The Odyssey quotes

“My friend and guest, wilt thou take no offence At what I say? These revellers enjoy The harp and song, for at no cost of theirs They waste the substance of another man,

Whose white bones now are mouldering in the rain

Upon some mainland, or are tossed about By ocean billows. Should they see him once In Ithaca, their prayers would rather rise For swifter feet than richer stores of gold And raiment. But an evil fate is his, And he has perished.

“So said the goddess, and I spake again:— ‘Explain by what device to snare and hold The aged deity, lest he foreknow Or else suspect our purpose and escape.

’Twere hard for mortals to constrain a god.

’

We were near to her, And there she laid us duly down, and threw A skin o’er each. Now did our ambush seem Beyond endurance, for the noisome smell Of those sea-nourished creatures sickened us;

And who could bear to sleep beside a whale?

But she bethought her of an antidote, A sovereign one, and so relieved us all. To each she brought ambrosia, placing it Beneath his nostrils, and the sweets it breathed O’ercame the animal odor. All the morn We waited patiently.

“

Perverse, and slow to see where guile is not!

How could thy heart permit thee thus to speak?

For so Calypso, glorious goddess, bade That on his ocean journey he should keep That constellation ever on his left. Now seventeen days were in the voyage past, And on the eighteenth shadowy heights appeared, The nearest point of the Phaeacian land,

Lying on the dark ocean like a shield.

But mighty Neptune, coming from among The Ethiopians, saw him. Far away He saw, from mountain-heights of Solyma, The voyager, and burned with fiercer wrath, And shook his head, and said within himself:—

Look not on any man Nor ask a question; for the people here Affect not strangers, nor do oft receive With kindly welcome him who comes from far. They trust in their swift barques, which to and fro, By Neptune’s favor, cross the mighty deep.

Their galleys have the speed of wings or thought.

”

“

Wrong prospers not; the slow o’ertakes the swift.

Vulcan the slow has trapped the fleetest god Upon Olympus, Mars; though lame himself, His net has taken the adulterer, Who now must pay the forfeit of his crime.”

Declare thy land, Thy people, and thy city, that our ships May learn, and bear thee to the place; for here In our Phaeacian ships no pilots are, Nor rudders, as in ships of other lands.

Ours know the thoughts and the intents of men.

To them all cities and all fertile coasts Inhabited by men are known; they cross The great sea scudding fast, involved in mist And darkness, with no fear of perishing Or meeting harm.

in her royal home Aeëan Circè, mistress of strange arts, Detained me also, and desired that I Should be her husband—yet they could not move The purpose of my heart.

For there is naught More sweet and dear than our own native land And parents, though perchance our lot be cast In a rich home, yet far from our own kin And in a foreign land.

Now let me speak Of the calamitous voyage which the will Of Jove ordained on my return from Troy.

They went and found themselves Among the Lotus-eaters soon, who used No violence against their lives, but gave Into their hands the lotus plant to taste.

Whoever tasted once of that sweet food Wished not to see his native country more, Nor give his friends the knowledge of his fate.

And then my messengers desired to dwell Among the Lotus-eaters, and to feed Upon the lotus, never to return. By force I led them weeping to the fleet, And bound them in the hollow ships beneath The benches.

“ ‘Thou hast inquired, O Cyclops, by what name Men know me. I will tell thee, but do thou Bestow in turn some hospitable gift, As thou hast promised.

Noman is my name, My father and my mother gave it me, And Noman am I called by all my friends.

’

“The Argus-queller spake, and plucked from earth The potent plant and handed it to me, And taught me all its powers.

The root is black, The blossom white as milk. Among the gods Its name is Moly; hard it is for men To dig it up; the gods find nothing hard.

“Back through the woody island Hermes went Toward high Olympus, while I took my way To Circè’s halls, yet with a beating heart. There, as I stood beneath the portico Of that bright-haired divinity, I called Aloud;

For not the goddess of the unerring bow Stealing upon me smote me in thy halls With silent arrows, nor did slow disease Come o’er me, such as, wasting cruelly The members, takes at last the life away;

But constant longing for thee, anxious thoughts Of thee, and memory of thy gentleness, Ulysses, made an end of my sweet life.

