HOMER
ODYSSEY
Translated by Ian Johnston, Vancouver Island University, Nanaimo, British Columbia, Canada.
This document is in the public domain (released January 2024). For a brief publication history see Odyssey: Table of Contents. For an RTF or PDF format of this translation use the following links: Odyssey [RTF]; Odyssey [PDF]
BOOK TEN
AEOLUS, THE LAESTRYGONIANS, AND CIRCE
[Odysseus continues his narrative: he and his ships reach Aeolia, home of Aeolus, god of the winds; Aeolus welcomes them and gives Odysseus a bag with all the winds tied up inside it; Odysseus sails from Aeolia, but his men open the bag, bringing on a storm which drives them back to Aeolia; Aeolus refuses Odysseus’s request for further help and orders him off the island; Odysseus and his men reach the land of the Laestrygonians, who attack them and destroy all the ships except Odysseus’s vessel; that one ship sails to the island of Aeaea, land of Circe; Odysseus kills a stag for a meal; half the men go to Circe’s house and are changed into pigs; Eurylochus brings the news to Odysseus; Odysseus meets Hermes, who gives him an antidote to Circe’s spells; Circe tries to bewitch Odysseus and fails; they go to bed together; Circe changes the men back to human beings; they stay there one year, and then sail on, heading for Hades’s home.]
“We reached Aeolia, a floating
island,
where Aeolus lived, son of Hippotas,
whom immortal gods hold dear.(1)
Around it,
runs an impenetrable wall of bronze,
and cliffs rise up in a sheer face of rock.
His twelve children live there in the palace,
six daughters as well as six full-grown sons.
He gave the daughters to the sons in marriage,
and they are always at a banquet feasting,
beside their dear father and good mother,
10
with an infinite store of fine things to eat
set out before them. The smells of cooking
[10]
fill the house all day. The courtyard echoes
to the sounds of celebration. At night,
they go to sleep beside their faithful wives,
on coverlets and beds well strung with cord.(2)
We reached the splendid palace in the city,
and for one whole month he entertained me,
always asking questions about everything—
Troy, Argive ships, and the return back home.
20
I described it all from start to finish.
When, for my part, I asked to take my leave
and told him he should send me on my way,
he denied me nothing and helped me go.
He gave me a bag made out of ox-hide,
skin flayed from an animal nine years old,
and tied up in it all the winds that blow
[20]
from every side, for the son of Cronos
has made Aeolus keeper of the winds,
and he could calm or rouse them, as he wished.
30
With a bright silver cord he lashed that bag
inside my hollow ship, so as to stop
even the smallest breath from getting out.
He also got a West Wind breeze to blow
to carry ships and men on their way home.
But that’s not how things happened to turn out—
we ruined everything with our own folly.
For nine whole days and nights we held our course,
and on the tenth we glimpsed our native land.
We came in so close we could see the
men
40
[30]
who tend the beacon fires.(3) But then sweet Sleep
overcame me—I was so exhausted.
All that time my hands had gripped the sail rope—
I’d not let go of it or passed it on
to any shipmate, so that we’d get home
more quickly. But as I slept, my comrades
started talking to each other, claiming
I was taking gold and silver with me,
gifts of Aeolus, brave son of Hippotas.
Glancing at the man who sat beside him,
50
one of the crew would mutter words like these:
‘It’s not fair. Everyone
adores this man
and honours him, no matter where he goes,
to any city, any land. From Troy
he’s taking a huge stash of splendid loot—
[40]
but those of us who’ve been on the same trip
are coming home with empty hands. And now,
Aeolus, because he’s a friend of his,
has willingly presented him these gifts.
Come on, let’s see how much gold and silver
60
he has in this bag.’
As they talked like this,
my companions’ envious thoughts prevailed.
They untied the bag. All the winds rushed out.
Then storms winds seized them, swept them out to sea,
in tears, away from their own native land.
At that point I woke up. Deep in my heart
[50]
I was of two minds—I could jump overboard
and drown or just keep going in silence,
remain among the living. I stayed there
and suffered on. Covering up my head,
70
I just lay there on the deck, while our ships,
loaded with my whimpering companions,
were driven by those wicked blasts of wind
all the way back to Aeolus’s island.
