Odyssey

"Our ship now past the straits of th' ocean flood,

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ ποταμοῖο λίπεν ῥόον Ὠκεανοῖο

She plow'd the broad sea's billows, and made good

νηῦς, ἀπὸ δʼ ἵκετο κῦμα θαλάσσης εὐρυπόροιο

The isle Ææa, where the palace stands

νῆσόν τʼ Αἰαίην, ὅθι τʼ Ἠοῦς ἠριγενείης

Of th' early riser with the rosy hands,

οἰκία καὶ χοροί εἰσι καὶ ἀντολαὶ Ἠελίοιο,

Active Aurora, where she loves to dance,

νῆα μὲν ἔνθʼ ἐλθόντες ἐκέλσαμεν ἐν ψαμάθοισιν,

And where the Sun doth his prime beams advance.

ἐκ δὲ καὶ αὐτοὶ βῆμεν ἐπὶ ῥηγμῖνι θαλάσσης·

When here arriv'd, we drew her up to land,

ἔνθα δʼ ἀποβρίξαντες ἐμείναμεν Ἠῶ δῖαν.

And trod ourselves the re-saluted sand,

ἦμος δʼ ἠριγένεια φάνη ῥοδοδάκτυλος Ἠώς,

Found on the shore fit resting for the night,

δὴ τότʼ ἐγὼν ἑτάρους προΐειν ἐς δώματα Κίρκης

Slept, and expected the celestial light.

οἰσέμεναι νεκρόν, Ἐλπήνορα τεθνηῶτα.

Soon as the white-and-red-mix'd finger'd Dame

φιτροὺς δʼ αἶψα ταμόντες, ὅθʼ ἀκροτάτη πρόεχʼ ἀκτή,

Had gilt the mountains with her saffron flame,

θάπτομεν ἀχνύμενοι θαλερὸν κατὰ δάκρυ χέοντες.

I sent my men to Circe's house before,

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ νεκρός τʼ ἐκάη καὶ τεύχεα νεκροῦ,

To fetch deceas'd Elpenor to the shore.

τύμβον χεύαντες καὶ ἐπὶ στήλην ἐρύσαντες

Straight swell'd the high banks with fell'd heaps of trees,

πήξαμεν ἀκροτάτῳ τύμβῳ ἐυῆρες ἐρετμόν.

And, full of tears, we did due exsequies

ἡμεῖς μὲν τὰ ἕκαστα διείπομεν· οὐδʼ ἄρα Κίρκην

To our dead friend. Whose corse consum'd with fire,

ἐξ Ἀίδεω ἐλθόντες ἐλήθομεν, ἀλλὰ μάλʼ ὦκα

And honour'd arms, whose sepulchre entire,

ἦλθʼ ἐντυναμένη· ἅμα δʼ ἀμφίπολοι φέρον αὐτῇ

And over that a column rais'd, his oar,

σῖτον καὶ κρέα πολλὰ καὶ αἴθοπα οἶνον ἐρυθρόν.

Curiously carv'd, to his desire before,

ἡ δʼ ἐν μέσσῳ στᾶσα μετηύδα δῖα θεάων·

Upon the top of all his tomb we fix'd.

σχέτλιοι, οἳ ζώοντες ὑπήλθετε δῶμʼ Ἀίδαο,

Of all rites fit his funeral pile was mix'd.

δισθανέες, ὅτε τʼ ἄλλοι ἅπαξ θνῄσκουσʼ ἄνθρωποι.

Nor was our safe ascent from Hell conceal'd

ἀλλʼ ἄγετʼ ἐσθίετε βρώμην καὶ πίνετε οἶνον

From Circe's knowledge; nor so soon reveal'd

αὖθι πανημέριοι· ἅμα δʼ ἠοῖ φαινομένηφι

But she was with us, with her bread and food,

πλεύσεσθʼ· αὐτὰρ ἐγὼ δείξω ὁδὸν ἠδὲ ἕκαστα

And ruddy wine, brought by her sacred brood

σημανέω, ἵνα μή τι κακορραφίῃ ἀλεγεινῇ

Of woods and fountains. In the midst she stood,

ἢ ἁλὸς ἢ ἐπὶ γῆς ἀλγήσετε πῆμα παθόντες.

And thus saluted us; 'Unhappy men,

ὣς ἔφαθʼ, ἡμῖν δʼ αὖτʼ ἐπεπείθετο θυμὸς ἀγήνωρ.

That have, inform'd with all your senses, been

ὣς τότε μὲν πρόπαν ἦμαρ ἐς ἠέλιον καταδύντα

In Pluto's dismal mansion! You shall die

ἥμεθα δαινύμενοι κρέα τʼ ἄσπετα καὶ μέθυ ἡδύ·

Twice now, where others, that Mortality

ἦμος δʼ ἠέλιος κατέδυ καὶ ἐπὶ κνέφας ἦλθεν,

In her fair arms holds, shall but once decease.

οἱ μὲν κοιμήσαντο παρὰ πρυμνήσια νηός,

But eat and drink out all conceit of these,

ἡ δʼ ἐμὲ χειρὸς ἑλοῦσα φίλων ἀπονόσφιν ἑταίρων

And this day dedicate to food and wine,

εἷσέ τε καὶ προσέλεκτο καὶ ἐξερέεινεν ἕκαστα·

The following night to sleep. When next shall shine

αὐτὰρ ἐγὼ τῇ πάντα κατὰ μοῖραν κατέλεξα.

The cheerful morning, you shall prove the seas.

καὶ τότε δή μʼ ἐπέεσσι προσηύδα πότνια Κίρκη·

Your way, and ev'ry act ye must address,

ταῦτα μὲν οὕτω πάντα πεπείρανται, σὺ δʼ ἄκουσον,

My knowledge of their order shall design,

ὥς τοι ἐγὼν ἐρέω, μνήσει δέ σε καὶ θεὸς αὐτός.

Lest with your own bad counsels ye incline

Σειρῆνας μὲν πρῶτον ἀφίξεαι, αἵ ῥά τε πάντας

Events as bad against ye, and sustain,

ἀνθρώπους θέλγουσιν, ὅτις σφεας εἰσαφίκηται.

By sea and shore, the woful ends that reign

ὅς τις ἀιδρείῃ πελάσῃ καὶ φθόγγον ἀκούσῃ

In wilful actions.' Thus did she advise

Σειρήνων, τῷ δʼ οὔ τι γυνὴ καὶ νήπια τέκνα

And, for the time, our fortunes were so wise

οἴκαδε νοστήσαντι παρίσταται οὐδὲ γάνυνται,

To follow wise directions. All that day

ἀλλά τε Σειρῆνες λιγυρῇ θέλγουσιν ἀοιδῇ

We sat and feasted. When his lower way

ἥμεναι ἐν λειμῶνι, πολὺς δʼ ἀμφʼ ὀστεόφιν θὶς

The Sun had entered, and the Even the high,

ἀνδρῶν πυθομένων, περὶ δὲ ῥινοὶ μινύθουσι.

My friends slept on their gables; she and I

ἀλλὰ παρεξελάαν, ἐπὶ δʼ οὔατʼ ἀλεῖψαι ἑταίρων

(Led by her fair hand to place apart,

κηρὸν δεψήσας μελιηδέα, μή τις ἀκούσῃ

By her well-sorted) did to sleep convert

τῶν ἄλλων· ἀτὰρ αὐτὸς ἀκουέμεν αἴ κʼ ἐθέλῃσθα,

Our timid pow'rs; when all things Fate let fall

δησάντων σʼ ἐν νηὶ θοῇ χεῖράς τε πόδας τε

In our affair she ask'd; I told her all.

ὀρθὸν ἐν ἱστοπέδῃ, ἐκ δʼ αὐτοῦ πείρατʼ ἀνήφθω,

To which she answer'd: 'These things thus took end.

ὄφρα κε τερπόμενος ὄπʼ ἀκούσῃς Σειρήνοιιν.

And now to those that I inform attend,

εἰ δέ κε λίσσηαι ἑτάρους λῦσαί τε κελεύῃς,

Which you rememb'ring, God himself shall be

οἱ δέ σʼ ἔτι πλεόνεσσι τότʼ ἐν δεσμοῖσι διδέντων.

The blesséd author of your memory.

