The <I>Odyssey</I>
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will all take off on a plain, lashed by a quick whip,
rising swiftly and tall to race through the right course:
the vessel rose in the same way, building a shiny
and spread-out stern-wave, loud with seawater noises.
She ran on steady and sure. Not even the circling
sea-hawk, nimblest in flight, could have matched her!
Running swiftly along she cut through the sea-swells,
bearing a man resembling the Gods in their wisdom.
Before this day his heart had suffered a great deal,
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warring with men and crossing burdensome seaways.
Now he slept quite still, unmindful of all he had suffered.
Homeland
The brightest star was rising—more than the others
it heralds the light of newborn Dawn—at that moment
the seagoing ship was drawing close to the island.
Phorkus, the Old Man of the Sea, has a harbor
in Ithakan country. A pair of headlands go jutting
and soaring out, then sloping down to the harbor as buffers
against the huge rollers raised by the storm-winds
beyond those rocks. A well-planked vessel can lie to
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there without hawsers after reaching a moorage.
Close to an olive-tree’s slender leaves at the harbor’s
♦ head is a charming cave, misted and sea-gray,
sacred to Nymphs called Neiades—Nymphs of the Water.
Mixing bowls are inside, two-handled wine-jars
of stone and bees as well, storing their honey.
Long looms of stone are used by the Sea-Nymphs
to make their sea-blue clothes, a wonder to gaze at.
Spring-water flows nonstop and the cave has an entrance
facing the Northwind: men go down through that cave-mouth.
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The entrance facing the Southwind though is holy and no one
human can go there. It’s only for those who are deathless.
The crew put in, knowing the place from a past time.
They drove onto land strongly, half of the ship’s length
beached, the arms of the rowers driving her that fast.
Stepping down from the well-benched ship onto land there,
first they carried Odysseus out of the hollow
ship with his bedding, the shiny blanket of linen,
and laid him, quelled by the Sleep-God, down on the seashore.
Then they hoisted the gifts from high-born Phaiakians
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prompted by great-hearted Athene as Odysseus left there
for home and arranged them in piles at the base of the olive,
away from the path. So no one happening by there
would damage or steal them before Odysseus woke up.
A God Still Angry
♦ Then the Phaiakians left for home. But Poseidon
recalled the threats he’d made at godlike Odysseus
right from the start. He asked for the planning of Zeus now:
“Fatherly Zeus, I’m not esteemed any longer
by deathless Gods if humans esteem me so little,
not even Phaiakian people, those of my bloodline.
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I said Odysseus plainly would suffer a great deal
while sailing for home, but I never entirely robbed him
of homecoming after you pledged and gave it your own nod.
Now these men have brought him, asleep in their fast ship,
to lay down there on Ithaka, lavished with endless
gold and bronze presents, clothes with a fine weave,
more than Odysseus ever could take from the Trojans
had he come home unharmed with a full share of that booty.”
Esteem and Fear of the Gods
Cloud-gathering Zeus answered by asking,
“Earth-Trembler, you wide ruler, what have you said here?
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The Gods esteem you still. It’s surely a hard thing
to stop esteeming the best of our Gods and our eldest.
But now if a man gives in to his muscle and power
and fails to esteem you, you always can punish him later.
Do as you like, whatever pleases your own heart.”
Poseidon the Earth-Shaker answered him loudly,
“Dark-cloud Zeus, how fast would I do as you say now!
But always I check myself, in awe of your spirit.
Right now I’d like to smash the Phaiakians’ charming
ship as they sail back home from escort on hazy
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seas. To make them stop this bounty of send-offs
for men I’d circle and hide their city with great peaks.”
A Stone Ship
But cloud-gathering Zeus answered by saying,
“Dear friend, another way seems best in my own mind.
When all the people are watching from town as the vessel
is rowed in close to the land, change her to hard stone—
a race-fast ship like rock! They’ll all be astonished
too when you circle and hide their city with great heights.”
Soon as the Earth-Shaker Poseidon had heard him
he made his way to Phaiakian homes in Skherie
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and waited. In time the seagoing vessel was closer,
driving swiftly. The Earth-Shaker approached her
and turned her to stone. He lodged her there on the bottom,
the flat of his hand pressing. Then he was far gone.
An Old Prophecy
Now Phaiakian men well known for their sea-craft,
lovers of long oars, turned and spoke to each other,
glancing at neighbors, their words with a feathery swiftness,
“Oh no—who stopped our race-fast ship in the water?”
“Just now she was driving to port and wholly in plain view.”
They spoke that way, not knowing how it had happened.
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But then a strong Alkinoos spoke to his people.
“Look at this: surely a long-past prophecy came true.
My father often told me Poseidon was angry
because we gave our escort safely to all men.