We went ashore there and brought back water.
My crew had a quick meal beside the ships.
After we’d had something to eat and drink,
I set off for Aeolus’s splendid home,
taking with me one comrade and a herald.
I found him feasting with his wife and children.
80
[60]
So we went in the house and sat down there
on the threshold, right beside the doorposts.
In their hearts they were amazed. They asked me:
‘Odysseus, why have you
returned to us?
What cruel god has been attacking you?
We took great care to send you on your way
so you’d get home, back to your native land
or any other place, just as you wished.’
That’s what they asked. With a
heavy heart,
I answered them:
‘My foolish comrades,
90
aided by malicious Sleep, have harmed me.
But, my friends, you can repair the damage—
that’s within your power.’
I said these words
[70]
to reassure them. But they stayed silent.
And then their father gave me this reply:
‘Of all living mortals, you
are the worst—
so you must leave this island with all speed.
It would violate all sense of what is right
if I helped out or guided on his way
a man the blessed gods must hate. So leave.
100
You’re here because the deathless gods despise you.’
Once he’d said this, he sent
me from his house,
for all my heavy groans. Then, sick at heart,
we sailed on further, my crewmen’s spirits
worn down by the weary work of rowing.
Because we’d been such fools, there was no breeze
to help us on our way. We kept going
for six whole days and nights. On the seventh
[80]
we came to Telepylus, great citadel
of Lamus, king of Laestrygonians,
110
where the herdsman bringing his flock back home
salutes the herdsman moving his beasts out.
There any man who had no need of sleep
could earn two wages—for tending cattle
and for grazing sheep. Day and night-time trails
lie close together.(4) We approached and rowed
into a lovely harbour, with sheer cliffs
around it on both sides. Jutting headlands
facing one another extended out
past the harbour. The entrance was quite small.
120
[90]
All my companions brought their curved ships up
and moored them inside the hollow harbour
in a tightly clustered group—in that spot
there were never any waves, large or small.
Everything was calm and bright around them.
But I moored my black ship all by itself
outside the harbour, right against the land,
tying it to the rock. I climbed the cliff
and just stood there, on a rugged outcrop,
looking round. I could see no evidence
130
of human work or ploughing, only smoke
rising from the land. I sent some comrades
[100]
to learn what the inhabitants were like,
the men who ate the food this land produced.
I chose two men, with a third as herald.
They left the ships and came to a smooth road,
which wagons used to haul wood to the town
from high mountain slopes. Outside the city
they met a young girl collecting water,
a noble daughter of Antiphates,
140
a Laestrygonian. She’d come down there
to the fine flowing spring Artacia,
where the townsfolk went to draw their water.
The men walked up and spoke to her. They asked
who ruled the people there and who they were.
[110]
She quickly pointed out her father’s lofty home.
They reached the splendid house and found his wife,
an immense woman, like a mountain peak.
They were horrified. She called her husband,
strong Antiphates, from an assembly,
150
and he arranged a dreadful death for them—
he seized one of my shipmates and prepared
to make a meal of him. The other two
jumped up, ran off, and came back to the ships.
Antiphates then raised a hue and cry
throughout the city. Once they heard his call,
the mighty Laestrygonians poured out,
thronging in countless numbers from all sides—
not like men at all, but Giants. From cliffs
[120]
they hurled rocks down on us, the largest stones
160
a man can lift. The clamour from the ships
was dreadful—my men were being destroyed,
ships were smashing into one another,
with those huge monsters spearing men like fish,
and taking them to eat a gruesome meal.
While they were slaughtering the sailors there,
trapped in the deep harbour, I grabbed my sword,
pulled it from my thigh, and cut the cables
on my dark-prowed ship, yelling to my crew,
ordering them to put their oars to work,
170
so we could get away from this disaster.
They all churned the water with their oar-blades,
[130]
afraid of being killed. We were relieved,
as my ship left the beetling cliffs behind,
moving out to sea. But the other ships,
those in the harbour, were totally destroyed.
