HOMER: "ODYSSEY": BOOK XXII: THE BATTLE IN THE HALL.

Introduction:

In what was undoubtedly the most popular book of the "Odyssey" in later classical times, and probably beforehand, the story reaches its climax in Book XXII, when Odysseus is enabled to take his revenge on the suitors and recover his possessions. The action is still taking place on the 39th day of the "Odyssey": Odysseus, assisted by his son Telemachus and his two friendly servants, Eumaeus and Philoetius, and helped by Athene, disguised as Mentor, slaughter the suitors. The house is then cleansed, the faithless women servants are hanged, and the traitor Melanthius is gruesomely mutilated and killed. 

Ll. 1-41. Odysseus slays Antinous.

Then, Odysseus, that man of many wiles, stripped off his ragged garments, and leapt on to the great threshold with his bow and his quiver full of arrows, and poured forth his swift arrows just there in front of his feet, and he spoke among the suitors: "In very truth, this dangerous contest has been brought to an end; now, however, I will know another target which no man has ever struck, if I can hit (it) and Apollo grants my prayer."

He spoke and aimed a pointed shaft at Antinous. Now indeed, he was about to raise a fair goblet to his lips, a two-handled cup of gold (it was), and he was holding (it) in his hands in order to drink the wine; and death was not in his thoughts; and who would have foreseen that one man among the many men that sat as guests at the table, even if he were very strong, would have brought evil death and black fate upon him? But Odysseus took aim and smote him with an arrow in the throat, and its point went right through his tender throat. And he lurched to one side, and the cup fell from his hands as he was struck, and at once there came through his nostrils a thick jet of man's blood; and he quickly thrust the table from him with a kick of the foot, and the food spilled on to the floor; and the bread and the roasted flesh were defiled And the suitors caused an uproar throughout the halls, when they saw the man had fallen, and they sprang from their seats, driven in confusion through the halls, and gazing eagerly in all directions along the well-built walls; but nowhere was there a shield or a mighty spear to seize. But they upbraided Odysseus with angry words: "Stranger, you shoot at men to your cost; never shall you take part in other contests; now (is) your utter destruction sure. For now you have slain a man, who (was) by far the best of the young men in Ithaca; so shall the vultures devour you here (i.e. you will be deprived of funeral rites)." 

So spoke each man, for, in truth, they thought that he had not meant to slay the man; and this, poor fools, they did not know, that upon (each) one of them the bonds of death had been fastened. Then, looking askance, the quick-witted Odysseus answered them: "You dogs, you thought that I should never come home, returning from the land of the Trojans, (seeing) that you wasted my house, and lay by force with the maidservants, and you secretly courted my wife, though I was (still) alive, without fearing the gods who hold broad heaven, nor that vengeance of men that will come hereafter; and now upon every (one) of you the bonds of death have been fastened."

Ll. 42-78. Eurymachus leads the resistance against Odysseus. 

So he spoke, and pallid fear seized hold of them all; and each (man) looked around (to see) how he might escape utter destruction. But Eurymachus alone answered him and said: "Now if you really are Odysseus of Ithaca having returned home again, those (things) which you have been saying with regard to what the Achaeans have done, many wanton (deeds) in your halls and in the field, (are) right. But he who was responsible for (them) all now lies dead, (namely) Antinous; for he caused these deeds to happen, not so much desiring or needing marriage, but contemplating some other (things), which the son of Cronos did not bring about for him, that in the land of well-built Ithaca he himself might be king, and that he might lie in wait for your son (i.e. Telemachus) and kill (him). But now he lies slain deservedly, but do you spare your people; and hereafter we shall make amends throughout the land, for everything that has been drunk and eaten in your halls, and will bring (you) recompense, each man separately, to the value of twenty oxen, and we shall pay you in bronze and gold, until your heart be warmed; until then, your wrath is in no respect a cause for righteous indignation."      

Then, with a scowl, Odysseus, the man of many wiles, answered him: "Eurymachus, not even if you gave me all (the things) that your father left you, and all (the things) that you now have, and anything else that you might acquire hereafter, not even then could I stay my hands from slaughter until the suitors have paid the price for all their transgressions. Now it lies before you to fight face to face or to flee, if any (man) shall avoid death and the fates; but I do not think that any (man) shall escape from utter destruction."

So he (i.e. Odysseus) spoke, and their knees were loosened and their hearts (were melted). Then, Eurymachus spoke to them again for a second time: "My friends, for this man will not stay his invincible hands, but, since he has got the polished bow and its quiver, he will shoot from the smooth threshold until he slays us all; but (come), let us turn our minds to battle. Draw your swords and hold up the tables against his arrows that bring swift death; and let us all have at him in a body, in the hope that we can thrust him from the threshold and the doorway, and let us go through the city, and may there be a swift alarm; so then shall this man have swiftly shot his last (bolt)." 

Ll. 79-125. Odyesseus and Telemachus kill Eurymachus and Amphinomus. 

So saying, he (i.e. Eurymachus) drew his sharp sword of bronze, sharpened on both sides, and he leapt upon him, shouting fearfully; but, at the same time, godlike Odysseus let fly an arrow, and it struck (him) on the breast beside the nipple, and the swift shaft stuck in his liver; and he let the sword fall from his hand to the ground, and, sprawling over the table, he doubled up and fell, and he spilled the food and the two-handled cup on the floor; and, distressed in his mind, he beat the ground with his forehead and kicked and shook his chair with both his feet; and a mist was shed over his eyes.  

Then, Amphinomus went for glorious Odysseus, darting straight at him, and he drew his sharp sword to see if he would give way to him at the door. But Telemachus anticipated him and struck (him) from behind between the shoulders with his bronze-tipped spear, and drove (it) through his breast; and he fell with a crash, and struck the ground with the whole of his forehead. But Telemachus sprang back, leaving his long-shafted spear there in Amphinomus; for he was very much afraid that, as he was drawing forth the long-shafted spear, one of the Achaeans might rush (upon him) and stab him with a sword or smite (him) as he was looking downwards. Then, he began to run, and came very quickly to his father, and, standing nearby (him), he spoke these winged words: "Father, now I will bring you a shield and two spears, and a helmet of bronze fitted to your temples, and, when I come back, I will arm myself, and will likewise give (armour) to the swineherd (i.e. Eumaeus) and the cowherd (i.e. Philoetius); for it is better to be clothed in armour."

Then, Odysseus, that man of many wiles, answered him and said: "Run and get (them), while I still have arrows to defend me, lest they thrust me from the door, alone as I am."

So he spoke, and Telemachus obeyed his father, and made his way to the chamber where lay the glorious armour. From there he took four shields and eight spears, and four bronze helmets with plumes of horse-hair, and he bore them on his way and came to his father very swiftly, and, first of all, he put the bronze about his body; and thus likewise the two servants put on the beautiful armour, and they took their stand on either side of bold Odysseus, full of various wiles.  

But he, as long as there were arrows to defend him, so he would ever aim at the wooers and smite (them) one by one in his house; and they fell in heaps. But, when the arrows failed the prince as he shot (them), he leant the bow against the door-post of the well-built hall to stand against the gleaming wall-faces, and he himself placed a four-layered shield about his shoulders, and put a well-made helmet with horse-hair plumes on his stout head, and the plume nodded dreadfully above (him); and he took two mighty spears, arrayed with bronze.

Ll. 126-169. Melanthius raids the storeroom.

Now there was a certain raised doorway in the well-built wall, and along the topmost threshold of the well-built hall there was a way into the passage, and well-fitting planks enclosed (it). This (gate) Odysseus bade the goodly swineherd watch, taking his stand close by; for there was only a single (means of) access to it. Then, Agelaus spoke to the (suitors), proclaiming these words to all (of them): "Friends, will not someone go up to that raised entrance and address the people, so that the alarm can be raised straightaway? Then, this fellow would soon have fired his last (bolt)."

Then, Melanthius, the herder of goats, answered him: "It may not be possible, Agelaus, nurtured of Zeus; for the fair door of the court is terribly near, and the mouth of the passage (is) tight; one man, if he were valiant, could bar the way for everyone. But come, let me bring you armour from the storeroom to put on; for I think it is within (it), and nowhere else, that Odysseus and his brilliant son have laid their war-gear."

So saying, Melanthius, the herder of goats, went up to Odysseus' storeroom by the narrow passages of the hall. From there he took twelve shields and as many spears, and as many helmets (made) of bronze with plumes of horse-hair; and he went on his way and very quickly brought (them) and gave (them) to the suitors. Then were the knees of Odysseus loosened and his heart (began to melt), when he saw (them) donning armour and brandishing long spears in their hands; and his task seemed to him (to be) great. But quickly did he speak these winged words to Telemachus: "Telemachus, assuredly one of the women in these halls is stirring up an evil battle for us, or (perhaps it is) Melanthius."

Then, wise Telemachus spoke to him in reply: "I myself am to blame for this - no one else (is) responsible - for I left the close-fitting door of the storeroom open; and their watcher was better (than I). But go (now), goodly Eumaeus, and close the door of the storeroom, and see whether it is one of the women who does this, or Melanthius, the son of Dolius, whom indeed I think (it is)."

Thus they said these (things) to one another, but Melanthius, the herder of goats, went once more to the storeroom to bring the beautiful armour. But the goodly swineherd saw (him), and spoke at once to Odysseus who was close at hand: "Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, ever-resourceful Odysseus, there again is that pestilent fellow, whom we ourselves suspect, going to the storeroom; but tell me truly whether I should slay him, if I am the better (man), or shall I bring him here to you, so that he may make recompense for the many crimes which he has committed in your house."

Ll. 170-209. Melanthius is captured.

Then, Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, answered him and said: "Telemachus and I will surely keep the haughty wooers within the hall, even if there are very pressing. But do you two (i.e. Eumaeus and Philoetius) bend his (i.e. Melanthius') feet and arms from above, and cast him into the storeroom, and tie boards behind (his back), and do you fasten a twisted cord around his (body) and hoist (him) up the tall pillar and bring (him) close to the roof-beams, so that he may stay alive for a long time and suffer grievous torments."

So he spoke, and they readily heard him and obeyed, and they went their way to the storeroom, unnoticed by the one who was within (it). Now indeed he was seeking armour in the innermost part of the storeroom, and the two (of them) lay in wait and stood on either side of the door-posts. When Melanthius, the herder of goats, was about to go over the threshold, bearing a fine helmet in one hand, and, in the other, a broad old shield, besprinkled with rust, belonging to the heroic Laertes, who in his youth used to carry (it) around; but now it had been lying (there) for some time, and the seams of its straps were loosened; then, the two of them rushed at (him) and seized (him) and dragged him inside by the hair, and they cast him down on the floor, troubled in his heart, and they bound his feet and hands together with a grievous knot, binding them firmly behind (him), as the son of Laertes, the much-enduring godlike Odysseus, had bade (them); and they fastened a twisted cord around his (body), and they hoisted (him) up the tall pillar and brought (him) close to the roof-beams. Then, swineherd Eumaeus, did you mock him and say: "Now indeed, Melanthius, shall you keep watch for the whole night, lying on a soft bed, as befits you; nor shall you fail to notice the gold-enthroned child of the morning (i.e. Dawn) when she comes forth from the streams of Ocean, at the hour when you bring the she-goats for the wooers to prepare for a feast in the hall."

So was he left there, stretched out in that dire bond; but the two (of them) put on their armour and closed the shining door, and they came to wise Odysseus, (he who was) full of various wiles. There the four (of them) (i.e. Odysseus, Telemachus, Eumaeus and Philoetius), stood on the threshold, breathing fury, and those within the hall were many and stout. Then, Athene, the daughter of Zeus, came near to them, looking like Mentor both in form and voice. And Odysseus was glad when he saw her, and spoke these words: "Mentor, ward off ruin, and remember your dear companion, who used to do good (things) for you; and you are of the same age as me."  

Ll. 210-254. Athene intervenes.