’

“I spake, and then my reverend mother said:— ‘Believe not that Jove’s daughter Proserpine Deceives thee. ’Tis the lot of all our race When they are dead. No more the sinews bind The bones and flesh, when once from the white bones The life departs.

Then like a dream the soul Flies off, and flits about from place to place.

But haste thou to the light again, and mark What I have said, that thou in after days Mayst tell it to thy wife on thy return.’

He spake, and wise Ulysses answered thus:— “O King Alcinoüs, eminent beyond All others of thy people.

For discourse There is a time; there is a time for sleep.

If more thou yet wouldst hear, I will not spare To give the story of the greater woes Of my companions, who were afterward Cut off from life;

“I spake; Achilles quickly answered me:— ‘Noble Ulysses, speak not thus of death, As if thou couldst console me.

I would be A laborer on earth, and serve for hire Some man of mean estate, who makes scant cheer, Rather than reign o’er all who have gone down To death.

Speak rather of my noble son, Whether or not he yet has joined the wars To fight among the foremost of the host.

“ ‘

Ah, daring ones! who, yet alive, have gone Down to the abode of Pluto; twice to die Is yours, while others die but once.

Yet now Take food, drink wine, and hold a feast today, And with the dawn of morning ye shall sail;

so were they Uplifted gasping to the rocks, and there Scylla devoured them at her cavern’s mouth, Stretching their hands to me with piercing cries Of anguish.

’Twas in truth the saddest sight, Whatever I have suffered and where’er Have roamed the waters, that mine eyes have seen.

“Escaping thus the rocks, the dreaded haunt Of Scylla and Charybdis, we approached The pleasant island of the Sun, where grazed The oxen with broad foreheads, beautiful, And flocks of sheep, the fatlings of the god Who makes the round of heaven.

Thou canst not even in thine own land refrain From artful figments and misleading words, As thou hast practised from thy birth. But now Speak we of other matters, for we both Are skilled in stratagem.

Thou art the first Of living men in counsel and in speech, And I am famed for foresight and for craft Among the immortals.

Dost thou not yet know Pallas Athenè, child of Jove, whose aid Is present to defend thee in all time Of peril, and but lately gained for thee The favor of the whole Phaeacian race?

Let this reward Be given for my good news: the very hour When he once more is in his house, bestow On me a comely change of raiment—cloak And tunic—nor will I accept the gift, Though great my need, until he comes again.

For as the gates of hell do I detest The man who, tempted by his poverty, Deceives with lying words.

Now Jupiter Bear witness, and this hospitable board And hearth of good Ulysses where I sit, That all which I foretell will come to pass. This very year Ulysses will return.

“Eumaeus, hearken thou, and all the rest, Thy comrades, while I utter boastful words.

Wine makes me foolish, it can even cause The wise to sing and laugh a silly laugh And dance, and often to the lips it brings Words that were better left unsaid.

But since I have begun to prattle, I will not Keep back my thought. I would I were as young And in the same full strength as when I formed Part of an ambush near the walls of Troy.

Remain till Menelaus, Atreus’ son, The hero mighty with the spear, shall come, And bring his gifts, and place them in our car, And send us on our way with kindly words.

Well does a guest remember all his days The generous host who shows himself his friend.

”

“Telemachus, I will not keep thee long, Since thou so much desirest to return. I am displeased with him who as a host Is lavish of his love, for he will hate Beyond due measure; best it is to take The middle way.

It is alike a wrong To thrust the unwilling stranger out of doors, And to detain him when he longs to go.

While he is with us we should cherish him, And, when he wishes, help him to depart. Remain until I bring thee worthy gifts And place them in thy chariot, that thine eyes May look on them;

Ulysses, the great sufferer, answered thus: “I pray that thou mayst be as dear to Jove, The great All-Father, as thou art to me, Since through thy kindness I enjoy a pause Amid my weary wanderings.

There is naught Worse than a wandering life.

Unseemly cares A hungry stomach brings to homeless men; Hardship and grief are theirs.

Ulysses, the great sufferer, thus replied: “

I am no god; how am I like the gods? I am thy father, he for whom thy sighs Are breathed, and sorrows borne, and wrongs endured.

”

Thou hast beheld today A wonder wrought by Pallas, huntress-queen, Who makes me what she will, such power is hers— Sometimes to seem a beggar, and in turn A young man in a comely garb.