We sailed away from there with heavy hearts,
grieving for dear companions we had lost,
though glad we had avoided death ourselves,
until we reached the island of Aeaea,
180
home of that dread goddess, fair-haired Circe,
who possessed a human voice—blood sister
to murderous Aeetes, both children
of sun god Helios, who gives men light.(5)
Perse, child of Ocean, was their mother.
Here, in silence, we brought our ship to land,
[140]
inside a harbour with fine anchorage.
Some god was guiding us. We disembarked
and laid up in that spot two days and nights,
our hearts consumed with weariness and pain.
190
When fair-haired Dawn gave birth to the third day,
with my sharp sword and spear I quickly climbed
above the ships up to a vantage point,
to see if I could notice signs of men
or hear voices. From the rocky lookout
where I was standing, I saw smoke rising
above the spacious grounds of Circe’s home
through dense brush and trees. Noticing the smoke,
[150]
my mind and heart considered going down
to look around. But as I thought about it,
200
the best initial action seemed to be
to get back to our ship along the shore,
let my companions eat, then send them out
to reconnoiter. On my way back there,
in a lonely place close to our curved ship,
some god pitied me and sent across my path
a huge stag with massive antlers, on its way
from pastures in the woods towards the stream
to slake its thirst—the sun’s heat forced it down.
[160]
As it came out, I struck it in the spine,
210
the middle of its back. My bronze-tipped spear
sliced right through—with a groan the stag collapsed,
down in the dust its spirit left the beast.
I planted my feet and pulled my bronze spear
out of the wound and left it lying there,
on the ground. I picked up some willow shoots
and wove a rope about six feet in length,
by plaiting them together back and forth,
until they were well twisted. After that,
I tied the huge creature’s feet together,
220
and, carrying it across my back, returned
to my black ship. I had to support myself
by leaning on my spear—there was no way
I could just sling a beast as large as that
[170]
and hold it on my shoulder with one hand.(6)
I tossed the stag down right before our ship,
encouraging the crew with words of comfort.
I stood by each of them in turn:
‘My friends,
we’re not going down to Hades—not just yet,
although we’re grieving, not until the day
230
we must confront our fate. So come on now,
while there’s still food and drink in our swift ship,
let’s think of eating, so we don’t waste away
and die of hunger.’
That’s what I said. My words
soon won them over. Uncovering their heads,
they saw the stag there and were astonished
at such a huge beast lying by the sea.
[180]
Once they’d had their fill of looking at it,
they washed their hands and made a splendid meal.
So all day long until the sun went down
240
we sat feasting on that large supply of meat
and on sweet wine. After the sun had set
and darkness came, we lay down on the shore.
As soon as rose-fingered early Dawn appeared,
I called a meeting and addressed them all:
‘Shipmates, though you’re all
feeling our distress,
listen now to what I have to tell you.
My friends, how far we are to east or west
[190]
we just don’t know, or how far we’ve travelled
from where lord Helios, who brings men light,
250
goes down beneath the earth or rises up.(7)
But let’s quickly put our heads together
to see if there’s some scheme we can devise.
I’m not sure there is. I climbed a rocky crag,
and from that vantage point spied out the land.
It’s an island with deep water round it,
low-lying and flat. I did see some smoke
rising in the middle of the island,
through dense brush and trees.’
That’s what I said.
But their spirits fell, as they remembered
260
what the Laestrygonian king had done
and the brute force of mighty Polyphemus,
[200]
that man-eating cyclops. They wept aloud,
shedding frequent tears. But those cries of theirs
were not much help to us. So I split up
my well-armed comrades in two separate groups,
each with its own leader. I commanded one,
and godlike Eurylochus the other.
We shook tokens in a helmet made of bronze.
When brave Eurylochus’s lot fell out,
270
he set off with twenty-two companions,
all in tears, leaving us behind to grieve.
In a forest clearing they found Circe’s house
[210]
of polished stone, with views in all directions.
There were mountain wolves and lions round it,
all bewitched by Circe’s wicked potions.
But they made no attack against my men.
No. They stood up on their hind legs and fawned,
wagging their long tails. Just as dogs will beg
around their master coming from a feast,
280
for he keeps bringing scraps to please their hearts—
that’s how the wolves and sharp-clawed lions there
kept fawning round those men, who were afraid
just looking at those terrifying beasts.
