Epic poetry, Greek -- Translations into English; Homer -- Translations into English; Odysseus, King of Ithaca (Mythological character)
“Hearken, ye captains and counsellors of the Phaeacians, and now let
Demodocus hold his hand from the loud lyre, for this song of his is
nowise pleasing alike to all. From the time that we began to sup, and
that the divine minstrel was moved to sing, ever since hath yonder
stranger never ceased from woeful lamentation: sore grief, methinks,
hath encompassed his heart. Nay, but let the minstrel cease, that we
may all alike make merry, hosts and guest, since it is far meeter so.
For all these things are ready for the sake of the honourable stranger,
even the convoy and the loving gifts which we give him out of our love.
In a brother’s place stand the stranger and the suppliant, to him whose
wits have even a little range, wherefore do thou too hide not now with
crafty purpose aught whereof I ask thee; it were more meet for thee to
tell it out. Say, what is the name whereby they called thee at home,
even thy father and thy mother, and others thy townsmen and the
dwellers round about? For there is none of all mankind nameless,
neither the mean man nor yet the noble, from the first hour of his
birth, but parents bestow a name on every man so soon as he is born.
Tell me too of thy land, thy township, and thy city, that our ships may
conceive of their course to bring thee thither. For the Phaeacians have
no pilots nor any rudders after the manner of other ships, but their
barques themselves understand the thoughts and intents of men; they
know the cities and fat fields of every people, and most swiftly they
traverse the gulf of the salt sea, shrouded in mist and cloud, and
never do they go in fear of wreck or ruin. Howbeit I heard upon a time
this word thus spoken by my father Nausithous, who was wont to say that
Poseidon was jealous of us for that we give safe escort to all men. He
said that the god would some day smite a well-wrought ship of the
Phaeacians as she came home from a convoy over the misty deep, and
would overshadow our city with a great mountain. Thus that ancient one
would speak, and thus the god may bring it about, or leave it undone,
according to the good pleasure of his will. But come now, declare me
this and plainly tell it all; whither wast thou borne wandering, and to
what shores of men thou camest; tell me of the people and of their
fair-lying cities, of those whoso are hard and wild and unjust, and of
those likewise who are hospitable and of a god-fearing mind. Declare,
too, wherefore thou dost weep and mourn in spirit at the tale of the
faring of the Argive Danaans and the lay of Ilios. All this the gods
have fashioned, and have woven the skein of death for men, that there
might be a song in the ears even of the folk of aftertime. Hadst thou
even a kinsman by marriage that fell before Ilios, a true man, a
daughter’s husband or wife’s father, such as are nearest us after those
of our own stock and blood? Or else, may be, some loving friend, a good
man and true; for a friend with an understanding heart is no whit worse
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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