The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature)

by Homer

  By ancient ills, yet make me but see that,

  And then let life go, when withal I see

  My high-roof’d large house, lands, and family.’

  This all approv’d; and each will’d every one,

  Since he hath said so fairly, set him gone.

  Feast past and sacrifice, to sleep all vow

  Their eyes at either’s house. Ulysses now

  Was left here with Alcinous, and his queen,

  The all-lov’d Arete. The handmaids then

  The vessel of the banquet took away;

  When Arete set eye on his array,

  Knew both his out and under weed, which she

  Made with her maids, and mus’d by what means he

  Obtain’d their wearing; which she made request

  To know, and wings gave to these speeches: ‘Guest,

  First let me ask what and from whence you are?

  And then, who grac’d you with the weeds you wear?

  Said you not lately, you had err’d at seas,

  And thence arrived here?’ Laertiades

  To this thus answer’d: ‘Tis a pain, O queen,

  Still to be opening wounds wrought deep and green,

  Of which the gods have open’d store in me;

  Yet your will must be serv’d. Far hence, at sea,

  There lies an isle that bears Ogygia’s name,

  Where Atlas’ daughter, the ingenious dame,

  Fair-hair’d Calypso lives – a goddess grave,

  And with whom men nor gods society have.

  Yet I, past man unhappy, liv’d alone,

  By heav’n’s wrath forc’d, her house companion.

  For Jove had with a fervent lightning cleft

  My ship in twain, and far at black sea left

  Me and my soldiers; all whose lives I lost.

  I in mine arms the keel took, and was toss’d

  Nine days together up from wave to wave.

  The tenth grim night, the angry deities drave

  Me and my wrack on th’ isle in which doth dwell

  Dreadful Calypso; who exactly well

  Receiv’d and nourish’d me, and promise made

  To make me deathless, nor should age invade

  My pow’rs with his deserts through all my days.

  All mov’d not me, and therefore, on her stays,

  Sev’n years she made me lie; and there spent I

  The long time, steeping in the misery

  Of ceaseless tears the garments I did wear,

  From her fair hand. The eighth revolved year

  (Or by her chang’d mind, or by charge of Jove)

  She gave provok’d way to my wish’d remove,

  And in a many-jointed ship, with wine

  Dainty in savour, bread, and weeds divine,

  Sign’d, with a harmless and sweet wind, my pass.

  Then seventeen days at sea I homeward was,

  And by the eighteenth the dark hills appear’d

  That your earth thrusts up. Much my heart was cheer’d –

  Unhappy man, for that was but a beam,

  To show I yet had agonies extreme

  To put in suff’rance, which th’ Earth-shaker sent,

  Crossing my way with tempests violent,

  Unmeasur’d seas up-lifting, nor would give

  The billows leave to let my vessel live

  The least time quiet, that even sigh’d to bear

  Their bitter outrage; which at last did tear

  Her sides in pieces, set on by the winds.

  I yet through-swum the waves that your shore binds

  Till wind and water threw me up to it;

  When, coming forth, a ruthless billow smit

  Against huge rocks, and an accessless shore,

  My mangl’d body. Back again I bore,

  And swum till I was fall’n upon a flood,

  Whose shores, methought, on good advantage stood

  For my receipt, rock-free and fenc’d from wind;

  And this I put for, gathering up my mind.

  Then the divine night came, and treading earth,

  Close by the flood that had from Jove her birth,

  Within a thicket I repos’d, when round

  I ruffled up fall’n leaves in heap, and found,

  Let fall from heav’n, a sleep interminate.

  And here my heart, long time excruciate,

  Amongst the leaves I rested all that night,

  Ev’n till the morning and meridian light.

  The sun declining then, delightsome sleep

  No longer laid my temples in his steep,

  But forth I went, and on the shore might see

  Your daughter’s maids play. Like a deity

  She shin’d above them; and I pray’d to her,

  And she in disposition did prefer

  Noblesse, and wisdom, no more low than might

  Become the goodness of a goddess’ height.

  Nor would you therefore hope, suppos’d distrest

  As I was then, and old, to find the least

  Of any grace from her, being younger far.

