Tag: Homer

Καί σε τοσοῦτον ἔθηκα, θεοῖς ἐπιείκελ’ Ἀχιλλεῦ,
ἐκ θυμοῦ φιλέων, ἐπεὶ οὐκ ἐθέλεσκες ἅμ’ ἄλλῳ
οὔτ’ ἐς δαῖτ᾽ ἰέναι οὔτ’ ἐν μεγάροισι πάσασθαι,
πρίν γ’ ὅτε δή σ’ ἐπ’ ἐμοῖσιν ἐγὼ γούνεσσι καθίσσας
ὄψου τ’ ἄσαιμι προταμὼν καὶ οἶνον ἐπισχών.
πολλάκι μοι κατέδευσας ἐπὶ στήθεσσι χιτῶνα
οἴνου ἀποβλύζων ἐν νηπιέῃ ἀλεγεινῇ.
ὣς ἐπὶ σοὶ μάλα πολλὰ πάθον καὶ πολλ’ ἐμόγησα,
τὰ φρονέων, ὅ μοι οὔ τι θεοὶ γόνον ἐξετέλειον
ἐξ ἐμεῦ. ἀλλὰ σὲ παῖδα, θεοῖς ἐπιείκελ’ Ἀχιλλεῦ,
ποιεύμην, ἵνα μοί ποτ’ ἀεικέα λοιγὸν ἀμύνῃς.
ἀλλ’, Ἀχιλεῦ, δάμασον θυμὸν μέγαν· οὐδέ τί σε χρὴ
νηλεὲς ἦτορ ἔχειν· στρεπτοὶ δέ τε καὶ θεοὶ αὐτοί,
τῶν περ καὶ μείζων ἀρετὴ τιμή τε βίη τε.
(Homer, Il. 9.485-498)

And I made you what you are – strong as the gods, Achilles –
I loved you from the heart. You’d never go with another
to banquet on the town or feast in your own halls.
Never, until I’d sat you down on my knees
and cut you the first bits of meat, remember?
You’d eat your fill, I’d hold the cup to your lips
and all too often you soaked the shirt on my chest,
spitting up some wine, a baby’s way… a misery.
Oh I had my share of troubles for you, Achilles,
did my share of labor. Brooding, never forgetting
the gods would bring no son of mine to birth,
not from my own loins. So you, Achilles –
great godlike Achilles – I made you my son, I tried,
so someday you might fight disaster off my back.
But now, Achilles, beat down your mounting fury!
It’s wrong to have such an iron, ruthless heart.
Even the gods themselves can bend and change,
and theirs is the greater power, honor, strength.
(tr. Robert Fagles)

Σφαῖραν ἔπειτ’ ἔρριψε μετ’ ἀμφίπολον βασίλεια·
αἱ δ’ ἐπὶ μακρὸν ἄυσαν· ὁ δ’ ἔγρετο δῖος Ὀδυσσεύς,
ἑζόμενος δ’ ὥρμαινε κατὰ φρένα καὶ κατὰ θυμόν·
“ὢ μοι ἐγώ, τέων αὖτε βροτῶν ἐς γαῖαν ἱκάνω;
ἦ ῥ’ οἵ γ’ ὑβρισταί τε καὶ ἄγριοι οὐδὲ δίκαιοι,
ἦε φιλόξεινοι καί σφιν νόος ἐστὶ θεουδής;
ὥς τέ με κουράων ἀμφήλυθε θῆλυς ἀϋτή,
νυμφάων, αἳ ἔχουσ’ ὀρέων αἰπεινὰ κάρηνα
καὶ πηγὰς ποταμῶν καὶ πίσεα ποιήεντα.
ἦ νύ που ἀνθρώπων εἰμὶ σχεδὸν αὐδηέντων;
ἀλλ’ ἄγ’ ἐγὼν αὐτὸς πειρήσομαι ἠδὲ ἴδωμαι.”
ὣς εἰπὼν θάμνων ὑπεδύσετο δῖος Ὀδυσσεύς,
ἐκ πυκινῆς δ’ ὕλης πτόρθον κλάσε χειρὶ παχείῃ
φύλλων, ὡς ῥύσαιτοι περὶ χροῒ μήδεα φωτός.
βῆ δ’ ἴμεν ὥς τε λέων ὀρεσίτροφος ἀλκὶ πεποιθώς,
ὅς τ’ εἶσ’ ὑόμενος καὶ ἀήμενος, ἐν δέ οἱ ὄσσε
δαίεται· αὐτὰρ ὁ βουσὶ μετέρχεται ἢ ὀΐεσσιν
ἠὲ μετ’ ἀγροτέρας ἐλάφους· κέλεται δέ ἑ γαστὴρ
μήλων πειρήσοντα καὶ ἐς πυκινὸν δόμον ἐλθεῖν·
ὣς Ὀδυσεὺς κούρῃσιν ἐϋπλοκάμοισιν ἔμελλε
μίξεσθαι, γυμνός περ ἐών· χρειώ γὰρ ἵκανε.
(Homer, Od. 6.115-136)

