children who are youths of wisdom, mighty with the spear. Let us then check the lamentation which arose a while ago and turn once more to feasting. Let them pour water on our hands. Again, to-morrow, for Telemachus and me there will be tales to tell.”

He spoke, and Asphalion poured water on their hands,—he was a busy squire of famous Menelaus,—then on the food spread out before them they laid hands.

Now elsewhere Helen turned her thoughts, the child of Zeus. Straightway she cast into the wine of which they drank a drug which quenches pain and strife and brings forgetfulness of every ill. He who should taste it, mingled in the bowl, would not that day let tears fall down his cheeks although his mother and his father died, although before his door a brother or dear son fell by the sword and his own eyes beheld. Such cunning drugs had the daughter of Zeus, drugs of a healing virtue, which Polydamna gave, the wife of Thon, in Egypt, where the fruitful soil yields drugs of every kind, some that when mixed are healing, others deadly. There every one is a physician, skillful beyond all humankind; for they are of the race of Paeon. So after she had cast the drug into the bowl and bidden pour, then once more taking up the word, she said:

“Heaven-descended son of Atreus, Menelaus, and you too, you sons of worthy men, though Zeus to one in one way, to another in another, distributes good and ill and is almighty, yet for the present sit and feast within the hall and cheer yourselves with tales. One fitting well the time I will relate. Fully I cannot tell, nor even name the many feats of hardy Odysseus. But this is the sort of deed that brave man did and dared there in the Trojan land where you Achaeans suffered. Marring himself with cruel blows, casting a wretched garment round his shoulders, and looking like a slave, he entered the wide-wayed city of his foes; and other than his own true self he made himself appear in this disguise, even like a beggar, far as he was from such an one at the Achaean ships. In such a guise, he entered the Trojans’ town; they took no notice, one and all; I alone knew him for the man he was and questioned him. He shrewdly tried to foil me. But after I had bathed him and anointed him with oil and given him clothing, when I had sworn a solemn oath not to make known Odysseus to the Trojans till he should reach the swift ships and the huts of the Achaeans, then he described the whole Achaean plot. So, slaying many Trojans with his trenchant sword, he went off to the Argives and carried back much knowledge. Thereat the other Trojan women raised a loud lament. My soul was glad; for my heart already turned toward going home again, and I would mourn the blindness Aphrodite brought when she lured me thither from my native land and bade me leave my daughter, my chamber, and my husband, —a man who lacked for nothing, either in mind or person.”

Then, answering her, said light-haired Menelaus: “Yes, all your tale, my wife, is told right well. I have in days gone by tested the wisdom and the will of many heroes, and I have traveled over many lands; but never have I beheld a soul so true as hardy Odysseus. This also is the sort of deed that brave man did and dared within the wooden horse where all we Argive chiefs were lying, bearing to the Trojans death and doom. Erelong you passed that way,—some god must have impelled you who sought to bring the Trojans honor; godlike Deïphobus was following after. Thrice walking round our hollow ambush, touching it here and there, you called by name the Danaän chiefs, feigning the voice of every Argive’s wife. Now I and the son of Tydeus and royal Odysseus, crouched in the middle, heard your call, and we two, starting up, were minded to go forth, or else to answer straightway from within; but Odysseus held us back and stayed our madness. Then all the other sons of the Achaeans held their peace. Anticlus only was determined to make answer to your words; but Odysseus firmly closed his mouth with his strong hands, and so saved all the Achaeans. All through that time he held him thus, till Pallas Athene led you off.”

Then answered him discreet Telemachus: “0 son of Atreus, heaven-descended Menelaus, leader of hosts, so much the harder is it; all was of no avail against a mournful death, though an iron heart was his. Nay, bring us to our beds, that so at last, lulled in sweet sleep, we be at ease.”

He spoke, and Argive Helen bade the maids to set a bed beneath the portico, to lay upon it beautiful purple rugs, spread blankets over these, and then place woolen mantles on the outside for a covering. So the maids left the hall, with torches in their hands, and spread the bed; and a page led forth the strangers. Thus in the porch slept prince Telemachus and the illustrious son of Nestor. But the son of Atreus slept in the recess of the high wall, and by him long-robed Helen lay, a queen of women.

Soon as the early rosy-fingered dawn appeared, Menelaus, good at the war-cry, rose from bed, put on his clothes, slung his sharp sword about his shoulder, under his shining feet bound his fair sandals, and came forth from his chamber in bearing like a god. Then seating himself beside Telemachus, he thus addressed him, saying:

“What is it that has brought you here, my lord Telemachus, to sacred Lacedaemon on the broad ocean-ridges? A public need or private? Tell me the very truth.”

