Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50) (8 page)

Distinguish’d above all Achaia’s sons.
The soul of swift Æacides at once
  
570
Knew me, and in wing’d accents thus began.
 
Brave Laertiades, for wiles renown’d!
What mightier enterprise than all the past
Hath made thee here a guest? rash as thou art!
How hast thou dared to penetrate the gloom
Of Ades, dwelling of the shadowy dead,
Semblances only of what once they were?
 
He spake, to whom I, answ’ring, thus replied.
O Peleus’ son! Achilles! bravest far
Of all Achaia’s race! I here arrived
  
580
Seeking Tiresias, from his lips to learn,
Perchance, how I might safe regain the coast
Of craggy Ithaca; for tempest-toss’d
Perpetual, I have neither yet approach’d
Achaia’s shore, or landed on my own.
But as for thee, Achilles! never man
Hath known felicity like thine, or shall,
Whom living we all honour’d as a God,
And who maintain’st, here resident, supreme
Controul among the dead; indulge not then,
  
590
Achilles, causeless grief that thou hast died.
 
I ceased, and answer thus instant received.
Renown’d Ulysses! think not death a theme
Of consolation; I had rather live
The servile hind for hire, and eat the bread
Of some man scantily himself sustain’d,
Than sov’reign empire hold o’er all the shades.
But come — speak to me of my noble boy;
Proceeds he, as he promis’d, brave in arms,
Or shuns he war? Say also, hast thou heard
  
600
Of royal Peleus? shares he still respect
Among his num’rous Myrmidons, or scorn
In Hellas and in Phthia, for that age
Predominates in his enfeebled limbs?
For help is none in me; the glorious sun
No longer sees me such, as when in aid
Of the Achaians I o’erspread the field
Of spacious Troy with all their bravest slain.
Oh might I, vigorous as then, repair
For one short moment to my father’s house,
  
610
They all should tremble; I would shew an arm,
Such as should daunt the fiercest who presumes
To injure
him
, or to despise his age.
 
Achilles spake, to whom I thus replied.
Of noble Peleus have I nothing heard;
But I will tell thee, as thou bidd’st, the truth
Unfeign’d of Neoptolemus thy son;
For him, myself, on board my hollow bark
From Scyros to Achaia’s host convey’d.
Oft as in council under Ilium’s walls
  
620
We met, he ever foremost was in speech,
Nor spake erroneous; Nestor and myself
Except, no Greecian could with him compare.
Oft, too, as we with battle hemm’d around
Troy’s bulwarks, from among the mingled crowd
Thy son sprang foremost into martial act,
Inferior in heroic worth to none.
Beneath him num’rous fell the sons of Troy
In dreadful fight, nor have I pow’r to name
Distinctly all, who by his glorious arm
  
630
Exerted in the cause of Greece, expired.
Yet will I name Eurypylus, the son
Of Telephus, an Hero whom his sword
Of life bereaved, and all around him strew’d
The plain with his Cetean warriors, won
To Ilium’s side by bribes to women giv’n.
Save noble Memnon only, I beheld
No Chief at Ilium beautiful as he.
Again, when we within the horse of wood
Framed by Epeüs sat, an ambush chos’n
  
640
Of all the bravest Greeks, and I in trust
Was placed to open or to keep fast-closed
The hollow fraud; then, ev’ry Chieftain there
And Senator of Greece wiped from his cheeks
The tears, and tremors felt in ev’ry limb;
But never saw I changed to terror’s hue
His
ruddy cheek, no tears wiped
he
away,
But oft he press’d me to go forth, his suit
With pray’rs enforcing, griping hard his hilt
And his brass-burthen’d spear, and dire revenge
  
650
Denouncing, ardent, on the race of Troy.
At length, when we had sack’d the lofty town
Of Priam, laden with abundant spoils
He safe embark’d, neither by spear or shaft
Aught hurt, or in close fight by faulchion’s edge,
As oft in war befalls, where wounds are dealt
Promiscuous at the will of fiery Mars.
 
