by Homer
Around him, clamorous as birds, the dead
Swarm’d turbulent; he, gloomy-brow’d as night, 740
With uncased bow and arrow on the string
Peer’d terrible from side to side, as one
Ever in act to shoot; a dreadful belt
He bore athwart his bosom, thong’d with gold.
There, broider’d shone many a stupendous form,
Bears, wild boars, lions with fire-flashing eyes,
Fierce combats, battles, bloodshed, homicide.
The artist, author of that belt, none such
Before, produced, or after. Me his eye
No sooner mark’d, than knowing me, in words 750
By sorrow quick suggested, he began.
Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!
Ah, hapless Hero! thou art, doubtless, charged,
Thou also, with some arduous labour, such
As in the realms of day I once endured.
Son was I of Saturnian Jove, yet woes
Immense sustain’d, subjected to a King
Inferior far to me, whose harsh commands
Enjoin’d me many a terrible exploit.
He even bade me on a time lead hence 760
The dog, that task believing above all
Impracticable; yet from Ades him
I dragg’d reluctant into light, by aid
Of Hermes, and of Pallas azure-eyed.
So saying, he penetrated deep again
The abode of Pluto; but I still unmoved
There stood expecting, curious, other shades
To see of Heroes in old time deceased.
And now, more ancient worthies still, and whom
I wish’d, I had beheld, Pirithoüs 770
And Theseus, glorious progeny of Gods,
But nations, first, numberless of the dead
Came shrieking hideous; me pale horror seized,
Lest awful Proserpine should thither send
The Gorgon-head from Ades, sight abhorr’d!
I, therefore, hasting to the vessel, bade
My crew embark, and cast the hawsers loose.
They, quick embarking, on the benches sat.
Down the Oceanus the current bore
My galley, winning, at the first, her way 780
With oars, then, wafted by propitious gales.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Key Passages from ‘The Odyssey’
Book II
Few match their fathers. Any tongue can tell
The more are worse: yea, almost none their sires excel.
Book II, lines 276–7 (Worsley).
Book III
Telemachus, thine own mind will conceive
Somewhat, and other will a god suggest.
Book III, lines 26–7 (Worsley).
Book IV
Nor can I not bewail one fall’n in death severe.
’Tis the sole boon to wretched mortals given,
The lock to sever and the tear to shed.
Book IV, line 195 (Worsley).
Book VI
Since nought is lovelier on the earth than this,
When in the house one-minded to the last
Dwell man and wife — a pain to foes, I wis,
And joy to friends — but most themselves know their own bliss.
Book VI, lines 182–5 (Worsley).
Zeus both to good and evil doth divide
Wealth as he listeth.
Book VI, line 188 (Worsley).
The best thing in the world
being a strong house held in serenity
where man and wife agree.
Book VI, lines 182–4 (translated by Robert Fitzgerald).
Book VII
Nothing more shameless is than Appetite,
Who still, whatever anguish load our breast,
Makes us remember in our own despite
Both food and drink.
Book VII, lines 216–8 (Worsley).
Book VIII
Not all fair gifts to all doth God divide,
Eloquence, beauty, and a noble heart.
Book VIII, lines 167–8 (Worsley).
Variant: We cannot all hope to combine the pleasing qualities of good looks, brains, and eloquence.
Now mark how evil-workers thrive not well.
The swift is overtaken of the slow.
Ares, the fleetest that on high doth dwell,
Is by Hephaestus, who doth limping go,
Caught with shrewd cunning, and doth forfeit owe.
Book VIII, lines 329–331 (Worsley).
A rogue’s word was ever found
Poor voucher.
Book VIII, line 351 (Worsley).
Book IX
More than all pleasures that were ever made
Parents and fatherland our life still bless.
Though we rich home in a strange land possess,
Still the old memories about us cling.
Book IX, lines 34–6 (Worsley).
Book X
The fleeting shadows of the dead.
Book X, line 521 (translated by G. A. Schomberg).
Book XI
His cold remains all naked to the sky,
On distant shores unwept, unburied lie.
Book XI, lines 72–3 (Pope).
No more are women to be trusted now.
Book XI, line 456 (Worsley).