My comrades stood by fair-haired Circe’s gate
[220]
and heard her sweet voice singing in the house,
as she went back and forth before her loom,
weaving a huge, immortal tapestry,
the sort of work that goddesses create,
finely woven, luminous, and beautiful.
290
Then Polites, one of the men’s leaders,
the shipmate I trusted most and cherished
more than any of my comrades, spoke up:
‘Friends, someone’s in there
moving to and fro,
before a giant tapestry, and singing
so sweetly the floor echoes to her song—
perhaps a goddess, maybe a woman—
come now, let’s all give her a shout.’
He spoke,
and they all started yelling, calling her.
She came out at once, opened the bright doors,
300
and asked them to come in. In their folly,
they all went in the house. Eurylochus
[230]
was the only one of them to stay outside—
he thought that Circe might be tricking them.
She led the others in and sat them down
on stools and chairs, then made them all a drink
of cheese and barley meal and yellow honey
stirred into Pramnian wine. But with the food
she mixed a vicious drug, so they would lose
all memories of home. When they’d drunk down
310
the drink she’d given them, she took her wand,
struck each of them, then stuck them in her pens.
They had bristles, heads, and voices just like pigs—
their bodies resembled swine—but their minds
[240]
were as before. Inside their pens they wept.
Circe threw down some feed in front of them—
acorns, beech nuts, cornel fruit—the stuff
pigs eat when they are wallowing in mud.
Eurylochus came back immediately
to our swift black ship, bringing a report
320
of his comrades’ fate. But though he tried,
he could not say a single word—his heart
felt too much pain. His eyes were full of tears,
his mind transfixed with sorrow. When all of us,
astonished, questioned him, he spoke out,
describing to us his companions’ fate:
[250]
‘Lord Odysseus, we went
through the forest,
as you had ordered and, in a clearing,
found a splendid house built of polished stone,
with a view in all directions. Inside,
330
someone was singing in a loud clear voice,
in front of an enormous piece of weaving,
moving back and forth—some god or woman.
They all shouted, calling her. She came out,
opened her shining doors without delay,
and asked them to come in. In their foolishness,
they accompanied her inside. But I,
thinking it might be a trick, remained behind.
Then the whole bunch disappeared, all of them.
No one came out again. And I sat there
340
a long time, watching for them.’
[260]
He spoke.
I slung my large bronze silver-studded sword
across my shoulder, grabbed my bow, and told him
to take me back there on the selfsame trail.
He gripped me with both his hands, clasped my knees,
moaned, and spoke to me—his words had wings:
‘Child raised by Zeus, do not
take me there
against my will. Let me stay here. I know
you won’t be coming back again yourself
or bringing back the rest of your companions.
350
No. Let’s get out of here and quickly, too,
with these comrades here. We may still escape
this day’s disasters.’
That’s what he said.
But I gave him this answer:
[270]
‘Eurylochus,
you can stay right here, in this very spot,
eating and drinking by our hollow ship.
But I will go. I don’t have any choice.’
This said, I walked away from
ship and shore.
As I was moving through the sacred groves
on my way to Circe’s home, a goddess
360
skilled in many magic potions, I met
Hermes of the Golden Wand. I was going
towards the house. He looked like a young man
when the first growth of hair is on his lip,
the age when youthful charm is at its height.
He gripped my hand, spoke to me, and said:
[280]
‘Where are you off to now, you
wretched man,
wandering through these hills all by yourself
and knowing nothing of the country here?
Your shipmates, over there in Circe’s house,
370
have been penned up like swine in narrow stalls.
Are you intending now to set them free?
I do not think you’ll make it back yourself—
you’ll remain there with the others. But come,
I will keep you free from harm and save you.
Take a remedial medicine with you,
and go to Circe’s house. It will protect you
and keep your head safe from any danger
this day may bring. Now I’ll describe for you
each and every one of Circe’s fatal ploys.
380
She’ll mix a drink for you and with that drink
[290]
include a drug. But she won’t have power
to cast a spell on you. The potent herb
that I’ll provide you will not allow it.