So I; then striding large, the spirit thence
Withdrew of swift Æacides, along
The hoary mead pacing, with joy elate
  
660
That I had blazon’d bright his son’s renown.
 
The other souls of men by death dismiss’d
Stood mournful by, sad uttering each his woes;
The soul alone I saw standing remote
Of Telamonian Ajax, still incensed
That in our public contest for the arms
Worn by Achilles, and by Thetis thrown
Into dispute, my claim had strongest proved,
Troy and Minerva judges of the cause.
Disastrous victory! which I could wish
  
670
Not to have won, since for that armour’s sake
The earth hath cover’d Ajax, in his form
And martial deeds superior far to all
The Greecians, Peleus’ matchless son except.
I, seeking to appease him, thus began.
 
O Ajax, son of glorious Telamon!
Canst thou remember, even after death,
Thy wrath against me, kindled for the sake
Of those pernicious arms? arms which the Gods
Ordain’d of such dire consequence to Greece,
  
680
Which caused thy death, our bulwark! Thee we mourn
With grief perpetual, nor the death lament
Of Peleus’ son, Achilles, more than thine.
Yet none is blameable; Jove evermore
With bitt’rest hate pursued Achaia’s host,
And he ordain’d thy death. Hero! approach,
That thou may’st hear the words with which I seek
To sooth thee; let thy long displeasure cease!
Quell all resentment in thy gen’rous breast!
 
I spake; nought answer’d he, but sullen join’d
  
690
His fellow-ghosts; yet, angry as he was,
I had prevail’d even on him to speak,
Or had, at least, accosted him again,
But that my bosom teem’d with strong desire
Urgent, to see yet others of the dead.
 
There saw I Minos, offspring famed of Jove;
His golden sceptre in his hand, he sat
Judge of the dead; they, pleading each in turn,
His cause, some stood, some sat, filling the house
Whose spacious folding-gates are never closed.
  
700
 
Orion next, huge ghost, engaged my view,
Droves urging o’er the grassy mead, of beasts
Which he had slain, himself, on the wild hills,
With strong club arm’d of ever-during brass.
 
There also Tityus on the ground I saw
Extended, offspring of the glorious earth;
Nine acres he o’erspread, and, at his side
Station’d, two vultures on his liver prey’d,
Scooping his entrails; nor sufficed his hands
To fray them thence; for he had sought to force
  
710
Latona, illustrious concubine of Jove,
What time the Goddess journey’d o’er the rocks
Of Pytho into pleasant Panopeus.
 
Next, suff’ring grievous torments, I beheld
Tantalus; in a pool he stood, his chin
Wash’d by the wave; thirst-parch’d he seem’d, but found
Nought to assuage his thirst; for when he bow’d
His hoary head, ardent to quaff, the flood
Vanish’d absorb’d, and, at his feet, adust
The soil appear’d, dried, instant, by the Gods.
  
720
Tall trees, fruit-laden, with inflected heads
Stoop’d to him, pomegranates, apples bright,
The luscious fig, and unctuous olive smooth;
Which when with sudden grasp he would have seized,
Winds hurl’d them high into the dusky clouds.
 
There, too, the hard-task’d Sisyphus I saw,
Thrusting before him, strenuous, a vast rock.
With hands and feet struggling, he shoved the stone
Up to a hill-top; but the steep well-nigh
Vanquish’d, by some great force repulsed, the mass
  
730
Rush’d again, obstinate, down to the plain.
Again, stretch’d prone, severe he toiled, the sweat
Bathed all his weary limbs, and his head reek’d.
 
The might of Hercules I, next, survey’d;
His semblance; for himself their banquet shares
With the Immortal Gods, and in his arms
Enfolds neat-footed Hebe, daughter fair
Of Jove, and of his golden-sandal’d spouse.
Around him, clamorous as birds, the dead
Swarm’d turbulent; he, gloomy-brow’d as night,
  
740
With uncased bow and arrow on the string
Peer’d terrible from side to side, as one
Ever in act to shoot; a dreadful belt
He bore athwart his bosom, thong’d with gold.
There, broider’d shone many a stupendous form,
Bears, wild boars, lions with fire-flashing eyes,
Fierce combats, battles, bloodshed, homicide.
The artist, author of that belt, none such
Before, produced, or after. Me his eye
No sooner mark’d, than knowing me, in words
  
