by Homer
They leveled a dancing place and widened a handsome
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place for games. The herald returned with the clear-toned
lyre and Demodokos stood in the center surrounded
by younger men in their prime, dancers with great skill
beating the holy ground with their feet, making Odysseus
marvel deeply. He stared at the flash of their ankles.
A Web’s Design
♦ Striking the lyre, the poet sang a delightful
song about Ares and stunningly crowned Aphrodite,
how they first made love in the house of Hephaistos
in secret. Ares gave her plenty of presents that sullied
the bed of her lord, Hephaistos. Promptly the Sun-God
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came and told him—he’d watched their lovemaking closely—
and soon as Hephaistos heard the heart-racking story
he went to the forge, his mind brooding on evil.
He set on its block a huge anvil to hammer out bindings
that never would loosen: he made them to stay in the same place.
After forging the hard web, still angry at Ares,
he went to the room where the bed was lying—his own bed—
and laid out links of the web to circle the bedposts
and hang overhead. Many came down from the rafters
like fine spiderweb, no one ever would spot it—
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surely no blissful God—its crafting was that sly.
Then with his trap in place all over the bedposts,
he faked a move to Lemnos, the well-built city
he loved and a place far dearer than any.
Bound to the Bed
God of the golden reins, Ares was not blind.
Seeing Hephaistos leave—he was known for his artwork—
Ares rushed to the house of well-known Hephaistos,
craving the love of gorgeously crowned Kuthereia.
The Lady had just arrived from her father, powerful Kronos’s
son. She sat in the house when Ares arrived there
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to take her hand. He called her name as he told her,
“Now my love, let’s enjoy ourselves on the bed here!
Hephaistos is not in the land. Doubtless he’s gone off
to Lemnos, the Sintien people, those with the rough speech.”
He spoke that way and she thought: how welcome to lie down!
The two made love in the bed. They dozed. And the bindings
around them started to hold, designed by crafty Hephaistos.
Unable to move their arms and legs or to sit up,
they shortly knew escape no longer would happen.
The Passion of the Gods Laid Bare
Well-known Hephaistos approached, hardy with both hands.
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Before arriving in Lemnos country he’d turned back—
the Sun-God, carefully watching, had told him the story—
so he arrived back home, troubled and heartsick.
He stood by the gate, a wild anger inside him,
and shouted fiercely at all the Gods on Olumpos,
“Fatherly Zeus and the rest of you Gods living forever,
look at this act here now, so painful and comic:
the daughter of Zeus, Aphrodite, always mistreats me,
lame as I am, and desires a wrecker like Ares
because he’s handsome and fast. I am a hobbler,
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born that way. No one else is to blame here,
only my parents. I wish they never had made me.
“But now you’ll see these two had sex in my own bed
and lay here afterward. How it galls me to see them!
And yet for all their lust I doubt they are hoping
to lie here long. They won’t be anxious to sleep here
soon! For now my trap’s bindings will hold them
until her Father returns all of the bride-gifts
I handed over to pay for this doglike woman.
His daughter’s a beauty, yes, but her love is without faith.”
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Laughter and More Lust
He paused and the Gods assembled close to his bronze house.
Poseidon, the Earth-Upholder, came with the Runner,
Hermes, and Lord Apollo came, that worker from far off.
But every Goddess, embarrassed, stayed in her own house.
The Gods, bringers of bounty, stood in the doorway.
Laughter rose from delighted Gods, it would not stop,
all of them gazed at the work of crafty Hephaistos,
one of the Gods glancing and telling another,
“No good from a bad act. The slow one catches the fast one:
see how slow Hephaistos overtook Ares,
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the fastest of all the Gods who rule on Olumpos.
A skillful trap—now the adulterer owes him.”
Those were the things the Gods might say to each other.
Hermes was asked by the son of Zeus, lordly Apollo:
“Hermes, our Messenger, son of Zeus, bringer of bounty!
How would you like it, held by powerful fetters
and lying in bed beside the gold Aphrodite?”
That Splendor of Argos, the Runner, answered him promptly,
“Lordly Apollo, Faraway Archer, if only it happened!
If triple the number of endless bindings would grip me,
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if all you Gods and every Goddess were looking,
at least I would lie myself by the gold Aphrodite.”
The God Wants His Money
Laughter rose from the deathless Gods when he’d spoken.
But laughter was not for Poseidon. Over and over
he asked Hephaistos, known for his craft, to loosen the bindings
on Ares. The words he spoke had a feathery swiftness:
“Let him go and I’ll pledge, just as you want it
among the deathless Gods: he’ll pay for everything rightly.”
But well-known Hephaistos answered, hardy with both hands:
“Poseidon, Earth-Upholder, don’t ask me to do that.
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It’s foolish to count on pay from a God who has fooled you.
♦ Before the deathless Gods how could I bind you
if Ares gets out of my web and avoids what he owes me?”
Poseidon, the Earth-Upholder, gave him an answer.