αὐτὰρ ἐπὴν δὴ τάς γε παρὲξ ἐλάσωσιν ἑταῖροι,

First to the Sirens ye shall come, that taint

ἔνθα τοι οὐκέτʼ ἔπειτα διηνεκέως ἀγορεύσω,

The minds of all men whom they can acquaint

With their attractions. Whosoever shall,

For want of knowledge mov'd, but hear the call

Of any Siren, he will so despise

Both wife and children, for their sorceries,

That never home turns his affection's stream,

Nor they take joy in him, nor he in them.

The Sirens will so soften with their song

(Shrill, and in sensual appetite so strong)

His loose affections, that he gives them head.

And then observe: They sit amidst a mead,

And round about it runs a hedge or wall

Of dead men's bones, their wither'd skins and all

Hung all along upon it; and these men

Were such as they had fawn'd into their fen,

And then their skins hung on their hedge of bones.

Sail by them therefore, thy companions

Beforehand causing to stop ev'ry ear

With sweet soft wax, so close that none may hear

A note of all their charmings. Yet may you,

If you affect it, open ear allow

To try their motion; but presume not so

To trust your judgment, when your senses go

So loose about you, but give strait command

To all your men, to bind you foot and hand

ὁπποτέρη δή τοι ὁδὸς ἔσσεται, ἀλλὰ καὶ αὐτὸς

Sure to the mast, that you may safe approve

θυμῷ βουλεύειν· ἐρέω δέ τοι ἀμφοτέρωθεν.

How strong in instigation to their love

ἔνθεν μὲν γὰρ πέτραι ἐπηρεφέες, προτὶ δʼ αὐτὰς

Their rapting tunes are. If so much they move,

κῦμα μέγα ῥοχθεῖ κυανώπιδος Ἀμφιτρίτης·

That, spite of all your reason, your will stands

Πλαγκτὰς δή τοι τάς γε θεοὶ μάκαρες καλέουσι.

To be enfranchis'd both of feet and hands,

τῇ μέν τʼ οὐδὲ ποτητὰ παρέρχεται οὐδὲ πέλειαι

Charge all your men before to slight your charge,

τρήρωνες, ταί τʼ ἀμβροσίην Διὶ πατρὶ φέρουσιν,

And rest so far from fearing to enlarge

ἀλλά τε καὶ τῶν αἰὲν ἀφαιρεῖται λὶς πέτρη·

That much more sure they bind you. When your friends

ἀλλʼ ἄλλην ἐνίησι πατὴρ ἐναρίθμιον εἶναι.

Have outsail'd these, the danger that transcends

τῇ δʼ οὔ πώ τις νηῦς φύγεν ἀνδρῶν, ἥ τις ἵκηται,

Rests not in any counsel to prevent,

ἀλλά θʼ ὁμοῦ πίνακάς τε νεῶν καὶ σώματα φωτῶν

Unless your own mind finds the tract and bent

κύμαθʼ ἁλὸς φορέουσι πυρός τʼ ὀλοοῖο θύελλαι.

Of that way that avoids it. I can say

οἴη δὴ κείνη γε παρέπλω ποντοπόρος νηῦς,

That in your course there lies a twofold way,

Ἀργὼ πᾶσι μέλουσα, παρʼ Αἰήταο πλέουσα.

The right of which your own, taught, present wit,

καὶ νύ κε τὴν ἔνθʼ ὦκα βάλεν μεγάλας ποτὶ πέτρας,

And grace divine, must prompt. In gen'ral yet

ἀλλʼ Ἥρη παρέπεμψεν, ἐπεὶ φίλος ἦεν Ἰήσων.

Let this inform you: Near these Sirens' shore

οἱ δὲ δύω σκόπελοι ὁ μὲν οὐρανὸν εὐρὺν ἱκάνει

Move two steep rocks, at whose feet lie and roar

ὀξείῃ κορυφῇ, νεφέλη δέ μιν ἀμφιβέβηκε

The black sea's cruel billows; the bless'd Gods

κυανέη· τὸ μὲν οὔ ποτʼ ἐρωεῖ, οὐδέ ποτʼ αἴθρη

Call them the Rovers. Their abhorr'd abodes

κείνου ἔχει κορυφὴν οὔτʼ ἐν θέρει οὔτʼ ἐν ὀπώρῃ.

No bird can pass; no not the doves, whose fear

οὐδέ κεν ἀμβαίη βροτὸς ἀνὴρ οὐδʼ ἐπιβαίη,

Sire Jove so loves that they are said to bear

οὐδʼ εἴ οἱ χεῖρές τε ἐείκοσι καὶ πόδες εἶεν·

Ambrosia to him, can their ravine 'scape,

πέτρη γὰρ λίς ἐστι, περιξεστῇ ἐικυῖα.

But one of them falls ever to the rape

μέσσῳ δʼ ἐν σκοπέλῳ ἔστι σπέος ἠεροειδές,

Of those sly rocks; yet Jove another still

πρὸς ζόφον εἰς Ἔρεβος τετραμμένον, ᾗ περ ἂν ὑμεῖς

Adds to the rest, that so may ever fill

νῆα παρὰ γλαφυρὴν ἰθύνετε, φαίδιμʼ Ὀδυσσεῦ.

The sacred number. Never ship could shun

οὐδέ κεν ἐκ νηὸς γλαφυρῆς αἰζήιος ἀνὴρ

The nimble peril wing'd there, but did run

τόξῳ ὀιστεύσας κοῖλον σπέος εἰσαφίκοιτο.

With all her bulk, and bodies of her men,

ἔνθα δʼ ἐνὶ Σκύλλη ναίει δεινὸν λελακυῖα.

To utter ruin. For the seas retain

τῆς ἦ τοι φωνὴ μὲν ὅση σκύλακος νεογιλῆς

Not only their outrageous æsture there,

γίγνεται, αὐτὴ δʼ αὖτε πέλωρ κακόν· οὐδέ κέ τίς μιν

But fierce assistants of particular fear,

γηθήσειεν ἰδών, οὐδʼ εἰ θεὸς ἀντιάσειεν.

And supernatural mischief, they exspire,

τῆς ἦ τοι πόδες εἰσὶ δυώδεκα πάντες ἄωροι,

And those are whirlwinds of devouring fire

ἓξ δέ τέ οἱ δειραὶ περιμήκεες, ἐν δὲ ἑκάστῃ

Whisking about still. Th' Argive ship alone,

σμερδαλέη κεφαλή, ἐν δὲ τρίστοιχοι ὀδόντες

Which bore the care of all men, got her gone,

πυκνοὶ καὶ θαμέες, πλεῖοι μέλανος θανάτοιο.

Come from Areta. Yet perhaps ev'n she

μέσση μέν τε κατὰ σπείους κοίλοιο δέδυκεν,

Had wrack'd at those rocks, if the Deity,

ἔξω δʼ ἐξίσχει κεφαλὰς δεινοῖο βερέθρου,

That lies by Jove's side, had not lent her hand

αὐτοῦ δʼ ἰχθυάᾳ, σκόπελον περιμαιμώωσα,

To their transmission; since the man, that mann'd

δελφῖνάς τε κύνας τε, καὶ εἴ ποθι μεῖζον ἕλῃσι

In chief that voyage, she in chief did love.

κῆτος, ἃ μυρία βόσκει ἀγάστονος Ἀμφιτρίτη.

Of these two spiteful rocks, the one doth shove

τῇ δʼ οὔ πώ ποτε ναῦται ἀκήριοι εὐχετόωνται

Against the height of heav'n her pointed brow.

παρφυγέειν σὺν νηί· φέρει δέ τε κρατὶ ἑκάστῳ

A black cloud binds it round, and never show

φῶτʼ ἐξαρπάξασα νεὸς κυανοπρῴροιο.

Lends to the sharp point; not the clear blue sky

τὸν δʼ ἕτερον σκόπελον χθαμαλώτερον ὄψει, Ὀδυσσεῦ.

Lets ever view it, not the summer's eye,

πλησίον ἀλλήλων· καί κεν διοϊστεύσειας.

Nor fervent autumn's. None that death could end

τῷ δʼ ἐν ἐρινεὸς ἔστι μέγας, φύλλοισι τεθηλώς·

Could ever scale it, or, if up, descend,

τῷ δʼ ὑπὸ δῖα Χάρυβδις ἀναρροιβδεῖ μέλαν ὕδωρ.

