Kappeson

Ὣς ἄρ’ ἔφη, καὶ ἀναΐξας δέπας ἀπφικύπελλον
μητρὶ φίλῃ ἐν χειρὶ τίθει, καί μιν προσέειπε·
“τέτλαθι, μῆτερ ἐμή, καὶ ἀνάσχεο κηδομένη περ,
μή σε φίλην περ ἐοῦσαν ἐν ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ἴδωμαι
θεινομένην, τότε δ’ οὔ τι δυνήσομαι ἀχνύμενός περ
χραισμεῖν· ἀργαλέος γὰρ Ὀλύμπιος ἀντιφέρεσθαι.
ἤδη γὰρ με καὶ ἄλλοτ’ ἀλεξέμεναι μεμαῶτα
ῥῖψε ποδὸς τεταγὼν ἀπὸ βηλοῦ θεσπεσίοιο,
πᾶν δ’ ἦμαρ φερόμην, ἅμα δ’ ἠελίῳ καταδύντι
κάππεσον ἐν Λήμνῳ, ὀλίγος δ’ ἔτι θυμὸς ἐνῆεν·
ἔνθα με Σίντιες ἄνδρες ἄφαρ κομίσαντο πεσόντα.”
(Homer, Il. 1.584-594)

Pleading, springing up with a two-handled cup,
he* reached it toward his loving mother’s hands
with his own winning words: “Patience, mother!
Grieved as you are, bear up, or dear as you are,
I have to see you beaten right before my eyes.
I would be shattered – what could I do to save you?
It’s hard to fight the Olympian strength for strength.
You remember the last time I rushed to your defense?
He seized my foot, he hurled me off the tremendous threshold
and all day long I dropped, I was dead weight and then,
when the sun went down, down I plunged on Lemnos,
little breath left in me. But the mortals there
soon nursed a fallen immortal back to life.”

* Hephaestus.

(tr. Robert Fagles)