So he spoke, thinking that it was Athene, the rouser (of hosts). But, on the other side, the wooers called out loudly in the hall; in the first place, Agelaus, the son of Damastor, rebuked her, (saying): "Do not let Odysseus prevail upon (you) with his words to fight the suitors, and bring aid to himself. For so I think that our intention will be brought to pass; now, when we have killed these (men), both father and son, then you too will be slain with them, (by) such (deeds) as you are minded to do in these halls; and with your own head you will pay the price. But, when we have stripped you of your might with a sword, we shall intermingle all the possessions which you have at home and outside with those of Odysseus; nor shall we allow your sons to dwell in these halls, nor your daughters and your trusty wife to traverse the city of Ithaca."

So he (i.e. Agelaus) spoke, and Athene became more angry in her heart, and rebuked Odysseus with these angry words: "Odysseus, no longer (do) you (have) that steadfast strength, nor any of that valour, such as (you) always (had) when you fought unceasingly with the Trojans for nine years concerning the high-born Helen with the white arms, and you slew many men in dire conflict, and, by your counsel, was the city of Priam with its wide streets taken. So how (is it) now, when you have come to your house and possessions, that you (have to) beg to show valiance against the wooers? But come here now, my friend, and stand by my side and see my deeds, until you learn what kind (of man is) Mentor, son of Alcimus, to repay kindness in the midst of enemy warriors."

So she (i.e. Athene in the guise of Mentor) spoke, but she did not give him the strength to conquer the other side entirely, but she still put the strength and valour of Odysseus and his splendid son to the test. And she herself flew up to the roof-beams of the smoky hall, and (there) she sat, just like a swallow to look at.   

Now, Agelaus, the son of Damastor, and Eurynomus, and Amphimedon, and Demoptolemus, and Peisander, the son of Polyctor, and the thoughtful Polybus urged on the wooers; for in valour they were by far the best of the suitors who still lived and were fighting for their lives; but Agelaus spoke among them, and declared these words to (them) all: "My friends, now will this man restrain his invincible hands; now has Mentor gone from him, having uttered empty boasts, and they are left alone at the outer doors. Therefore, do not hurl your long spears all together, but come, let the six (of us) throw (them) first, in the hope that Zeus will grant that Odysseus be struck, and that we win glory. And of the rest, they are of no concern to us, once this (man) shall have fallen."

Ll. 255-291. The fighting continues.

So he (i.e. Agelaus) spoke, and they all eagerly hurled their spears as he had bade (them); but Athene made them all miss: one of them struck the door-post of the well-built hall, and another the close-fitting door; and another's ashen spear landed on the door (which was) loaded with bronze. But, when they had avoided the wooers' spears, the long-suffering godlike Odysseus began to speak to them: "My friends, now I shall give the word that we too shall cast our spears into the throng of the wooers, who are minded to slay us in addition to their former wrongs." 

So he (i.e. Odysseus) spoke, and they all cast their spears with a straight aim; Odysseus smote Demoptolemus, Telemachus Euryades, the swineherd (i.e. Eumaeus) Elatus, and the cattle herdsman (i.e. Philoetius) Peisander. Then, together they all bit the immense floor with their teeth, and the suitors withdrew to the far corner of the hall, and they (i.e. Odysseus and his companions) leapt up and retrieved their spears from the corpses. 

Then again did the wooers throw their sharp spears with eagerness; but many (as they were) Athene put them off course. One of them struck the door-post of the well-built hall, and another the close-fitting door; and another's ashen spear sank into the door (which was) loaded with bronze. But Amphimedon hit Telemachus with a grazing blow on the wrist of his hand, and the bronze ripped the surface of his skin. And Ctesippus with his long spear grazed Eumaeus on the shoulder above his shield; but it flew over (him) and sank on the floor. And then again, the wise and crafty-minded Odysseus and his companions hurled their sharp spears into the throng of the suitors. Then again, Odysseus, the sacker of cities, struck Eurydamas, and Telemachus Amphimedon, and the swineherd (i.e. Eumaeus) Polybus, and thereafter the herdsman of the cattle (i.e. Philoetius) smote Ctesippus on the breast, and spoke to (him) in exultation: "O (you) son of Polytherses, (you who is) fond of jeering, never more at all will you speak big, as you give way to folly, but entrust your words to the gods, since they are far mightier than (us). (This is) your gift in return for the foot (of an ox) which you once gave to godlike Odysseus, when he went begging through the house."

Ll. 292-329. Odysseus rejects Leodes' plea for mercy. 

So he (i.e. Philoetius) spoke, but the Odysseus wounded the son of Damastus (i.e. Agelaus) at close quarters with his long spear. And Telemachus wounded Leiocritus, the son of Euenor, in the middle of the groin with his spear, and drove the bronze (point) right through; and he fell face downward, and struck the ground with the whole of his forehead. Then, Athene held up her deadly aegis on high from the roof; and their minds were full of panic. And they fled through the hall like a herd of cattle; these the dating gadfly arouse and drive in confusion during the season of spring, when the days are long. And just as the vultures with their crooked talons and horned beaks come forth from the mountains and swoop down upon the (smaller) birds - and those on the plain shrink from the clouds and are scattered in flight, and they pounce upon them and slay (them), and they have no means of defence or way of escape; and men enjoy the chase - even so did these (others) fall upon the wooers and smite them from all sides through the hall; and hideous groaning arose from them as their heads were smashed, and the whole floor ran with blood.  

But Leodes rushed forward and clasped the knees of Odysseus, and, by way of entreaty, he spoke these winged words to him: "By your knees I beseech you, Odysseus; and do you show me respect as a suppliant and have pity on me; for I declare that I never said or did anything wicked to any of the women in this hall; but I sought to check the other suitors whenever they did such (deeds). But they did not hearken unto me and withhold their hands from doing evil; and, therefore, by their wanton (deeds) they have incurred their shameful doom. But I, the sacrificing priest among them, that has done no wrong, shall be laid low, as there is no gratitude thereafter for good deeds done." 

Then, with an angry scowl, Odysseus, (the man) of many wiles, gave him an answer: "If you declare yourself to be the priest among these (men), I think you are likely often to have prayed in these halls that the fulfilment of my joyous return from afar might be removed, and that my dear wife would follow you and bear (you) children; therefore you shall not escape a grievous death."   

So saying, he seized in his stout hand a sword that lay (nearby), which Agelaus had let fall to the ground (when he was) slain; with this he smote him (i.e. Leodes) full upon the neck. And, even (while he was still) speaking, his head was mingled with the dust."

Ll. 330-377. At the instigation of Telemachus, the lives of Phemius and Medon are spared. 

The minstrel son of Terpis was still seeking to avoid black fate, Phemius (that is), who sang perforce among the suitors. And he stood with his clear-toned lyre in his hands close to the postern door; and he was in two minds as to whether he should slip out of the hall and sit down by the well-constructed altar of the mighty Zeus, the household (god), on which Laertes and Odysseus had burned many thigh-bones of oxen, or rush forward and clasp the knees of Odysseus in prayer. And so, as he pondered, it seemed (to him) to be the better (course), to clasp the knees of Odysseus, son of Laertes. So he laid the hollow lyre on the ground between the mixing-bowl and the silver-studded chair, and he himself rushed forward and clasped the knees of Odysseus, and, by way of entreaty, he addressed these winged words to him: 

"By your knees I entreat you, Odysseus; do you show me respect (as a suppliant) and have pity on me; on yourself will sorrow come hereafter, if you should slay the bard who sings to gods and men. Self-taught am I, and the god has implanted in my mind all manner of ways of song; and I am fit to sing to you, as (if in the presence) of a god; so, do not be eager to cut my throat! And your dear son Telemachus will also bear witness to this, that I was not at all willing to frequent your house, nor did I desire to sing for the suitors after their feasts, but, being much more numerous and stronger (than I), they led (me there) perforce."

So he (i.e. Phemius) spoke, and Telemachus, strong in his righteousness, quickly addressed his father, who was close at hand: "Hold back (your hand), do not wound this guiltless (man) in any way with a sword; and let us also save the herald Medon, who was always concerned for me in our house when I was a child, unless he has already been killed by Philoetius or the swineherd, or he met you as you were raging through the house."

So he spoke, and Medon, knowing how to be discreet, heard him; for he lay crouching down beneath a chair, and he was clad in the skin of an ox newly flayed, and was seeking to avoid black fate. At once, he rose from the chair and quickly stripped off the ox-hide, and he then rushed forward and clasped Telemachus by the knees, and, by way of entreaty, he addressed these winged words to him: "Friend, I am here, and do you tell your father to stay (his hand), lest in the greatness of his strength he should harm me with his sharp sword, in his wrath against the suitor-men, who have wasted his property in the halls, and, in their folly, have not honoured you in any way."   

But Odysseus, (the man) of many wiles, smiled and said to him (i.e. Medon): "Take courage, for he has delivered you and saved (you), so that you may know in your heart, and tell (it) also to another, how much better a good deed (is) than a bad (one). But go forth from the halls and sit down in the courtyard far away from the slaughter, you and the bard of widespread fame (i.e. Phemius), until I have done in my house whatever I needs must (do)."

Ll. 378-429. Eurycleia denounces the disloyal women-servants.

So he spoke; and the two of them (i.e. Phemius and Medon) went their way out of the hall. And the pair of them sat down by the great altar of Zeus, peering around in all directions and ever expecting death.

And Odysseus looked cautiously around his house, (to see) if any of the men (were) still alive and hiding to avoid black death. But he saw that pretty much all of them had fallen in heaps in their blood and the dust, like fishes that fishermen have dragged out of the grey sea in a close-meshed fishing-net; and they all lay heaped up on the beach, longing for salt water; but the radiant sun did away with their lives; so then were the suitors piled up upon one another.

And then did the resourceful Odysseus address Telemachus: "Come on then, Telemachus, go and call the nurse Eurycleia to me, so that I can tell (her) the word that is in my mind."

So he spoke, and Telemachus obeyed his dear father, and, shaking open the door, he spoke to the nurse Eurycleia: "Come here, (you) aged old woman, who is the overseer of the servant-women in our hall; come on! My father calls you, so that he can tell you something."

So he uttered these words, but her reply was wingless (i.e. she spoke no words), but she unlocked the doors of the well-inhabited hall, and went on her way; and Telemachus led the way before (her). There she found Odysseus amid the bodies of the slain, bespattered with blood and gore, like a lion that comes from feeding on an ox that dwells in the fields. And all his breast and cheeks are drenched with blood on both sides, and he is gruesome to look at in the face; in that way was Odysseus stained all over from his feet and his hands. But, when she saw the bodies and the unspeakable (amount of) blood, she wanted to cry out with joy, since she saw (what) a great deed (had been done); but Odysseus held (her) back and detained (her), eager though (she was), and he spoke and addressed these winged words to her: "Rejoice in your heart, old lady, but check yourself and do not cry out with joy; an unholy (thing it is) to exult at (the sight of) men who have been slain. But these men, the fate of the gods and their wanton deeds did quell; for they honoured not one of the men upon the earth, neither the bad nor the good, (but) whoever came among them; and so, by their shameful folly, they brought death upon (themselves). But come (now), do you pick out for me the women in the halls, who dishonour me, and (those) who are guiltless."  

Then, the dear nurse Eurycleia answered him: "So then, my child, will I tell you the truth. You have fifty servant-women in the halls, whom we have taught to do their work, and to comb the wool and endure the work of slaves; of these, twelve in all have gone the way of shamelessness, and they respect neither me nor Penelope herself. And Telemachus has newly grown up, and his mother would not allow him to rule over the women-servants. But come, I shall go up to the bright upper chamber, and speak to your wife, on whom some god has sent sleep."

Ll. 430-464. Odysseus orders the execution of the disloyal servant-women.

Then, the subtle Odysseus said to her (i.e. Eurycleia) in reply: "Do not wake her yet; but tell the women who have previously behaved disgracefully to come here."