Though twenty hands and feet he had for hold,

τρὶς μὲν γάρ τʼ ἀνίησιν ἐπʼ ἤματι, τρὶς δʼ ἀναροιβδεῖ

A polish'd ice-like glibness doth enfold

δεινόν· μὴ σύ γε κεῖθι τύχοις, ὅτε ῥοιβδήσειεν·

The rock so round, whose midst a gloomy cell

οὐ γάρ κεν ῥύσαιτό σʼ ὑπὲκ κακοῦ οὐδʼ ἐνοσίχθων.

Shrouds so far westward that it sees to hell.

ἀλλὰ μάλα Σκύλλης σκοπέλῳ πεπλημένος ὦκα

From this keep you as far, as from his bow

νῆα παρὲξ ἐλάαν, ἐπεὶ ἦ πολὺ φέρτερόν ἐστιν

An able young man can his shaft bestow.

ἓξ ἑτάρους ἐν νηὶ ποθήμεναι ἢ ἅμα πάντας.

For here the whuling Scylla shrouds her face,

ὣς ἔφατʼ, αὐτὰρ ἐγώ μιν ἀμειβόμενος προσέειπον·

That breathes a voice at all parts no more base

εἰ δʼ ἄγε δή μοι τοῦτο, θεά, νημερτὲς ἐνίσπες,

Than are a newly-kitten'd kitling's cries,

εἴ πως τὴν ὀλοὴν μὲν ὑπεκπροφύγοιμι Χάρυβδιν,

Herself a monster yet of boundless size,

Whose sight would nothing please a mortal's eyes,

No nor the eyes of any God, if he

(Whom nought should fright) fell foul on her, and she

Her full shape show'd. Twelve foul feet bear about

Her ugly bulk. Six huge long necks look out

Of her rank shoulders; ev'ry neck doth let

A ghastly head out; ev'ry head three set,

Thick thrust together, of abhorréd teeth,

And ev'ry tooth stuck with a sable death.

She lurks in midst of all her den, and streaks

From out a ghastly whirlpool all her necks;

Where, gloting round her rock, to fish she falls;

And up rush dolphins, dogfish; somewhiles whales

If got within her when her rapine feeds;

For ever-groaning Amphitrite breeds

About her whirlpool an unmeasur'd store.

No sea-man ever boasted touch of shore

That there touch'd with his ship, but still she fed

Of him and his; a man for ev'ry head

Spoiling his ship of. You shall then descry

The other humbler rock, that moves so nigh

Your dart may mete the distance. It receives

A huge wild fig-tree, curl'd with ample leaves,

τὴν δέ κʼ ἀμυναίμην, ὅτε μοι σίνοιτό γʼ ἑταίρους.

Beneath whose shades divine Charybdis sits,

ὣς ἐφάμην, ἡ δʼ αὐτίκʼ ἀμείβετο δῖα θεάων·

Supping the black deeps. Thrice a day her pits

σχέτλιε, καὶ δὴ αὖ τοι πολεμήια ἔργα μέμηλε

She drinking all dry, and thrice a day again

καὶ πόνος· οὐδὲ θεοῖσιν ὑπείξεαι ἀθανάτοισιν;

All up she belches, baneful to sustain.

ἡ δέ τοι οὐ θνητή, ἀλλʼ ἀθάνατον κακόν ἐστι,

When she is drinking, dare not near her draught,

δεινόν τʼ ἀργαλέον τε καὶ ἄγριον οὐδὲ μαχητόν·

For not the force of Neptune, if once caught,

οὐδέ τις ἔστʼ ἀλκή· φυγέειν κάρτιστον ἀπʼ αὐτῆς.

Can force your freedom. Therefore, in your strife

ἢν γὰρ δηθύνῃσθα κορυσσόμενος παρὰ πέτρῃ,

To 'scape Charybdis, labour all for life

δείδω, μή σʼ ἐξαῦτις ἐφορμηθεῖσα κίχῃσι

To row near Scylla, for she will but have

τόσσῃσιν κεφαλῇσι, τόσους δʼ ἐκ φῶτας ἕληται.

For her six heads six men; and better save

ἀλλὰ μάλα σφοδρῶς ἐλάαν, βωστρεῖν δὲ Κράταιιν,

The rest, than all make off'rings to the wave.'

μητέρα τῆς Σκύλλης, ἥ μιν τέκε πῆμα βροτοῖσιν·

This need she told me of my loss, when I

ἥ μιν ἔπειτʼ ἀποπαύσει ἐς ὕστερον ὁρμηθῆναι.

Desir'd to know, if that Necessity,

Θρινακίην δʼ ἐς νῆσον ἀφίξεαι· ἔνθα δὲ πολλαὶ

When I had 'scap'd Charybdis' outrages,

βόσκοντʼ Ἠελίοιο βόες καὶ ἴφια μῆλα,

My pow'rs might not revenge, though not redress?

ἑπτὰ βοῶν ἀγέλαι, τόσα δʼ οἰῶν πώεα καλά,

She answer'd: 'O unhappy! art thou yet

πεντήκοντα δʼ ἕκαστα. γόνος δʼ οὐ γίγνεται αὐτῶν,

Enflam'd with war, and thirst to drink thy sweat?

οὐδέ ποτε φθινύθουσι. θεαὶ δʼ ἐπιποιμένες εἰσίν,

Not to the Gods give up both arms and will?

νύμφαι ἐυπλόκαμοι, Φαέθουσά τε Λαμπετίη τε,

She deathless is, and that immortal ill

ἃς τέκεν Ἠελίῳ Ὑπερίονι δῖα Νέαιρα.

Grave, harsh, outrageous, not to be subdued,

τὰς μὲν ἄρα θρέψασα τεκοῦσά τε πότνια μήτηρ

That men must suffer till they be renew'd.

Θρινακίην ἐς νῆσον ἀπῴκισε τηλόθι ναίειν,

Nor lives there any virtue that can fly

μῆλα φυλασσέμεναι πατρώια καὶ ἕλικας βοῦς.

The vicious outrage of their cruelty.

τὰς εἰ μέν κʼ ἀσινέας ἐάᾳς νόστου τε μέδηαι,

Shouldst thou put arms on, and approach the rock,

ἦ τʼ ἂν ἔτʼ εἰς Ἰθάκην κακά περ πάσχοντες ἵκοισθε·

I fear six more must expiate the shock.

εἰ δέ κε σίνηαι, τότε τοι τεκμαίρομʼ ὄλεθρον,

Six heads six men ask still. Hoise sail, and fly,

νηί τε καὶ ἑτάροις· αὐτὸς δʼ εἴ πέρ κεν ἀλύξῃς,

And, in thy flight, aloud on Cratis cry

ὀψὲ κακῶς νεῖαι, ὀλέσας ἄπο πάντας ἑταίρους.

(Great Scylla's mother, who expos'd to light

ὣς ἔφατʼ, αὐτίκα δὲ χρυσόθρονος ἤλυθεν Ἠώς.

The bane of men) and she will do such right

ἡ μὲν ἔπειτʼ ἀνὰ νῆσον ἀπέστιχε δῖα θεάων·

To thy observance, that she down will tread

αὐτὰρ ἐγὼν ἐπὶ νῆα κιὼν ὤτρυνον ἑταίρους

Her daughter's rage, nor let her show a head.

αὐτούς τʼ ἀμβαίνειν ἀνά τε πρυμνήσια λῦσαι·

From thenceforth then, for ever past her care,

οἱ δʼ αἶψʼ εἴσβαινον καὶ ἐπὶ κληῖσι καθῖζον.

Thou shalt ascend the isle triangular,

ἑξῆς δʼ ἑζόμενοι πολιὴν ἅλα τύπτον ἐρετμοῖς.

Where many oxen of the Sun are fed,

ἡμῖν δʼ αὖ κατόπισθε νεὸς κυανοπρῴροιο

And fatted flocks. Of oxen fifty head

ἴκμενον οὖρον ἵει πλησίστιον, ἐσθλὸν ἑταῖρον,

In ev'ry herd feed, and their herds are seven;

Κίρκη ἐυπλόκαμος, δεινὴ θεὸς αὐδήεσσα.

And of his fat flocks is their number even.

αὐτίκα δʼ ὅπλα ἕκαστα πονησάμενοι κατὰ νῆα

Increase they yield not, for they never die.

ἥμεθα· τὴν δʼ ἄνεμός τε κυβερνήτης τʼ ἴθυνε.

There ev'ry shepherdess a Deity.

