nail him to my most winged prow and send him far
beyond the sun’s returning, to return no more!”
The lightning-minded man divined at once his son’s
dark thoughts, and his clear heart was wrapped in sudden clouds: 185
“You haste my going too soon, my only son. It’s said:
‘Die, dear, that I may love you; live, and be my foe.’ ”
The young man stood abashed and dropped his silent glance,
but his voracious father shuddered, for he recalled
how as a still unshaven lad, in youthful rage, 190
he too had raised a mailed fist once against his father.
One day while hunting wild game in a black ravine
they found in a deep pit a wounded rutting boar
that snarled with rage and plowed the earth with its sharp tusks.
As both rushed panting, the son sprang with ready spear 195
but, in his father’s feet entangled, tripped and fell.
He leapt at once erect, frothing with seething rage,
his blood rose high and turned his brain to mud, but as
he roared and flung himself on his father, just in time
their hunting hounds dashed in the breach to part them. Ah, 200
now in his own son’s eyes he saw that black ravine.
Gently he touched with love his son’s mane, raven-black:
“Ah, lad, I feel your pain and love your sharp impatience,
hold back your wrath: all things shall come, all in their turn.
I’ve done my duty as a son, surpassed my father, 205
now in your turn surpass me both in brain and spear,
a difficult task, but if you can’t, our race must perish,
and then our turn shall come to fall prey to the mob.”
He spoke, then set the gate ajar to catch the hubbub,
and in the wind his ears flashed like long pointed flames.
The clamor heaved and swelled as tramp of feet rang out 210
on the stone royal road that mounted toward the palace,
and torches flared and vanished at each winding turn.
The sly man turned then to his son with mocking laughter:
“Ah, you were born too late, for grim times crush, and soon 215
your peaceful plane tree shall be hung with gruesome fruit—
either with our slaves’ heads, my son, or our own heads!
Run quickly, gird your sword, and if we live, we both
may sit serenely by our plane tree’s shade one day,
but at this moment, arms, I think, are a man’s first duty.” 220
The young man dashed in quickly, on his shoulders cast
a blue embroidered cloak with silver clasps engraved
with swallows, shod his wing-swift feet with fretted sandals,
and from the smoke-black column seized and buckled tight
his gold-emblazoned leather belt with its bronze sword. 225
Father and son unbarred the outer gate and sped
stealthily down the road, treading the earth like leopards.
It was a sweet spring night, in blue-black heavens hung
the dewy stars enwrapped in a soft down, and trembled
like early almond flowers swung by evening breezes. 230
“My son,” Odysseus said, as blue shores swept his eyes,
“I bring to mind a brilliant shore where waves once cast me;
my sturdy boat was wrecked one evening on sharp rocks
and all night long I fought with Death in frothing tombs;
sometimes the Sea-God smashed my sides, sometimes, in turn, 235
with seaweed hands I smashed his murderous three-pronged fork.
I held my stubborn soul between my teeth, like meat,
and when day broke, stretched out my hands, grabbed at the world,
hung to an osier branch, and dragged myself ashore;
at once the almighty and pain-easing god of sleep 240
poured on my salt-cracked battered flesh his tender down.
Next morning in my sleep the roaring pebbles rang
with rowdy laughter till I heard my brain resound
like festive shores with female cries and wooden clogs.
For a long time I held my eyelids closed and joyed 245
in earth and in man’s life as in a thrush’s song;
but my brains longed for sight, so through half-opened lids
I spied on maids with flowing hair playing by the shore,
tossing their flame-red apples in light, and with long strides
catching them still in flight, their flushed necks glittering in air. 250
In the maids’ midst a nude, cool-bodied princess stood, 251
with hair of honey-gold piled on her new-washed head,
and watched her playmates gamboling on the golden sands.
I swear that these world-wandering, glutted eyes of mine,
blessed to have seen nude goddesses on deathless shores, 255
never before rejoiced in such reed-supple form;
when she was but fourteen so must have flowered, I know,
amid cool oleander blooms, fair Helen’s body,
and I said longingly within my salt-caked heart:
‘Just such a maid as this must suckle my son’s children.’ ” 260
Suddenly startled, his son blushed, his temples throbbed.
“Tall lily on far shores, and see, my son’s mind dazzles!
Soft silver laughter, gleaming throats, and fragrant apples,
hands that resist, then open, then softly close again—
O may the night not drain its hours, may dawns be dark, 265
and may he hear those flaming apple trees asway
in lush warm gardens far away, their sweet fruit falling!”
Suddenly through the mind of the mute quivering youth
a pure love flowed for that rapacious man, his father.
Thus did the two lords speak as they lunged down the slope; 270
a breeze blew freshly, earth was fragrant as after rain,
and perched in ancient olive groves, the lovebirds sighed.