Rather I’d choose laboriously to bear
A weight of woes, and breathe the vital air,
A slave to some poor hind that toils for bread,
Than reign the sceptred monarch of the dead.
Book XI, lines 489–492 (Pope).
The enormous weight
Back to the nether plain rolled tumbling down.
Book XI, line 598 (Worsley).
Book XII
Friends, we are not in dangers all unlearned.
Book XII, line 209 (Worsley).
Most grievous of all deaths it is to die of hunger.
Book XII, line 343; translation cited in T. B. Harbottle, Dictionary of Quotations (1897), .
I’d sooner die outright, beneath the waves o’erwhelmed,
Than on this desert island slowly waste away.
Book XII, lines 351–2 (Worsley); translation reported in Harbottle’s Dictionary of Quotations (1897), .
The wordy tale, once told, were hard to tell again.
Book XII, lines 453–4 (Worsley).
Book XIV
O friend, I dare not, though a worse man sought
These doors, a stranger use discourteously.
All strangers and all poor by Zeus are brought;
Sweet is our gift, yet small.
Book XIV, lines 56–9 (Worsley).
I speak for glory, since by wine made bold
Often to singing even the wise will fall,
Light laughter and the dance, nor can withhold
Words that in sooth were better far untold.
Book XIV, lines 463–6 (Worsley).
Book XV
Watch, lest in thy despite
Some fair possession from thy home he get:
Since, well thou knowest, a woman’s soul is set
His house to prosper whom she chance to wed.
Linked to another she discards all debt
Due to the children of her former bed,
Nor thinks at all of him, her dear-loved husband dead.
Book XV, lines 19–23 (Worsley).
He to my mind an equal sin doth show
Who, when a guest would linger, hints good-bye,
And who, if one desire to part, says no.
Book XV, lines 72–3 (Worsley).
Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.
Book XV, line 74 (Pope).
For now the nights move slowly and scarce end;
Yea, there is room for slumber, and to keep
Watch, and a listening ear to sweet words lend.
&
nbsp; Needs not at all unto thy couch to creep
For some while yet. Harm comes from even too much sleep.
Book XV, lines 392–4 (Worsley).
But we two, drinking wine and eating bread,
Will charm our dear hearts each with other’s pain.
Past sorrow, and the tears a man hath shed,
Who far hath wandered over earth and main,
Yield comfort.
Book XV, lines 398–401 (Worsley).
Book XVII
See how God ever like with like doth pair,
And still the worthless doth the worthless lead!
Book XVII, lines 217–8 (Worsley).
Bad herdsmen waste the flocks which thou hast left behind.
Book XVII, line 246 (Worsley).
Servants, when their lords no longer sway,
Their minds no more to righteous courses bend.
Book XVII, lines 320–1 (Worsley).
Half that man’s virtue doth Zeus take away,
Whom he surrenders to the servile day.
Book XVII, lines 322–3 (Worsley).
Shame is no comrade for the poor, I weet.
Book XVII, line 347 (Worsley).
Light is their reckoning, no remorse they feel,
Food not their own to lavish from so brave a meal.
Book XVII, lines 451–2 (Worsley).
If indeed there be a god in heaven.
Book XVII, line 484 (translated by S. H. Butcher, with Andrew Lang).
Book XVIII
Earth than a man no poorer feebler thing
Rears, of all creatures that here breathe and move.
Book XVIII, lines 130–1 (Worsley).
Receive in silence what the Father brings.
Book XVIII, line 142 (Worsley).
Book XIX
Steel itself oft lures a man to fight.
Book XIX, line 13 (Worsley).
Two diverse gates there are of bodiless dreams,
These of sawn ivory, and those of horn.
Such dreams as issue where the ivory gleams
Fly without fate, and turn our hopes to scorn.
But dreams which issue through the burnished horn,
What man soe’er beholds them on his bed,
These work with virtue and of truth are born.
Book XIX, lines 563–8 (Worsley).
Yet not for ever void of sleep remains
Man; for the gods by rule of life dispense
Sleep on all mortals whom the earth maintains.
Book XIX, lines 592–4 (Worsley).
Book XX
Bear up, my soul, a little longer yet;
A little longer to thy purpose cling!
Book XX, line 18 (Worsley).
