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 EIGHT
ODYSSEUS IS ENTERTAINED IN PHAEACIA
[Odysseus goes to the
Phaeacian assembly; Alcinous outlines a proposal to assist Odysseus; men prepare
a boat for Odysseus; Demodocus sings of an old quarrel between Odysseus and
Achilles; Odysseus weeps at the banquet; the young men invite Odysseus to an
athletic competition, but he declines; Euryalus insults Odysseus; Odysseus
responds; Athena encourages him; Alcinous arranges a display of Phaeacian
dancing; Demodocus sings of how Hephaestus caught Ares and Aphrodite in an
affair; Alcinous proposes gifts for Odysseus; Euryalus apologizes; Arete gives
Odysseus a gift; Nausicaa and Odysseus exchange farewells; Demodocus sings the
story of the wooden horse at Troy; Odysseus weeps; Alcinous asks him to reveal
his identity.]
As soon as rose-fingered early Dawn appeared,
royal and mighty Alcinous rose from his bed,
and divinely born Odysseus, sacker of cities,
got up, too. Alcinous, a powerful king, led them
to the place Phaeacians organized assemblies,
ground laid out for them beside the ships. They moved
there
and then sat down on polished stones arranged in rows.
Pallas Athena moved quickly through the city,
looking like one of wise Alcinous’s heralds,
planning a voyage home for brave Odysseus.
10
To every noble she approached she spoke these words:
[10]
“Come, Phaeacian counsellor
and leader,
to the assembly to inform yourself
about the stranger who has just arrived
at the palace of our wise Alcinous.
He’s been wandering the sea, but in form
he looks like one of the immortal gods.”
With such words she aroused
the spirit in each man,
and so the seats in the assembly were soon full,
as people gathered there. Many of those present
20
were amazed at the sight of Laertes’s son—
Athena had poured an amazing poise on him
across his shoulders and his head and made him look
taller and more powerful, so the Phaeacians
[20]
would treat him properly and he would win from them
respect and awe—and prevail in competition,
the numerous rival contests where Phaeacians
would be challenging lord Odysseus. When the men
had gathered together on their assembly grounds,
Alcinous spoke to them and said:
“Listen to me,
30
you Phaeacian counsellors and leaders.
I’ll tell you what the heart in my chest says.
This stranger here, a man I do not know,
a wanderer, has travelled to my house,
from people in the east or from the west.
He’s asking to be sent away back home
[30]
and wishes us to grant him his request.
So let us act as we have done before
and assist him with his journey. No man
arriving at my palace stays there long
40
grieving because he cannot get back home.
Let’s drag a black ship down into the sea
for her first voyage. From the citizens
choose fifty-two young men who in the past
have shown they are the best. Once they’ve all lashed
the oars firmly in place, they’ll come ashore,
go to my house, and quickly have a meal.
I will provide enough for everyone.
That’s what I’m ordering for our young men.
[40]
But all you other sceptre-bearing kings
50
should come to my fine home, so in those halls
we can make the stranger welcome. No man
should deny me this. And then summon there
the noble minstrel Demodocus, the man
who has received from god the gift of song
above all others. He can entertain us
with any song his heart prompts him to sing.”
Alcinous spoke and led them
out. The sceptred kings
came after him. Meanwhile, a herald went to find
the godlike singer. Fifty-two hand-picked young men
60
went off, as Alcinous had ordered, to the shore
beside the restless sea. Once they reached their boat,
[50]
they dragged the black ship out to deeper water,
set the mast and sails in place inside the vessel,
lashed the rowing oars onto their leather pivots,
then hoisted the white sail. That done, they moored
the ship
well out to sea and then returned to the great home
of their wise king. Hallways, corridors, and
courtyards
were full of people gathering—a massive crowd,
young and old. On their behalf Alcinous slaughtered
70
eight white-tusked boars, two shambling oxen, and
twelve sheep.
[60]
These carcasses they skinned and dressed and then
prepared
a splendid banquet. Meanwhile the herald entered
with the loyal singer, a man loved by the Muse
above all others—she gave him both bad and good,
for she destroyed his eyes but then bestowed on him
the gift of pleasing song. The herald, Pontonous,
brought in a silver-studded chair where he could sit.
He set it against a lofty pillar in their midst,
hung the clear-toned lyre on a peg above his head,
80
and then explained to him how his hands could reach
it.