Somewhere high up in heaven’s gorges, in the wind’s blast,
the stars like molting pure-white flowers in darkness fell;
low on the grass, like constellations, houses gleamed; 275
lamps stood in doorways suddenly to watch with stealth
the two night prowlers plunging headlong from the palace.
But doors were bolted quickly, clanging in the strange hush;
old women spat thrice past their breasts to ward off evil;
and black dogs thrust their tails between their thighs, and whined. 280
The stooped house-wrecker in his brine-black heart drank in
the uncivil poisoned welcome of his shameless people
and in his wrathful heart a lightning longing seized him
to fall on his isle ruthlessly and put to the sword
men, women, and gods, and on the flaming shores of dawn 285
scatter to the wide winds the ashes of his own homeland.
Such were the thoughts that whirled in his blood-lapping brain;
his son watched him askance and guessed with dread what thoughts
swirled in this ruthless stranger who suddenly swooped down,
flung into seething uproar palace, mother, and slaves, 290
then from his own long locks snatched off the royal crown.
Who was he? His blood had not leapt when he first saw
this grimy stranger crouched in rags, hunched on his threshold;
nor had his mother flung herself on his breast for haven
but in the women’s quarter had crouched in speechless dread. 295
“Speak now with kindness to your loved subjects, father, repress
your rage like a great lord, consider that they too
possess a soul, are even a god, but know it not.”
Thus spoke the son and looked straight in his father’s eyes;
but as Odysseus neared the shore and breathed the sea, 300
his mind grew cool, and soon within his pulsing heart
a white gull soared from far-off seas and flapped its wings.
Meanwhile the widows waved their flaming torches high
though they would not confess how deeply their hearts quaked,
then they all joined in rousing songs, and with hoarse throat, 305
alas, roared out a tune to give their weak hearts strength:
“Comrades, unsheath your bosom-knives, let come what may,
we’ll either finish the job tonight or fall on ruin!”
But all stood still at once and trembled with choked voice
for in the shifting light they suddenly sensed a head 310
held high, the long peaked cap, the coarse mustache gone gray
by many sunlit shores, their master’s swirling glance..
All turned to stone, the young men hid behind the women,
the old men wrenched their necks, the maimed grew hollow-kneed—
only the sound of dripping resin broke the hush. 315
The murderer glared into his people’s eyes, but spoke not;
two roads within him opened up for possible action:
should he unleash on the coarse herd his lion-mind
that men and demigods and even gods disdained,
or pity his poor people, open his arms wide, 320
and merge serenely with his flock like a good shepherd?
He weighed both well, and finding pity to his advantage,
opened his arms and hailed his people with feigned joy:
“A thousand thousand welcomes, old and tender shoots
of my fruit-bearing, many-branching regal rod! 325
I came with justice and revenge held in both hands;
first I set straight my shaken castle ruthlessly
and now descend to greet my long-loved island too;
it does me good to see you mount with your town elders
to bow down low before your loved much-wandering lord.” 330
His head like a bellwether’s glowed among the sheep,
and the crowd shuddered, tossed between two scorching fires;
from ancient times their backs had bent to the cruel yoke—
much bitter gall, dark horrors, hands made stiff and tough
at their lord’s rowbench sometimes, then at the hard plow— 335
how might the enslaved soul ever raise its head in pride?
But now among downtrodden hearts a cry burst out
as frightened freedom opened her still tender mouth
because an armless man dared speak, because the first
bold voice was heard opposing the soul-grabbing king: 340
“No! we shall not bow down! Our turn has come, man-slayer!”
His hollow shoulders shook, his dull eyes flashed with fire
though the crowd rushed to choke the newborn cry of freedom;
then an old townsman tried to soothe his master’s wrath,
but he shook off the elder, grabbed a torch and thrust 345
his way amid the crowd, holding the blaze aloft,
and one by one he searched them, cowed them one by one.
An unexpected joy blazed through his heart, for he
had heard a free soul dare speak out, dare to withstand him.
“Who spoke?” he cried, and searched all faces with his torch, 350
but cheeks turned sallow-green, eyes glazed, and all
stepped backward stealthily and vanished one by one.
Then the tart man laughed bitterly and said: “O heart,
you hoped in vain to find one like yourself to fight with,
you on the right, he on the left, your isle between!” 355
He gave the torch to his young son and his voice rang:
“Who among all of you dared open his mouth to curse me?
Who had a word to say, who dared to answer back?”
But no one spoke, all blinked their eyes and watched with fright
how in the smoke an owl’s full round yellow eyes 360
were slowly mounting up their master’s pointed cap,
The young blades thrust their reckless knives into their belts,
and in the torches’ fluttering hight a swarming host
of Trojan dead appeared and disembarked from ships;
with rotted cobwebbed spears and dirty unkempt beards 365
they rushed in silence through the air and fell in line
to right and left of their king’s back, like wings of night.