Then the gods send us their refreshful sleep,
Which good and evil from our mind doth sweep.
Book XX, lines 85–6 (Worsley).
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Sappho
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Hymn to Aphrodite
Translated by Edwin Marion Cox
Shimmering-throned immortal Aphrodite,
Daughter of Zeus, Enchantress, I implore thee,
Spare me, O queen, this agony and anguish,
Crush not my spirit.
Whenever before thou hast hearkened to me —
To my voice calling to thee in the distance,
And heeding, thou hast come, leaving thy father’s
Golden dominions,
With chariot yoked to thy fleet-winged coursers,
Fluttering swift pinions over earth’s darkness,
And bringing thee through the infinite, gliding
Downwards from heaven,
Then, soon they arrived and thou, blessed goddess,
With divine contenance smiling, didst ask me
What new woe had befallen me now and why,
Thus I had called thee.
What in my mad heart was my greatest desire,
Who was it now that must feel my allurements,
Who was the fair one that must be persuaded,
Who wronged thee Sappho?
For if now she flees, quickly she shall follow
And if she spurns gifts, soon shall she offer them
Yea, if she knows not love, soon shall she feel it
Even reluctant.
Come then, I pray, grant me surcease from sorrow,
Drive away care, I beseech thee, O goddess
Fulfil for me what I yearn to accomplish,
Be thou my ally.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Third Poem: My Beloved
A troop of horse, the serried ranks of marchers,
A noble fleet, some think these of all on earth
Most beautiful. For me naught else regarding
Is my beloved.
To understand this is for all most simple,
For thus gazing much on mortal perfection
And knowing already what life could give her,
Him chose fair Helen,
Him the betrayer of Ilium’s honour.
Then recked she not of adored child or parent,
But yielded to love, and forced by her passion,
Dared Fate in exile.
Thus quickly is bent the will of that woman
To whom things near and dear seem to be nothing.
So mightest thou fail, My Anactoria,
If she were with you.
She whose gentle footfall and radiant face
Hold the power to charm more than a vision
Of chariots and the mail-clad battalions
Of Lydia’s army.
So must we learn in a world made as this one
Man can never attain his greatest desire,
But must pray for what good fortune Fate holdeth,
Never unmindful.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Virgil
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Eclogue I
MELIBOEUS TITYRUS
MELIBOEUS
You, Tityrus, ‘neath a broad beech-canopy
Reclining, on the slender oat rehearse
Your silvan ditties: I from my sweet fields,
And home’s familiar bounds, even now depart.
Exiled from home am I; while, Tityrus, you
Sit careless in the shade, and, at your call,
“Fair Amaryllis” bid the woods resound.
TITYRUS
O Meliboeus, ’twas a god vouchsafed
This ease to us, for him a god will I
Deem ever, and from my folds a tender lamb
Oft with its life-blood shall his altar stain.
His gift it is that, as your eyes may see,
My kine may roam at large, and I myself
Play on my shepherd’s pipe what songs I will.
MELIBOEUS
I grudge you not the boon, but marvel more,
Such wide confusion fills the country-side.
See, sick at heart I drive my she-goats on,
And this one, O my Tityrus, scarce can lead:
For ‘mid the hazel-thicket here but now
She dropped her new-yeaned twins on the bare flint,
Hope of the flock- an ill, I mind me well,
Which many a time, but for my blinded sense,
The thunder-stricken oak foretold, oft too
From hollow trunk the raven’s ominous cry.
But who this god of yours? Come, Tityrus, tell.
TITYRUS
The city, Meliboeus, they call Rome,
I, simpleton, deemed like this town of ours,
Whereto we shepherds oft are wont to drive
The younglings of the flock: so too
I knew
Whelps to resemble dogs, and kids their dams,
Comparing small with great; but this as far
Above all other cities rears her head
As cypress above pliant osier towers.
MELIBOEUS
And what so potent cause took you to Rome?
TITYRUS
Freedom, which, though belated, cast at length
Her eyes upon the sluggard, when my beard
‘Gan whiter fall beneath the barber’s blade-
Cast eyes, I say, and, though long tarrying, came,
Now when, from Galatea’s yoke released,
I serve but Amaryllis: for I will own,