δὴ τότʼ ἐγὼν ἑτάροισι μετηύδων ἀχνύμενος κῆρ·

Fair Phaëthusa, and Lampetié,

ὦ φίλοι, οὐ γὰρ χρὴ ἕνα ἴδμεναι οὐδὲ δύʼ οἴους

The lovely Nymphs are that their guardians be,

θέσφαθʼ ἅ μοι Κίρκη μυθήσατο, δῖα θεάων·

Who to the daylight's lofty-going Flame

ἀλλʼ ἐρέω μὲν ἐγών, ἵνα εἰδότες ἤ κε θάνωμεν

Had gracious birthright from the heav'nly Dame,

ἤ κεν ἀλευάμενοι θάνατον καὶ κῆρα φύγοιμεν.

Still young Neæra; who (brought forth and bred)

Σειρήνων μὲν πρῶτον ἀνώγει θεσπεσιάων

Far off dismiss'd them, to see duly fed

φθόγγον ἀλεύασθαι καὶ λειμῶνʼ ἀνθεμόεντα.

Their father's herds and flocks in Sicily.

οἶον ἔμʼ ἠνώγει ὄπʼ ἀκουέμεν· ἀλλά με δεσμῷ

These herds and flocks if to the Deity

δήσατʼ ἐν ἀργαλέῳ, ὄφρʼ ἔμπεδον αὐτόθι μίμνω,

Ye leave, as sacred things, untouch'd, and on

ὀρθὸν ἐν ἱστοπέδῃ, ἐκ δʼ αὐτοῦ πείρατʼ ἀνήφθω.

Go with all fit care of your home, alone,

εἰ δέ κε λίσσωμαι ὑμέας λῦσαί τε κελεύω,

(Though through some suff'rance) you yet safe shall land

ὑμεῖς δὲ πλεόνεσσι τότʼ ἐν δεσμοῖσι πιέζειν.

In wishéd Ithaca. But if impious hand

ἦ τοι ἐγὼ τὰ ἕκαστα λέγων ἑτάροισι πίφαυσκον·

You lay on those herds to their hurts, I then

τόφρα δὲ καρπαλίμως ἐξίκετο νηῦς ἐυεργὴς

Presage sure ruin to thy ship and men.

νῆσον Σειρήνοιιν· ἔπειγε γὰρ οὖρος ἀπήμων.

If thou escap'st thyself, extending home

αὐτίκʼ ἔπειτʼ ἄνεμος μὲν ἐπαύσατο ἠδὲ γαλήνη

Thy long'd-for landing, thou shalt loaded come

ἔπλετο νηνεμίη, κοίμησε δὲ κύματα δαίμων.

With store of losses, most exceeding late,

And not consorted with a savéd mate.'

This said, the golden-thron'd Aurora rose,

She her way went, and I did mine dispose

Up to my ship, weigh'd anchor, and away.

When rev'rend Circe help'd us to convey

Our vessel safe, by making well inclin'd

A seaman's true companion, a forewind,

With which she fill'd our sails; when, fitting all

Our arms close by us, I did sadly fall

To grave relation what concern'd in fate

My friends to know, and told them that the state

Of our affairs' success, which Circe had

Presag'd to me alone, must yet be made

To one nor only two known, but to all;

That, since their lives and deaths were left to fall

In their elections, they might life elect,

And give what would preserve it fit effect.

I first inform'd them, that we were to fly

The heav'nly-singing Sirens' harmony,

And flow'r-adorned meadow; and that I

Had charge to hear their song, but fetter'd fast

In bands, unfavour'd, to th' erected mast,

From whence, if I should pray, or use command,

To be enlarg'd, they should with much more band

ἀνστάντες δʼ ἕταροι νεὸς ἱστία μηρύσαντο

Contain my strugglings. This I simply told

καὶ τὰ μὲν ἐν νηὶ γλαφυρῇ θέσαν, οἱ δʼ ἐπʼ ἐρετμὰ

To each particular, nor would withhold

ἑζόμενοι λεύκαινον ὕδωρ ξεστῇς ἐλάτῃσιν.

What most enjoin'd mine own affection's stay,

αὐτὰρ ἐγὼ κηροῖο μέγαν τροχὸν ὀξέι χαλκῷ

That theirs the rather might be taught t' obey.

τυτθὰ διατμήξας χερσὶ στιβαρῇσι πίεζον·

In mean time flew our ships, and straight we fetch'd

αἶψα δʼ ἰαίνετο κηρός, ἐπεὶ κέλετο μεγάλη ἲς

The Siren's isle; a spleenless wind so stretch'd

Ἠελίου τʼ αὐγὴ Ὑπεριονίδαο ἄνακτος·

Her wings to waft us, and so urg'd our keel.

ἑξείης δʼ ἑτάροισιν ἐπʼ οὔατα πᾶσιν ἄλειψα.

But having reach'd this isle, we could not feel

οἱ δʼ ἐν νηί μʼ ἔδησαν ὁμοῦ χεῖράς τε πόδας τε

The least gasp of it, it was stricken dead,

ὀρθὸν ἐν ἱστοπέδῃ, ἐκ δʼ αὐτοῦ πείρατʼ ἀνῆπτον·

And all the sea in prostrate slumber spread,

αὐτοὶ δʼ ἑζόμενοι πολιὴν ἅλα τύπτον ἐρετμοῖς.

The Sirens' devil charm'd all. Up then flew

ἀλλʼ ὅτε τόσσον ἀπῆμεν ὅσον τε γέγωνε βοήσας,

My friends to work, struck sail, together drew,

ῥίμφα διώκοντες, τὰς δʼ οὐ λάθεν ὠκύαλος νηῦς

And under hatches stow'd them, sat, and plied

ἐγγύθεν ὀρνυμένη, λιγυρὴν δʼ ἔντυνον ἀοιδήν·

The polish'd oars, and did in curls divide

δεῦρʼ ἄγʼ ἰών, πολύαινʼ Ὀδυσεῦ, μέγα κῦδος Ἀχαιῶν,

The white-head waters. My part then came on:

νῆα κατάστησον, ἵνα νωιτέρην ὄπ ἀκούσῃς.

A mighty waxen cake I set upon,

οὐ γάρ πώ τις τῇδε παρήλασε νηὶ μελαίνῃ,

Chopp'd it in fragments with my sword, and wrought

πρίν γʼ ἡμέων μελίγηρυν ἀπὸ στομάτων ὄπʼ ἀκοῦσαι,

With strong hand ev'ry piece, till all were soft.

ἀλλʼ ὅ γε τερψάμενος νεῖται καὶ πλείονα εἰδώς.

The great pow'r of the sun, in such a beam

ἴδμεν γάρ τοι πάνθʼ ὅσʼ ἐνὶ Τροίῃ εὐρείῃ

As then flew burning from his diadem,

Ἀργεῖοι Τρῶές τε θεῶν ἰότητι μόγησαν,

To liquefaction help'd us. Orderly

ἴδμεν δʼ, ὅσσα γένηται ἐπὶ χθονὶ πουλυβοτείρῃ.

I stopp'd their ears; and they as fair did ply

ὣς φάσαν ἱεῖσαι ὄπα κάλλιμον· αὐτὰρ ἐμὸν κῆρ

My feet and hands with cords, and to the mast

ἤθελʼ ἀκουέμεναι, λῦσαί τʼ ἐκέλευον ἑταίρους

With other halsers made me soundly fast.

ὀφρύσι νευστάζων· οἱ δὲ προπεσόντες ἔρεσσον.

Then took they seat, and forth our passage strook,

αὐτίκα δʼ ἀνστάντες Περιμήδης Εὐρύλοχός τε

The foamy sea beneath their labour shook.

πλείοσί μʼ ἐν δεσμοῖσι δέον μᾶλλόν τε πίεζον.

Row'd on, in reach of an erected voice,

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ δὴ τάς γε παρήλασαν, οὐδʼ ἔτʼ ἔπειτα

The Sirens soon took note, without our noise,

φθογγῆς Σειρήνων ἠκούομεν οὐδέ τʼ ἀοιδῆς,

Tun'd those sweet accents that made charms so strong,

αἶψʼ ἀπὸ κηρὸν ἕλοντο ἐμοὶ ἐρίηρες ἑταῖροι,

And these learn'd numbers made the Sirens' song:

ὅν σφιν ἐπʼ ὠσὶν ἄλειψʼ, ἐμέ τʼ ἐκ δεσμῶν ἀνέλυσαν.

'Come here, thou worthy of a world of praise,

ἀλλʼ ὅτε δὴ τὴν νῆσον ἐλείπομεν, αὐτίκʼ ἔπειτα

That dost so high the Grecian glory raise,

καπνὸν καὶ μέγα κῦμα ἴδον καὶ δοῦπον ἄκουσα.