So he spoke, and the old lady went right through the hall to inform the women and (to tell them) to come quickly. Furthermore, he called Telemachus, and the cowherd (i.e. Philoetius) and the swineherd (i.e. Eumaeus) to his (side). and spoke these winged words to (them): "Now start to carry out the dead bodies, and order those women (to help you); then, clean those fine chairs and tables with water and porous sponges. Yet, when the whole of the house has been set in order, take the serving-women out of the hall between the round-house and the excellent wall of the courtyard, and strike (them) with your long-pointed swords, until you have taken the lives of all (of them), and they will have quite forgotten the love-making which they had with the suitors, and that they lay in secret (with them)."

So he spoke; and the women (i.e. the twelve malefactors) all came in together, weeping terribly, with copious tears pouring down (their cheeks). Firstly, they removed the bodies of the dead, and they laid them under the portico of the well-fenced courtyard, propping them up, one against another. And Odysseus himself took charge (of them) and urged (them) on; and they carried the bodies unwillingly. So then they cleansed the very beautiful chairs and the tables with water and porous sponges. But Telemachus, and the cowherd and the swineherd scraped the floor of the well-built house with shovels; and the servant-women kept on carrying out (the scrapings), and they threw (them) outside. But, when they had set the whole of the hall in order, they led the servant-women out from the well-built hall between the round-house and the excellent wall of the courtyard, and shut them up in a confined space, from which it was not possible to escape. Then, the thoughtful Telemachus was the first to speak to them: "(Let it be) by no clean death that I take the lives of these (women), who have heaped insults on my head and on (that of) my mother, and (who) used to sleep with the suitors."

Ll. 465-501. Telemachus executes the twelve serving-women by hanging.

So he (i.e. Telemachus) spoke, and he tied the cable of a dark-prowed ship to a great pillar, and flung (it) around the round-house, stretching (it) upwards, so that no one might reach the ground with her feet. And, as when long-winged thrushes or doves fall into a snare that has been set in a thicket, as they seek to reach their stall, and hateful (is) the bed (that) welcomes (them), so they hold their heads in a row, and there were nooses around the necks of all (of them), so that they might die most piteously. And they writhed with their feet for a while, but not for long.   

Then, they led Melanthius through the doorway and the courtyard; and they cut off his nose and ears with the pitiless bronze, and they ripped out his genitals to be eaten raw by the dogs, and they lopped off his hands and feet in their furious wrath. 

Then, they washed their hands and feet and went in the house to Odysseus, and their work was done; but he spoke to his dear nurse Eurycleia; "Bring brimstone (i.e. sulphur), old lady, (as) a remedy for pollution, and bring me fire, so that I may fumigate the hall; and do you tell Penelope to come here with her serving-women, and to order all the women in the house to come."

Then, the dear nurse Eurycleia addressed him again: "Verily, my child, these (things) you have spoken aright, But come, let me bring you a cloak and a tunic (as) raiment, and do not stand in this way in the halls with your broad shoulders wrapped in rags; for it would be a (cause for) indignation." 

And Odysseus, (the man) of many wiles, spoke to her in reply: "First of all, let a fire be made for me in the hall."

So he spoke, and the dear nurse Eurycleia did not disobey, and she brought (him) fire and brimstone; and Odysseus thoroughly fumigated the hall, and the house and the courtyard. Then, the old lady went back through the fine house of Odysseus to bear tidings to the women and bid (them) come; and they came out from the hall with torches in their hands. And they thronged around Odysseus and embraced (him), and they clasped and kissed his head, and shoulders and hands in loving welcome; and a sweet longing seized hold of him to weep and wail, for in his heart he knew (them) all. 

HOMER: "ILIAD": BOOK XXI: THE FIGHT WITH THE RIVER.

 HOMER: "ILIAD": BOOK XXI: THE FIGHT WITH THE RIVER.

Introduction: 

Achilles' aristeia continues into Book XXI, but largely in set confrontations, as Homer uses every device he can to delay his eventual meeting with Hector. The book falls into four distinct episodes, each one skilfully joined to its predecessor and successor by a transitional passage: 1) single combats with Lycaon and Asteropaeus (ll. 34-210); 2) the fight between Achilles and the river Xanthus (ll. 227-327); 3) the battle of the gods (ll. 383-513); and 4) Achilles' pursuit of the Trojans into their city, with the brave Agenor providing a diversion (ll. 520-611). In the third of these episodes the conflict between the pro-Achaean and pro-Trojan gods provides one with some comic relief, as the gods cannot seriously hurt one another. 

Ll. 1-33. Achilles reaches the Scamander. 

But, when they came to the ford of the swirling fair-flowing river Xanthus (i.e. men called it the Scamander), which immortal Zeus had begot, there he split (them) in two, and one part he chased over the plain in the direction of the city, to where the bewildered Achaeans had fled on the previous day, when glorious Hector was raging; so they poured across it in flight, and Hera spread a thick mist before (them) in order to hold (them) back; and the other half were forced together into the deep-flowing river with its silver eddies, and into (it) they fell with a great crash, and the rapid torrent resounded, and the banks echoed greatly all around (them); and they swam this way and that with a shout, as they were whirled around in the eddies. And, as, when beneath the blast of a fire, locusts float in the air, and flee to the river; and, having been suddenly aroused, the tireless fire blazes, and they shrink down into the water; and so beneath Achilles the roaring stream of the deep-swirling Xanthus was filled with a mixture of horses and men.   

But the god-begotten (warrior) (i.e. Achilles) left his spear there on the bank, leaning against the tamarisk (bushes) and he leapt in like a demon with only his sword, and he devised grim deeds in his mind, and he struck out in all directions; and pitiful groaning arose from those that were struck by his sword, and the water became red with blood. And, as the other fish flee from under a dolphin of huge size and, in their terror, fill the nooks of a well-sheltered harbour - for greedily does he devour whichever (one) he catches - so the Trojans cowered down beneath the overhanging banks of the streams of that dread river. And, when his hands grew weary of slaying, he chose twelve youths live from the river (as) payment for the dead Patroclus, son of Menoetius. These he led outside, amazed like fawns, and he bound their hands behind (them) with the well-cut straps, which they themselves used to wear on their pliant tunics, and he gave (them) to his comrades to lead (them) down to the hollow ships. Then, back he sprang again, eager to slaughter.  

Ll. 34-63. Achilles captures Lycaon, son of Priam. 

There he met a son of Dardanian Priam, (as he was) fleeing from the river, (namely) Lycaon, whom he himself had once taken and brought, against his will, from his father's orchard, having come forth during the night; and he was cutting the young shoots of a wild fig-tree, in order to be the rims of a chariot; but upon (him) came godlike Achilles, that unexpected bane. Then, he sold him to well-established Lemnos, having led (him there) in his ships, but the son of Jason (i.e. Euneos) had given a price (for him). But a guest-friend ransomed him from there, (namely,) Eëtion of Imbros, and a good price he gave, and he sent him to sacred Arisbe (i.e. probably a sanctuary on Lemnos); from there he secretly escaped and came to his ancestral home (i.e. Troy). Having come from Lemnos, his heart was joyful amid his loved ones for eleven days; but on the twelfth (day) a god threw him once more into the hands of Achilles, who would send him to Hades, loath though he was to go (there). Now, when swift-footed godlike Achilles became aware of him, (he was) unarmed, without helmet and shield, nor was he carrying a spear, but he had thrown away all these (things) on to the ground; for sweat oppressed (him), as he fled from the river, and weariness came over his knees; then, sorely angered, he (i.e. Achilles) spoke to his great-hearted spirit: "Oh, in truth, this is a great wonder that I behold with my eyes; the great-hearted Trojans, whom I have slain, will assuredly rise up again from the murky darkness below, seeing that this (man) has come (here), having escaped the pitiless day (of doom), when he was sold across the sea into sacred Lemnos; nor has the salt of the grey sea held him back, though it restrains many (men) against their will. But come now, the point of our grey spear shall he taste, so that I may see in my heart and know whether he will come back from that place in a similar manner, or whether the life-giving earth, which holds down even a strong (man), will restrain him."  

Ll. 64-96. Lycaon begs Achilles not to slay him.

So he (i.e. Achilles) waited and pondered; but the other one (i.e. Lycaon) came near him in a dazed state, eager to touch his knees, and he very much wished in his heart to escape grim death and dark fate. Now, godlike Achilles raised his long spear, eager to smite (him), but the other one ran under it, and, bending forward, took hold of his knees; and the spear stuck in the ground over his back, eager to have its fill of human flesh. Then, he began to beg (for mercy), as he clasped his knees with one hand, and held the sharp-edged spear with the other, nor would he let (it) go; and he spoke these winged words as he addressed him: "By your knees, I beseech you, Achilles; and do you take pity on me and show me mercy; beloved of Zeus, I am equivalent to you and deserving of respect; for I first ate the grain of Demeter with you, on that day when you took me captive in that well-ordered orchard, and you sold me across the sea, taking me to sacred Lemnos far from my father and my friends, and I earned you the price of a hundred oxen. And now I have bought my freedom by paying three times as much; and this is my twelfth morning, since I came to Ilium, having suffered much; now deadly fate has put me in your hands once more; I must surely be hated by Father Zeus, (seeing that) he has given me to you again; now, my mother bore me to a short span of life, Laothoe (that is), the daughter of old man Altes, Altes (that is), he who is lord of the war-loving Leleges and who dwells in lofty Pedasus (i.e. a town in the Troad) on the (river) Satnioeis. Priam had his daughter to be his wife, and many others too; and from her the two (of us) were born, and you will cut the throats of (us) both. In truth, you overcame him among the foremost men-at-arms, godlike Polydorus (that is), when you struck (him) with a sharp spear; and now evil shall come upon me even here; for I do not think I shall escape your hands, since a god has brought (me to them). And I will tell you another (thing), and do you bear it in your mind; do not slay me, since I am not (come) from the same womb as Hector, who killed your kind and valiant companion."

Ll. 97-135. The death of Lycaon.     

So the glorious son of Priam spoke to him with words of entreaty, but the voice he heard (was) a harsh (one): "(You) fool, do not talk to me of ransom, nor try to lecture me; for, until Patroclus met his fateful day, so it was, to some extent, a better (thing) in my mind to spare the Trojans, and I took many (of them) alive and sold them overseas; but now there is not one (of them) who shall escape death, not one of all those Trojans whom a god shall deliver into my hands, and (that is) particularly (the case) with regard to the sons of Priam. And you too shall die, my friend; why then do you lament in such a way? Patroclus also died, though (he was) a much better (man) than you. Do you not see what kind (of man) I (am), both tall and handsome? I am (the son) of a noble father (i.e. Peleus), and the mother (who) bore me (i.e. Thetis) (is) a goddess; but, let me tell you, over me too (hang) death and mighty fate; a morning, or an evening, or a mid-day shall come, when some (man) shall take my life in battle, whether he struck me with a spear or with an arrow from the string."   

So he (i.e. Achilles) spoke, and then did his (i.e. Lycaon's) knees and his heart collapse; and he let go of the spear, and he sat with both his hands outstretched; then, Achilles drew his sharp sword and smote (him) on the collar-bone beside the neck, and the whole of his two-edged sword sank into him; and he lay there prone stretched upon the ground, and dark blood flowed forth and soaked the earth. Then, Achilles seized him by the  foot and flung (him) into the river to float, and, as he exulted over him, he spoke these winged words: "Lie there now among the fishes, who shall carelessly lick the blood from your wound; nor shall your mother lay you on a bier and lament, but the swirling Scamander will bear you into the broad gulf of the sea; many a fish, as he springs beneath the waves, shall dart beneath the black ripples, and he shall eat the white fat of Lycaon. So shall you perish as we come to the city of sacred Ilium, you in flight and I creating havoc in your rear. Not even the fair-flowing river with his silver eddies will assist you, and to him you used, for a long time, to sacrifice many bulls, and to cast single-hooved horses into his eddies, (while they were still) alive. But even so you will perish by an evil fate, until you have all paid the price for the death of Patroclus and the destruction of those Achaeans, whom you slew by the swift ships in my absence."