The herald placed a lovely table at his side,
with a basket of food and cup of wine to drink,
when his spirit felt the urge. Then all those present
[70]
reached for the splendid dinner set in front of them.
After they'd enjoyed their heart’s fill of food and
drink,
the minstrel Demodocus, inspired by the Muse,
sang about the glorious deeds of warriors,
that story whose fame had climbed to spacious heaven,
about Odysseus and Achilles, son of Peleus,
90
when, at a lavish feast in honour of the gods,
they fought each other in ferocious argument.(1)
Still, in his heart lord Agamemnon, king of men,
had been glad to see the finest of Achaeans
in that fight, for he had heard it would take place,
when he had crossed the threshold in sacred Pytho
[80]
to consult Phoebus Apollo in his oracle
and Apollo had answered him with this reply:
that from this moment on, disasters would begin
for Trojans and Danaans, as great Zeus had willed.
100
This was the song the celebrated minstrel sang.
Odysseus’s strong hands clutched his long purple
cloak,
pulled it above his head, and hid his handsome face.
He felt ashamed to let Phaeacians look at him
with tears streaming from his eyes. So every time
the godlike minstrel paused in his song, Odysseus
would wipe away the tears, take his two-handled cup,
and pour out a libation to the gods. But then,
when Demodocus started up again, urged to sing
by Phaeacian noblemen enjoying his song,
110
[90]
Odysseus would cover up his head once more and groan.
He concealed the tears he shed from all those present,
except Alcinous, the only one who noticed,
since he sat beside him and heard his heavy sighs.
So Alcinous quickly spoke to the Phaeacians,
men who love the sea:
“Listen to me,
you counsellors and leaders of Phaeacians.
Now we have refreshed our spirit. We’ve shared
this tempting food. Music has accompanied
our splendid banquet. So now let us go
120 [100]
and test ourselves in various events.
Then this stranger, after he gets back home,
can inform his friends how much we surpass
all other men at wrestling and boxing,
at jumping and at running.”
Once he said this,
Alcinous led them out, and they all followed him.
The herald hung the clear-toned lyre up on the peg,
took Demodocus by the hand, and led him out,
taking him along the pathway that other men,
Phaeacia’s best, had walked along to watch the games.
130
So they made their way to the large assembly ground.
A huge crowd numbering thousands walked behind them.
Many excellent young men came forward to compete—
[110]
Acroneus, Ocyalus, and Elatreus,
then Nauteus, Prymneus, and Anchialus,
Eretmeus, as well, along with Ponteus,
Proreus, Thoön, and Anabesineus,
with Amphialus, a son of Polyneus,
the son of Tecton, along with Euryalus,
a match for man-destroying Ares, god of war,
140
a son of Naubolus. His handsome looks and shape
made him, after Laodamas, who had no equal,
the finest of Phaeacians. Three sons of Alcinous
stepped out, as well—Halius and Laodomas,
and godlike Clytoneus. In the first contest
[120]
these men competed in the foot race on a course
laid out for them with markers. They all sprinted off,
moving quickly. A cloud of dust rose from the ground.
Clytoneus was by far the finest runner,
so he raced on ahead and got back to the crowd,
150
leaving others runners well behind, about as far
as the length of a furrow
made by a
team of mules
in ploughing fallow land.(2)
Then the competitors
tested their skill in the painful sport of wrestling,
and of all the noble princes Euryalus
proved himself the best, and in the leaping contest
noble Amphialus emerged victorious.
Elatreus triumphed in the discus throw,
as did Laodamas, fine son of Alcinous,
[130]
in the boxing match. Once they’d enjoyed these
contests,
160
Laodamas, son of Alcinous, said to them:
“Come, my friends, why don’t
we ask the stranger
whether there’s some contest he knows about
and understands. From the way his body looks
he’s no weakling—not in his thighs and calves,
his thick neck and those two strong upper arms—
lots of power there, no lack of youthful strength.
He is just worn out from constant hardship.
The sea is harsh at breaking a man down,
no matter what his strength. From what I know,
170
there’s nothing worse than that.”
Then Euryalus
[140]
answered him and said:
“Laodamas,
what you’ve just said is really sensible.
So now go on your own and challenge him.
And say it so that all of us can hear.”
When Alcinous’s fine son heard
these words, he moved
so he was standing in the middle of the crowd,
and spoke out to Odysseus:
“Honoured stranger,
come and test yourself in competition,
if there’s some sport in which you have great skill.