Then answered him discreet Telemachus: “0 son of Atreus, heaven-descended Menelaus, leader of hosts, I came to see if you could tell me tidings of my father. My home is swallowed up, my rich estate is wasted; with men of evil hearts my house is filled, men who continually butcher my thronging flocks and swing-paced, crook-horned oxen,—the suitors of my mother, overweening in their pride. Therefore I now come hither to your knees to ask if you will tell me of my father’s mournful death, in case you saw it for yourself with your own eyes or from some other heard the story of his wanderings; for to exceeding grief his mother bore him. Use no mild word nor yield to pity from regard for me, but tell me fully all you chanced to see. I do entreat you, if ever my father, good Odysseus, in word or deed kept covenant with you there in the Trojan land where you Achaeans suffered, be mindful of it now; tell me the very truth.”

Then, deeply moved, said light-haired Menelaus: “Heavens! In a very brave man’s bed they sought to lie, the weaklings! As when in the den of a strong lion a hind has laid asleep her new-born sucking fawns, then roams the slopes and grassy hollows seeking food, and by and by into his lair the lion comes and on both hind and fawns brings ghastly doom; so shall Odysseus bring a ghastly doom on these. Ah, father Zeus, Athene, and Apollo! if with the power he showed one day in stately Lesbos, when he rose and wrestled in a match with Philomeleides, and down he threw him heavily, while the Achaeans all rejoiced,—if as he was that day Odysseus now might meet the suitors, they all would find quick turns of fate and bitter rites of marriage. But as to what you ask thus urgently, I will not turn to talk of other things, and so deceive you; but what the unerring old man of the sea told me, in not a word will I disguise or hide from you.

“At the river of Egypt, eager as I was to hasten hither, the gods still held me back, because I did not make the offerings due; and the gods wish us ever to be mindful of their precepts. Now in the surging sea an island lies,—Pharos they call it,—distant as far from the Egyptian stream as a hollow ship runs in a day when a whistling wind blows after. By it there lies a bay with a good anchorage, from which they send the trim ships off to sea after supplying them with drinking water. Here the gods kept me twenty days; not once came winds that blow along the sea and serve for aid to ships on the broad ocean-ridges. So all my stores would have been spent and my men’s courage, had not a certain goddess pitied and preserved me. This was Eidothea, the daughter of mighty Proteus, the old man of the sea; for I deeply moved her heart as she met me on my solitary way apart from my companions; for they were ever roaming round the island, fishing with crooked hooks, and hunger pinched their bellies. She, drawing near me, spoke and thus she said: ‘Are you so very helpless, stranger, and unnerved, or do you willingly give way, taking a pleasure in your pains? So long you have been pent within the island, unable to discover an escape, while fainter grows the courage of your comrades.’

“So she spoke, and answering her said I: ‘Then let me tell you, whatsoever goddess you may be, that I remain here through no will of mine, but I must have given offense to the immortals, who hold the open sky. Rather tell me,—for gods know all,—which of the immortals chains me here and bars my progress; and tell me of my homeward way, how I may pass along the swarming sea.’

“So I spoke, and straight the heavenly goddess answered: ‘Well, stranger, I will plainly tell you all. There haunts this place a certain old man of the sea, unerring and immortal, Proteus of Egypt, who knows the depths of every sea, and is Poseidon’s minister. He is, men say, my father, who begot me. If you could only lie in wait and seize on him, he would tell you of your course, the stages of your journey, and of your homeward way, how you may pass along the swarming sea. And he would tell you, heaven-descended man, if you desire, all that has happened at your home, of good or ill, while you have wandered on your long and toilsome way.’

“So she spoke, and answering her said I: ‘Do you instruct me how to lie in wait for the old god, lest he foreseeing or foreknowing may escape. Hard is a god for mortal man to master.’

“So I spoke, and straight the heavenly goddess answered: ‘Well, stranger, I will truly tell you all. When now the sun has reached mid-heaven, forth from the water comes the unerring old man of the sea at a puff of the west wind and veiled in the dark ripple. When he is come, he lays him down under the caverned cliffs; while round him seals, the brood of a fair sea nymph, huddle and sleep, on rising from the foaming water, and pungent is the scent they breathe of the unfathomed sea. There will I bring you at the dawn of day and lay you in the line. Meantime do you choose carefully for comrades the three best men you have among the well-benched ships. And I will tell you all the old man’s magic arts. First he will count the seals and go their round; and when he has told them off by fives and found them all, he will lie down among them like a shepherd with his flock. As soon as you see him sleeping, summon all your might and main and hold him fast, although he strive and struggle to escape. He will make trial of you, turning into whatsoever moves on earth, to water even, and heaven-kindled fire; yet hold unflinchingly and clasp the more. But when at length he questions you in his own shape,—in the same shape as when you saw him sleeping,— then, hero, cease from violence and set the old man free, but ask what god afflicts...