I’ll tell you now in detail. When Circe
touches you with her elongated wand,
then draw that sharp sword on your thigh and charge,
as if you were intent on killing her.
She’ll be afraid. And then she’ll order you
to sleep with her. At that point don’t refuse
390
to share the goddess’s bed, if you wish
to free your crew and entertain yourself.
But tell her she must swear a solemn oath,
on all the blessed gods, not to make plans
to harm you with some other injury,
[300]
so when you are in bed completely naked,
she won’t change you to an unmanned weakling.’
After these words, the Killer
of Argus
pulled a plant out of the ground, offered it,
and explained its features. Its roots were black,
400
the flower milk-white. Gods call it Moly.
It’s difficult for mortals to pull out,
but gods have power to do anything.(8)
Then Hermes left, through the wooded island,
bound for high Olympus. I continued on
to Circe’s home. As I moved on, my heart
was turning over many gloomy thoughts.
After I had walked up to the gateway
[310]
of fair-haired Circe’s house, I just stood there
and gave a shout. The goddess heard my voice.
410
She came out at once, opened her bright doors,
and invited me inside. I entered,
heart full of misgivings. She led me in
and sat me on a silver-studded chair,
a lovely object, beautifully made,
with a stool underneath to rest my feet.
She mixed her potion in a golden cup
for me to drink. In it she placed the drug,
heart still bent on mischief, gave it to me,
and, when I drank, without being bewitched,
420
she struck me with her wand and said these words:
‘Off now to your sty, and lie
down in there
[320]
alongside all the rest of your companions.’
She spoke. I drew the sharp
sword on my thigh
and charged at her, as if intent on murder.
She gave a piercing scream, ducked, then ran up,
reaching for my knees. Through her tears she spoke—
her words had wings:
What sort of man are you?
Where are you from? Where is your native town?
Your parents? I’m amazed you drank this drug
430
and then were not bewitched. No other man
who’s tried it has been able to resist,
once it’s passed the barrier of his teeth.
Inside that chest of yours your mind holds out
against my spell. You must be Odysseus,
[330]
that resourceful man. The Killer of Argus,
Hermes of the Golden Wand, always said
Odysseus in his swift black ship would come
on his way back from Troy. So put that sword
back in its sheath, and let the two of us
440
go up into my bed. When we’ve made love,
then we can trust each other.’
Once she said this,
I answered her and said:
‘O Circe,
how can you ask me to be kind to you?
In your own home you’ve changed my crew to pigs
and keep me here. You’re plotting mischief now,
inviting me to go up to your room,
[340]
into your bed, so when I have no clothes,
you can do me harm, destroy my manhood.
But I will not agree to go to bed,
450
unless, goddess, you will agree to swear
a solemn oath that you’ll make no more plans
to injure me with some new devious trick.’
When I’d said this, she made
the oath at once,
as I had asked, that she’d not injure me.
Once she had sworn and finished with the oath,
I went with Circe to her splendid bed.
Meanwhile four women serving in her home
were busy in the hall, children of springs,
[350]
groves, and sacred rivers flowing out to sea.
460
One of them threw lovely purple coverlets
across the chairs and spread linen underneath.
And one pulled silver tables to each chair
and on them placed baskets made of silver.
The third one mixed deliciously sweet wine
inside a silver bowl, then served it out
in cups of gold. The fourth brought water in,
lit a large fire under a huge cauldron,
and warmed the water up until it boiled
inside the bronze. She sat me in a tub,
470
[360]
and, diluting water from that cauldron
so it was right for me, gave me a bath,
pouring water on my head and shoulders,
until the weariness that sapped my heart
had left my limbs. After giving me a bath,
she rubbed me with rich oil, then fitted me
in a fine cloak and tunic and led me
to a handsome chair embossed with silver,
finely worked, with a footstool underneath.
A maid brought in a lovely golden jug,
480
poured water out into a silver basin,
so I could wash, and set a polished table
[370]
at my side. Then the distinguished steward
brought in bread and set it there before me,
placing with it large quantities of food,
given freely from her stores. She bade me eat.
But in my heart I had no appetite.
So I sat there, thinking of other things,
my spirit sensing something ominous.