Ulysses! stay thy ship, and that song hear

τῶν δʼ ἄρα δεισάντων ἐκ χειρῶν ἔπτατʼ ἐρετμά,

That none pass'd ever but it bent his ear,

βόμβησαν δʼ ἄρα πάντα κατὰ ῥόον· ἔσχετο δʼ αὐτοῦ

But left him ravish'd, and instructed more

νηῦς, ἐπεὶ οὐκέτʼ ἐρετμὰ προήκεα χερσὶν ἔπειγον.

By us, than any ever heard before.

αὐτὰρ ἐγὼ διὰ νηὸς ἰὼν ὤτρυνον ἑταίρους

For we know all things whatsoever were

μειλιχίοις ἐπέεσσι παρασταδὸν ἄνδρα ἕκαστον·

In wide Troy labour'd; whatsoever there

ὦ φίλοι, οὐ γάρ πώ τι κακῶν ἀδαήμονές εἰμεν·

The Grecians and the Trojans both sustain'd

οὐ μὲν δὴ τόδε μεῖζον ἕπει κακόν, ἢ ὅτε Κύκλωψ

By those high issues that the Gods ordain'd.

εἴλει ἐνὶ σπῆι γλαφυρῷ κρατερῆφι βίηφιν·

And whatsoever all the earth can show

ἀλλὰ καὶ ἔνθεν ἐμῇ ἀρετῇ, βουλῇ τε νόῳ τε,

T' inform a knowledge of desert, we know.'

ἐκφύγομεν, καί που τῶνδε μνήσεσθαι ὀίω.

This they gave accent in the sweetest strain

νῦν δʼ ἄγεθʼ, ὡς ἂν ἐγὼ εἴπω, πειθώμεθα πάντες.

That ever open'd an enamour'd vein.

ὑμεῖς μὲν κώπῃσιν ἁλὸς ῥηγμῖνα βαθεῖαν

When my constrain'd heart needs would have mine ear

τύπτετε κληίδεσσιν ἐφήμενοι, αἴ κέ ποθι Ζεὺς

Yet more delighted, force way forth, and hear.

δώῃ τόνδε γʼ ὄλεθρον ὑπεκφυγέειν καὶ ἀλύξαι·

To which end I commanded with all sign

σοὶ δέ, κυβερνῆθʼ, ὧδʼ ἐπιτέλλομαι· ἀλλʼ ἐνὶ θυμῷ

Stern looks could make (for not a joint of mine

βάλλευ, ἐπεὶ νηὸς γλαφυρῆς οἰήια νωμᾷς.

Had pow'r to stir) my friends to rise, and give

τούτου μὲν καπνοῦ καὶ κύματος ἐκτὸς ἔεργε

My limbs free way. They freely striv'd to drive

νῆα, σὺ δὲ σκοπέλου ἐπιμαίεο, μή σε λάθῃσι

Their ship still on. When, far from will to loose,

κεῖσʼ ἐξορμήσασα καὶ ἐς κακὸν ἄμμε βάλῃσθα.

Eurylochus and Perimedes rose

ὣς ἐφάμην, οἱ δʼ ὦκα ἐμοῖς ἐπέεσσι πίθοντο.

To wrap me surer, and oppress'd me more

Σκύλλην δʼ οὐκέτʼ ἐμυθεόμην, ἄπρηκτον ἀνίην,

With many a halser than had use before.

μή πώς μοι δείσαντες ἀπολλήξειαν ἑταῖροι

When, rowing on without the reach of sound,

εἰρεσίης, ἐντὸς δὲ πυκάζοιεν σφέας αὐτούς.

My friends unstopp'd their ears, and me unbound,

καὶ τότε δὴ Κίρκης μὲν ἐφημοσύνης ἀλεγεινῆς

And that isle quite we quitted. But again

Fresh fears employ'd us. I beheld a main

Of mighty billows, and a smoke ascend,

A horrid murmur hearing. Ev'ry friend

Astonish'd sat; from ev'ry hand his Oar

Fell quite forsaken; with the dismal roar

Were all things there made echoes; stone-still stood

Our ship itself, because the ghastly flood

Took all men's motions from her in their own.

I through the ship went, labouring up and down

My friends' recover'd spirits. One by one

I gave good words, and said: That well were known

These ills to them before, I told them all,

And that these could not prove more capital

Than those the Cyclops block'd us up in, yet

My virtue, wit, and heav'n-help'd counsels set

Their freedoms open. I could not believe

But they remember'd it, and wish'd them give

My equal care and means now equal trust.

The strength they had for stirring up they must

Rouse and extend, to try if Jove had laid

His pow'rs in theirs up, and would add his aid

To 'scape ev'n that death. In particular then,

I told our pilot, that past other men

λανθανόμην, ἐπεὶ οὔ τί μʼ ἀνώγει θωρήσσεσθαι·

He most must bear firm spirits, since he sway'd

αὐτὰρ ἐγὼ καταδὺς κλυτὰ τεύχεα καὶ δύο δοῦρε

The continent that all our spirits convey'd,

μάκρʼ ἐν χερσὶν ἑλὼν εἰς ἴκρια νηὸς ἔβαινον

In his whole guide of her. He saw there boil

πρῴρης· ἔνθεν γάρ μιν ἐδέγμην πρῶτα φανεῖσθαι

The fiery whirlpools that to all our spoil

Σκύλλην πετραίην, ἥ μοι φέρε πῆμʼ ἑτάροισιν.

Inclos'd a rock, without which he must steer,

οὐδέ πῃ ἀθρῆσαι δυνάμην, ἔκαμον δέ μοι ὄσσε

Or all our ruins stood concluded there.

πάντῃ παπταίνοντι πρὸς ἠεροειδέα πέτρην.

All heard me and obey'd, and little knew

ἡμεῖς μὲν στεινωπὸν ἀνεπλέομεν γοόωντες·

That, shunning that rock, six of them should rue

ἔνθεν μὲν Σκύλλη, ἑτέρωθι δὲ δῖα Χάρυβδις

The wrack another hid. For I conceal'd

δεινὸν ἀνερροίβδησε θαλάσσης ἁλμυρὸν ὕδωρ.

The heavy wounds, that never would be heal'd,

ἦ τοι ὅτʼ ἐξεμέσειε, λέβης ὣς ἐν πυρὶ πολλῷ

To be by Scylla open'd; for their fear

πᾶσʼ ἀναμορμύρεσκε κυκωμένη, ὑψόσε δʼ ἄχνη

Would then have robb'd all of all care to steer,

ἄκροισι σκοπέλοισιν ἐπʼ ἀμφοτέροισιν ἔπιπτεν·

Or stir an oar, and made them hide beneath,

ἀλλʼ ὅτʼ ἀναβρόξειε θαλάσσης ἁλμυρὸν ὕδωρ,

When they and all had died an idle death.

πᾶσʼ ἔντοσθε φάνεσκε κυκωμένη, ἀμφὶ δὲ πέτρη

But then ev'n I forgot to shun the harm

δεινὸν ἐβεβρύχει, ὑπένερθε δὲ γαῖα φάνεσκε

Circe forewarn'd; who will'd I should not arm,

ψάμμῳ κυανέη· τοὺς δὲ χλωρὸν δέος ᾕρει.

Nor show myself to Scylla, lest in vain

ἡμεῖς μὲν πρὸς τὴν ἴδομεν δείσαντες ὄλεθρον·

I ventur'd life. Yet could not I contain,

τόφρα δέ μοι Σκύλλη γλαφυρῆς ἐκ νηὸς ἑταίρους

But arm'd at all parts, and two lances took,

ἓξ ἕλεθʼ, οἳ χερσίν τε βίηφί τε φέρτατοι ἦσαν.

Up to the foredeck went, and thence did look

σκεψάμενος δʼ ἐς νῆα θοὴν ἅμα καὶ μεθʼ ἑταίρους

That rocky Scylla would have first appear'd

ἤδη τῶν ἐνόησα πόδας καὶ χεῖρας ὕπερθεν

And taken my life with the friends I fear'd.

ὑψόσʼ ἀειρομένων· ἐμὲ δὲ φθέγγοντο καλεῦντες

From thence yet no place could afford her sight,

ἐξονομακλήδην, τότε γʼ ὕστατον, ἀχνύμενοι κῆρ.