The pallid mortals backed in fear, their hair stood straight,
until the boldest elder touched his master’s knees
with reverential fear, and finally bid him welcoipe: 370
“May the Immortals guard and bless this longed for hour
when you once more stepped on your orphaned island, sire;
now earth shall bloom once more and the stones sprout with grass.
We kiss the hand that knows both how to kill its foes
and to bestow rich gifts on friends; and I, true friend, 375
bow down and kiss your footprints; welcome, and thrice welcome.”
But still their master’s mind was filled with seething rage:
“Who runs, drinks, fights, or makes love better than I?
What other mind can think up truths or lies like mine?
I can in a brief moment snatch the royal crown 380
from my own head, then gain it by myself once more;
I’ve held it neither from my own father nor from you!”
The elders stooped and mutely touched his ruthless knees,
and though he suffered all their slavish strokes with scorn,
his anger beat against him still like battering waves. 385
“When I returned, I should have punished you at once!
How could your hearts endure to watch my wealth for years
devoured by spongers that like dogs gaped for my bed?
Not one was found among you to rise up and speak out.
Don’t fear—though I’ve returned from the earth’s ends, I find 390
I’m full of pity, my heart aches for mankind’s pains,
my memory blots out evil and retains good only.
Don’t quake, I’ve not forgotten I’m my people’s father;
the sun shall also rise tomorrow, our talks resume.
Raise high your torches, slaves, it’s time I left. This day 395
has also passed, we have well earned our daily bread together.”
All took the steep ascent, the widows rushed ahead
with torches held aloft to light their master’s way;
behind them poured the living, far behind the dead,
and further back the dead dogs, horses, ox and cows 400
that even in Hades long for yokes and goading prongs.
The double shepherd led like a bellwether and heard
behind him the mob flooding like a rumbling herd,
and suddenly felt his body dead and living both,
a sunburnt, many-breasted, many-souled thing full 405
of eyes and mouths and tentacles that seized his isle
and growled, a shepherd, sheep, sheep dog and wolf all told.
Absurd, contrary longings leapt within his breast,
but he held firm the reins of his capricious soul
and when he reached his castle, passed in silence through 410
the blood-drenched threshold with its two stone lion guards,
and his son followed boldly like a lion’s whelp.
The torches choked in embers and the stars leapt low
like hungry glaring eyes of wolves in a dark wood;
Odysseus reached his hairy hands in his wild court 415
and double-barred his copper-banded groaning gates.
The gardens moane
d like caverns and the palace roared
till the crowd backed in terror, for in the star’s light
it seemed the guardian lions moved their stony jaws.
Father and son then parted mutely in the large hall; 420
the lone man climbed the tower to calm his seething mind
while the young man lay restless on his bed and heard
his wingless temples creak and open wide to hold
the many-branched audacious brain of his rash father.
“Dear God, he swoops and ravages in every soul, 425
he stands erect on the earth’s threshing floor and rakes
and winnows worthless chaff from wheat in a full wind,
throws half to the livestock and casts the other half
in his mind’s silent millstones and slowly grinds it fine.”
Longing to exorcise his father and make him fade 430
once more like spinning foam on the night-wandering wave,
the young man wove, unwove sly snares in his mind’s loom
until he wearied and curled tight in soothing sleep;
but as his eyes grew glazed and his mind dimmed, a dream
swooped like a vulture and perched high on his skull’s back. 435
He dreamt he stood on a tall rock by the sea’s rim
and longed for his great father to rise from distant waves,
but as he wept, he heard enormous wings sweep down,
and when he raised his eyes a wind-swift eagle swooped
and plunged its claws deep in his head unpityingly, 440
then, shrieking thrice, soared swiftly to the wind’s high peak.
The youth clung to the eagle’s neck in dread and closed
his eyes, fearing to watch the downward-plunging earth.
“Where are we flying, Father? Stop! My head spins round!”
But as they mounted higher, he felt his shoulder blades 445
sprout wings of curly down till to his startled eyes
the earth seemed like a tiny hare that browsed on wind;
an eagle’s heart rose in his chest, his claws grew hard,
and on the ancient eagle’s neck he swayed with pride,
“Father, my wings are strong now, drop me from your claws!” 450
The ancient eagle shrieked with maniac joy and rage,
beat his enormous wings, opened his branch-thick feet
and hurled his young son headlong through star-burning air.
The young man shrieked in terror, leapt from his low bed,
groped in the dark, and then grew calm; all seemed a dream, 455
a crazy thought new-hatched in the deceiving night.
But wild sleep now escaped him: all night long he heard
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