  With young folks wisdom makes her commerce rare.

  Yet she in all abundance did bestow

  Both wine, that makes the blood in humans grow,

  And food, and bath’d me in the flood, and gave

  The weeds to me which now ye see me have.

  This through my griefs I tell you, and ’tis true.’

  Alcinous answer’d: ‘Guest! My daughter knew

  Least of what most you give her; nor became

  The course she took, to let with every dame

  Your person lackey; nor hath with them brought

  Yourself home too, which first you had besought.’

  ‘O blame her not,’ said he, ‘heroical lord,

  Nor let me hear against her worth a word.

  She faultless is, and wish’d I would have gone

  With all her women home; but I alone

  Would venture my receipt here, having fear

  And reverend awe of accidents that were

  Of likely issue: both your wrath to move,

  And to enflame the common people’s love

  Of speaking ill, to which they soon give place.

  We men are all a most suspicious race.’

  ‘My guest,’ said he, ‘I use not to be stirr’d

  To wrath too rashly; and where are preferr’d

  To men’s conceits things that may both ways fail,

  The noblest ever should the most prevail.

  Would Jove our father, Pallas, and the Sun,

  That, were you still as now, and could but run

  One fate with me, you would my daughter wed,

  And be my son-in-law, still vow’d to lead

  Your rest of life here! I a house would give,

  And household goods; so freely you would live,

  Confin’d with us. But ’gainst your will shall none

  Contain you here, since that were violence done

  To Jove our father. For your passage home,

  That you may well know we can overcome

  So great a voyage, thus it shall succeed:

  Tomorrow shall our men take all their heed,

  While you securely sleep, to see the seas

  In calmest temper, and, if that will please,

  Show you your country and your house ere night,

  Though far beyond Euboea be that sight.

  And this Euboea, as our subjects say

 
That have been there and seen, is far away,

  Farthest from us of all the parts they know

  And made the trial when they help’d to row

  The gold-lock’d Rhadamanth, to give him view

  Of earth-born Tityus; whom their speeds did show

  In that far-off Euboea, the same day

  They set from hence; and home made good their way

  With ease again, and him they did convey.

  Which I report to you, to let you see

  How swift my ships are, and how matchlessly

  My young Phaeacians with their oars prevail,

  To beat the sea through, and assist a sail.’

  This cheer’d Ulysses, who in private pray’d:

  ‘I would to Jove our father, what he said

  He could perform at all parts; he should then

  Be glorified for ever, and I gain

  My natural country.’ This discourse they had,

  When fair-arm’d Arete her handmaids bad

  A bed make in the portico, and ply

  With clothes, the covering tapestry,

  The blankets purple; well-napp’d waistcoats too,

  To wear for more warmth. What these had to do,

  They torches took and did. The bed purvey’d,

  They moved Ulysses for his rest, and said:

  ‘Come guest, your bed is fit, now frame to rest.’

  Motion of sleep was gracious to their guest,

  Which now he took profoundly, being laid

  Within a loop-hole tower, where was convey’d

  The sounding portico. The king took rest

  In a retir’d part of the house, where dress’d

  The queen her self a bed, and trundlebed,

  And by her lord repos’d her reverend head.

  The end of the seventh book

  Book 8

  The Argument

  The peers of the Phaeacian 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’ Epaean horse.

  Another Argument

  Theta

  The council’s frame

  At fleet applied;

  In strifes of game

  Ulysses tried.

  Book 8

  Now when the rosy-finger’d Morn arose,

  The sacred pow’r 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 Phaeacensian!

  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 pow’rs 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 heav’nly dress,

  Enlarg’d 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;

  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 Phaeacensian

  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 giv’n 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 men

  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 plac’d;

  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;

  For augur Phoebus 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

  ’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,

  That his large purple wood UIysses 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

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

  Ulysses, drying his wet eyes, did seize,

  And sacrific’d to those gods that would please

  T’ inspire the poet with a song so fit

  To do him honour, and renown his wit.

  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,

  He kept so cunningly from sight, that none,

  Except Alcinous himself alone,

  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

  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,