180
It seems to me you know how to compete,
since there’s no greater glory for a man
than what he wins with his own hands and feet.
So come, make the attempt. All that sorrow—
cast it from your heart. Your journey homeward
will no longer be postponed. The ship is launched,
[150]
and your escort is eager to embark.”
Then shrewd Odysseus answered him:
“Laodamas,
why do you provoke me with this challenge?
My heart’s preoccupied with troubles now,
190
not with competition. Up to this point,
I have suffered and struggled through so much,
and now I sit with you in this assembly
yearning to get home and pleading my case
in front of all the people and your king.”
Euryalus then replied by
taunting Odysseus
right to his face:
“No, stranger. I don’t see you
as someone with much skill in competition—
not a real man, the sort one often meets—
[160]
more like a sailor trading back and forth
200
in a ship with many oars, a captain
in charge of merchant sailors, whose concern
is for his freight—he keeps a greedy eye
on cargo and his profit. You don’t seem
to be an athlete.”
With a
scowl, Odysseus,
that resourceful man, then answered Euryalus:
“Stranger, what you’ve just
said is not so wise,
like a man whose foolishness is blinding him.
How true it is the gods do not present
their lovely gifts to all men equally,
210
not beauty, shape, or skill in speaking out.
One man’s appearance may not be attractive,
but a god will crown his words with beauty,
[170]
so men rejoice to look on him—he speaks
with confidence and yet sweet modesty,
and thus excels among those in assembly,
and when he is outside, going through town,
they look at him as if he were a god.
And yet another man can be so beautiful,
he looks like an immortal, but his words
220
are empty of all grace. That’s how you are.
Your appearance is extremely handsome—
a god could hardly make that any finer—
but your mind is empty. Your boorish speech
has stirred the spirit in my chest. For I
am not without skill in competition,
not the way you chat about. No. In fact,
[180]
when I relied upon my youth and strength,
I think I ranked among the very best.
Now I’m hurt and grieving, I’m holding back,
230
because I’ve gone through so much misery
in dealing with men’s wars and painful waves.
But still, though I have undergone so much,
I’ll test myself in these contests of yours.
For what you’ve said is gnawing at my heart—
that insulting speech you made provokes me.”
Odysseus finished and then,
still wrapped in his cloak,
picked up a hefty discus, bigger than the others,
much heavier than the ones used by Phaeacians
when they competed with each other. With a whirl,
240
he sent the discus flying from his powerful hand.
The stone, as it sped in flight, made a humming sound,
[190]
and the long-oared Phaeacians, men who love their
ships,
ducked down, close to the ground, below its arcing
path.
It sailed well beyond the marks of all contestants,
speeding easily from his hand, and Athena,
in the likeness of a man, noted where it fell.
She called out to Odysseus and said:
“Stranger,
a blind man could find your mark by groping.
It’s far out in front, not with the others.
250
So at least in this throwing competition
you can be confident. No Phaeacian
will get it this far or throw it further.”
Athena spoke, and resourceful
lord Odysseus
was happy, glad to see someone supporting him
[200]
in competition. So with a more cheerful voice
he said to the Phaeacians:
“Equal that, youngsters.
I’ll quickly send another after it,
which will go as far, I think, even further.
As for other contests, let any man
260
whose heart and spirit urge him, come up here,
and test himself. You’ve made me so worked up.
In boxing, wrestling, running—I don’t care.
Any one at all from you Phaeacians,
except Laodamas, for he’s my host.
And what man fights against another man
who shows him hospitality? Anyone
[210]
who challenges the host who welcomes him
in a foreign land is a worthless fool,
for he is cancelling his own good luck.
270
But from the others I’ll not back away,
nor will I take them lightly. No. I wish
to see their skill and test them man to man.
In all the competitions men engage in,
I am no weakling. I well understand
how to use a well-polished bow with skill.
I was the first to shoot an arrow off
and, in a multitude of enemies,
to kill a man, even as companions
standing close by me were still taking aim.
280
In that Trojan land, when Achaeans shot,
the only one who beat me with the bow
was Philoctetes.(3)
But of all the rest
[220]
I claim I’m far the best—of mortal men,
I mean, those now on earth who feed on bread.
For I won’t seek to make myself a match
for men of earlier times—for Hercules,
or Eurytus of Oechalia, men
who competed with the gods in archery.