750
By sorrow quick suggested, he began.
 
Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!
Ah, hapless Hero! thou art, doubtless, charged,
Thou also, with some arduous labour, such
As in the realms of day I once endured.
Son was I of Saturnian Jove, yet woes
Immense sustain’d, subjected to a King
Inferior far to me, whose harsh commands
Enjoin’d me many a terrible exploit.
He even bade me on a time lead hence
  
760
The dog, that task believing above all
Impracticable; yet from Ades him
I dragg’d reluctant into light, by aid
Of Hermes, and of Pallas azure-eyed.
 
So saying, he penetrated deep again
The abode of Pluto; but I still unmoved
There stood expecting, curious, other shades
To see of Heroes in old time deceased.
And now, more ancient worthies still, and whom
I wish’d, I had beheld, Pirithoüs
  
770
And Theseus, glorious progeny of Gods,
But nations, first, numberless of the dead
Came shrieking hideous; me pale horror seized,
Lest awful Proserpine should thither send
The Gorgon-head from Ades, sight abhorr’d!
I, therefore, hasting to the vessel, bade
My crew embark, and cast the hawsers loose.
They, quick embarking, on the benches sat.
Down the Oceanus the current bore
My galley, winning, at the first, her way
  
780
With oars, then, wafted by propitious gales.

List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

Key Passages from ‘The Odyssey’

Book II

Few match their fathers. Any tongue can tell
The more are worse: yea, almost none their sires excel.

Book II, lines 276–7 (Worsley).

Book III

Telemachus, thine own mind will conceive
Somewhat, and other will a god suggest.

Book III, lines 26–7 (Worsley).

Book IV

Nor can I not bewail one fall’n in death severe.
’Tis the sole boon to wretched mortals given,
The lock to sever and the tear to shed.

Book IV, line 195 (Worsley).

Book VI

Since nought is lovelier on the earth than this,
When in the house one-minded to the last
Dwell man and wife — a pain to foes, I wis,
And joy to friends — but most themselves know their own bliss.

Book VI, lines 182–5 (Worsley).

Zeus both to good and evil doth divide
Wealth as he listeth.

Book VI, line 188 (Worsley).

The best thing in the world
being a strong house held in serenity
where man and wife agree.

Book VI, lines 182–4 (translated by Robert Fitzgerald).

Book VII

Nothing more shameless is than Appetite,
Who still, whatever anguish load our breast,
Makes us remember in our own despite
Both food and drink.

Book VII, lines 216–8 (Worsley).

Book VIII

Not all fair gifts to all doth God divide,
Eloquence, beauty, and a noble heart.

Book VIII, lines 167–8 (Worsley).

Variant: We cannot all hope to combine the pleasing qualities of good looks, brains, and eloquence.

Now mark how evil-workers thrive not well.
The swift is overtaken of the slow.
Ares, the fleetest that on high doth dwell,
Is by Hephaestus, who doth limping go,
Caught with shrewd cunning, and doth forfeit owe.

Book VIII, lines 329–331 (Worsley).

A rogue’s word was ever found
Poor voucher.

Book VIII, line 351 (Worsley).

Book IX

More than all pleasures that were ever made
Parents and fatherland our life still bless.
Though we rich home in a strange land possess,
Still the old memories about us cling.

Book IX, lines 34–6 (Worsley).

Book X

The fleeting shadows of the dead.

Book X, line 521 (translated by G. A. Schomberg).

Book XI

His cold remains all naked to the sky,
On distant shores unwept, unburied lie.

Book XI, lines 72–3 (Pope).

No more are women to be trusted now.

Book XI, line 456 (Worsley).

Rather I’d choose laboriously to bear
A weight of woes, and breathe the vital air,
A slave to some poor hind that toils for bread,
Than reign the sceptred monarch of the dead.

Book XI, lines 489–492 (Pope).

The enormous weight
Back to the nether plain rolled tumbling down.

Book XI, line 598 (Worsley).