The gods Whose home is in the heavens can easily Exalt a mortal man, or bring him low.

”

“See that vile fellow lead the vile about!

Thus ever doth some god join like with like.

Thou worthless swineherd! whither wouldst thou take This hungry, haunting beggar-man, this pest Of feasts, who at the posts of many a door Against them rubs his shoulders, asking crusts, Tripods or cauldrons never.

Then thy rude boasts would cease. Melanthius, which thou utterest in thy way From place to place while wandering through the town.

Unfaithful shepherds make a perishing flock.

”

And now he is a sufferer, since his lord Has perished far from his own land. No more The careless women heed the creature’s wants; For, when the master is no longer near, The servants cease from their appointed tasks,

And on the day that one becomes a slave The Thunderer, Jove, takes half his worth away.

”

“These from Telemachus, who bids thee ask A dole from every suitor, for he says

No beggar should be bashful in his need.

”

“Antinoüs, it was ill of thee to smite That hapless wanderer. Madman! what if he Came down from heaven and were a god!

The gods Put on the form of strangers from afar, And walk our towns in many different shapes, To mark the good and evil deeds of men.

”

“Thou bringst him not, Eumaeus? What may be The wanderer’s scruple? Fear of someone here? Or in a palace is he filled with awe?

To be a bashful beggar is most hard.

”

Thou, as I am told, Art son to him, and thou art seemingly A man of pertinent speech. I therefore say To thee, and bid thee hear and mark me well,

No being whom earth nourishes to breathe Her air and move upon her face is more The sport of circumstance than man.

For while The gods give health, and he is strong of limb, He thinks no evil in the coming days Will overtake him. When the blessed gods Visit him with afflictions, these he bears Impatiently and with a fretful mind.

Twelve days the noble Greeks Remained with us. A violent north-wind, Which scarcely suffered them to stand upright On shore, withstood them. Some unfriendly power Had bid it blow; but on the thirteenth day Its fury ceased, and the fleet put to sea.”

Thus went he on, inventing tales that seemed Like truth.

She listened, melting into tears That flowed as when on mountain height the snow, Shed by the west-wind, feels the east-wind’s breath, And flows in water, and the hurrying streams Are filled;

so did Penelope’s fair cheeks Seem to dissolve in tears—tears shed for him Who sat beside her even then. He saw His weeping wife, and pitied her at heart;

Yet were his eyes like iron or like horn, And moved not in their lids; for artfully He kept his tears from falling.

When the queen Had ceased to weep, she answered him and said:—

Rise, prudent Eurycleia, thou shalt wash The feet of one whose years must be the same As thy own master’s; such is doubtless now Ulysses, with such wrinkled feet and hands.

For quickly doth misfortune make men old.

”

Then spake the sage Penelope again: “Of dreams, O stranger, some are meaningless And idle, and can never be fulfilled.

Two portals are there for their shadowy shapes, Of ivory one, and one of horn.

The dreams That come through the carved ivory deceive With promises that never are made good; But those which pass the doors of polished horn, And are beheld of men, are ever true.

“

Endure it, heart! thou didst bear worse than this.

When the grim Cyclops of resistless strength Devoured thy brave companions, thou couldst still Endure, till thou by stratagem didst leave The cave in which it seemed that thou must die.”

“Rejoice in spirit, dame, but calm thyself, And shout not.

To exult aloud o’er those Who lie in death is an unholy thing.

The pleasure of the gods, and their own guilt, Brought death on these; for no respect had they To any of their fellow-men—the good Or evil—whosoever he might be That came to them, and thus on their own heads They drew this fearful fate.

No other wife could bring herself to bear Such distance from a husband, just returned After long hardships, in the twentieth year Of absence, to his native land and her.

Mother! thy heart is harder than a stone.

”

I pray, be not incensed, Nor take it ill that I embraced thee not As soon as I beheld thee, for my heart Has ever trembled lest someone who comes Into this isle should cozen me with words;

And they who practise fraud are numberless.

The Argive Helen, child of Jupiter, Would ne’er have listened to a stranger’s suit And loved him, had she known that in the years To come the warlike Greeks would bring her back To her own land.