The <I>Odyssey</I>

by Homer

  Only Eurulokhos held back all of my war-friends,

  telling them outright, the words with a feathery swiftness,

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  ‘Where are we going, you wretched men, with your longing

  for evil in Kirke’s hall? If you go the lady

  will change you all into wolves, lions or wild boars

  to guard her overgrown household—yes, and you’ll have to.

  That’s how the Kuklops acted when some of our war-friends

  went to his sheep-yard. Brash Odysseus led them.

  They lost their lives through one man’s reckless abandon.’

  An Urge to Kill

  “He spoke that way and I mulled it hard in my own mind

  whether to take my sharp-edged sword from its thigh-sheath

  and cut off his head, letting it plop on the ground there

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  for all his closeness through marriage. The rest of my war-friends

  held me back though, gently saying on all sides,

  ‘You’re nourished by Zeus: leave him.’ ‘Maybe you’d like him

  to stay right here at the shore, guarding our vessel.’

  ‘But take us all to the sacred household of Kirke!’

  “After their words we left the ship and the salt sea.

  Eurulokhos too would not be left by the hollow

  ship: he joined us, fearing the worst of my anger.

  A Tearful and Noisy Reunion

  “Kirke meanwhile had bathed the rest of my war-friends

  at home with care. She’d spread rich oil on their bodies

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  and tossed woolen mantles and tunics around them.

  We found them all dining well in her great hall.

  But soon as they saw us, face to face with each other,

  they wailed and cried, the household wailing around them.

  Spirits Regained

  “The shining Goddess came up close to me saying,

  ‘Son of Laertes, nourished by Zeus, my wily Odysseus,

  stop this rise of sorrow now. All of the anguish

  you felt on the fish-filled sea is a thing I have known well—

  all the harm on land too from those who opposed you.

  Come on then, drink my wine and relish the food here

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  until you’ve seized that spirit again in your strong chest,

  that strength when you first sailed from lands of your fathers,

  rock-strewn Ithaka. Now you’re wasted and listless,

  always remembering hard journeys, lacking the spirit

  of joy in your heart because you suffered so often.’

  A Year with the Enchantress

  “She spoke that way, our hearts were proud but we said yes.

  We stayed there many days; we ended a whole year.

  We sat and enjoyed her wine with plenty of good meat.

  Longing for Home

  “But after a year had passed, the changing of seasons

  and fading months, our long days at an end there,

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  my trusted war-friends began to call to me saying,

  ♦ ‘You strange power! Remember the land of our Fathers

  now if it’s God’s plan to save you and take you

  back to your high-roofed house in the land of your fathers.’

  “They spoke that way, my heart was proud but I nodded.

  We sat for a banquet all day long until sundown,

  dining on plenty of meat and drinking the sweet wine.

  Then as the sun went down and night was arriving,

  my men lay down and slept in the shadowy great hall.

  But I went up to the marvelous bedroom of Kirke

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  and clasped her knees. The Goddess heard what I told her—

  I spoke up well and my words had a feathery swiftness—

  ‘Ah my Kirke, keep the promise you made me

  to send me home. My heart’s anxious to go there

  now and my men’s hearts wear me down by wailing

  around me whenever chance has taken you elsewhere.’

  The Underworld First

  “I stopped and the shining Goddess answered me promptly,

  ‘Son of Laertes, nourished by Zeus, my wily Odysseus,

  don’t stay in my home any longer now if you’re not free.

  But first you’ll travel elsewhere: you need to be going

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  ♦ to Aides’ household and fearsome Persephoneia’s.

  You’ll speak with Teiresies’s ghost, the prophet of Thebes.

  A blind seer, the man’s mind is unshaken

  and Persephoneia grants him knowledge still as a dead man.

  Only that man is wise; the rest are a flitting of shadows.’

  She spoke that way and the spirit was broken inside me.

  I sat on the bed and cried. My heart was unwilling

  to go on living, to look at light from the Sun-God.

  How to Reach the Underworld?

  “After I writhed and had my fill of that crying,

  I found the words at length and answered by asking,

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  ‘Ah my Kirke, who’s my guide on this journey?

  No one’s ever gone to Aides’ house in a black ship.’

  Many Prayers and Offerings

  “I stopped and the shining Goddess answered me promptly,

  ‘Son of Laertes, nourished by Zeus, my wily Odysseus,

  don’t worry yourself about a guide for the black ship.

  Only stand your mast, spread out the white sail

  and sit down: the Northwind’s breath will carry you forward.

  After your ship has made it across Okeanos

  to fruitful shore and the groves of Persephoneia—

  a place of tall poplars and seed-dropping willows—

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  ♦ you’ll beach your ship by the eddies of deep Okeanos.

  Go down yourself to the moldy household of Aides.

  A branch of the Stux is there. The Kokutos empties

  into the Akheron; so do the Puriphlegethon’s waters.

  A boulder’s close to that roaring and joining of rivers.

  Go up close to it, war-chief, do as I tell you:

  dig a hole, a two-foot square, this way and that way;

  ♦ pour libations around it for all of the dead ones,

  first with honey and milk, second with sweet wine

  and third with water. Scatter some white barley around it.