He said the God would stun a Phaiakian well-made
ship some day returning home from escort on hazy
seas. He’d circle and hide our city with great heights.
The old one spoke that way; now everything’s happened.
Come on then, let’s all obey the words I am saying:
stop our send-offs for people whenever a stranger
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arrives in our city. Let’s offer twelve of our choice bulls
quickly to Lord Poseidon and ask for his mercy,
not to circle and hide our city with great heights.”
Those were his words. Frightened, they gathered the choice bulls.
Then they offered prayers to lordly Poseidon.
Phaiakian leaders, advisors and lords of the people
stood around the altar.
Strange Home
Meanwhile godlike Odysseus,
now awake on his fathers’ land, could not know it,
having been gone so long. A Goddess had poured down
mist as well—the daughter of Zeus, Pallas Athene—
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to make him unknown. She’d tell him soon about each thing
but now his wife, his townsmen and friends would not know him,
not before the suitors paid for all of their outrage.
♦ So everything looked quite strange to the lord of the island:
ongoing trails, inlets good for a mooring,
rocks and soaring cliffs, trees in their full bloom.
He jumped up, stood there and studied the land of his fathers.
Then he moaned, using the flat of his two palms
“Look at me now, what people’s land have I come to?
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Are men here overbearing, savage and unjust?
Or mindful of Gods maybe and kindly with strangers?
Where do I carry so much wealth or wander
around myself? I wish I’d stayed with Phaiakian people
far behind me, or gone to another powerful ruler
who’d make me his friend and send me right on the way home.
But now I’m unsure of this wealth. How can I leave it
here to become, by chance, the booty of others?
Look at me! All the Phaiakian lords and advisors
were not so thoughtful or fair—they took me to strange land.
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First they promised a ship that would take me to clear-view
Ithaka, then they failed to end it the right way.
May Zeus, the God of lowly beggars, gazing on all men,
make them pay, avenging those who offend him.
Come on though—I surely can count my goods and review them.
Maybe the crew of that hollow vessel purloined some.”
Visit by a Young Man
He spoke that way and counted the beautiful tripods,
gold and cauldrons, clothing splendidly woven.
Nothing was missing. Then he longed for his homeland,
dragging himself along the shore of the loud sea,
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steadily moaning. Now Athene approached him,
taking a young man’s body, a herder of sheep-flocks,
a mild young man, the way the child of a lord is.
She wore a well-styled double cloak on her shoulders.
Her oil-smooth feet had sandals; her hand had a long spear.
Glad to see her, Odysseus walked up and faced her,
telling her briskly, the words with a feathery swiftness,
“My friend, since you’re the first one I’ve met in this country,
I hail you and ask: don’t face me now with a wrong mind.
Save my goods instead, and myself. For I’m praying
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as though to a God, approaching your knees like a poor friend.
Tell me all of the truth and help me to know well
who your people are and what is this country,
whether a clear-view island or part of the soil-rich
mainland with coastline sloping down to the salt sea?”
A Name That’s Gone as Far as Troy
The glow-eyed Goddess Athene answered by saying,
“You are silly, stranger, or come from a ways off
to ask about this land. It’s hardly so nameless
as all that: surely many people have known it,
whether their homes are close to Dawn and the Sun-God
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or those behind them with homes in the hazy darkness.
It’s rugged land, not for the driving of horses
but not so poor. Though it’s not broad in its outline,
the grain harvests are wonderful. Plenty of grapevines
yield good wine, there’s plenty of rain and a dense dew.
The land’s good for our goats, our cattle and sundry
trees for water is always flowing the year round.
The name of Ithaka, stranger, therefore has traveled
even to Troy—that far they say from lands of Akhaians.”
Murder on Krete
Her words made long-suffering, godlike Odysseus
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glad. He hailed his fatherland, named by the Goddess—
Pallas Athene, daughter of Zeus, who carries the Aigis.
He spoke to her now and his words had a feathery swiftness
but not each word was true. Holding back what he told her,
♦ always changing notions, his brain was a wizard’s:
“I knew of Ithaka too, even on ample
Krete that’s far over the sea. Now I have come here
hauling this wealth. I left as much to my children
when I ran off: I’d cut down Orsilokhos, well-loved
son of Idomeneus. Fast on his feet and the winner
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of every race with bread-eating men on the island
of broad Krete, he’d tried to rob me of all my booty
from Troy. That wealth had caused me plenty of heartache,
battling with men and crossing the heaviest salt seas.
I’d also refused to welcome or fight for his father
in Trojan country. I led some others, my own men.
“I hurled that bronze-pointed spear myself as Orsilokhos
left his farm. I’d lain in wait by the path with a war-friend.
The sky was black that night and men could not see us:
I wrested the man’s life when no one could spot me.
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Soon as the pointed bronze struck him and killed him
I hurried down to a ship where I pleaded with high-born