Though through the dark rock mine eye threw her light,

ὡς δʼ ὅτʼ ἐπὶ προβόλῳ ἁλιεὺς περιμήκεϊ ῥάβδῳ

And ransack'd all ways. I then took a strait

ἰχθύσι τοῖς ὀλίγοισι δόλον κατὰ εἴδατα βάλλων

That gave myself, and some few more, receit

ἐς πόντον προΐησι βοὸς κέρας ἀγραύλοιο,

'Twixt Scylla and Charybdis; whence we saw

ἀσπαίροντα δʼ ἔπειτα λαβὼν ἔρριψε θύραζε,

How horridly Charybdis' throat did draw

ὣς οἵ γʼ ἀσπαίροντες ἀείροντο προτὶ πέτρας·

The brackish sea up, which when all aboard

αὐτοῦ δʼ εἰνὶ θύρῃσι κατήσθιε κεκληγῶτας

She spit again out, never caldron sod

χεῖρας ἐμοὶ ὀρέγοντας ἐν αἰνῇ δηιοτῆτι·

With so much fervour, fed with all the store

οἴκτιστον δὴ κεῖνο ἐμοῖς ἴδον ὀφθαλμοῖσι

That could enrage it; all the rock did roar

πάντων, ὅσσʼ ἐμόγησα πόρους ἁλὸς ἐξερεείνων.

With troubled waters; round about the tops

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ πέτρας φύγομεν δεινήν τε Χάρυβδιν

Of all the steep crags flew the foamy drops.

Σκύλλην τʼ, αὐτίκʼ ἔπειτα θεοῦ ἐς ἀμύμονα νῆσον

But when her draught the sea and earth dissunder'd,

ἱκόμεθʼ· ἔνθα δʼ ἔσαν καλαὶ βόες εὐρυμέτωποι,

The troubled bottoms turn'd up, and she thunder'd,

πολλὰ δὲ ἴφια μῆλʼ Ὑπερίονος Ἠελίοιο.

Far under shore the swart sands naked lay.

δὴ τότʼ ἐγὼν ἔτι πόντῳ ἐὼν ἐν νηὶ μελαίνῃ

Whose whole stern sight the startled blood did fray

μυκηθμοῦ τʼ ἤκουσα βοῶν αὐλιζομενάων

From all our faces. And while we on her

οἰῶν τε βληχήν· καί μοι ἔπος ἔμπεσε θυμῷ

Our eyes bestow'd thus to our ruin's fear,

μάντηος ἀλαοῦ, Θηβαίου Τειρεσίαο,

Six friends had Scylla snatch'd out of our keel,

Κίρκης τʼ Αἰαίης, ἥ μοι μάλα πόλλʼ ἐπέτελλε

In whom most loss did force and virtue feel.

νῆσον ἀλεύασθαι τερψιμβρότου Ἠελίοιο.

When looking to my ship, and lending eye

δὴ τότʼ ἐγὼν ἑτάροισι μετηύδων ἀχνύμενος κῆρ·

To see my friends' estates, their heels turn'd high,

κέκλυτέ μευ μύθων κακά περ πάσχοντες ἑταῖροι,

And hands cast up, I might discern, and hear

ὄφρʼ ὑμῖν εἴπω μαντήια Τειρεσίαο

Their calls to me for help, when now they were

Κίρκης τʼ Αἰαίης, ἥ μοι μάλα πόλλʼ ἐπέτελλε

To try me in their last extremities.

νῆσον ἀλεύασθαι τερψιμβρότου Ἠελίοιο·

And as an angler med'cine for surprise

ἔνθα γὰρ αἰνότατον κακὸν ἔμμεναι ἄμμιν ἔφασκεν.

Of little fish sits pouring from the rocks,

ἀλλὰ παρὲξ τὴν νῆσον ἐλαύνετε νῆα μέλαιναν.

From out the crook'd horn of a fold-bred ox,

ὣς ἐφάμην, τοῖσιν δὲ κατεκλάσθη φίλον ἦτορ.

And then with his long angle hoists them high

αὐτίκα δʼ Εὐρύλοχος στυγερῷ μʼ ἠμείβετο μύθῳ·

Up to the air, then slightly hurls them by,

σχέτλιός εἰς, Ὀδυσεῦ· περί τοι μένος, οὐδέ τι γυῖα

When helpless sprawling on the land they lie;

κάμνεις· ἦ ῥά νυ σοί γε σιδήρεα πάντα τέτυκται,

So eas'ly Scylla to her rock had rapt

ὅς ῥʼ ἑτάρους καμάτῳ ἁδηκότας ἠδὲ καὶ ὕπνῳ

My woeful friends, and so unhelp'd entrapt

οὐκ ἐάᾳς γαίης ἐπιβήμεναι, ἔνθα κεν αὖτε

Struggling they lay beneath her violent rape,

νήσῳ ἐν ἀμφιρύτῃ λαρὸν τετυκοίμεθα δόρπον,

Who in their tortures, desp'rate of escape,

Shriek'd as she tore, and up their hands to me

Still threw for sweet life. I did never see,

In all my suff'rance ransacking the seas,

A spectacle so full of miseries.

Thus having fled these rocks (these cruel dames

Scylla, Charybdis) where the King of flames

Hath off'rings burn'd to him, our ship put in

The island that from all the earth doth win

The epithet Faultless, where the broad-of-head

And famous oxen for the Sun are fed,

With many fat flocks of that high-gone God.

Set in my ship, mine ear reach'd where we rode

The bellowing of oxen, and the bleat

Of fleecy sheep, that in my memory's seat

Put up the forms that late had been imprest

By dread Ææn Circe, and the best

Of souls and prophets, the blind Theban seer,

The wise Tiresias, who was grave decreer

Of my return's whole means; of which this one

In chief he urg'd—that I should always shun

The island of the man-delighting Sun.

When, sad at heart for our late loss, I pray'd

My friends to hear fit counsel (though dismay'd

ἀλλʼ αὔτως διὰ νύκτα θοὴν ἀλάλησθαι ἄνωγας

With all ill fortunes) which was giv'n to me

νήσου ἀποπλαγχθέντας ἐν ἠεροειδέι πόντῳ.

By Circe's and Tiresias' prophecy,—

ἐκ νυκτῶν δʼ ἄνεμοι χαλεποί, δηλήματα νηῶν,

That I should fly the isle where was ador'd

γίγνονται· πῇ κέν τις ὑπεκφύγοι αἰπὺν ὄλεθρον,

The Comfort of the world, for ills abhorr'd

ἤν πως ἐξαπίνης ἔλθῃ ἀνέμοιο θύελλα,

Were ambush'd for us there; and therefore will'd

ἢ Νότου ἢ Ζεφύροιο δυσαέος, οἵ τε μάλιστα

They should put off and leave the isle. This kill'd

νῆα διαρραίουσι θεῶν ἀέκητι ἀνάκτων.

Their tender spirits; when Eurylochus

ἀλλʼ ἦ τοι νῦν μὲν πειθώμεθα νυκτὶ μελαίνῃ

A speech that vex'd me utter'd, answ'ring thus:

δόρπον θʼ ὁπλισόμεσθα θοῇ παρὰ νηὶ μένοντες,

'Cruel Ulysses! Since thy nerves abound

ἠῶθεν δʼ ἀναβάντες ἐνήσομεν εὐρέι πόντῳ.

In strength, the more spent, and no toils confound

ὣς ἔφατʼ Εὐρύλοχος, ἐπὶ δʼ ᾔνεον ἄλλοι ἑταῖροι.

Thy able limbs, as all beat out of steel,

καὶ τότε δὴ γίγνωσκον ὃ δὴ κακὰ μήδετο δαίμων,

Thou ablest us too, as unapt to feel

καί μιν φωνήσας ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδων·

The teeth of Labour, and the spoil of Sleep,

Εὐρύλοχʼ, ἦ μάλα δή με βιάζετε μοῦνον ἐόντα.

And therefore still wet waste us in the deep,

ἀλλʼ ἄγε νῦν μοι πάντες ὀμόσσατε καρτερὸν ὅρκον·

Nor let us land to eat, but madly now

εἴ κέ τινʼ ἠὲ βοῶν ἀγέλην ἢ πῶυ μέγʼ οἰῶν

In night put forth, and leave firm land to strew

εὕρωμεν, μή πού τις ἀτασθαλίῃσι κακῇσιν

The sea with errors. All the rabid flight

ἢ βοῦν ἠέ τι μῆλον ἀποκτάνῃ· ἀλλὰ ἕκηλοι

Of winds that ruin ships are bred in night.