Accordingly, when the princess threw the ball to one of her maids, it missed her and fell into the deep, eddying current. At this they all gave a loud shriek. The noble Odysseus awoke, and, sitting up, wondered to himself.
‘What country have I come to this time?’ he said with a groan. ‘What people are there here? Hostile and uncivilized savages, or kindly and god-fearing people? There’s a shrill echo in my ears, as though some girls were shrieking – Nymphs, who haunt the steep hill-tops, the springs of rivers, and the grassy meadows. Or am I by any chance among human beings who can talk as I do? Well, I must go and use my own eyes to find out.’
So the noble Odysseus crept out from under the bushes, after breaking off with his great hand a leafy bough from the thicket to conceal his naked manhood. Then he advanced on them like a mountain lion who sallies out, defying wind and rain in the pride of his power, with fire in his eyes, to hunt down the oxen or sheep or pursue the wild deer. Forced by hunger, he will even attack flocks in a well-protected fold. So Odysseus, naked as he was, made a move towards these girls with their braided hair; necessity compelled him. (tr. Robert Fagles)

Τοῦ ὅ γ’ ἐπιμνησθεὶς ἔπε’ ἀθανάτοισι μετηύδα·
“ὢ πόποι, οἷον δή νυ θεοὺς βροτοὶ αἰτιόωνται·
ἐξ ἡμέων γάρ φασι κάκ’ ἔμμεναι, οἱ δὲ καὶ αὐτοὶ
σφῇσιν ἀτασθαλίῃσιν ὑπὲρ μόρον ἄλγε’ ἔχουσιν,
ὡς καὶ νῦν Αἴγισθος ὑπὲρ μόρον Ἀτρεΐδαο
γῆμ’ ἄλοχον μνηστήν, τὸν δ’ ἔκτανε νοστήσαντα,
εἰδὼς αἰπὺν ὄλεθρον, ἐπεὶ πρό οἱ εἴπομεν ἡμεῖς,
Ἑρμείαν πέμψαντες, ἐΰσκοπον Ἀργεϊφόντην,
μήτ’ αὐτὸν κτείνειν μήτε μνάασθαι ἄκοιτιν·
ἐκ γὰρ Ὀρέσταο τίσις ἔσσεται Ἀτρεΐδαο,
ὁππότ’ ἂν ἡβήσῃ τε καὶ ἧς ἱμείρεται αἴης.
ὣς ἔφαθ’ Ἑρμείας, ἀλλ’ οὐ φρένας Αἰγίσθοιο
πεῖθ’ ἀγαθὰ φρονέων· νῦν δ’ ἁθρόα πάντ’ ἀπέτισεν.”
(Homer, Od. 1.31-42)

Recalling Aegisthus, Zeus harangued the immortal powers:
“Ah how shameless – the way these mortals blame the gods.
From us alone, they say, come all their miseries, yes,
but they themselves, with their own reckless ways,
compound their pains beyond their proper share.
Look at Aegisthus now…
Above and beyond his share he stole Atrides’ wife,
he murdered the warlord coming home from Troy
though he knew it meant his own total ruin.
Far in advance we told him so ourselves,
dispatching the guide, the giant-killer Hermes.
‘Don’t murder the man,’ he said, ‘don’t court his wife.
Beware, revenge will come from Orestes, Agamemnon’s son,
that day he comes of age and longs for his native land.’
So Hermes warned, with all the good will in the world,
but would Aegisthus’ hardened heart give way?
Now he pays the price – all at a single stroke.”
(tr. Robert Fagles)

Οἷος δ’ ἀστὴρ εἶσι μετ’ ἀστράσι νυκτὸς ἀμολγῷ
ἕσπερος, ὃς κάλλιστος ἐν οὐρανῷ ἵσταται ἀστήρ,
ὣς αἰχμῆς ἀπέλαμπ᾽ εὐήκεος, ἣν ἄρ’ Ἀχιλλεὺς
πάλλεν δεξιτερῇ φρονέων κακὸν Ἕκτορι δίῳ,
εἰσορόων χρόα καλόν, ὅπῃ εἴξειε μάλιστα.
τοῦ δὲ καὶ ἄλλο τόσον μὲν ἔχε χρόα χάλκεα τεύχεα
καλά, τὰ Πατρόκλοιο βίην ἐνάριξε κατακτάς·
φαίνετο δ’ ᾗ κληῗδες ἀπ’ ὤμων αὐχέν’ ἔχουσι
λαυκανίην, ἵνα τε ψυχῆς ὤκιστος ὄλεθρος·
τῇ ῥ’ ἐπὶ οἷ μεμαῶτ’ ἔλασ’ ἔγχεϊ δῖος Ἀχιλλεύς,
ἀντικρὺ δ’ ἁπαλοῖο δι’ αὐχένος ἤλυθ’ ἀκωκή.
(Homer, Il. 22.317-327)