That’s why great Eurytus was killed so young
290
and did not reach old age in his own home.
Apollo, in his anger, slaughtered him,
for Eurytus had challenged the archer god
in a contest with their bows. With my spear,
I throw further than any other man
can shoot an arrow. But in the foot race
[230]
I’m afraid that one of the Phaeacians
may outrun me, for in those many waves
I was badly beaten down—on board ship
I did not have a large supply of food,
300
and so my legs are weak.”
Odysseus finished.
All the people there were silent. No one spoke.
Then Alcinous responded to Odysseus, saying:
“Stranger, since you have not
been ungracious
in your speech to us and wish to demonstrate
the merit you possess, in your anger
that this man came up and insulted you
in these games of ours, mocking your excellence
in a manner no one would ever do,
if in his heart he fully understood
310
[240]
how to speak correctly, come, hear me now,
so you can tell this to some other hero,
when you’re back in your own home and feasting
with your wife and children there beside you,
remembering our qualities, the skills
Zeus gave us when our ancestors were here,
which still endure. We have no special gift
in boxing fights or wrestling, but we run fast.
We’re the finest sailors, love feasts, the lyre,
dancing, new clothes, warm baths, and going to bed.
320
So come, all those of you among Phaeacians
[250]
who dance the best, perform for us, and then
our guest, when he gets back, can tell his friends
just how much we surpass all other men
in seamanship, speed on foot, dance, and song.
Let a man go and get that sweet-toned lyre
for Demodocus—it’s somewhere in the hall.”
Godlike Alcinous finished. The
herald got up
to fetch the hollow lyre from the royal palace.
Nine officials chosen from among the people,
330
men who organized each detail of their meetings,
stood up, smoothed off a dancing space, and then
marked out
a fair and spacious circle. The herald came up,
[260]
carrying the clear-toned lyre for Demodocus,
who then moved to the centre. Around the singer
stood boys in the first bloom of youth, skillful
dancers,
whose feet then struck the consecrated dancing ground.
In his heart, Odysseus was amazed. He marvelled
how rapidly those young boys could move their dancing
feet.
The minstrel struck the opening chords to his sweet
song—
340
how war god Ares loved the fair-crowned Aphrodite,
how in Hephaestus’s own home they first had sex
in secret, and how Ares gave her many gifts,
while he disgraced the marriage bed of lord
Hephaestus.(4)
But sun god Helios observed them making love
[270]
and came at once to tell Hephaestus. When he heard
the unwelcome news, the lame god went to his forge,
turning over deep in his heart a devious scheme.
He set up his enormous anvil on its block,
and forged a net no one could ever break or loosen,
350
so they would have to stay immobile where they were.
When, in his rage, he had made that snare for Ares,
he went into the room which housed his marriage bed,
anchored the metal netting around the bed posts,
and then hung loops of it from roof beams high above,
as fine as spiders’ webs, impossible to see,
[280]
even for a blessed god—that’s how skillfully
he made that net. Once he had set the snare in place
around the bed, he announced a trip to Lemnos,
that well-built citadel, his
favourite place by far
360
of all the lands on earth.(5)
Ares of the Golden Reins,
who maintained a constant lookout, saw Hephaestus,
the celebrated master artisan, leave home,
and went running over to Hephaestus’s house,
eager to have sex with fair-crowned Aphrodite.
She had just left the presence of her father Zeus,
mighty son of Cronos, and was sitting down.
Ares charged inside the house, grabbed her by the
hand,
[290]
then spoke, saying these words to her:
“Come, my dear,
let’s go to bed and make love together.
370
Hephaestus is not home. No doubt he’s gone
to visit Lemnos and the Sintians,
those men who speak like such barbarians.”
Ares spoke. To Aphrodite
having sex with him
seemed quite delightful. So the two raced off to bed
and lay down together. But then the crafty net
made by Hephaestus’s great skill fell down around
them,
so they could not move their limbs or shift their
bodies.
After a while, they realized they could not get out.
Then the famous crippled god came back to them—
380
[300]
turning round before he reached the land of Lemnos.
Helios had stayed on watch and gave him a report.
With a grieving heart, Hephaestus went into his home,
and stood inside the doorway, gripped by cruel rage.