ἐσθίετε βρώμην, τὴν ἀθανάτη πόρε Κίρκη.

Who is it that can keep off cruel Death,

ὣς ἐφάμην, οἱ δʼ αὐτίκʼ ἀπώμνυον, ὡς ἐκέλευον.

If suddenly should rush out th' angry breath

αὐτὰρ ἐπεί ῥʼ ὄμοσάν τε τελεύτησάν τε τὸν ὅρκον,

Of Notus, or the eager-spirited West,

στήσαμεν ἐν λιμένι γλαφυρῷ ἐυεργέα νῆα

That cuff ships dead, and do the Gods their best?

ἄγχʼ ὕδατος γλυκεροῖο, καὶ ἐξαπέβησαν ἑταῖροι

Serve black Night still with shore, meat, sleep, and ease,

νηός, ἔπειτα δὲ δόρπον ἐπισταμένως τετύκοντο.

And offer to the Morning for the seas.'

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ πόσιος καὶ ἐδητύος ἐξ ἔρον ἕντο,

This all the rest approv'd, and then knew I

μνησάμενοι δὴ ἔπειτα φίλους ἔκλαιον ἑταίρους,

That past all doubt the Devil did apply

οὓς ἔφαγε Σκύλλη γλαφυρῆς ἐκ νηὸς ἑλοῦσα·

His slaught'rous works. Nor would they be withheld;

κλαιόντεσσι δὲ τοῖσιν ἐπήλυθε νήδυμος ὕπνος.

I was but one, nor yielded but compell'd.

ἦμος δὲ τρίχα νυκτὸς ἔην, μετὰ δʼ ἄστρα βεβήκει,

But all that might contain them I assay'd,

ὦρσεν ἔπι ζαῆν ἄνεμον νεφεληγερέτα Ζεὺς

A sacred oath on all their pow'rs I laid,

λαίλαπι θεσπεσίῃ, σὺν δὲ νεφέεσσι κάλυψε

That if with herds or any richest-flocks

γαῖαν ὁμοῦ καὶ πόντον· ὀρώρει δʼ οὐρανόθεν νύξ.

We chanc'd t' encounter, neither sheep nor ox

ἦμος δʼ ἠριγένεια φάνη ῥοδοδάκτυλος Ἠώς,

We once should touch, nor (for that constant ill

νῆα μὲν ὡρμίσαμεν κοῖλον σπέος εἰσερύσαντες.

That follows folly) scorn advice and kill,

ἔνθα δʼ ἔσαν νυμφέων καλοὶ χοροὶ ἠδὲ θόωκοι·

But quiet sit us down and take such food

καὶ τότʼ ἐγὼν ἀγορὴν θέμενος μετὰ μῦθον ἔειπον·

As the immortal Circe had bestow'd.

ὦ φίλοι, ἐν γὰρ νηὶ θοῇ βρῶσίς τε πόσις τε

They swore all this in all severest sort;

ἔστιν, τῶν δὲ βοῶν ἀπεχώμεθα, μή τι πάθωμεν·

And then we anchor'd in the winding port

δεινοῦ γὰρ θεοῦ αἵδε βόες καὶ ἴφια μῆλα,

Near a fresh river, where the long'd-for shore

Ἠελίου, ὃς πάντʼ ἐφορᾷ καὶ πάντʼ ἐπακούει.

They all flew out to, took in victuals store,

ὣς ἐφάμην, τοῖσιν δʼ ἐπεπείθετο θυμὸς ἀγήνωρ.

And, being full, thought of their friends, and wept

μῆνα δὲ πάντʼ ἄλληκτος ἄη Νότος, οὐδέ τις ἄλλος

Their loss by Scylla, weeping till they slept.

γίγνετʼ ἔπειτʼ ἀνέμων εἰ μὴ Εὖρός τε Νότος τε.

In night's third part, when stars began to stoop,

οἱ δʼ ἧος μὲν σῖτον ἔχον καὶ οἶνον ἐρυθρόν,

The Cloud-assembler put a tempest up.

τόφρα βοῶν ἀπέχοντο λιλαιόμενοι βιότοιο.

A boist'rous spirit he gave it, drave out all

ἀλλʼ ὅτε δὴ νηὸς ἐξέφθιτο ἤια πάντα,

His flocks of clouds, and let such darkness fall

καὶ δὴ ἄγρην ἐφέπεσκον ἀλητεύοντες ἀνάγκῃ,

That Earth and Seas, for fear, to hide were driv'n,

ἰχθῦς ὄρνιθάς τε, φίλας ὅ τι χεῖρας ἵκοιτο,

For with his clouds he thrust out Night from heav'n.

γναμπτοῖς ἀγκίστροισιν, ἔτειρε δὲ γαστέρα λιμός·

At morn we drew our ships into a cave,

δὴ τότʼ ἐγὼν ἀνὰ νῆσον ἀπέστιχον, ὄφρα θεοῖσιν

In which the Nymphs that Phœbus' cattle drave

εὐξαίμην, εἴ τίς μοι ὁδὸν φήνειε νέεσθαι.

Fair dancing-rooms had, and their seats of state.

ἀλλʼ ὅτε δὴ διὰ νήσου ἰὼν ἤλυξα ἑταίρους,

I urg'd my friends then, that, to shun their fate,

χεῖρας νιψάμενος, ὅθʼ ἐπὶ σκέπας ἦν ἀνέμοιο,

They would observe their oath, and take the food

ἠρώμην πάντεσσι θεοῖς οἳ Ὄλυμπον ἔχουσιν·

Our ship afforded, nor attempt the blood

οἱ δʼ ἄρα μοι γλυκὺν ὕπνον ἐπὶ βλεφάροισιν ἔχευαν.

Of those fair herds and flocks, because they were

Εὐρύλοχος δʼ ἑτάροισι κακῆς ἐξήρχετο βουλῆς·

The dreadful God's that all could see and hear.

They stood observant, and in that good mind

Had we been gone; but so adverse the wind

Stood to our passage, that we could not go.

For one whole month perpetually did blow

Impetuous Notus, not a breath's repair

But his and Eurus' rul'd in all the air.

As long yet as their ruddy wine and bread

Stood out amongst them, so long not a head

Of all those oxen fell in any strife

Amongst those students for the gut and life;

But when their victuals fail'd they fell to prey,

Necessity compell'd them then to stray

In rape of fish and fowl; whatever came

In reach of hand or hook, the belly's flame

Afflicted to it. I then fell to pray'r,

And (making to a close retreat repair,

Free from both friends and winds) I wash'd my hands,

And all the Gods besought, that held commands

In liberal heav'n, to yield some mean to stay

Their desp'rate hunger, and set up the way

Of our return restrain'd. The Gods, instead

Of giving what I pray'd for—pow'r of deed—

A deedless sleep did on my lids distill,

For mean to work upon my friends their fill.

κέκλυτέ μευ μύθων κακά περ πάσχοντες ἑταῖροι.

For whiles I slept, there wak'd no mean to curb

πάντες μὲν στυγεροὶ θάνατοι δειλοῖσι βροτοῖσι,

Their headstrong wants; which he that did disturb

λιμῷ δʼ οἴκτιστον θανέειν καὶ πότμον ἐπισπεῖν.

My rule in chief at all times, and was chief

ἀλλʼ ἄγετʼ, Ἠελίοιο βοῶν ἐλάσαντες ἀρίστας

To all the rest in counsel to their grief,

ῥέξομεν ἀθανάτοισι, τοὶ οὐρανὸν εὐρὺν ἔχουσιν.

Knew well, and of my present absence took

εἰ δέ κεν εἰς Ἰθάκην ἀφικοίμεθα, πατρίδα γαῖαν,

His fit advantage, and their iron strook

αἶψά κεν Ἠελίῳ Ὑπερίονι πίονα νηὸν

At highest heat. For, feeling their desire

τεύξομεν, ἐν δέ κε θεῖμεν ἀγάλματα πολλὰ καὶ ἐσθλά.

In his own entrails, to allay the fire

εἰ δὲ χολωσάμενός τι βοῶν ὀρθοκραιράων

That Famine blew in them, he thus gave way

νῆʼ ἐθέλῃ ὀλέσαι, ἐπὶ δʼ ἕσπωνται θεοὶ ἄλλοι,

To that affection: 'Hear what I shall say,

βούλομʼ ἅπαξ πρὸς κῦμα χανὼν ἀπὸ θυμὸν ὀλέσσαι,

Though words will staunch no hunger, ev'ry death

ἢ δηθὰ στρεύγεσθαι ἐὼν ἐν νήσῳ ἐρήμῃ.