When Circe noticed me just sitting there,
490
not reaching for the food, weighed down with grief,
she came up close and spoke winged words to me:
‘Odysseus, why are you just
sitting here,
like a man who’s mute, wearing out your heart,
never touching food or drink? Do you think
this is another trick? Don’t be afraid—
[380]
I’ve already made a solemn promise
I won’t injure you.’
When she said this,
I answered her and said:
‘O Circe,
what man with any self-respect would start
500
to eat and drink before he had released
his shipmates and could see them face to face?
If you are being sincere in asking me
to eat and drink, then set my comrades free,
so my own eyes can see my trusty crew.’
When I said this, Circe went
through the hall,
her wand clutched in her hand, and opened up
the pig-sty doors. She drove the whole herd out.
They looked like full-grown pigs at nine years old,
[390]
standing there before her. She went through them,
510
smearing on them all a different potion.
Those bristles brought on by that toxic drug
which they’d received from Circe earlier
fell from their limbs, and they were men again,
more youthful and much taller than before,
more handsome to the eye. Now they knew me.
Each shipmate grabbed my hand, and all of them
were overcome with passionate weeping,
so the house around them echoed strangely.
Circe herself was moved to pity then—
520
standing near me, the lovely goddess said:
[400]
‘Resourceful Odysseus, son of
Laertes,
and child of Zeus, go now to the sea shore,
back to your swift ship, drag it up on land,
and stash your goods and all the things you need
inside the caves. Then come back here again,
and bring your loyal companions with you.’
Her words persuaded my proud
heart. I left,
going back to our swift ship beside the sea.
I found my trusty comrades at the ship
530
lamenting sadly, shedding many tears.
Just as on a farm calves frisk around the herd
[410]
when cows, having had their fill of grazing,
return back to the yard—they skip ahead,
and pens no longer hold them, as they run,
mooing in a crowd around their mothers,
that’s how my companions, once they saw me,
thronged around, in tears—in their hearts it felt
as if they they’d just sailed back to their own land,
the rugged town of Ithaca itself,
540
where they were born and bred. In their distress
they spoke winged words to me:
‘You’re back,
you favourite of Zeus. We’re glad of that,
as if we had returned to Ithaca,
[420]
our native land. But come, describe for us
how our other comrades came to grief.’
They spoke. I replied and reassured them:
‘First, let’s drag our ship up
onto the shore,
stow all our goods and tackle in the caves.
Then you can rouse yourselves and come with me,
550
see your comrades in Circe’s sacred home,
enjoying food and wine. There’s lots of both.’
What I said to them quickly
brought them round.
Of all my shipmates there, Eurylochus
was the only one to hesitate. He spoke—
[430]
his words had wings:
‘You wretched creatures,
where are you going? Are you so in love
with these disasters you’re going back there,
to Circe’s house, where she’ll transform you all
to pigs or wolves or lions, so we’ll be forced
560
to protect her great house for her? It’s like
what the cyclops did, when our companions
went inside his cave with this reckless man,
Odysseus—thanks to his foolhardiness
those men were killed.’
Eurylochus finished.
Then my heart considered drawing the sword
hanging on my sturdy thigh and striking him,
slicing off his head, knocking it to earth,
[440]
although he was a relative of mine,
closely linked by marriage.(9) But my crewmen,
570
one by one, calmed me with their soothing words:
‘You child of Zeus, if you
give the order,
we’ll leave him behind. He can remain here,
beside the ship, and stand guard over it,
while you lead us to Circe’s sacred home.’
This said, they moved up from
the ships and shore.
And Eurylochus was not left behind
at our hollow ship. He came with the group,
afraid I might be harsh and punish him.
Meanwhile, Circe had been acting kindly
580
to the rest of my companions in her home.
She’d given them baths, rubbed them with rich oil,
[450]
and dressed them in warm cloaks and tunics.
We found them all, in fine spirits, eating
in the hall. When my men saw each other
and recognized their shipmates face to face,
their cries and weeping echoed through the house.
The lovely goddess came to me and said:
‘Resourceful Odysseus, son of
Laertes
and Zeus’s child, you should no longer rouse
590
an outburst of such grief. I know myself
every pain you’ve suffered on the fish-filled seas,
every wrong that hostile men have done on land.