He made a dreadful cry, calling to all the gods:
“Father Zeus and you other
sacred gods
who live forever, come here, so you can see
something disgusting and ridiculous—
Aphrodite, Zeus’s daughter, scorns me
and lusts after Ares, the destroyer,
390
because he’s beautiful, with healthy limbs,
[310]
while I was born deformed. I’m not to blame.
My parents are! I wish they’d never had me!(6)
See how these two have gone to my own bed
and are lying there, having sex together,
while I look on in pain. But I don’t think
they wish to lie like this for very long,
no matter how much they may be in love.
They’ll both soon lose the urge to stay in bed.
But this binding snare will confine them here,
400
until her father gives back all those presents,
courting gifts I gave him for that shameless bitch—
a lovely daughter but a sex-crazed wife.”
[320]
Hephaestus finished. Gods
gathered at the bronze-floored house.
Earthshaker Poseidon came, and lord Hermes, too,
the god of luck, as well as archer god Apollo.
But female goddesses were all far too ashamed
and stayed at home. So the gods, givers of good
things,
stood in the doorway, looking at the artful work
of ingenious Hephaestus. They began to chortle—
410
and an irrepressible laughter then pealed out
among the blessed gods. Glancing at his neighbour,
one of them would say:
“Nasty deeds don’t pay.
The slow one overtakes the swift—just as
Hephaestus, slow as he is, has caught Ares,
[330]
although of all the gods who hold Olympus
he’s the fastest one there is. Yes, he’s lame,
but he’s a crafty one. So Ares now
must pay a fine for his adultery.”
That is how the gods then
talked to one another.
420
But lord Apollo, son of Zeus, questioned Hermes:
“Hermes, son of Zeus, you
messenger
and giver of good things, how would you like
to lie in bed by golden Aphrodite,
even though a strong net tied you down?”
The messenger god, killer of
Argus, then said
in his reply:
“Far-shooting lord Apollo,
I wish there were three times as many nets,
[340]
impossible to break, and all you gods
were looking on, if I could like down there,
430
alongside golden Aphrodite.”
At Hermes’s words,
laughter arose from the immortal deities.
But Poseidon did not laugh. He kept requesting
Hephaestus, the celebrated master artisan,
to set Ares free. When he talked to Hephaestus,
his words had wings:
“Set Ares loose.
I promise he will pay you everything,
as you are asking, all he truly owes,
in the presence of immortal gods.”
The famous lame god then replied:
“Lord Poseidon,
440
Shaker of the Earth, do not ask me this.
[350]
It’s a risky thing to accept a pledge
made for a nasty rogue. What if Ares
escapes his chains, avoids the debt, and leaves—
how then among all these immortal gods
do I hold you in chains?”
Earthshaker Poseidon
then answered him and said:
“Hephaestus,
if indeed Ares does not discharge his debt
and runs away, I’ll pay you in person.”
Then the celebrated crippled god replied: 450
“It would be inappropriate for
me
to refuse to take your word.”
After saying this,
powerful Hephaestus then untied the netting.
[360]
Both gods, one they had been released from their
strong chains,
jumped up immediately—Ares went off to Thrace,
and laughter-loving Aphrodite left for Paphos,
in Cyprus, for her sanctuary, her sacred altar.
Once there, the Graces bathed and then anointed her
with heavenly oil, the sort that gleams upon the gods,
who live forever. Next, they took some gorgeous
clothes
460
and dressed her—the sight was marvellous to behold.
That was the song the celebrated minstrel sang.
As he listened, Odysseus felt joy in his heart—
long-oared Phaeacians, famous sailors, felt it, too.
Alcinous then asked Laodamas and Halius
[370]
to dance alone. No man could match their dancing
skill.
First, the two men picked up a lovely purple ball,
which creative Polybus had made for them.
Then, leaning back, one of the two would throw it
high,
towards the shadowy clouds, and then the other one,
470
before his feet touched ground, would catch it easily.
Once they had shown their skill in tossing it straight
up,
they threw it back and forth, as they kept dancing
on the life-sustaining earth, while many younger men
stood at the edge of the arena, beating time.
The percussive rhythms made a powerful sound.
[380]
Then lord Odysseus spoke:
“Mighty Alcinous,
most distinguished among all men, you claimed
your dancers were the best, and now, indeed,
what you said is true. When I gaze at them,
480
I’m lost in wonder.”
At Odysseus’s words,
powerful king Alcinous felt a great delight,
and spoke at once to his Phaeacians, master sailors.