To us poor wretches that draw temporal breath

ὣς ἔφατʼ Εὐρύλοχος, ἐπὶ δʼ ᾔνεον ἄλλοι ἑταῖροι.

You know is hateful; but, all know, to die

αὐτίκα δʼ Ἠελίοιο βοῶν ἐλάσαντες ἀρίστας

The death of Famine is a misery

ἐγγύθεν, οὐ γὰρ τῆλε νεὸς κυανοπρῴροιο

Past all death loathsome. Let us, therefore, take

βοσκέσκονθʼ ἕλικες καλαὶ βόες εὐρυμέτωποι·

The chief of this fair herd, and off'rings make

τὰς δὲ περίστησάν τε καὶ εὐχετόωντο θεοῖσιν,

To all the Deathless that in broad heav'n live,

φύλλα δρεψάμενοι τέρενα δρυὸς ὑψικόμοιο·

And in particular vow, if we arrive

οὐ γὰρ ἔχον κρῖ λευκὸν ἐυσσέλμου ἐπὶ νηός.

In natural Ithaca, to straight erect

αὐτὰρ ἐπεί ῥʼ εὔξαντο καὶ ἔσφαξαν καὶ ἔδειραν,

A temple to the Haughty-in-aspect,

μηρούς τʼ ἐξέταμον κατά τε κνίσῃ ἐκάλυψαν

Rich and magnificent, and all within

δίπτυχα ποιήσαντες, ἐπʼ αὐτῶν δʼ ὠμοθέτησαν.

Deck it with relics many and divine.

οὐδʼ εἶχον μέθυ λεῖψαι ἐπʼ αἰθομένοις ἱεροῖσιν,

If yet he stands incens'd, since we have slain

ἀλλʼ ὕδατι σπένδοντες ἐπώπτων ἔγκατα πάντα.

His high-brow'd herd, and, therefore, will sustain

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ κατὰ μῆρʼ ἐκάη καὶ σπλάγχνα πάσαντο,

Desire to wrack our ship, he is but one,

μίστυλλόν τʼ ἄρα τἆλλα καὶ ἀμφʼ ὀβελοῖσιν ἔπειραν.

And all the other Gods that we atone

καὶ τότε μοι βλεφάρων ἐξέσσυτο νήδυμος ὕπνος,

With our divine rites will their suffrage give

βῆν δʼ ἰέναι ἐπὶ νῆα θοὴν καὶ θῖνα θαλάσσης.

To our design'd return, and let us live.

ἀλλʼ ὅτε δὴ σχεδὸν ἦα κιὼν νεὸς ἀμφιελίσσης,

If not, and all take part, I rather crave

καὶ τότε με κνίσης ἀμφήλυθεν ἡδὺς ἀυτμή.

To serve with one sole death the yawning wave,

οἰμώξας δὲ θεοῖσι μέγʼ ἀθανάτοισι γεγώνευν·

Than in a desert island lie and sterve,

Ζεῦ πάτερ ἠδʼ ἄλλοι μάκαρες θεοὶ αἰὲν ἐόντες,

And with one pin'd life many deaths observe.'

ἦ με μάλʼ εἰς ἄτην κοιμήσατε νηλέι ὕπνῳ.

All cried 'He counsels nobly,' and all speed

οἱ δʼ ἕταροι μέγα ἔργον ἐμητίσαντο μένοντες.

Made to their resolute driving; for the feed

ὠκέα δʼ Ἠελίῳ Ὑπερίονι ἄγγελος ἦλθε

Of those coal-black, fair, broad-brow'd, sun-lov'd beeves

Λαμπετίη τανύπεπλος, ὅ οἱ βόας ἔκταμεν ἡμεῖς.

Had place close by our ships. They took the lives

αὐτίκα δʼ ἀθανάτοισι μετηύδα χωόμενος κῆρ·

Of sence, most eminent; about their fall

Ζεῦ πάτερ ἠδʼ ἄλλοι μάκαρες θεοὶ αἰὲν ἐόντες,

Stood round, and to the States Celestial

τῖσαι δὴ ἑτάρους Λαερτιάδεω Ὀδυσῆος,

Made solemn vows; but other rites their ship

οἵ μευ βοῦς ἔκτειναν ὑπέρβιον, ᾗσιν ἐγώ γε

Could not afford them, they did, therefore, strip

χαίρεσκον μὲν ἰὼν εἰς οὐρανὸν ἀστερόεντα,

The curl'd-head oak of fresh young leaves, to make

ἠδʼ ὁπότʼ ἂψ ἐπὶ γαῖαν ἀπʼ οὐρανόθεν προτραποίμην.

Supply of service for their barley-cake.

εἰ δέ μοι οὐ τίσουσι βοῶν ἐπιεικέʼ ἀμοιβήν,

And on the sacredly-enflam'd, for wine,

δύσομαι εἰς Ἀίδαο καὶ ἐν νεκύεσσι φαείνω.

Pour'd purest water, all the parts divine

τὸν δʼ ἀπαμειβόμενος προσέφη νεφεληγερέτα Ζεύς·

Spitting and roasting; all the rites beside

Ἠέλιʼ, ἦ τοι μὲν σὺ μετʼ ἀθανάτοισι φάεινε

Orderly using. Then did light divide

καὶ θνητοῖσι βροτοῖσιν ἐπὶ ζείδωρον ἄρουραν·

My low and upper lids; when, my repair

τῶν δέ κʼ ἐγὼ τάχα νῆα θοὴν ἀργῆτι κεραυνῷ

Made near my ship, I met the delicate air

τυτθὰ βαλὼν κεάσαιμι μέσῳ ἐνὶ οἴνοπι πόντῳ.

Their roast exhal'd; out instantly I cried,

ταῦτα δʼ ἐγὼν ἤκουσα Καλυψοῦς ἠυκόμοιο·

And said: 'O Jove, and all ye Deified,

ἡ δʼ ἔφη Ἑρμείαο διακτόρου αὐτὴ ἀκοῦσαι.

Ye have oppress'd me with a cruel sleep,

αὐτὰρ ἐπεί ῥʼ ἐπὶ νῆα κατήλυθον ἠδὲ θάλασσαν,

While ye conferr'd on me a loss as deep

νείκεον ἄλλοθεν ἄλλον ἐπισταδόν, οὐδέ τι μῆχος

As Death descends to. To themselves alone

εὑρέμεναι δυνάμεσθα, βόες δʼ ἀποτέθνασαν ἤδη.

My rude men left ungovern'd, they have done

τοῖσιν δʼ αὐτίκʼ ἔπειτα θεοὶ τέραα προύφαινον·

A deed so impious, I stand well assur'd,

εἷρπον μὲν ῥινοί, κρέα δʼ ἀμφʼ ὀβελοῖσι μεμύκει,

That you will not forgive though ye procur'd.'

ὀπταλέα τε καὶ ὠμά, βοῶν δʼ ὣς γίγνετο φωνή.

Then flew Lampetié with the ample robe

Up to her father with the golden globe,

Ambassadress t' inform him that my men

Had slain his oxen. Heart-incensed then,

He cried: 'Revenge me, Father, and the rest

Both ever-living and for ever blest!

Ulysses' impious men have drawn the blood

Of those my oxen that it did me good

To look on, walking all my starry round,

And when I trod earth all with meadows crown'd.

Without your full amends I'll leave heav'n quite,

Dis and the dead adorning with my light.'

The Cloud-herd answer'd: 'Son! Thou shalt be ours,

And light those mortals in that mine of flow'rs!

My red-hot flash shall graze but on their ship,

And eat it, burning, in the boiling deep.'

This by Calypso I was told, and she

Inform'd it from the verger Mercury.

Come to our ship, I chid and told by name

Each man how impiously he was to blame.

But chiding got no peace, and beeves were slain!

When straight the Gods forewent their following pain

With dire ostents. The hides the flesh had lost

Crept all before them. As the flesh did roast,

ἑξῆμαρ μὲν ἔπειτα ἐμοὶ ἐρίηρες ἑταῖροι

It bellow'd like the ox itself alive.

δαίνυντʼ Ἠελίοιο βοῶν ἐλάσαντες ἀρίστας·