Ll. 136-160. Asteropaeus challenges Achilles.

So he spoke, and the river (god) (i.e. Xanthus) was further angered in his heart, and pondered in his mind how he might restrain godlike Achilles from his work, and ward off ruin from the Trojans. Meanwhile, in his eagerness to slay (him), the son of Peleus leapt with his long-shafted spear upon Asteropaeus, the son of Pelegon; and the broad-flowing Axius and Periboea, Acessamenus' eldest daughter, had begotten him; for the deeply-eddying river (god) had lain with her. So, Achilles sprang at him, and he stood forth from the river to face (him), holding two spears. Now, Xanthus put courage in his heart, since he had been angered at the slaying of the active men, whom Achilles was cutting down along the stream without pity. But, when they were at close range, as they advanced against one another, swift-footed godlike Achilles spoke to him first: "Who among men, and from where, are you, who has dared to come against me? Unhappy (are they whose) children will face my might."  

Then, the glorious son of Pelegon replied to him: "Great-hearted son of Peleus, why indeed do you ask about my birth? I come from fertile Paeonia (i.e. a region of Thrace), (a place) which is far away, bringing (with me) men of Paeonia with their long spears; and, as for me, this is now the eleventh morning since I came to Ilium. But my descent (is) from the wide-flowing Axius, whose water is the loveliest on earth, who begat Pelegon, renowned for his spear; and they say that he was my father; now then, glorious Achilles, let us fight!"

Ll. 161-199. The death of Asteropaeus.

So he spoke in a threatening manner, but godlike Achilles lifted up his spear of Pelian ash; then, the warrior Asteropaeus threw spears from both of his hands at the same time, for he was ambidextrous. Now, with one spear he struck his shield, but it did not pierce the shield right through; for gold, the gift of a god, blocked (it); and with the other (hand) he smote him with a grazing blow on the elbow of his right arm, and black blood spouted forth; but, though longing to taste the flesh, it fixed itself in the earth above him. Then, secondly, in his eagerness to slaw (him), Achilles hurled his straight-flying ashen spear at Asteropaeus. But he missed his (man), and he struck the lofty bank, and he drove the ashen spear up to half of its length into the bank. But the son of Peleus, drawing his sharp sword from beside his thigh, leapt eagerly upon him; but the other (one) could not draw Achilles' ashen spear from the bank with his stout hand. Three times he made it quiver in his eagerness to draw (it), and three times he withdrew his efforts; but on the fourth (occasion) he wished in his heart to bend and break the ashen spear of the son of Aeacus (i.e. Achilles' father, Peleus), but before that Achilles (drew) near and took away his life with his sword. For he struck him in the belly beside his navel, and all his bowels gushed forth on to the ground; and darkness covered his eyes as he (lay) gasping; then, Achilles leapt upon his breast, and stripped him of his armour and said these words in triumph: "So, lie (there); hard (it is) for you to strive with the children of the most mighty son of Cronos, begat from a river (god) though (you may be). You said you were born from a wide-flowing river, but I claim to be sprung from almighty Zeus. The man who begat me is lord of the many Myrmidons, (namely) Peleus, son of Aeacus; and Aeacus himself was sprung from Zeus. Therefore, as Zeus is mightier than the rivers that flow into the sea, so the stock of Zeus (is) mightier than (that which) stems from a river. For beside you there is a great river, if it can help you in any way; but there is (to be) no fighting with Zeus, the son of Cronos, and not even lord Achelous (i.e. by tradition the largest and most ancient river in Greece, it rises in the Central Pindus Mountains and flows for 140 miles to the Ionian Sea to the west) can vie with him, nor the great might of the deep-flowing Ocean, from whom flow all rivers and all seas, all springs and all deep wells; but he too is afraid of the lightning and dread thunder of great Zeus, when it crashes down from heaven." 

Ll. 200-232. Achilles continues to kill one Trojan after another, until the Scamander makes a protest. 

So he (i.e. Achilles) spoke, and he drew forth his spear of bronze from the bank, and there he left him (i.e. Asteropaeus) lying on the sand, since he had robbed him of his life, and they dark water kept him wet. Then, the eels and the fishes took charge of him, plucking out and feeding on the fat on his kidneys, but he (i.e. Achilles) went his way after the Paeonian horsemen, who were still running in panic along the swirling river, when they saw their best (man) in the fierce conflict forcibly vanquished beneath the hands and sword of the son of Peleus. There he slew Thersilochus, and Mydon, and Astypylus, and Mnesus, and Thrasius, and Aenius and Ophelestes; and yet more of the Paeonians would Achilles have slain, if the deep swirling river, in the guise of a man, had not addressed (him) in anger and sent forth his voice from a deep whirlpool: "O Achilles, beyond (all) men you are the strongest, and beyond (all men) do you perform evil (deeds); for the gods themselves always give you assistance. If the son of Cronos has given you (the power) to slay all the men of Troy, do you drive them from my (stream) and do your deadly deeds on the plain; nor, choked with bodies (as I am), can I pour forth my waters into the bright sea, while you continue your murderous slaughter. But come, let (things) be! Amazement takes hold of me, (you) leader of hosts."

Then, swift-footed Achilles said to him in answer: "So shall it be, Scamander, nurtured of Zeus, just as you say. But I shall not cease from slaying the proud Trojans, until I have penned (them) in the city, and I have tried to match myself with Hector face to face, whether he should slay me, or I him."

So saying, he leapt upon the Trojans like a god; and then the deep-swirling river addressed Apollo: "Shame on you, (lord) of the silver bow, child of Zeus, you have not respected the will of the son of Cronos, who strongly enjoined you to stand by the Trojans and protect (them), until the the late-setting (star of) evening shall come, and has darkened the very fertile ploughland."   

Ll. 233-271. Achilles is harassed by the Scamander. 

So he (i.e. Xanthus/the Scamander) spoke, and Achilles, famed for his spear, sprang from the overhanging bank and leapt into the midst (of the stream); and he (i.e. Xanthus/the Scamander) rushed furiously upon him in a swell, and whipped up all his waters into turmoil, and pushed away the many dead bodies that were heaped in his (bed, of men) whom Achilles had slain, and cast them out on to (dry) land, bellowing like a bull; and the living he rescued by means of his lovely streams, hiding (them) in his eddies deep (and) wide. But the water rose up around Achilles, seething terribly, and the stream beat upon his shield and thrust (him back), nor was he able to stand firmly on his feet; but he grasped in his hands an elm-tree tall (and) shapely; but it fell from the roots and tore away the whole bank, and it held back the whole stream with its thick branches, and he (i.e. Xanthus/the Scamander) dammed himself up as they crashed into the entire river, but he (i.e. Achilles) sprang out from the eddy, and, in his fear, he darted in flight across the plain on his swift feet; but the great god (i.e. Xanthus/the Scamander) did not leave off, but rushed upon him in a darkening swell, so that he might stop godlike Achilles from his work, and ward off destruction from the Trojans. But the son of Peleus rushed off as far as the cast of a spear with the swoop of a black eagle, the hunter that (is) both the strongest and the swiftest of winged (creatures); like him he darted, and the bronze (armour) on his breast rang terribly; and he fled from beneath the swerving of the flood, but it followed behind him, flowing with a mighty roar. And, as when a man conducts water from a dusky spring amid his plants and gardens, he guides its flow, and, with a mattock in his hands, he clears away the obstacles from the water-course; and, as it flowed forwards, all the small pebbles are swept away by (the water), and it murmurs as it glides swiftly along in sloping country, and even outstrips its guide; so did the flood of the river always overtake Achilles, even though he was fleet of foot; for gods are mightier than men. As often as the swift-footed godlike Achilles sought to make a stand against (him), and to see if all the immortals who hold broad heaven were forcing him to flee, so often would the great flood of the heaven-sent river crash down upon his shoulders from above; and the river would overpower his knees, as it flowed furiously beneath (him), and wash away the dust beneath his feet. 

Ll. 272-297. Poseidon and Athene come to the assistance of Achilles. 

Then, the son of Peleus uttered a bitter cry as he looked at the broad heaven; "Father Zeus, how (is it) that not one of the gods undertook to rescue me in my plight from the river? Then should I suffer anything! In my case, not one of the heavenly beings (is) as culpable as my dear mother, who beguiled me with falsehoods; she said that I should perish by the swift missiles of Apollo beneath the wall of the mail-clad Trojans. Would that Hector had slain me, (he) who is the best (man) bred here; then would a brave (man) have been the slayer, and a brave (man) would have been slain; but now I am fated to be taken by a miserable death, trapped (as I am) in the great river like a boy herding pigs, whom the torrent sweeps away as he is crossing in a storm."

So he spoke, and then Poseidon and Athene came very quickly and stood by his side, like mortal men in form, and they clasped his hands in their hands and reassured him with their words. And of the two of them, Poseidon the Earth-Shaker was the first to speak: "Son of Peleus, do not tremble so much, and do not be at all afraid; for we, let me tell you, are your helpers from the gods, of whom Zeus approves, even I and Pallas Athene; therefore, it is not your destiny to be vanquished by a river, but he will soon give you respite, and you shall know (it) yourself; but we will give you wise counsel, if you should hearken to (it); do not withhold your hands from fearful battle, until you have penned the Trojan host who have escaped you within the famed walls of Ilium; and, when you have deprived Hector of his life, go you back to the ships; and we grant that you win this glory."    

Ll. 298-323. Xanthus seeks the assistance of Simois in checking Achilles. 

When the two of them had spoken thus, they went back among the immortals; but he (i.e. Achilles) went towards the plain, for the bidding of the gods had mightily aroused (him); and the whole (plain) was filled with a flood of water and the fair suits of armour and the corpses of young men slain in battle; but his knees leapt on high as he rushed straight on towards the plain, nor could the wide-flowing river hold him back; for Athene had put great strength in (him). nor would the Scamander abate his fury, but he was even more wrathful with the son of Peleus, and, raising himself aloft, he called out with a shout to Simois (the god of the River Simois, which flows from Mount Ida to the plain of Troy, where, he joined the Xanthus/Scamander): "May the two of us check the might of this man, seeing that he will soon destroy the great city of King Priam, and the Trojans will not withstand (him) in battle. But come you with all speed to my aid and fill your streams with water from your springs, and arouse all your torrents and make a great wave, and raise a great din of tree-trunks and stones, so that we may check this fierce man, who prevails even now, and he strives in equality with the gods. I do not think that his strength or his appearance will avail (him) at all, nor those fine arms which will lie deep beneath the mere, covered by slime; and himself will I enwrap in the sands of the seashore, and over him shall I spread a mass of shingle, beyond measurement, nor will the Achaeans know (from where) to gather his bones; such a pile of silt shall I heap on top of him. Here will his sepulchre be forged, nor will he have any need of a cairn, when the Achaeans shall come to inter him." 

Ll. 324-360. The fires of Hephaestus lead Xanthus into submission.

(So) he (i.e. Xanthus) spoke, and, in his excitement, he rushed at Achilles, raging on high and seething with foam, and blood and corpses. And a dark wave of the heaven-fed river stood hanging (above him), and was about to overwhelm the son of Peleus; but Hera cried out loudly, in her fear for Achilles, lest the great deep-swirling river should sweep him away, and forthwith she spoke to her dear son Hephaestus: "Rouse yourself, my crook-footed child, for it was against you that we thought to match the swirling Xanthus in fight; but do you bring help as quickly as possible, and kindle a great fire. But I will come and rouse from the sea a fierce blast of the West Wind and the brightening South Wind, which, by driving on the evil flame, shall utterly consume the Trojans and their battle-gear, and do you burn up his trees along the banks of the Xanthus, and set him on fire; and do not let him turn you back at all with soft words and threats; and do not put a stop to your fury, but only when I call (you) with a shout, and then do you quench your tireless fire."`So she spoke, and Hephaestus made ready a god-kindled fire. The fire was first kindled on the plain, and it buried many corpses, which lay in piles around him, (of men) whom Achilles had slain; and the whole plain was parched, and the shining water was held back. And, as when in the early autumn the North Wind dries up a freshly watered garden, and he who tills it is glad, so the whole plain was parched and he consumed the dead bodies; and then he turned his gleaming flame towards the river. And the elms, and the willows and the tamarisk bushes were burned, and burned were the lotus and the rushes and the galingale that grew in abundance around the fair streams of the river; distressed were the eels and the fishes in the eddies, and they tumbled this way and that in the fair streams, sore distressed by the blast of the quick-witted Hephaestus. And the mighty river (i.e. Xanthus) burned as well, and spoke these words in a loud voice: "None of the gods can vie with you (i.e. Hephaestus), nor can I fight with you, ablaze with fire as you are. Cease from strife, and (as for) the Trojans, let the godlike Achilles drive (them) out of their city at once; what have I to do with strife and the bearing of aid?" 