“Leaders and counsellors of
the Phaeacians,
listen—this stranger seems to me a man
with an uncommon wisdom. So come now,
let’s give him gifts of friendship, as is right.
Twelve honourable kings are rulers here
[390]
and govern in this land, and I myself
am the thirteenth king. Let each one of you
490
bring a fresh cloak and tunic, newly washed,
and a talent of pure gold. All of this
we should put together very quickly,
so that this stranger has his gifts in hand
and goes to dinner with a joyful heart.
Euryalus must apologize in person
to the stranger, verbally and with a gift,
for what he said is not acceptable.”
Alcinous spoke. All those
present agreed with him
and said it should be done, and every one of them
500
sent an attendant out to bring the presents back.
Euryalus then addressed the king and said:
[400]
“Lord Alcinous, most renowned
among all men,
to this stranger I shall apologize,
as you instructed me. And I’ll give him
a sword completely made of hammered bronze,
with a silver hilt, and a scabbard, too,
of fresh-carved ivory which fits around it,
a gift worth a great deal, and just for him.”
With these words he set into
Odysseus’s hands
510
the silver-studded sword and then addressed him—
his words had wings:
“Greetings, honoured stranger.
If any harsh word has been spoken here,
let storm winds snatch it, carry it away.
As for you, may gods grant you see your wife
and reach your native land. You’ve suffered much,
[410]
for such a long time distant from your friends.”
Then Odysseus, that resourceful man, replied and said:
“And you, my friend, best
wishes to you, too.
May gods give you joyful prosperity.
520
And may you never find you miss this sword
which you are giving me. These words of yours
have made amends to me.”
Odysseus spoke
and slung the silver-studded sword around his
shoulders.
As the sun went down, the splendid gifts were carried
in
and taken to Alcinous’ home by worthy heralds.
The sons of noble Alcinous took these lovely things
[420]
and set the presents down before their honoured
mother.
With powerful king Alcinous escorting them,
they came in the hall, took their seats on upraised
thrones,
530
and mighty Alcinous addressed Arete, saying:
“My lady, have a precious
trunk brought here,
the best there is. You yourself should place in it
a tunic and a freshly laundered cloak.
Then heat a cauldron for him on the fire,
warm up some water, so that he can bathe,
and, after he’s seen safely stowed away
all the splendid gifts Phaeacian nobles
have brought in here, he can enjoy the feast,
while listening to the minstrel’s singing.
540
And I will give him this fine cup of mine—
[430]
it’s made of gold—for all his days to come
he will think of me, as he pours libations
in his halls to great Zeus and other gods.”
Alcinous finished. Arete told
her servants
to set a cauldron full of water on the fire
as quickly as they could. They placed it on the fire,
poured water into it, and stacked wood underneath.
So hot flames soon licked the belly of the cauldron,
heating up the water. Meanwhile to please her guest,
550
from her inner rooms Arete had carried out
a beautiful chest, which she filled with precious
gifts,
the clothing and the gold offered by Phaeacians.
[440]
She herself added a cloak and lovely tunic.
Then she addressed Odysseus—her words had wings:
“You must deal with the lid on
this yourself,
and tie it down securely with a knot,
so that no one robs you on your journey,
perhaps when you are lost in a sweet sleep
sometime later, as your black ship sails on.”
560
Long-suffering lord Odysseus
heard what she advised.
He quickly shut the lid and bound it with a knot,
a tricky one which he had learned from noble Circe.
Then the female servant invited him to step
into the bathing tub. His heart was filled with joy
[450]
to see hot water—he’d not had such welcome care
since he had left the home of fair-haired Calypso.
Till then he had always been treated like a god.
The servant women washed him, rubbed him down with
oil,
and dressed him in new clothes, a fine cloak and
tunic.
570
He left his bath and went to drink wine with the men.
Nausicaa, whose beauty was a gift from god,
standing inside the doorway of that well-built hall,
looked at Odysseus and felt a sense of wonder.
She spoke winged words to him:
[460]
“Farewell, stranger.
Once you have returned to your own country,
I hope you will remember me sometimes,
since you owe your life to me.”
Then Odysseus,
that resourceful man, replied to her and said:
“Nausicaa, daughter of great
Alcinous,
580
may Hera’s loud-thundering husband, Zeus,
grant that I see the day of my return
when I get home. There I will pray to you
all my days, as to a god. For you, girl,
you gave me my life.”