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  Pray and vow to the frail heads of the dead there

  you’ll offer a barren cow, the best of your whole herd,

  arriving in Ithaka’s hall. You’ll build a pyre of your best gifts

  and slaughter a ram apart for Teiresies only—

  a beast all black, the ablest ram in your whole flock.

  Blood for the Dead

  ‘After you plead and pray to the families of well-known

  dead there, offer a ram’s blood and a black ewe’s.

  Make them turn toward Erebos; you should be turning

  around to face the river’s flow. Plenty of dead souls,

  yes, the truly dead, will now be approaching.

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  Strongly hearten your war-friends! Tell them to hurry,

  flay and burn the sheep cut down by your ruthless

  bronze and sprawled out there. Pray to the Death-Gods,

  powerful Aides and fearsome Persephoneia.

  Drawing the sharp sword yourself from your thigh-sheath,

  sit and allow none of the frail heads of the dead ones

  close to the blood before you’ve heard from Teiresies.

  The seer will come to you soon, a lord of his people,

  to tell you your course, how wide and far is the right way

  home on the fish-filled sea and how you should go there.’

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  Ready to Leave at Dawn

  “She sto
pped and promptly Dawn arrived on her gold throne.

  Kirke put a mantle and tunic around me.

  The Nymph herself was dressed in the whitest of long robes,

  graceful and finely woven. She’d wrapped a beautiful golden

  sash at her waist and tied a veil at her forehead.

  “I walked through the house myself and heartened my war-friends,

  approaching every man and telling him softly,

  ‘No more honeyed sleeping now as you lie here.

  Let’s go—my honored Kirke’s told me our whole plan.’

  I spoke that way, their hearts felt proud and they nodded.

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  A Ghost into the Underworld

  “Not even from there could I lead my men away safely.

  Elpenor, our youngest crewman, never was all that

  brave in war, not steady or strong in his mind-work.

  He’d lain apart from our friends, looking for cool air

  on Kirke’s well-blessed house. But wine overwhelmed him:

  hearing rumbles and calls of men as they moved out

  he stood up fast but his muddled brain had forgotten

  to go back down by the long ladder he’d climbed by.

  He fell from the roof head first, breaking the neck-bone

  clear of the spine. His ghost went down into Aides’.

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  Bitter News about the Journey

  “Then as my men were leaving I told them the story.

  ‘Maybe you plan on going home to the well-loved

  land of your fathers. But Kirke’s given us one more

  course to Aides’ house and fearsome Persephoneia’s

  to speak with the ghost of Teiresies, prophet of Thebes.’

  “I spoke that way and the spirits were broken inside them.

  They sat right there and wept, pulling their hair out.

  But nothing came from all their wailing and whining.

  Black Victims by a Black Ship

  “Approaching the race-fast ship on the shore of the salt sea,

  we all gave way to sadness, shedding our big tears.

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  Meanwhile Kirke had also gone to the black ship,

  tethering there a black ram and a black ewe.

  She’d passed us with ease. Who can look with his own eyes

  at Gods not wanting our looks while moving that way or this way?”

  BOOK 11 The Land of the Dead

  Leaving Kirke

  “Soon as we came back down to our ship and the salt sea,

  first of all we dragged the ship into bright surf,

  then we set both mast and sail on the black ship.

  We took the sheep on board and finally boarded

  ourselves, walking sadly, shedding our big tears.

  Letting the Wind Take Us

  “Now a good friend came, moving the dark-prowed

  ship from astern, a fair wind swelling the white sail

  ♦ and sent by Kirke, a feared Goddess who spoke like a human

  in lovely braids. Securing all our tackle aboard ship

  we sat down, helmsman and wind holding our course well.

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  All day long, sail stretched out, we sped through the water.

  The sun went down and the seaways were darkened.

  A Deadening Night

  “We came to an end out there, to deep Okeanos’s

  ♦ flow and the country and town of Kimmerian people,

  covered in haze and cloud. The brightening Sun-God

  never gazes with shining rays on that people,

  not when Helios climbs the star-dotted heavens

  or when he turns from the sky once more to the good earth.

  Deadening night spreads on those wretched people.

  We sailed in there, we beached our vessel and took out

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  the sheep. We walked ourselves by the flow of that Ocean

  until we came to the place that Kirke had told of.

  Milk, Wine, and Water for the Dead

  “There Perimedes joined Eurulokhos holding

  the victims. I drew my sharp sword from its thigh-sheath

  and dug a hole, a two-foot square, this way and that way.

  I poured libations around it for all of the dead ones,

  first with honey and milk, second with sweet wine

  and third with water. I scattered white barley around it.

  I prayed and vowed to the frail heads of the dead there:

  I’d offer a barren cow, the best of my whole herd,

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  arriving in Ithaka’s halls; I’d build a pyre of my best gifts.

  I’d slaughter a ram apart for Teiresies only,

  a beast all black, the ablest ram in my whole flock.

  The Dead Appear

  “After I prayed and vowed to the families of dead there,

  I took the sheep and offered them, slitting their gullets

  over the hole. The dark blood ran. Now they assembled,

  ghosts from Erebos, those who’d died and gone under:

  Nymphlike brides, bachelors, long-suffering old men,

  lively girls, their hearts containing the new pain,

  thousands pierced by bronze-tipped spears on the War-God’s

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