Ll. 361-399. The strife of the gods continues.

So he (i.e. Xanthus) spoke, burning with fire. And as a cauldron boils within, when driven by a fierce fire, and it melts the lard of a plump fatted hog, while bubbling up on every side, and dry pieces of timber are laid beneath (it), so his fair streams burned with fire, and the water boiled; nor did he wish to flow any further, but he held himself in check; and the blast of the might of resourceful Hephaestus distressed (him). Then, as he prayed urgently to Hera, he spoke these winged words: "Why, pray, has your son soiled my stream in order to torment me beyond (all) the others? Truly, I am not so much at fault as all the others, who are helping the Trojans. But I shall certainly stop, if you bid (me). But let him also stop; for I shall swear this (oath), never to ward off the evil day from the Trojans, not even when all of Troy is burning with raging fire, and the warlike sons of the Achaeans shall kindle (it)." 

Now, when the white-armed goddess Hera heard this (plea), she spoke at once to her dear son Hephaestus: "Check yourself, Hephaestus, my glorious child; for it is not seemly to strike an immortal god in this way for the sake of mortals!"  

So she spoke, and Hephaestus quenched his wondrous fire, and the fair streams rushed back down again, but, when the fury of Xanthus was overcome, then the two of them ceased (to fight), for Hera restrained (them) despite her anger; but strife, weighty (and) grievous, fell upon the other gods, and the spirit in their breasts was driven in different directions; then, they joined together with a great crash, and the wide earth rang (with it), and great heaven rang loudly round about (them), as with a trumpet. And Zeus heard (it) as he sat upon Olympus; and the heart within him laughed loudly with joy, as he beheld the gods joining in strife. Then, they no more held aloof; for Ares, piercer of shields, began (the fray), and he leapt first upon Athene with his brazen spear, and he spoke these words of reproach: "Why then, you dog-fly, are you driving the gods in strife with your stormy courage, as your mighty spirit forces (you) on with your stormy courage? Or do you not remember (the time) when you sent Diomedes, the son of Tydeus, to wound me and you openly grasped his spear and drove (it) straight at me, and rent my fair flesh? So, now I think that you will pay the price for all that you have done." 

Ll. 400-433. Athene overcomes Aphrodite.

Thus speaking, he struck at the dread tasselled aegis, against which not even the lightning of Zeus could prevail; there did the murderous Ares strike at it with his long spear. But she (i.e. Athene) drew back, and with her stout hand she seized a stone that lay on the plain, black, and jagged and huge (it was), which men of former times had set there to be the boundary mark of a field; with it she smote the furious Ares on the neck, and loosened his limbs. And in his fall he stretched over seven plethra (i.e. about seven hundred feet), and he sullied his hair with dust, and his armour clanged about him; but Athene laughed, and, exulting over him, she spoke these winged words: "(You) childish (one), not even yet have you now learned how much stronger (than you) I claim to be, so that you match your strength with mine. So you shall fully satisfy the Erinyes (i.e. the Furies) invoked by your mother (i.e. Hera), who devises evil (things) against you in her wrath, because you deserted the Achaeans and bring aid to the overbearing Trojans."

When she (i.e. Athene) had thus spoken, she turned her bright eyes away (from him); then, Aphrodite, the daughter of Zeus, took his hand and sought to lead him away, groaning very frequently (as he was); and scarcely were his senses recovering. But, when the white-armed goddess Hera became aware of her, forthwith she spoke these winged words to Athene: "Alas, Atrytone (i.e. the Tireless One, an epithet of Athene), the child of Zeus who bears the aegis, there again the dog-fly (i.e. Aphrodite) is leading Ares, the bane of mortals, amid the throng from the press of battle; but (you must) go after her." 

So she (i.e. Hera) spoke, and Athene pursued (her) glad at heart, and she came up and smote her (i.e. Aphrodite), and there her knees were loosened and her heart (melted). So, they both lay on the bounteous earth, and, exultingly, she (i.e. Athene) spoke these winged words: "Like this may they all now be, who fight against the mail-clad Argives to aid the Trojans, even as daring and steadfast as Aphrodite (was) when she came as an ally to Ares to face my strength; now soon after this we shall have ceased from war, having sacked the well-established city of Ilium." 

Ll. 434-467. Poseidon and Apollo argue with each other.

So she (i.e. Athene) spoke, and the white-armed goddess Hera smiled (at this). But the Lord Earth-shaker (i.e. Poseidon) addressed Apollo: "Why, Phoebus, are the two of us standing aloof? It does not seem right when others have made a start. Shameful it would be, if we went back without fighting to Olympus and to the house of Zeus with its brazen base; for you (are) the younger by birth; for in my case it would not be right, since I am the elder born, and know more. (You) fool, what a stupid heart you have! Nor do you now remember all the woes we two, alone of the gods, suffered around Ilium, when, at the bidding of Zeus, we came to serve the lordly Laomedon for a year at a stipulated price; and he gave us orders and told us what to do. Indeed, for the Trojans I built a wall around their city, wide and very magnificent (it was), so that their city would be impregnable. And you, Phoebus, tended cattle with a shambling gait and twisted horns on the slopes of wooded Ida with its many glens. But now, when the glad seasons were bringing to an end the (terms of) our hire, then did dread Laomedon defraud the two of us of all of our wages, and send us away in a threatening manner. And he threatened that he would bind our feet and hands together from above, and export us for sale to some distant islands; and he promised to lop off the ears of us both with his bronze (dagger). Then, the two of us (i.e. Poseidon and Apollo) went back with malice in our hearts, angry at the wages, which he had promised (us) but had not delivered. Now you (i.e. Apollo) are showing favour to his (i.e. Laomedon's) folks, nor do you seek with us that the overbearing Trojans should perish in a wretched plight with their children and their honoured wives."

Then, the far-shooting lord Apollo spoke to him (i.e. Poseidon) again: "(You would) not (consider) me to be of sound mind, if I should go to war with you for the sake of wretched mortals, who are like leaves, at one time full of flames, consuming the fruit of the field, and at another time they pine away and perish. But let us speedily cease from fighting; and may they do battle by themselves." 

Ll. 468-501. Artemis is overpowered by Hera.

So, having spoken, he (i.e. Apollo) turned back, for he felt ashamed to engage hand to hand with his father's brother (i.e. Poseidon). But his sister, the huntress Artemis, the queen of wild beasts, strongly berated him, and spoke these words of reproach: "Then, far-shooter, you are fleeing, and you have yielded a complete victory to Poseidon, and a worthless offering you have given him; (you) fool, why do you now bear a bow (which is) so windy (i.e. useless)? Now I shall no longer hear you boasting in the halls of our father that once among the immortal gods, you fought face to face against Poseidon."

So she spoke, but Apollo the far-shooter did not reply to her at all, but the revered wife of Zeus (was) angered and rebuked the lady of the bow (i.e. Artemis) with these reproachful words: "How do you now strive to stand against me, (you) fearless bitch? I am, let me tell you, hard to match in might, even in the case of a bow-bearer, since it was against women that Zeus made you a lion, and granted that you slay whichever one you wish. Surely it is better to be slaying wild beasts and deer in the mountains than to be fighting (those) mightier (than you) in strength. But, if you wish to learn about war, then may you know full well how much stronger I am, whenever you match your strength with mine." 

So she (i.e. Hera) spoke, and she grabbed both her arms at the wrist with her left hand, and with her right hand she took the bow and quiver from her shoulders, and with these she beat (her) about the ears, as she kept on turning around smiling; and the swift arrows fell from (their quiver). Then, from underneath (her) the goddess (i.e. Artemis) fled away in tears, like a dove that flew before a falcon into a hollow rock, a cleft; so, it is not her fate to be caught; then she ran away in tears, and she left her bow and arrows there. But the messenger, the slayer of Argos (i.e. Hermes), spoke to Leto (i.e. the mother of Artemis):  "I will not fight with you in any way; for hard (it is) to bandy blows with the wives of Zeus the cloud-gatherer, but I am very willing that you should boast among the immortal gods that you did overpower me with your mighty strength." 

Ll. 502-536. While the gods quarrel, Achilles continues to slay the Trojans. 

So he (i.e. Hermes) spoke, and Leto gathered up the curved bow and arrows that had fallen here and there amid the whirl of dust. When she had taken her daughter's bow and arrows, she went back; and the maiden (i.e. Artemis) went to the bronze-floored mansion of Zeus on Olympus, and sat weeping on her father's knees, and her immortal robe quivered around (her); then, her father, the son of Cronos, drew her to him, and, laughing pleasantly, he began to question her: "Which of the heavenly beings has been treating you in so thoughtless a manner as this, my dear child, as if you were openly doing something wicked?" 

And the well-crowned (goddess) answered him again in a clear voice: "(It was) your wife, white-armed Hera, who beat me, Father; because of her, quarrels and strife have taken hold of the immortals." 

Thus did they say such (things) to each other; then did Phoebus Apollo enter the sacred (city of) Ilium; for it was a matter of concern to him that the Danaans should not sack the wall of the well-built city on that day contrary to its destiny. But the rest of the ever-living gods went (back) to Olympus, some angry, and some openly rejoicing; and they sat down beside their father, wrapt in clouds (as he was); but Achilles continued to slay the Trojans, both them and their single-hooved horses alike. And, as when smoke from some burning city goes up to the broad sky, when the anger of the gods has kindled it, and toil comes upon everyone, and sorrow is extended to many, even so did Achilles bring toil and sorrow to the Trojans.  

And the old man Priam stood upon the sacred wall, and became aware of the monstrous Achilles; now the Trojans were being driven by him forthwith in headlong flight, and there was no help (for them). Then, he got down from the wall with a groan, and, calling upon the renowned gate-keepers along the wall, (he said): "Hold the gates wide open with your hands, until the people shall come to the city in their flight; for here at hand is Achilles as he drives (them) on; now I think there will be deadly (work). But, when they get their breath back, confined within the wall, then close the close-fitting double-doors again; for I am afraid lest that dreadful man should jump on to the wall."  

Ll. 537-570. Agenor prepares to take on Achilles.

So he spoke, and they opened the gates and pulled back the bolts; and the opening of the gates brought deliverance; but Apollo leapt forth to face (Achilles), in order to ward off ruin from the Trojans. And they were fleeing straight for the city and its high wall, parched with thirst and covered in dust from the plain; and he (i.e. Achilles) pursued (them) eagerly with his spear, and a mighty rage ever took hold of his heart, and he earnestly desired to win (himself) glory. 