Odysseus finished speaking.
Then he sat down on a chair beside king Alcinous.
They were already serving food and mixing wine.
[470]
A herald approached, leading the faithful singer,
Demodocus, whom the people held in honour,
and he sat down in the middle of the banquet,
590
leaning his chair against a towering pillar.
Then shrewd Odysseus, while slicing slabs of meat
from the large amount remaining, took some pieces
from the back cut of a white-tusked boar, with lots of
fat
on either side, and called out to the herald:
“Herald, carry this portion of
our food
to Demodocus, so that he can eat.
Though in grief, I’ll give him a warm welcome,
for from all people living on the earth
singers win honour and respect. The Muse
600
[480]
has taught them song and cherishes their tribe.”
Once Odysseus spoke, the
herald took the serving
and handed it to distinguished Demodocus,
who accepted the food with a delighted heart.
Phaeacian hands reached out to take the tasty food
prepared and set in place in front of each of them.
When they had satisfied their hearts with food and
drink,
quick-witted Odysseus called out to the singer:
“Demodocus, to you I give high
praise,
more so than to all other mortal men,
610
whether it was that child of Zeus, the Muse,
who taught you, or Apollo. For you sing
so well and with such true expressiveness
about the destiny of the Achaeans,
everything they did and suffered, the work
[490]
they had to do—as if you yourself were there
or heard the story from a man who was.
Come, change the subject now, and sing about
the building of that wooden horse, the one
Epeius made with guidance from Athena.
620
Lord Odysseus then, with his trickery,
had it brought to the city, filled with men,
those who ransacked Troy. If, at my request,
you will sing the details of this story,
I’ll tell all men how, of his own free will,
god gives poetic power to your song.”
Odysseus spoke. The minstrel,
inspired by the god,
began to sing to them, taking up the story
[500]
at the point where Argives, having burned their huts
and gone on board their well-oared ships, were sailing
off,
630
while those warriors led by glorious Odysseus
were at Troy’s assembly ground, hidden in the horse.(7)
Trojans had hauled the wooden horse all by themselves
inside their citadel. It stood there, while Trojans
sat and talked around it, confused what they should
do.
There were three quite different options people
favoured—
to split the hollow wood apart with pitiless bronze,
or drag it to the heights and throw it from the rocks,
or let it stay there as an offering to the gods,
something to assuage their anger. And that, indeed,
640
[510]
is what they finally did, for it was their fate
to be wiped out once they had within their city walls
a gigantic wooden horse in which lay hidden
all the finest of the Argives, bringing into Troy
death and devastation. Then Demodocus sang
how Achaea’s sons left their hollow hiding place,
poured from the horse, and overpowered the city.
He sang about the various ways those warriors
laid waste that lofty town and how Odysseus,
like Ares, god of war, and noble Menelaus
650
went to the home of Deiphobus, where, he said,
Odysseus battled in the most horrendous fight,
from which he then emerged at last victorious,
thanks to assistance from Athena’s mighty heart.
[520]
This was the song the celebrated minstrel sang.
Odysseus was moved to weep—underneath his eyes
his face grew wet with tears. Just as a woman cries,
when she prostrates herself on her beloved husband
who has just been killed in front of his own city
and his people, trying to defend his children
660
and the citizens from the day they meet their doom—
as he lies dying, she sees him gasping his last
breath,
and holds him in her arms, screaming her cries of
grief,
while at her back her enemies keep beating her,
spears raining down across her spine and shoulders,
then lead her away, cheeks ravaged by her sorrow,
[530]
into a life of bondage, misery, and pain—
that’s how Odysseus then let tears of pity fall
down from his eyes. But he kept those tears well
hidden
from the Phaeacians, except for Alcinous, who,
670
as he sat there beside him, was the only one
who noticed how he wept and heard his heavy sighs.
So he spoke out at once, addressing his Phaeacians,
lovers of the sea:
“Listen to me,
you Phaeacian counsellors and leaders.
Let Demodocus now cease from playing
his clear-toned lyre, for the song he’s singing
does not please all his listeners alike.
Since our godlike minstrel was first moved to sing,
as we were dining, our guest has been in pain,
680
[540]
his mournful sighs have never stopped. His heart,
I think, must surely overflow with grief.