Come now, enjoy my food, and drink my wine—
[460]
revive once more the spirit in your chest
you had when you first left your native land
of rugged Ithaca. You’re weary now—
you have no spirit—you’re always brooding
on your painful wanderings. There’s no joy
inside your hearts—you have endured so much.’
600
Our proud hearts were
persuaded by her words.
We stayed there, day by day, for one whole year,
feasting on sweet wine and huge stores of meat.
But as the months and seasons came and went,
the long spring days returned. A year had passed.
[470]
My trusty comrades summoned me and said:
‘You god-driven man, now the
time has come
to think again about your native land,
if you’re someone who’s destined to be saved
and reach your lofty home and soil once more.’
610
My proud heart was persuaded
by their words.
So all day long until the sun went down,
we sat there, feasting on huge plates of meat
and on sweet wine. After the sun had set
and darkness came, they all lay down to sleep
in the shadowy hall. I went to Circe,
[480]
in her impressive bed, and clasped her knees.
The goddess listened to me as I spoke,
pleaded with her—my words had wings:
‘Circe,
fulfill the promises you made to me
620
to send me home. My spirit’s keen to leave,
as are the hearts in my companions, too,
who, as they grieve around me, drain my heart,
whenever you are not here among us.’
I spoke. The goddess answered me at once.
‘Resourceful Odysseus, son of
Laertes
and Zeus’s child, if it’s against your will,
you should not now remain here in my house.
But first you must complete another trip—
[490]
to the home of Hades and Persephone,
630
to consult the shade of blind Teiresias,
the Theban prophet. His mind is unimpaired.
Even though he’s dead, dread Persephone
has granted him the power to understand—
the others flit about, mere shadows.’
As Circe finished, my spirit
was breaking.
I sat weeping on her bed, for my heart
no longer wished to live or glimpse the light.
But when I’d had enough of shedding tears
and rolling in distress, I answered her:
640
[500]
‘Circe, who’ll be the guide on
such a trip?
No black ship has ever sailed to Hades.’
The lovely goddess gave me a quick answer:
‘Resourceful Odysseus, son of
Laertes
and Zeus’s child, do not concern yourself
with a pilot for your ship. Raise the mast,
spread out your white sail, and just take your seat.
And then the breath of North Wind Boreas
will take you on your way. But once your ship
has crossed flowing Ocean, drag it ashore
650
at Persephone’s groves, on the level beach
where tall poplars grow, willows shed their fruit,
[510]
right beside deep swirling Oceanus.(10)
Then you must go to Hades’ murky home,
where Periphlegethon and Cocytus,
a stream which branches off theriver Styx,
flow into Acheron. There’s a boulder
where these two foaming rivers meet. Go there,
heroic man, and do just what I say—
move close and dig a hole there two feet square.(11)
660
Pour libations to the dead around it,
the first with milk and honey, next sweet wine,
and then a third with water. And shake out
[520]
white barley meal. Then pray there in earnest
to all the hapless heads of those who’ve died,
with a vow that, when you reach Ithaca,
at home you’ll sacrifice a barren heifer,
the best you have, and will cram the altar
with lovely gifts and make an offering
to Teiresias, a black ram just for him,
670
the finest creature in your flocks. And then,
when you’ve offered prayers of supplication
to celebrated nations of the dead,
you’ll sacrifice a ram and a black ewe,
twisting their heads down towards Erebus,
while you turn to face the flowing rivers,
looking back.(12) At that point many spirits
will emerge—they’ll be the shadows of the dead.
[530]
Then call your crew. Tell them to flay and burn
the sheep lying there, killed by ruthless bronze.
680
Pray to the gods, to powerful Hades
and dread Persephone. Then from your thigh,
you must yourself draw out that sharpened sword,
and, sitting there, prevent the powerless heads
of those who’ve died from coming near the blood,
until you’ve listened to Teiresias.
That prophet, the leader of his people,
will soon come to you. He’ll tell you your course,
the distance you must go on your return,
and how to sail across the fish-filled seas.’