Then would the sons of the Achaeans have taken high-gated Troy, if Phoebus Apollo had not aroused the godlike Agenor, son of Antenor, and a peerless and most powerful man (he was). He put courage in his heart, and he himself stood by his side, as he was leaning against an oak-tree (i.e. the one near the Scaean Gate), in order that he might ward off the heavy hands of death; and he was hidden in thick mist. But he halted, when he saw Achilles, sacker of cities, and his dark heart (pondered) many (things) as he waited; and, heavy at heart, he (i.e. Agenor) spoke to his great-hearted spirit: "Woe is me; if I flee from mighty Achilles (to the place) where the rest are being driven, distraught with terror (as they are); even so shall he slay me, and in my impotence behead (me).  But (what) if I should suffer these (men) to be driven in rout by Achilles, son of Peleus, and flee on my feet from the wall elsewhere towards the plain of Ilium, until I come to the slopes of Ida and dive into the bushes; then, in the evening, when I have washed myself in the river and got rid of my sweat, I may return to Ilium; but why does my heart converse with me about these (things)? Let him not notice me, as I set off from the city to the plain, and, darting after me, overtake me with his fleetness of foot. Then, it will no longer be possible to avoid death and the fates; for he is exceedingly mighty beyond all men. But (what) if I go forth to meet him in front of the city; for even his flesh may be vulnerable to this sharp bronze, and in him there is but one life, and mortal do men consider him to be; however, Zeus, the son of Cronos, gives the glory to him (i.e. Achilles)."

Ll. 571-611. Apollo saves Agenor.

So saying, he (i.e. Agenor) crouched down and awaited Achilles, and the valiant heart within him was eager to wage war and to fight. Just as a leopardess goes forth from a deep thicket before the face of a huntsman, and has no fear at all in her heart, and does not flee when she hears the baying (of hounds); for even though he outstrips her and wounds or strikes (her), yet, though she is pierced through by a spear, she does not cease from her fury, until she grapples with him or is slain; so did godlike Agenor, the son of lordly Antenor, refuse to flee until he should put Achilles to the test. But he held before (him) his all even (i.e. quite round) shield and took aim at him with his spear, and loudly shouted: "Now I think that you very much hope in your heart, glorious Achilles, to sack the city of the lordly Trojans on this day, fool (that you are); in truth, many woes will still be brought about because of her. For within her there are many valiant men, who in front of their dear parents, wives and sons are guarding Ilium; and here you shall meet your doom, despite your being so violent and daring a warrior."  

So he (i.e. Agenor) spoke, and he hurled the sharp spear from his heavy hand, and it struck (him) (i.e Achilles) on the shin below the knee, and it did not miss (him). And the greave of newly wrought tin rang out terribly around him; but the bronze (point) darted back from (him) after it had struck (him), nor did it pierce (him), but the gift of the god held it back.Then, the son of Peleus set upon godlike Agenor in his turn; but Apollo did not allow (him) to win glory, but snatched him away and covered (him) in thick mist, and sent him quietly away from the battle. But he kept the son of Peleus away from the people by a trick; for resembling Agenor himself in every way, the one who works from afar stood in front of his feet, and rushed to pursue (him) on his feet; while he pursued him over the wheat-bearing plain, and, turning towards the deep-swirling river Scamander, he kept running a little in front of him; and Apollo deceived (him) with his cunning, so that he ever hoped to overtake him on his feet; meanwhile, the rest of the Trojans, having been put to flight, came gladly to the city in a mass, and the town was filled with them thronging together. They no longer dared to await one another outside the city and its wall, and to know who had escaped and who had been slain in battle; but they poured eagerly into the city, whichever one of them his feet and his knees had saved. 

SOME READINGS TO ILLUSTRATE THE CHRISTIAN RELIGIOUS TRADITION.

SOME READINGS TO ILLUSTRATE THE CHRISTIAN RELIGIOUS TRADITION. 

1. Jesus is 'Love'.

Who was Jesus Christ? Two Greek names: Jesus was the Greek name for a Jew called Joshua, a carpenter who lived in Palestine two thousand years ago;  Christ is Greek for the Jewish word 'Messiah', which in English means 'Saviour'. Christians believe that Jesus was the Son of God, who took human form and died the agonising death of crucifixion, in order to 'save' all mankind from the results of its sins. All we have to do to be 'saved', which means to go to heaven and receive everlasting life, is to believe in Jesus - that is to have Christian faith -  and the measure of our belief in Him is how we lead our lives. The basic principle of Christian living is 'Love'. Jesus told us to "Love Your Neighbour as Yourself." What sort of love is this? What is Christian love? One of the most famous of Jesus' early followers, Paul, sets this out in one of his letters to early Christian churches: 

[I CORINTHIANS, Chapter 13. vv. 1-8.]

(1) "If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and do not have love, I am (like) sounding brass or a clanging cymbal. (2) And, if I have (the gift of) prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and, if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, and do not have love, I am nothing. (3) And, if I should give away all my belongings (to feed the poor), and, if I should hand over my body, so that I am burned, but do not have love, I derive no benefit at all.

(4) Love is long-suffering (and) is kind; love is not envious, it does not brag, is not puffed up, (5) does not behave indecently, does not seek its own (interests), does not become provoked, does not keep a record of wrongs. (6) It does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; (7) it bears all (things), believes all (things), hopes all (things), endures all (things).

(8) Love never fails."

2. Christian love. 

This love that Paul was writing about is not romantic love, but a deep care and concern for our fellow human beings, sometimes called 'charity'. It's a self-sacrificing love. You give of yourself to your neighbour. What is the most you can do for your neighbour? Die for him! Jesus said, "Greater love has no man than he lays down his life for his friend". Jesus illustrated this willingness to die for his friends in a 'parable'. A parable is a story with a deeper meaning contained or hidden within it. Jesus tended to explain how people should live by means of these parables. They are very powerful. This one is called the 'Parable of the Good Shepherd'. 

[JOHN, Chapter 10. vv. 1-15.] 

1) "Verily, verily, I say unto you, he that does not enter into the sheep-fold through the door, but climbs up by another way, that (man) is a thief and a robber; 2) but he that enters through the door is the shepherd of the sheep. 3) The door-keeper opens (it) to him, and the sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. 4) When he brings out all his own sheep, he goes before them, and the sheep follow him, because they know his voice; 5) but a stranger they will by no means follow, because they do not recognise the voice of strangers." 6) Jesus told them this parable; but they did not understand what (the things) which he was saying to them meant.

7) So again, Jesus said, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, I am the door of the sheep. 8) All those who have come instead of me are thieves and robbers; but the sheep did not listen to them. 9) I am the door; if anyone enters through me, he will be saved, and will go in and go out, and find pasture. 10) The thief does not come, except to steal and to destroy; I have come that they might have life, and (that) they might have (it) in abundance.

11) "I am the good shepherd; the good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep; 12) but the hired man, who is not the shepherd, and whose own the sheep are not, sees the wolf coming, and abandons the sheep and flees - and the wolf catches them and scatters (them) - 13) because he is a hired man and does not care about the sheep. 14) I am the good shepherd, and I know my (sheep), and my (sheep) know me, 15) just as the Father knows me and I know my Father, and I lay down my life for the sheep." 

3. How Christians should live.

Jesus was truly a man who lived for others, and, as we know, he did eventually have to lay down his life for his friends - whom Christians believe means all of us. How in practice should Christians live, if they are to love their neighbours as themselves? Paul sets this out in a famous passage.

[ROMANS, Chapter 12.]

(1) "Therefore, I beseech you, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies (as) a living sacrifice, holy, and acceptable to god, and your sacred service as a spiritual (person); (2) and do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove (to yourself) what (is) the good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.

(3) So, through the grace that has been given to me, I say to every (man) who is among you not to think more highly (of himself) than he ought to think, but to think soberly, as God has distributed to each (man) the measure of faith. (4) For, as we have many parts in one body, and all the parts do not have the same function, (5) so we, (although) many, are one body in Christ, and our parts (are joined) one to another. (6) But, having different gifts according to the grace that has been given to us, whether prophecy, (let us prophesy) in accordance with the proportion of our faith, (7) or ministry, (let us concentrate) on our ministry, or teaching, on our teaching, (8) or he who exhorts, on his exhortation, he that gives, (let him do it) with generosity, he who is put in charge, (let him act) with zeal, (and) he that provides charity, (let him do so) with cheerfulness.

(9) (Let) love (be) without pretence. Abhor what is evil, and cling to what is good; (10) (be) clearly devoted to one another in brotherly love, set an example in (showing) honour to each other, (11) do not be half-hearted in your diligence, (but) be fervent in spirit, (while) serving the Lord, (12) rejoicing in hope, enduring in tribulation, persisting steadfastly in prayer, (13) providing for the needs of the saints, (and) given to hospitality. (14) Bless those who persecute (you), bless (them) and do not curse (them). (15) Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. (16) Be of the same mind towards one another, do not concern yourselves with exalted things, but condescend to those of low estate. Do not be wise in your own (conceits).

(17) Return evil for evil to no one; have regard for (what is) noble in the presence of all men; (18) if possible, (and in so far as it depends) on you, live in peace with all men. (19) Do not seek vengeance yourselves, my beloved, but give place to (God's) wrath, for it is written, "Vengeance is mine, I will repay" (vid. Deuteronomy 32.35), says the Lord. (20) But, "If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him a drink; for (by) doing this you will heap coals of fire on his head" (vid. Proverbs 25.21-22). (21) Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."

4. The futility of worldly success.

What gets in our way when Christians try to live their lives in this way? A desire for  worldly success and wealth! Jesus warns us about the danger, the futility, of just seeking wealth in another famous parable, called the 'Parable of the Rich Fool', at the end of which he tells Christians to trust in God, not money. He says that earthly wealth is really worthless, since it is only be acquiring riches in the sight of God that we can enter heaven. 

[LUKE, Chapter 12. vv. 13-31.]

13) "Then, one of the crowd said to him: "Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me." 14) But he said to him: "Man, who made me judge (vid. Exodus 2.14) or arbitrator over you?" 15) Then he said to them: "Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for a man's life does not consist in the abundance of the things that belong to him." 16) Then, he spoke a parable to them, saying: "The ground of a certain rich man brought forth plentifully. 17) And he pondered within himself, saying: "What shall I do, because I have nowhere to store my crops?" so he said: "This will I do; I will pull down my barns and build greater (ones), and there I will store all the grain and my goods; 19) and I will say to my soul: "Soul, you have many goods laid up for many years; take it easy, eat, drink (and) be merry. 20) But he said to him: "(You) fool, this night they are demanding your soul from you; to whom, then, will (those things) belong which you have prepared? 21) So (is) he (who) lays up treasure for himself and is not rich towards God." 

22) Then, he said to his disciples: "Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you should eat, nor about your body, what you should put on! 23) For life is more than food, and the body (is more) than clothing. 24) Consider the ravens, for they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storeroom nor barn, yet God feeds them; how much more are you worth than birds! 25) Which (one) of you by being anxious can add a cubit to his height? 26) So, if you cannot do the smallest (thing), why worry about the rest? 27) Consider the lilies, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his glory (vid. 1 Kings 10.4-7; 2 Chronicles 9.3-6) was arrayed like one of these. 28) But, if God so clothes the grass, (which) today exists and tomorrow is cast into the oven, how much more (will he clothe) you, (O you) of little faith! 29) Now, seek not what you should eat and what you should drink, and do not be anxious, 30) for the nations of the world are seeking after all of these (things), but your father knows that you have need of them; 31) but seek his kingdom and these (things) will be given to you."

5. Trust in God. 

Christians believe that they can trust totally in Jesus and God, His Father. This can be illustrated by a short final extract from an unknown modern Christian writer. It's called 'Footprints (in the Sand)'.

['FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND'.]

"One night a man had a dream. He dreamed he was walking along the beach with the Lord. Across the sky flashed scenes from his life. For each scene, he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand - one belonging to him, and the other to the Lord.

When the last scene of his life flashed before him, he looked back at the footprints in the sand. He noticed that many times along the path of his life, there was only one set of footprints. He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times in his life.

This really bothered him and he questioned the Lord about it. "Lord, you said that once I decided to follow you, you'd walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life, there is only one set of footprints. I don't understand why when I needed you most you would leave me."

The Lord replied: "My precious, precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you."

P.S. The article above stems from some papers recently discovered by Sabidius' colleague and coadjutor, Andrew Panton (see the 'Prolegomenon' at the beginning of this blog). These readings, and the attached commentary, were offered by him to the Christian Society at Burnham Grammar School, Bucks, where he taught History from 1968 to 1970. However, the four biblical readings above are now all taken from Sabidius' translations which have been published on this blog. 

