Epic poetry, Greek -- Translations into English; Homer -- Translations into English; Odysseus, King of Ithaca (Mythological character) -- Poetry
Immersed to perish in the flood, or calm
To endure my sorrows, and content to live.
I calm endured them; but around my head
Winding my mantle, lay'd me down below,
While adverse blasts bore all my fleet again
To the Æolian isle; then groan'd my people.
We disembark'd and drew fresh water there,
And my companions, at their galley's sides
All seated, took repast; short meal we made,
When, with an herald and a chosen friend, 70
I sought once more the hall of Æolus.
Him banqueting with all his sons we found,
And with his spouse; we ent'ring, on the floor
Of his wide portal sat, whom they amazed
Beheld, and of our coming thus enquired.
Return'd? Ulysses! by what adverse Pow'r
Repuls'd hast thou arrived? we sent thee hence
Well-fitted forth to reach thy native isle,
Thy palace, or what place soe'er thou would'st.
So they--to whom, heart-broken, I replied. 80
My worthless crew have wrong'd me, nor alone
My worthless crew, but sleep ill-timed, as much.
Yet heal, O friends, my hurt; the pow'r is yours!
So I their favour woo'd. Mute sat the sons,
But thus their father answer'd. Hence--be gone--
Leave this our isle, thou most obnoxious wretch
Of all mankind. I should, myself, transgress,
Receiving here, and giving conduct hence
To one detested by the Gods as thou.
Away--for hated by the Gods thou com'st. 90
So saying, he sent me from his palace forth,
Groaning profound; thence, therefore, o'er the Deep
We still proceeded sorrowful, our force
Exhausting ceaseless at the toilsome oar,
And, through our own imprudence, hopeless now
Of other furth'rance to our native isle.
Six days we navigated, day and night,
The briny flood, and on the seventh reach'd
The city erst by Lamus built sublime,
Proud Læstrygonia, with the distant gates. 100
The herdsman, there, driving his cattle home,[38]
Summons the shepherd with his flocks abroad.
The sleepless there might double wages earn,
Attending, now, the herds, now, tending sheep,
For the night-pastures, and the pastures grazed
By day, close border, both, the city-walls.
To that illustrious port we came, by rocks
Uninterrupted flank'd on either side
Of tow'ring height, while prominent the shores
And bold, converging at the haven's mouth 110
Leave narrow pass. We push'd our galleys in,
Then moor'd them side by side; for never surge
There lifts its head, or great or small, but clear
We found, and motionless, the shelter'd flood.
Myself alone, staying my bark without,
Secured her well with hawsers to a rock
At the land's point, then climb'd the rugged steep,
And spying stood the country. Labours none
Of men or oxen in the land appear'd,
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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