The Odyssey, Page 22

  to all mankind, that the god, with a propitious heart,

  has bestowed upon you the gift of divine song."

  So he spoke.

  Setting out from the god, the other began to narrate the tale,

  from when the Argives embarked on their well-benched ships

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  and sailed away, after setting fire to the huts,

  while those led by far-famed Odysseus were already sitting

  in the Trojan place of assembly, concealed in the Horse.

  The Trojans themselves had hauled it into the citadel, and

  with it standing there they made many indecisive speeches

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  sitting around it. Three proposals found supporters:

  to cut through its hollow timbers with the pitiless bronze,

  to drag it up to the summit and push it over the edge,

  or leave it as a great offering to propitiate the gods--

  which in the event, was what was destined to happen,

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  for it was their fate to perish when the city enfolded

  that great horse of wood, in which sat all the best

  of the Argives, bringing the Trojans massacre and death.

  How the Achaians' sons then sacked the city he sang,

  as they poured from the horse, leaving their hollow ambush;

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  how they variously laid the steep city waste as they fought

  through it: how Odysseus, like Ares, together with godlike

  Menelaos pressed on to the house of Deiphobos. There

  it was, he said, that he dared his most terrible battle,

  and won in the end through the aid of great-hearted Athene.

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  This was the lay the far-famed minstrel sang. But Odysseus

  melted: tears from under his eyelids wet his cheeks.

  And as a woman wails and clings to her dear husband

  who's fallen fighting to save his city and his people,

  warding off from township and children the pitiless day,

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  and she sees him dying and gasping for breath, collapses

  on him, shrieking aloud, while enemies behind her

  batter her back and shoulders with their spears,

  and drag her away into slavery, to a life of toil and grief,

  while with most pitiful sorrow her cheeks are wasted--

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  such pitiful tears Odysseus now shed beneath his brows.

  His weeping escaped the notice of all the others; only

  Alkinoos was aware of it and took notice, since he sat

  beside him, and could hear his heavy sighing. At once

  he addressed himself to the Phaiakians, oar-lovers all:

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  "Listen, you leaders and counselors of the Phaiakians,

  and let Demodokos silence his clear-toned lyre,

  for the lay he's singing does not please every listener.

  Since we began our feast, and the divine singer arose,

  he's never--I mean the stranger--ceased from heartfelt

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  lamentation: some great grief must have assailed his mind!

  Then let the minstrel stop, so we all can enjoy ourselves,

  both hosts and guest: this is much the better way, since

  it's for our respected guest all this has been laid on:

  his conveyance, the kindly gifts we've given him as friends.

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  Dear as a brother the stranger and suppliant is regarded

  by any man whose wits have the slightest grasp of wisdom.

  Do not, therefore, stranger, hide behind deceptive phrasing

  the true answers to what I shall ask you: best to speak plainly.

  Tell me the name by which your mother and father

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  called you back there, and the others in your town and district,

  for there's none of mankind is wholly without a name,

  neither common nor noble, from the time he was born,

  but at their birth their parents fasten names on them all.

  And tell me your country, your district and your city,

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  that our ships may convey you thither, steering by their wits--

  for among the Phaiakians there exist no steersmen,

  nor indeed steering oars, such as other vessels possess;

  the ships themselves understand men's purposes and minds,

  and know all the cities of men, their fertile plowland,

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  and the gulf of the salt deep they traverse most speedily,

  hidden in mist and cloud; nor do they ever have

  the slightest fear of encountering damage or shipwreck.

  Yet once I heard a story related by my father,

  Nausithoos: he used to say that Poseidon was angry

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  with us, because we give safe convoy to all and sundry.

  One day, he said, a most beautiful Phaiakian vessel

  returning from escort duty out on the misty deep,

  he'd smite, and hide our city with a great mountain round it.

  So said the old man; the god will either fulfill this

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  or leave it unfulfilled, as the fancy takes him. But come,

  tell me this, and give me a true account of it: where

  have your wanderings taken you, to what countries

  of men have you come, their people, their populous cities,

  whether rough and wild and uncivilized, or those

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  that welcome strangers, and have god-fearing minds !