Book XII

Friends, we are not in dangers all unlearned.

Book XII, line 209 (Worsley).

Most grievous of all deaths it is to die of hunger.

Book XII, line 343; translation cited in T. B. Harbottle,
Dictionary of Quotations
(1897), .

I’d sooner die outright, beneath the waves o’erwhelmed,
Than on this desert island slowly waste away.

Book XII, lines 351–2 (Worsley); translation reported in Harbottle’s
Dictionary of Quotations
(1897), .

The wordy tale, once told, were hard to tell again.

Book XII, lines 453–4 (Worsley).

Book XIV

O friend, I dare not, though a worse man sought
These doors, a stranger use discourteously.
All strangers and all poor by Zeus are brought;
Sweet is our gift, yet small.

Book XIV, lines 56–9 (Worsley).

I speak for glory, since by wine made bold
Often to singing even the wise will fall,
Light laughter and the dance, nor can withhold
Words that in sooth were better far untold.

Book XIV, lines 463–6 (Worsley).

Book XV

  
 Watch, lest in thy despite
Some fair possession from thy home he get:
Since, well thou knowest, a woman’s soul is set
His house to prosper whom she chance to wed.
Linked to another she discards all debt
Due to the children of her former bed,
Nor thinks at all of him, her dear-loved husband dead.

Book XV, lines 19–23 (Worsley).

He to my mind an equal sin doth show
Who, when a guest would linger, hints good-bye,
And who, if one desire to part, says no.

Book XV, lines 72–3 (Worsley).

Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.

Book XV, line 74 (Pope).

For now the nights move slowly and scarce end;
Yea, there is room for slumber, and to keep
Watch, and a listening ear to sweet words lend.
Needs not at all unto thy couch to creep
For some while yet. Harm comes from even too much sleep.

Book XV, lines 392–4 (Worsley).

But we two, drinking wine and eating bread,
Will charm our dear hearts each with other’s pain.
Past sorrow, and the tears a man hath shed,
Who far hath wandered over earth and main,
Yield comfort.

Book XV, lines 398–401 (Worsley).

Book XVII

See how God ever like with like doth pair,
And still the worthless doth the worthless lead!

Book XVII, lines 217–8 (Worsley).

Bad herdsmen waste the flocks which thou hast left behind.

Book XVII, line 246 (Worsley).

Servants, when their lords no longer sway,
Their minds no more to righteous courses bend.

Book XVII, lines 320–1 (Worsley).

Half that man’s virtue doth Zeus take away,
Whom he surrenders to the servile day.

Book XVII, lines 322–3 (Worsley).

Shame is no comrade for the poor, I weet.

Book XVII, line 347 (Worsley).

Light is their reckoning, no remorse they feel,
Food not their own to lavish from so brave a meal.

Book XVII, lines 451–2 (Worsley).

If indeed there be a god in heaven.

Book XVII, line 484 (translated by S. H. Butcher, with Andrew Lang).

Book XVIII

Earth than a man no poorer feebler thing
Rears, of all creatures that here breathe and move.

Book XVIII, lines 130–1 (Worsley).

Receive in silence what the Father brings.

Book XVIII, line 142 (Worsley).

Book XIX

Steel itself oft lures a man to fight.

Book XIX, line 13 (Worsley).

Two diverse gates there are of bodiless dreams,
These of sawn ivory, and those of horn.
Such dreams as issue where the ivory gleams
Fly without fate, and turn our hopes to scorn.
But dreams which issue through the burnished horn,
What man soe’er beholds them on his bed,
These work with virtue and of truth are born.

Book XIX, lines 563–8 (Worsley).

Yet not for ever void of sleep remains
Man; for the gods by rule of life dispense
Sleep on all mortals whom the earth maintains.

Book XIX, lines 592–4 (Worsley).

Book XX

Bear up, my soul, a little longer yet;
A little longer to thy purpose cling!

Book XX, line 18 (Worsley).

Then the gods send us their refreshful sleep,
Which good and evil from our mind doth sweep.

Book XX, lines 85–6 (Worsley).

List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

List of Poets in Alphabetical Order