The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature)

by Homer

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

  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

  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

  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,

  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,

  Nauteus, Eretmeus, Thoön, Proreus,

  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

  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-prais’d Laodamas,

  And Clytoneus, like a god in grace.

  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

  A stitch’s length in any fallow field

  Made good his pace when, where the judges yield

  The prize and praise, his glorious speed arriv’d.

  Next, for the boist’rous wrestling game they striv’d,

  At which Euryalus the rest outshone.

  At leap Amphialus. At the hollow stone

  Elatreus excell’d. At buffets, last,

  Laodamas, the king’s fair son, surpass’d.

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

  Laodamas said: ‘Come friends, let’s prove what skill

  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,

  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,’

  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 pow’rs in these contentions. If your show

  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

  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

  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,

  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-shipboard much,

  Or is the prince of sailors, or to such

  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 pow’rs for rampant gain,

  I can compare, or hold you like to be:

  But, for a wrestler, or of quality

  Fit for contentions noble, you abhor

  From worth of any such competitor.’

  Ulysses, frowning, answer’d: ‘Stranger, far

  Thy words are from the fashions regular

  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

  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.

  Men take delight to see how ev’nly 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 giv’n,

  But nothing else is in thee sent from heav’n;

  For in thee lurks a base and earthy soul,

  And th’ 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,

  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.

  The war of men, and the inhuman wave,

  Have I driv’n 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.’

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

  A little graver than was ever thrown

  By these Phaeacians in their wrestling rout,

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

  He hurried from him with a hand so strong

  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;

  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-giv’n Phaeacian men,

&nb
sp; And thus advanc’d Ulysses: ‘One, though blind,

  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 Phaeacian here

  This bound can either better or come near.’

  Ulysses joy’d to hear that one man yet

  Us’d 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,

  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.

  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?

  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,

  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

  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.

  Only was Philoctetes with his bow

  Still my superior, when we Greeks would show

  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 –

  Oechalian 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

  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,

  And doubt to meet with my superior here.

  So many seas so too much have misus’d

  My limbs for race, and therefore have diffus’d

  A dissolution through my loved knees.’

  This said, he still’d all talking properties;

  Alcinous only answer’d: ‘O my guest,

  In good part take we what you have been press’d

  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

  Your worth ill language, when he does not live

  In sort of mortals (whencesoe’er he springs,

  That judgment hath to speak becoming things)

  That will deprave your virtues. Note then now

  My speech, and what my love presents to you,

  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

  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,

  We boast us best; for table ever spread

  With neighbour feasts, for garments varied,

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

  And now, Phaeacians, you that bear your heads

  And feet with best grace in enamouring dance,

  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,

  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 his soundful lyre.’

  This said the god-grac’d king; and quick resort

  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.

  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,

  And shook a most divine dance from their feet,

  That twinkled starlike, 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.

  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

  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.

  His mighty anvil in the stock he put,

  And forg’d a net that none could loose 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,

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

  The bed, and bedposts, all the beam above

  That cross’d the chamber; and a circle strove

  Of his device to wrap in all the room.

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

  The woof before ’tis wov’n. 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

  Of all towns earthly; nor left this unknown

  To golden-bridle-using Mars, who kept

  No blind watch over him, but, seeing stepp’d

  H
is rival so aside, he hasted home,

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

  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.’ Well appay’d

  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

  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

  To any Lemnos, but the sure event

  Left Phoebus to discover, who told all.

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

  Stood in the portal, and cried out so high,

  That all the gods heard: ‘Father of the sky

  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

  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;

  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;

  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

  Of all the dow’r 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.’

  While this long speech was making, all were come

  To Vulcan’s wholly-brazen-founded home,