Bright as that star amid the stars in the night sky,
star of the evening, brightest star that rides the heavens,
so fire flared from the sharp point of the spear Achilles
brandished high in his right hand, bent on Hector’s death,
scanning his splendid body – where to pierce it best?
The rest of his flesh seemed all encased in armor,
burnished, brazen – Achilles’ armor that Hector stripped
from strong Patroclus when he killed him – true,
but one spot lay exposed,
where collarbones lift the neckbone off the shoulders,
the open throat, where the end of life comes quickest – there
as Hector charged in fury brilliant Achilles drove his spar
and the point went stabbing clean through the tender neck (…)
(tr. Robert Fagles)

ἔνθ’ ἄρα τοι, Πάτροκλε, φάνη βιότοιο τελευτή·
(Homer, Il. 16.787)

then, Patroclus, the end of life came blazing up before you, (tr. Robert Fagles)

Ἡ ἀποστροφὴ σημαίνει τὸν συναχθόμενον· σοὶ γάρ, ὦ Πάτροκλε, τῷ οὕτως ὑπ’ Ἀχιλλέως ἀγαπωμένῳ, τῷ πᾶν εἰς σωτηρίαν τῶν Ἑλλήνων πραγματευσαμένῳ, τῷ Νέστορος φιλοπόνως ἀνασχομένῳ, τῷ Εὐρύπυλον φιλοστόργως ἰασαμένῳ, τῷ ὑπὲρ τῶν Ἑλλήνων δακρύσαντι καὶ τὸν σκληρῶς διακείμενον Ἀχιλλέα πείσαντι, τῷ κατὰ τῆς ἑαυτοῦ ψυχῆς τὴν ἔξοδον κατορθώσαντι. ταῦτα πάντα ἔνεστιν ἐπαναφέροντας ἐπὶ τὴν ἀποστροφὴν ὁρᾶν τὸ ἐν αὐτῇ περιπαθές.
(Scholia vetera in Iliadem 16.787)

The apostrophe shows that he [the poet] condoles with you, O Patroclus, who were loved so much by Achilles, who had exerted yourself to save your fellow Greeks, who had patiently endured Nestor’s garrulity, who had lovingly tended Eurypylus, who had shed tears because of the [disaster of the] Greeks, who had persuaded unyielding Achilles, who had secured a way out [for the Greeks] at the cost of your own life. By relating all this to the apostrophe one can detect its highly pathetic meaning. (tr. Irene J.F. de Jong)

Ἔνθ’ ἔβαλ’ Ἀνθεμίωνος υἱὸν Τελαμώνιος Αἴας
ἠΐθεον θαλερὸν Σιμοείσιον, ὅν ποτε μήτηρ
Ἴδηθεν κατιοῦσα παρ’ ὄχθῃσιν Σιμόεντος
γείνατ’, ἐπεί ῥα τοκεῦσιν ἅμ’ ἕσπετο μῆλα ἰδέσθαι·
τοὔνεκά μιν κάλεον Σιμοείσιον· οὐδὲ τοκεῦσι
θρέπτρα φίλοις ἀπέδωκε, μινυνθάδιος δέ οἱ αἰὼν
ἔπλεθ’ ὑπ’ Αἴαντος μεγαθύμου δουρὶ δαμέντι.
πρῶτον γάρ μιν ἰόντα βάλε στῆθος παρὰ μαζὸν
δεξιόν· ἀντικρὺ δὲ δι’ ὤμου χάλκεον ἔγχος
ἦλθεν· ὃ δ’ ἐν κονίῃσι χαμαὶ πέσεν αἴγειρος ὣς
ἥ ῥά τ’ ἐν εἱαμενῇ ἕλεος μεγάλοιο πεφύκει
λείη, ἀτάρ τέ οἱ ὄζοι ἐπ’ ἀκροτάτῃ πεφύασι·
τὴν μέν θ’ ἁρματοπηγὸς ἀνὴρ αἴθωνι σιδήρῳ
ἐξέταμ’, ὄφρα ἴτυν κάμψῃ περικαλλέϊ δίφρῳ·
ἣ μέν τ’ ἀζομένη κεῖται ποταμοῖο παρ’ ὄχθας.
τοῖον ἄρ’ Ἀνθεμίδην Σιμοείσιον ἐξενάριξεν
Αἴας διογενής.
(Homer, Il. 4.473-489)

Then Telamonian Aias struck Anthemion’s son, the vigorous youth Simoeisius, whom his mother had born beside the banks of Simois, as she came down from Ida, where she had followed with her parents to see their flocks. For this reason they called him Simoeisius; yet he paid not back to his dear parents the recompense of his upbringing, and but brief was the span of his life, as he was laid low by the spear of great-hearted Aias. For as he strode among the foremost he was struck on the right of his chest beside the nipple; and clean through his shoulder went the spear of bronze, and he fell to the ground in the dust like a poplar tree that has grown up in the bottom land of a great marsh, smooth, but from its top grow branches: this a chariot-maker has felled with the gleaming iron so that he may bend a wheel rim for a beautiful chariot, and it lies drying by a river’s banks. In this way did Zeus-born Aias slay Simoeisius, son of Anthemion. (tr. Augustus Taber Murray, revised by William F. Wyatt)