690
[540]
She spoke. Once Dawn appeared
on her golden throne,
Circe dressed me in a cloak and tunic
and clothed her body in a long white robe,
a lovely, finely woven garment, and tied
a splendid golden belt around her waist.
On her head she placed a veil. Then I went
through her whole house, rousing my companions,
with words of reassurance to them all:
‘No more sleeping now, no
sweet slumbering.
Let’s go. Queen Circe’s told me what to do.’
700
That what I said. And their
proud hearts agreed.
[550]
But I could not lead my men off safely,
not even from that place. Of all of them
the youngest was Elpenor, in battle
not all that brave or clever. He’d lain down
in Circe’s sacred home some distance off,
away from his companions. Heavy with wine,
he’d climbed onto the roof, seeking cooler air.
When he heard the noise and the commotion
made by his shipmates as they moved around,
710
he jumped up on the spot, but then forgot
to use the long ladder to come down again.
He fell from the roof headfirst, snapped his neck,
and broke his spine. His spirit went to Hades.
[560]
As my men came out, I spoke to them and said:
‘No doubt you now believe
you’re going home,
back to your dear native land. But Circe
has stated we must take a different route,
to Hades’ home and dread Persephone,
to meet the shade of Teiresias from Thebes.’
720
That’s what I said, and it
broke their spirit.
Sitting down right where they were, they shed tears
and tore their hair. But their cries were useless.
We moved down to our swift ship by the shore,
shedding many tears of grief, while Circe
[570]
went out and tied a ram and a black ewe
by our black ship. She’d slipped past us with ease,
for who can see a god move back and forth,
if she has no desire to be observed?”
ENDNOTES
(1)
This next
stop on Odysseus’s journey is a small island to the north of Sicily.
[Back to Text]
(2)
The Greek says “pierced (or
perforated) beds.” The best beds had bedsteads which had been bored with holes
so that cords could be strung through to provide more flexible support for the
sleeper. [Back to Text]
(3) These fires would serve to guide the ship toward
land. [Back to Text]
(4) The land of the Laestrygonians seems to be north of
Sicily, possibly Corsica. This rather odd passage has attracted some commentary.
It’s not clear why the sheep have to come in at night, just as the cattle are
going out to graze. The detail about the trails seems to suggest that one man
could get the double wage because the roads he would have to use are
conveniently near each other. The precise meaning, however, is disputed.
[Back to Text]
(5) The precise location of this island is a matter of
scholarly argument. In this passage, it would seem to lie close to the land of
the Laestrygonians, probably somewhere to the west of Corsica. Later in the
Odyssey references to the island seem to place it in a more easterly location.
Aeetes was king of Colchis, father of Medea. [Back
to Text]
(6) The image here suggests (according to Merry,
Riddell, and Monro) that Odysseus stuck his head between the bound legs and body
of the deer and carried it like a packsack, with both his hands on the spear,
because the beast was too heavy to carry in the usual way, slung over the
shoulder and held in place with one hand. [Back
to Text]
(7) Odysseus literally says “we don’t know where the
darkness is or the dawn or where the sun sets or rises,” a claim that seems to
mean he’s so lost he doesn’t know East from West any more. That seems extremely
unlikely, especially since the sun has apparently been shining earlier in the
story. The general sense is clear enough—they’re not sure where they are.
[Back to Text]
(8) The moly plant is probably a poetic fiction. Merry,
Riddell, and Monro suggest it might be hellebore, which fits the description of
the roots and flower and which was believed to be a protection against madness.
[Back to Text]
(9) According to some stories Eurylochus was married to
Odysseus’s sister. [Back to Text]
(10) Oceanus or Ocean is a river which in Homeric
geography surrounds the lands and the sea—it is, as it were, the outer rim of
the world (which is flat). It is not the same as the sea, although one can reach
it by sailing across the sea. [Back to
Text]
(11) The Greek reads “as great as the length of a pugon
(the distance from the elbow to the first finger joints) here and there.” This
is the length of a cubit, about two feet. [Back
to Text]
(12) Erebus is the deepest pit of Hades. Odysseus is, one assumes, not to watch
while the gods of the underworld sample the blood of the sacrificial animals in
the pit. [Back to Text]
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