Let our singer end his song, so all of us,
both hosts and guest, can enjoy our feasting.
Things will be much better. We’ve done all this—
the farewell dinner and the friendship gifts,
offered up with love—to honour our guest.
In any man with some intelligence,
a stranger coming as a suppliant
evokes the same delight a brother does.
690
And you, our guest-friend, should no longer hide
behind those cunning thoughts of yours and skirt
the things I ask. It’s better to be frank.
Tell me your name, what they call you at home—
[550]
your mother, your father, and the others,
those in the town and in the countryside.
There’s no one in the world, mean or noble,
who goes without a name once he’s been born.
Parents give one at birth to each of us.
Tell me of your country and your people,
700
your city, too, so ships can take you there,
using what they know to chart their passage.
Phaeacians have no pilots, no steering oar,
like other boats, for their ships on their own
can read men’s hearts and thoughts—they understand
all men’s cities, their rich estates, as well,
[560]
and quickly skim across wide tracts of sea,
concealed in mist and clouds, without a fear
of shipwrecks or disaster. Still, my father,
lord Nausithous, once told me this story—
710
he used to say we made Poseidon angry
because we carried everyone in safety.
He claimed that one day, as a well-built ship
with a Phaeacian crew was sailing back
from such a trip, over the misty sea,
Poseidon would destroy it and then place
a massive ring of mountains round our city.
That’s what the old man said. It’s up to god
[570]
not to do that or to make it happen,
whatever he finds pleasing to his heart.
720
So now come, tell me this, and speak the truth—
Where have you travelled in your wanderings?
What other countries have you visited?
Tell me of people and their well-built towns,
whether they are cruel, unjust, and wild,
or welcome strangers and fear god in their hearts.
Tell us why you weep, your heart full of pain,
to hear the fate of Argives and Danaans,
and of Troy. The gods made these things happen.
They spun out that destructive thread for men,
730
to weave a song for those as yet unborn.
[580]
Was someone in your family killed at Troy—
a good and loyal man, a son-in-law,
your wife’s father, a man we truly love
after our flesh and blood? A companion?
A fine and worthy man dear to your heart?
For a companion who’s a heart’s true friend
is every bit as dear as one’s own brother.”
ENDNOTES
(1)
These
lines refer to an argument between Odysseus and Achilles about the best tactics
to use against the Trojans. That Demodocus sings about the Trojan War reinforces
the traditional claim that this image of the blind minstrel is a self-portrait
of Homer. [Back to Text]
(2)
Butcher and Lang suggest that
this rather odd measurement may mean the length of a fur-row a pair of mules
could plough before having to rest. [Back
to Text]
(3)
Philoctetes was a famous Achaean
warrior king, who was left for years alone on the island of Lemnos by the allied
forces as they moved toward Troy, because a wound in his foot (from a snake
bite) produced an insupportable smell. His bow was essential for the capture of
Troy, and so Odysseus and Neoptolemus, the son of Achilles, returned to Lemnos
to bring it back. [Back to Text]
(4)
Aphrodite, the goddess of sexual
love and beauty, is the wife of Hephaestus, the divine master craftsman, the
crippled god of the forge (hence, he is often called the lame god). This famous
story of the sexual affair between Ares, god of war, and Aphrodite has inspired
some famous art works. It also provides the most famous example of “Homeric
laughter,” boisterously loud continuous group laughter at the plight of someone
else, the reaction of the Olympian gods at the end of the song. This story has
also prompted a good deal of negative criticism, even in ancient times, about
the lack of morality among the Olympian deities. [Back
to Text]
(5)
Sintians are a non-Greek-speaking
people living on Lemnos who had helped Hephaestus when Zeus threw him out of
heaven. [Back to Text]
(6)
Aphrodite, Ares, and Hephaestus
are all children of Zeus. Aphrodite’s mother was, in some accounts, the goddess
Dione; in other accounts she emerged from the foam of the sea. The mother of
Ares and Hephaestus is Hera, Zeus’s wife and sister.
[Back to Text]
(7)
This is the earliest surviving
account of the famous story of the wooden horse (along with the stories of Helen
and Menelaus earlier in Book 4). The deception practised on the Trojans began
with the Achaean army pretending it had abandoned the war. Hence, the army
burned its camp, got onboard ship, and sailed away, apparently for home, but, in
reality, hiding behind a nearby island. They left the horse outside Troy.
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