  And tell me what makes you weep and lament at heart

  as you hear the fate of the Danaan Argives, of Ilion:

  this the gods fashioned, and spun the thread of destruction

  for mankind, that there might be a song for those yet to come.

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  Did some kinsman of yours, perhaps, lose his life before Ilion?

  Some fine warrior, wife's father or son-in-law, those

  who are closest to you after your own flesh and blood? Or was it

  a comrade maybe, one especially dear to you,

  this fine warrior? For in no way less than a brother

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  is he who's a comrade and whose mind embraces wisdom."

  Book 9

  Then resourceful Odysseus responded to him, saying:

  "Alkinoos, lord, most distinguished among all peoples,

  it is indeed a good thing to listen to such a minstrel

  as this man is, who resembles the gods in his singing!

  There is, I'd say, no greater fulfillment of pleasure

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  than when all the people share a common enjoyment,

  and those feasting in the halls are listening to a minstrel

  as they sit there in order, and all the tables are loaded

  with bread and meat, and the cupbearer draws off wine

  from the bowl, and pours it into the cups. Indeed,

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  to me this seems the very best kind of occasion.

  But your spirit has moved you to ask about my unhappy

  troubles, that I may weep and sigh still further.

  What then shall I tell you first, what later? The heavenly

  gods have laid on me sorrows past counting. First,

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  now, I'll tell you my name, that you all may know it,

  and afterwards, if I escape the pitiless day, I may

  in turn be your host, far off though I make my home.

  I am Odysseus, Laertes' son, well known to all mankind

  for my crafty devices: my fame goes up to heaven.

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  My home is in sunny Ithake: there's a mountain on it,

  a landmark, Neriton, leaf-clad; and around it are many

  islands, set close each one to its next neighbor--

  Doulichion, Same, an
d forested Zakynthos.

  Ithake itself lies low in the sea, furthest out toward

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  night, but the rest are apart, nearer dawn and sunrise.1

  It's rough land, but fine for raising young men. Myself,

  I can't think of a sweeter sight than one's own country.

  Kalypso, bright among goddesses, kept me with her, it's true,

  in her hollow caves, wanting me for her husband;

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  and Kirke likewise detained me in her halls,

  that wily Aiaian lady, wanting me for her husband;

  but neither could ever persuade the heart in my breast--

  so sure as nothing's sweeter than a man's own country

  and forebears, though he may live far away in a rich home

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  in some foreign land, and quite remote from his parents.

  "But come, let me tell you now of the grief-laden homecoming

  that Zeus afflicted me with on my way back home from Troy.

  From Ilion the wind drove me, brought me to the Kikones,

  to Ismaros. There I sacked the city, slaughtered the men.

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  From the city we took both the wives and a heap of goods

  and divided them. I made sure none got less than a fair share.

  Then I was all for us light-footing it out of there,

  and so urged; but the rest, the great fools, refused to listen.

  Then much wine was drunk, and many a sheep they slew

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  along the shore, many crumple-horned shambling steers.

  The Kikones meanwhile had gone and appealed to other Kikones,

  their neighbors--more numerous, and more courageous too,

  who dwelt on the mainland, and knew all about fighting

  from chariots as well as, where necessary, on foot.

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  They came now, as thick as leaves and flowers in season,

  at dawn: then indeed an ill fate from Zeus beset us,

  out of luck as we were, brought us a mass of troubles.

  By the swift ships they stood and fought: each side

  attacked the other with their bronze-tipped spears.

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  While it was morning still, while the sacred day increased,

  we stood firm and held them off, despite their numbers;

  but once the sun had reached the hour for unyoking oxen,

  then the Kikones broke the Achaians and overwhelmed them,

  and six of our well-greaved comrades from each ship

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  died, but the rest of us dodged death and destiny. So

  we sailed on from there, lamenting at heart, but glad

  at having got clear of death, though we'd lost our comrades.