“Hephaistos, however Ares avoids what he owes you
or tries to run off, I’ll pay myself what I promised.”
The well-known God answered, hardy with both hands:
“I won’t say no. Denying that offer is not right.”
Getaway
So strong Hephaistos, after he’d spoken, loosened the bindings.
Soon as the powerful bindings were loosened the couple
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jumped up and left, Ares to Thrace in a hurry
and Aphrodite, that lover of laughter, jaunted to Kupros.
♦ Her grove is there, the aroma of incense at Paphos.
The Graces helped her bathe, anointing her body
with ageless oil of the Gods living forever.
They dressed her in lovely clothes, a marvel to look at.
That was the song of the well-known bard and it gladdened
Odysseus’s heart to hear it. It gladdened the others,
Phaiakians known for their long oars and their ship-craft.
The Dancers
Now Alkinoos told Laodamas quickly
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to dance with Halios—none of the dancers was better—
and promptly they picked up a ball, a beauty in purple
made for the dance by Polubos, knowing and artful.
One of them leaned backward and threw it at shadowy
clouds and the other one leaped from the gravel and caught it
with e
ase before he landed again on his two feet.
After they tested themselves by throwing it straight up,
they danced on the ground—the earth which nourishes all men—
throwing the ball to each other. The rest of the young men
stood in the game-field stamping steadily, loudly.
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Godlike Odysseus told Alkinoos outright,
“Lordly Alkinoos, praised by all of your people,
you claimed Phaiakian dancers here are the best ones.
They’ve made you right. I’m held by wonder to watch them.”
Presents for the Stranger
He made Alkinoos glad—his power was holy—
and promptly he told the Phaiakians, lovers of rowing,
“Listen, Phaiakian counselors, lords of the people!
Our guest would seem like a man most knowing and tactful.
Come on, let’s offer him presents right for a stranger.
Twelve outstanding rulers live in our country,
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powerful lords; I myself am the thirteenth.
♦ Let each ruler give him a clean mantle and tunic.
A talent of purest gold should come from each ruler.
We’ll gather it all together fast for the stranger
to hold in his hands; he’ll go to dine with a glad heart.
Eurualos, though, should calm the man with a present
and good words. The way he spoke is hardly our custom.”
Calm Returns
He spoke that way, they all said yes and each ruler
dispatched a herald quickly to carry the presents.
Eurualos answered Alkinoos also by saying,
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“Lordly Alkinoos, praised by all of your people,
I’ll calm the stranger myself, just as you asked me.
I’ll give him my sword, all bronze, joined to a silver
handle. Its freshly carved ivory scabbard
has workings on both sides. It’s surely a present of great worth.”
He stopped and placed the sword studded with silver
right in Odysseus’s hands. Each word had a feathery swiftness:
“I hail you, fatherly guest, and if words have been spoken
harshly may wind from a rainstorm carry them off now.
May Gods help you to see your wife and to reach home:
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you’ve surely suffered a long time far from your loved ones.”
An answer came from Odysseus, full of the best plans:
“Friend, I hail you also: be blessed by the great Gods.
I pray you’ll never miss your sword in the future.
What you’ve said and the sword you’ve offered have calmed me.”
He stopped and shouldered the sword studded with silver.
A Goblet of Gold
The sun went down. Outstanding presents were brought in:
high-born stewards carried them now to Alkinoos.
Sons of the handsome king, taking the lavish
presents, laid them before the mother they honored.
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Alkinoos led them along—his power was holy—
they came and sat on the high-backed chairs of the great hall.
Strong Alkinoos promptly spoke to Arete:
“Bring us a chest, my wife, whichever’s the best one.
Inside the coffer lay out a clean mantle and tunic.
Heat a cauldron too for the stranger, warm up the water.
After he bathes he can stare at all of the laid-out
presents our handsome Phaiakians brought to the palace.
He’ll relish our food, he’ll hear out songs of our singer.
I’ll give him my own goblet, a beauty in crafted
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gold to help him remember me all of his long days,
pouring wine for Zeus and the other Gods in his great hall.”
Fire under the Cauldron
He said so much and Arete ordered the handmaids
to set a huge cauldron over the fire in a hurry.
They stood the cauldron over the fire and they poured in
water for bathing. They laid down firewood beneath it.
Flame circled the cauldron’s belly, heating the water.
A Coffer Full of Treasure
Arete meanwhile brought from its room a marvelous coffer,
a chest for the stranger. She’d laid in beautiful presents,
clothes and talents of gold Phaiakians gave him.
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She placed a handsome tunic inside with a mantle,
telling her guest, her words with a feathery swiftness:
“Look to the lid yourself, tighten the knot in a hurry:
a man could rob you later perhaps when you’re going
home or lying in honeyed sleep on your black ship.”
Soon as the long-suffering, godlike Odysseus heard that,
he pressed on the lid and tightened the knot in a hurry—
♦ a crafty knot which queenly Kirke had taught him.
The Joys of a Warm Bath
Shortly a housekeeper asked him to come to the bathroom