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HOMER: "ODYSSEY": BOOK XXI: THE GREAT BOW.

HOMER: "ODYSSEY": BOOK XXI: THE GREAT BOW. 

Introduction:

Book XXI sees the continuance of the Odyssey's 39th day of action. After Penelope has fetched the bow and the iron axes, Telemachus sets up the arrangements for the trial. He nearly strings the bow himself, but is then warned off by his father. Some of the suitors try to string it too, but they fail. Odysseus then reveals himself to Eumaeus and Philoetius, and Eurycleia is told to bar the doors of the hall. Telemachus asserts himself and, at his behest, his mother retires to her bedchamber to sleep. When Odysseus asks to be allowed to try to string the bow, the suitors abuse him, but he eventually persuades the suitors to let him do so. Then he strings the bow with ease and shoots an arrow through the handle-holes of the axes. 

Ll. 1-41. Odysseus acquires the bow as a gift from his friend Iphitus. 

The goddess, bright-eyed Athene, put it into the mind of Icarius' daughter, wise Penelope, to confront the  suitors in the palace of Odysseus with his bow and grey iron (i.e. the twelve axes) as the (materials for) a contest and the source of their destruction. Then, she climbed the lofty staircase to her chamber, and she took her well-curved key in her sturdy hand, (made of) beautiful bronze (it was); and its handle was (made) of ivory. And she made her way with her attendant women to a remote storeroom; and there lay the treasures of her lord, bronze, and gold and iron wrought with much toil. And there lay the bent-back bow and his arrow-holding quiver, and many grief-laden arrows were in (it), gifts which his friend Iphitus, son of Eurytus, (a man) like the immortals, had given him when they met in Lacedaemon. 

Now, the two of them had met one another in Messene, in the house of wise Ortilochus. In truth, Odysseus had come after a debt, which the whole people owed him; for men from Messene had carried off from Ithaca in their many-benched ships three hundred sheep and their shepherds (with them). Odysseus came a long way on an embassy in quest of these (things), when he was (but) a youth; for his father and the other elders had sent (him) forth. Iphitus, for his part, was searching for a dozen mares, which he had lost, with sturdy mules at the teat; but to him thereafter did they bring death and doom, when he came back to the stout-hearted son of Zeus, the man Heracles, privy to mighty deeds, who ruthlessly slew him in his house, though he was his guest, and he had regard neither for the wrath of the gods, nor for the table which he had set before him; but after that he slew him, and he himself kept the strong-hooved mares in his halls. While searching for these, he (i.e. Iphitus) met Odysseus and gave him the bow, which mighty Eurytus had once borne, and at his death in his lofty house he bequeathed (it) to his son. And to him Odysseus gave a sharp sword and a mighty spear as the origin of a warm friendship; yet, they never knew one another at the table; for before that (could happen) the son of Zeus had killed Iphitus, son of Eurytus, that man who resembled the immortals, who had given him the bow. Godlike Odysseus would never take it (with him) on the black ships when going forth to war, but it lay in his palace in memory of his dear friend, and he carried it in his own land.  

Ll. 42-79. Penelope outlines the contest.

Now when the most divine of women (i.e. Penelope) had come to the storeroom, and had set foot on the oaken threshold, which a carpenter had once skilfully carved, and made it straight to the line - and he had fitted doorposts on (them) and had placed shining doors on (them) - straightway she quickly loosed the thong from the handle, and thrust in the key, and pushed back the bolts of the doors with a straight aim; and just as a bull foams away when grazing in a meadow, so did the fair doors rattle when smitten by the key, and they quickly flew open before her.  Then, she stepped on the high floor-boards; and here stood the chests, in which lay fragrant clothing. Then, she stretched out (her hands) and took the bow from its peg, together with its bow-case, which brightly surrounded it. And there she sat down, and placed (them) on her knees, and she wept very loudly, while she was taking the bow of her lord (i.e. Odysseus) out from (its case) . And, when she had thus had her fill of tearful wailing, she made her way to the hall to meet with the noble wooers, bearing in her hands the bent-back bow and its arrow-holding quiver; and there were within (it) many groan-causing arrows. And together with her (came) her serving women bearing a metal box, wherein lay an abundance of iron and bronze, the prizes won by her lord. Now, when she reached the wooers, the most divine of women stood by the pillar of the well-built chamber, holding a shining veil before her cheeks. And a trusty handmaid stood on either side of her. And straightway she spoke among the wooers and said these words: "Hear me, (you) proud wooers, who have got what you need to eat and drink in this house ever without end, (as) its master has been absent for a long time; nor could you offer any other pretext for your conduct, save your desire to wed me and take (me) to wife. But come (now, you) suitors, since this prize stands clearly (before you). For I will place (before you) the great bow of divine Odysseus; and (he) who shall string the bow in his hands, and shall shoot an arrow through all twelve axes, with him shall I go, forsaking this house, (to which I came as) a bride, (a house) most fine and full of livelihood, which I think I shall ever remember, even in my dreams."   

Ll. 80-117. Both Antinous and Telemachus indicate their desire to string the bow.

So she spoke, and she bid Eumaeus, the goodly swineherd, to hand over the bow and the grey iron (axes) to the suitors. Then, Eumaeus burst into tears, as he took (them) and laid (them) down; and elsewhere the herdsman (i.e. Philoetius) began to cry, when he saw his master's bow. Then, Antinous rebuked (them) and spoke these words when he addressed them: "(You) stupid yokels, who have no though for the morrow, what a miserable pair (you are), why now do you shed tears and trouble the soul in the lady's breast? Otherwise her heart lies in pain, since she has lost her dear husband. But do you sit and feast in silence, or go forth and weep, and leave the bow behind (here) as a decisive contest for the suitors; for I do not think this polished bow is easily to be strung. For there is no such man among all these (here) as Odysseus was; and I myself saw him, for I do remember (him), though I was still a young child." 

So he (i.e. Antinous) spoke, but the heart in his breast had hoped that he would string the bow and shoot an arrow through the iron (axes). In fact, he was destined (to be) the first to sample an arrow from the hands of peerless Odysseus, whom he was then dishonouring as he sat in the hall and urged on all his comrades. 

Then, the sacred force of Telemachus spoke among them: "O, how extraordinary, for in truth Zeus, the son of Cronos, has made me witless; my dear mother, wise though she is, says that she will go with another, forsaking this house; yet I laugh and am glad in my crazy heart. But come (now, you) wooers, since this is shown (to be) your prize, a lady whose like is not now in the land of the Achaeans, neither in sacred Pylos, nor in Argos, nor in Mycenae; nor yet in Ithaca itself, nor on the dark mainland; but you know this yourselves; why do I need to speak in praise of my mother? Come now, do not draw (the matter) aside with excuses, and do not any more turn away too long from the drawing of the bow, so we may see (the result). Yes, and I myself would make a trial of the bow; if I should string (it) and shoot an arrow through the iron (axes), it would not vex me that my queenly mother should leave this house and go with another, when I have been left behind, able now to take up the prizes won by my father."

Ll. 118-162. Telemachus and the suitor Leodes try to string the bow, but without success.

As he spoke, he flung the purple cloak from off his back, and sprang straight up, and he removed the sharp sword from his shoulders. Then, firstly, he set up the axes and dug one long trench for everyone, and made (it) straight to the line, and he stamped on the earth around (them); and amazement seized all those who saw (him), that he arranged (them) so well; for until then he had never seen them before, Then, he went and stood upon the threshold, and began to make trial of the bow. And three times he made (it) quiver in his eagerness to draw (it), and three times he relaxed his efforts, though in his heart he hoped to string the bow and shoot an arrow through the iron (axes). And now in his might he would have strung the bow, as for the fourth time he sought to draw it, but Odysseus shook his head and checked him, eager though (he was). Then, the sacred force of Telemachus spoke among them once more: "Alas, perhaps I shall then turn out to be a coward and a weakling, or I am too young, and it may be that I cannot trust my hands to ward off a man, when he has previously grown angry (with me). But come (now, you) who are mightier in strength than I (am), make trial of the bow, and let us bring this contest to an end."

So saying, he put the bow away from him on the ground, leaning it against the closely-joined planks of the well-polished (door), and he rested his swift arrow against the fair door-handle, and then he sat down again on the seat from which he had risen. 

Then, Antinous, the son of Eupeithes, spoke among them: " Rise up, one by one from left to right, all my companions, beginning from the place from where (the cup-bearer) pours the wine."

So spoke Antinous, and his words were pleasing to them. Then, Leodes, son of Oenops, rose up first, (he) who was their chief sacrificer, and who always sat by the fair mixing-bowl in the farthest corner (of the hall); acts of folly were hateful to him alone, and he resented (the conduct) of all of the suitors; then he (was) the first (to) take hold of the bow and the swift arrow. And he went and stood upon the threshold and began to make trial of the bow, but he could not string it; for long before he could string (it) his unworn delicate hands grew weary; and he spoke among the wooers (as follows): "I shall not string it, but let another (man) take over. For this bow will break the heart and spirit of many of the best (men here), since it is far better to die than to live on after failure in that for which we always assemble here in expectation every day. Now, many a man of you is hoping in his heart, and longing, to marry Odysseus' wife, Penelope. But, when he has made trial of the bow and seen (the outcome), then, mindful of his wedding gifts, shall he woo another one of the fair-robed Achaean (women); then shall she marry (the one) who offers her most and (who) comes as her destined lord."  

Ll. 163-204. The younger suitors fail to string the bow.

So he (i.e. Leodes) spoke, and he placed the bow away from him, leaning (it) against the closely-joined planks of the well-polished (door), and he rested his swift arrow against the fair door-handle, and then he sat down again on the seat from which he had risen. 

But Antinous rebuked (him) and addressed these words (to him) in a loud voice: "Leodes, what words have come out of your mouth (lit. escaped from the barrier of your teeth), dread (words) and grievous (ones they are), - and I am angered to hear (them) - if, indeed, this bow is to rob the best men of life and spirit, since you cannot string (it). For your queenly mother did not bring you forth (into this world) for such a purpose as to string a bow and shoot arrows; but other noble suitors shall quickly string (it)." 

So he (i.e. Antinous) spoke, and gave an order to the goatherd Melanthius: "Come now, and light a fire in the hall, Melanthius, and set beside (it) a large stool with a fleece upon it, and bring forth a great cake of tallow that is within (the stores), so that (we) youngsters may warm (the bow) and anoint (it) with fat, and give a trial to the bow, and bring the contest to an end."  

So he spoke, and Melanthius at once rekindled the still glowing fire,  and set a large stool beside (it) and put a fleece upon it, and brought forth a great cake of tallow that was within (the stores); so the young (men) warmed (the bow) and put (it) to the test; but they could not string (it), for they were greatly lacking in strength.  

Now, Antinous was still holding back, as was the godlike Eurymachus, the leaders of the suitors; and they were by far the best in valour. But those (other) two had gone forth from the house both together at the same moment, the herdsman (i.e. Philoetius) and the swineherd (i.e. Eumaeus) of godlike Odysseus; but, when they were now outside the gates and the courtyard too, he spoke and addressed them with gentle words: "(You) herdsman, and (you) too, swineherd, shall I say something, or myself keep (it) hidden? But my spirit bids me tell (it). What sort of man would you be to defend Odysseus, if he were to come from somewhere so very suddenly, and some god were to bring him? Would you fight for the wooers or for Odysseus? Speak out as your heart and spirit bid you."

Then, the herdsman of the cattle answered him: "Father Zeus, if only you would fulfil this wish, that that man would come back and that some god would guide him; then would you know what kind of might (is) mine, and that my hands would follow."

And so, in like manner, did Eumaeus pray to all of the gods that wise Odysseus would return to his home. 

Ll. 205-255. Odysseus reveals himself to Eumaeus and Philoetius, while Eurymachus also fails to string the bow.