  Nor did I let our curved ships proceed any further

  until we'd all called out three times to each of our luckless

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  comrades who'd died on the plain, cut down by the Kikones.

  Yet against our ships cloud-gathering Zeus still roused

  the north wind, with an awesome tempest, and hid

  both land and deep sea behind clouds: night sprang from heaven.

  Our ships were driven on sidelong, fragments--three, four--

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  were ripped from the sails by the violence of the wind.

  So, scared of destruction, we lowered them to the deck,

  and rowed our way hastily landward. There for two

  nights and two days continuously we lay to,

  eating our hearts out with sorrow and sheer exhaustion;

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  but when fair-haired Dawn brought on the third day, then

  we stepped the masts, hoisted the white sails, and took

  our seats: the wind and the helmsmen steered our vessels.

  And then unscathed I would have come back to my own country;

  but as I was rounding Cape Malea the waves and the current

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  and the north wind drove me off course, sent me past Kythera.

  For the next nine days I was borne on by deadly winds

  over the fish-rich sea; on the tenth I set foot

  on the land of the Lotus-Eaters, who feed off a flowery food.

  Here we went ashore and replenished our store of water,

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  and my comrades now had a meal, there by the swift ships.

  But when we'd gotten our fill of food and drink,

  then I sent out some comrades to go ahead and discover

  what kind of people, among earth's bread-eaters, dwelt here--

  two men I chose, and a third to go with them as herald.

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  They went straight off, and soon found the Lotus-Eaters;

  and these Lotus-Eaters, far from wanting to kill

  our comrades, offered them lotus to eat. Now none

  who consumed the honey-sweet fruit of the lotus any longer

  had the urge to bring news back or continue the voyage,

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  but were set upon staying right there, with the Lotus-Eaters,

  munching lotus, their homecoming all forgotten.

  These men I myself dragged weeping back to the ships,

  and tied them up below deck in the hollow vessels,

  and ordered all the rest of my trusty companions

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  to board the swift ships without delay, lest any

  by eating the lotus should forget their homecoming.

  So they quickly embarked, and, seating themselves at the rowlocks,

  ranged in good order, struck the grey brine with their oars.

  "From there we sailed on further, grieving at heart, until

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  we reached the Kyklopes' country--an arrogant, lawless

  people who, relying upon the immortal gods,

  with their own hands plant nothing, nor do they plow;

  but everything flourishes for them, unplowed, unsown:

  wheat and barley, and vines that bear rich clusters

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  of grapes; and the rain of Zeus makes them grow. They have

  neither assemblies for counsel nor established customs,

  but make their homes near the summits of high mountains

  in hollow caves, and each man lays down the law

  to his children and wives: they care nothing for one another.

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  "A fertile island's spread out there, beyond the harbor,

  neither near the Kyklopes' land, nor yet remote from it,

  well wooded: on it countless wild goats flourish,

  for no human comings and goings get in their way,

  nor do hunters disturb them, men who have it rough

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  tracking game in the woodland over the mountain tops;

  nor is it grazed on by flocks or put under the plow,

  but unsown and unplowed all its days it stays bereft

  of humankind, supports nothing but bleating goats.

  For the Kyklopes have no vermilion-cheeked vessels,

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  nor in their land are there shipwrights, who might build them

  well-benched ships that could answer all their needs,

  take them to other men's countries (as often enough

  men traverse the sea in ships to call upon one another)--

  men who could also develop the island for them,

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  for it's far from poor and could grow every crop in season:

  on it are meadows, beyond the banks of the salt-grey sea,

  soft and well watered: vines would never lack moisture,

  the earth's good for plowing, they could reap deep-standing

  harvests in season, so rich is the subsoil. Here too

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  is a good safe harbor, with no need of moorings, either

  anchor stones to throw out or stern warps to secure:

  one can just beach one's vessel and
wait till the crew are minded

  to put to sea, and get a soft following wind.

  At the head of the harbor there's bright water flowing,

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  a spring from under a cave, with poplars growing round it.

  There we sailed in, and some god gave us guidance