But now, when he knew their mind with certainty, he spoke these words to them once more, and said: "Now I myself (am) here in this house after suffering many tribulations, and in the twentieth year I have come back to my native-land. And I know that by you two alone of my servants is my return longed for; but I have not heard a single one of the others praying that I should return and come back to my home. But to you two I will tell the truth, even as it shall be. If a god shall subject the lordly wooers unto me, I shall bring a wife to each of you, and I shall give you possessions, and I shall build (you) a house near to my own; and you shall then be companions and brothers of Telemachus. But come on now, and I shall show (you) some other clearly visible sign that you may know me well and shall be persuaded in your heart, (that is) the scar (of the wound) which a boar once inflicted on me with his white tusk, when I went to (Mount) Parnassus with the sons of Autolycus (i.e. Odysseus' maternal uncles and the brothers of his mother Anticleia, the daughter of Autolycus)." 

As he spoke, he drew aside the rags from the great scar. And, when the two of them had seen (it) and had marked everything well, they wept, and then they flung their arms around wise Odysseus, and kept kissing his head and shoulders with great affection, just as Odysseus kissed their heads and hands in a similar fashion. And now the light of the sun would have gone down on them as they wept, if Odysseus himself had not restrained (them) and said: "Cease this weeping and wailing, lest someone should come from the hall and see (us), and tell those inside (about it) as well. But let us go inside one after another, and not all together, with myself first and you afterwards, and let this sign be our signal; for now all the others, such as the lordly wooers, will not allow the bow and quiver to be given to me; but do you, goodly Eumaeus, as you are bearing the bow through the hall, place (it) in my hands, and tell the women to shut the close-fitting doors of the hall, but, if anyone of them should hear the sound of groaning or the noise of the men within our walls, let her not go outside at all, but remain at her work in silence. But, divine Philoetius, I enjoin (you) to fasten the gates of the courtyard with a bar, and swiftly to cast a cord upon (them)."  

Thus having spoken, he entered the stately palace, and then went and sat down on the seat from which he had just risen; and then the two servants of divine Odysseus went in as well.  

Now by this time Eurymachus was managing the bow with his hands, warming (it) on this side and that by the light of the fire; but even so he could not string it, and he groaned loudly in his noble heart; then, in a frenzy of anger, he spoke out in a loud voice: "For shame, this pain of mine is for myself and for all of us; it is not at all about the marriage that I mourn so greatly, grieved though (I am); for there are many other Achaean (women), some in sea-girt Ithaca itself, and some in other cities; but to think that we are so much inferior to godlike Odysseus in strength, seeing that we cannot string his bow: (that is) a disgrace that even future generations will learn about."

Ll. 256-310. Odysseus seeks to try the bow.

But, then, Antinous, the son of Eupeithes, answered him: "It will not be like that, Eurymachus; and you yourself also know (it). For today (there is) a public holiday to that sacred god. And (on it) who would bend their bow? But let him put (it) down and be at rest; then, (as to) the axes, what if we should let them all stand? For I do not think that anyone is going to come to the house of Laertes' son, Odysseus, to carry (them) off. But come, let the wine-steward pour a drop into each cup, so that we can offer our libations and lay down our curved bows; and, in the morning, tell the goat-herd Melanthius to bring in the goats which are the very best in all of his herds to Apollo, the famous archer, and (then) try out the bow and end the contest." 

Thus spoke Antinous; and his words were pleasing to them. Then, squires poured water on their hands, and pages filled the mixing-bowl with wine, and they served everyone, beginning afresh with the cups. So, when they had poured a libation, and drunk as much as their hearts desired, the wily Odysseus addressed them in a crafty manner: "Listen to me, (you) suitors of our famous queen, so that I can tell (you) the (things which) the heart in my breast bids me; and I especially entreat Eurymachus and godlike Antinous, since their words have been rightly spoken, to set aside the bow now, and entrust (the matter) to the gods; and tomorrow the god will give strength to the one whom he favours. But come, give me the well-polished bow, so that with you I can try out the strength of my hands, (to see) whether in my case there is still any power in those limbs, which were once so supple, or whether my ceaseless wanderings and want of care have by now robbed me (of it)."  

So he (i.e. Odysseus) spoke; and they were all excessively angry, fearing that he might string the well-polished bow. And Antinous turned on (him) and spoke these words in a loud voice: "Ah, (you) wretched stranger, there is not the slightest sense in you; are you not content to dine in peace with your betters, and not to be deprived at all of your share of the feast, while you can hear our words and speech? And no other stranger or beggar can hear our words. The mellow wine is damaging you, and it harms all those who take it down in gulps and who do not drink (it) in a moderate manner. It was wine that befuddled even the famous Centaur Eurytion in the palace of great-hearted Peirithous (i.e. King of the Lapithae in Thessaly, whose wife, Hippodameia, Eurytion had attempted to rape at her wedding feast), when he was visiting the Lapithae; and, since he had stupefied his mind with wine, he did those evil (things) in the home of Peirithous while (he was) madly drunk; distress took hold of the demigods, and they arose and dragged him outside through the porch, and they sliced off his ears and his nose with piteous bronze; and he staggered off stupefied in his mind, bearing (the burden of) his folly in his infatuated heart. Through him the feud between Centaurs and men began, and he himself was the first to devise evil through drunkenness, so in your case I declare great suffering if you should string this bow; for you will not receive any kind treatment in our (part of the) country, and we shall send you off forthwith in a black ship to King Echetus (i.e. a king of North-Western Greece noted for his cruelty), the destroyer of all mortals; but keep on drinking in peace and do not seek to compete with younger men." 

Ll. 311-353. Telemachus asserts his authority. 

However, wise Penelope then addressed him: "Antinous, (it is) neither fair nor just to maltreat any of the guests of Telemachus, who may come to this house. Do you believe that, if this stranger should string the great bow of Odysseus with his hands and prevail by his strength, he should lead me to his home and make (me) his wife? Nor has he himself any such hope anywhere in his breast; do not anyone of you have dinner grieving in his heart for that (reason), since that is certainly not fitting."

Then, Eurymachus, son of Polybus, said to her in reply: "Daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, we do not  imagine that this (man) is at all likely to win your (hand); but I do feel shame at the talk among men and women, lest any other of the low-born Achaeans should ever say: ' How much worse (can they be), these men (who) wish to court the wife of that excellent man, nor can they string that well-polished bow in any way; but some other poor man came begging, he strings the bow with ease, and shoots an arrow through the iron (axes).' So they will say; and such disgrace shall come upon us." 

Then, wise Penelope addressed him once more: "There is not going to be any public respect (for those men) who dishonour and devour the household of a nobleman; so why would that remark bring disgrace on you? Now this guest of ours (is) a very big and well-built (man), and in his birth he claims to be the son of a noble father. But come, give him the well-polished bow, so we can see (what happens). For so I proclaim, and this will be brought to pass: if he shall string it and Apollo answers his prayer, I shall dress him in a cloak and tunic, fine garments (both), and I shall give him a sharp javelin to ward off dogs and men, as well as a two-edged sword; and I shall give (him) sandals beneath his feet, and I shall send (him) to wherever his heart and soul bids him go."    

Then shrewd Telemachus said to her once more in reply: "My mother, (as for) the bow, not one of the Achaeans has a better right than I to give (it) or deny (it) to whomever I wish, neither those who are chieftains in rugged Ithaca, nor those who (are rulers) in the islands in the direction of horse-rearing Elis; not one of them can force me to act against my will, even if I should wish to give this bow to the stranger once and for all to take away (with him). But go to your room to take care of your own tasks, the loom and the spindle, and tell your attendants to get on with their work; now the bow is the concern of all men, and me especially; for the master in this house is me."

Ll. 354-400. Odysseus receives the bow.

Full of astonishment, she went back to her room; for she laid her son's shrewd speech in her heart. And, going up to the upper story (of the house) with her attendant women, then she wept for Odysseus, her beloved husband, until bright-eyed Athene cast sweet sleep on her eyelids.  

Meanwhile the goodly swineherd (i.e. Eumaeus) had picked up the curved bow and was carrying (it) along; then, all the suitors let out loud shouts in the hall; and one of the haughty young men spoke as follows: "Where are you taking that curved bow, (you) wretched swineherd, (you) vagabond? Moreover, those speedy dogs that you have bred will soon devour you out there among your pigs and far away from (other) men, if Apollo and the other immortal gods should be gracious unto us." 

So they spoke; then he took it and put it down in that very place, full of apprehension because many in the hall were shouting. But Telemachus in a threatening voice called out loudly from the other side: "Come on, old fellow, you'll soon find it hard to obey everyone; lest, younger than you though I am, I shall chase you into the fields, pelting (you) with a shower of stones; for in strength I am better (than you). Would that I were so much stronger in my hands and muscles than all of those suitors who are (here) in this house!  Then, to their regret, I would soon be packing them off to depart from this house of mine, when they hatch their wicked (plots)."

So he spoke; and then all the suitors laughed pleasantly at him, and gave up their bitter wrath against Telemachus; then, the swineherd carried the bow down the hall, until he stood beside wise Odysseus and put (it) in his hands. Then, he called the nurse Eurycleia from (her quarters) and said to (her): "Telemachus calls upon you, wise Eurycleia, to shut the close-fitting doors of the hall; but if anyone should hear (the sound of) groaning, or the noise of men within our walls, they are not to go outside at all, but to remain at their work in silence."

So then he spoke; but with her the word stayed unwinged (i.e. she made no reply), and she locked the doors of the hall that was well-filled with people.  

And Philoetius slipped silently out of the house, and then he barred the doors leading to the well-fenced courtyard. Now a fresh cable, made of Egyptian papyrus, lay curled up under the portico, and with it he bound fast the doors, and then he went inside himself. Then he went and sat down on the stool from which he had just risen, and he gazed upon Odysseus. And now he (i.e. Odysseus) had control of the bow, and was turning (it) about on every side and trying (it) out at both ends, for fear that worms might have eaten the horns in the absence of its master. And so, with each man glancing at his neighbour, one (of them) said: "This man who is an admirer of bows is also given to stealing. Doubtless he wishes such (things) to lie in his home, or (he wishes) to make one, so the vagabond, practised in evil (things as he is), turns (it) up and down in his hands."

Ll. 401-434. Odysseus proves himself with the bow.

And then another one of the arrogant youths said: "Would that (he has) as much luck in doing that as he can ever have in stringing this (one)!" So did the suitors talk; but Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, at once lifted up the great bow and checked (it) on every side, as when a man, skilled at the lyre and in song, easily stretches a fresh string around a leather strap, fixing the well-twisted sheep-gut on both sides, so did Odysseus string the great bow without haste. Then, he took up the string in his right hand and tested (it), and under (his touch) it sang sweetly, like the voice of a swallow. Then, great distress came over (the minds of) the suitors, and in all of them their complexion changed its colour.  And Zeus thundered loudly in the display of his signs. Then, the much-enduring godlike Odysseus was delighted that the son of crooked-thinking Cronos had sent him an omen. And he seized a swift arrow, which lay beside him uncovered on the table; and the others, which the Achaeans were soon destined to experience, lay inside the hollow quiver. Taking it (and putting it) on the bridge of the bow, he drew back the string and its notches from the very stool where he sat and shot the arrow, and of all the axes he did not miss a single handle-hole, and the brass-burdened arrow came out right through (them); then, he said to Telemachus: "Telemachus, the stranger who sits in your hall brings no shame upon you, nor did I miss the mark in any way, or labour long at all in stringing the bow; my strength is still unbroken, not as the wooers scornfully taunt me. But now is the time for supper to be prepared for the Achaeans in the daylight, and then to find other amusements with song and with the lyre; for these (things) are the adornments of a feast."

He spoke, and gave a signal with his eyebrows; then, Telemachus, the beloved son of divine Odysseus, girded on his sharp sword, and put his hand around his spear, and stood by the chair beside his (father), armed with glittering bronze.