Tag: Homer

Εὖ γὰρ ἐγὼ τόδε οἶδα κατὰ φρένα καὶ κατὰ θυμόν·
ἔσσεται ἦμαρ ὅτ’ ἄν ποτ’ ὀλώλῃ Ἴλιος ἱρὴ
καὶ Πρίαμος καὶ λαὸς ἐυμμελίω Πριάμοιο.
ἀλλ’ οὔ μοι Τρώων τόσσον μέλει ἄλγος ὀπίσσω,
οὔτ’ αὐτῆς Ἑκάβης οὔτε Πριάμοιο ἄνακτος
οὔτε κασιγνήτων, οἵ κεν πολέες τε καὶ ἐσθλοὶ
έν κονίῃσι πέσοιεν ὑπ’ ἀνδράσι δυσμενέεσσιν,
ὅσσον σεῦ, ὅτε κέν τις Ἀχαιῶν χαλκοχιτώνων
δακρυόεσσαν ἄγηται, ἐλεύθερον ἦμαρ ἀπούρας.
(Homer, Il. 6.447-455)

For in my heart and soul I also know this well:
the day will come when sacred Troy must die,
Priam must die and all his people with him,
Priam who hurls the strong ash spear…
Even so,
it is less the pain of the Trojans still to come
that weighs me down, not even of Hecuba herself
or King Priam, or the thought that my own brothers
in all their numbers, all their gallant courage,
may tumble in the dust, crushed by enemies –
That is nothing, nothing beside your agony
when some brazen Argive hales you off in tears,
wrenching away your day of light and freedom!
(tr. Robert Fagles)

Ἥφαιστος δ’ ὡς οὖν θυμαλγέα μῦθον ἄκουσε,
βῆ ῥ’ ἴμεν ἐς χαλκεῶνα κακὰ φρεσὶ βυσσοδομεύων,
ἐν δ’ ἔθετ’ ἀκμοθέτῳ μέγαν ἄκμονα, κόπτε δὲ δεσμοὺς
ἀρρήκτους ἀλύτους, ὄφρ’ ἔμπεδον αὖθι μένοιεν.
αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ δὴ τεῦξε δόλον κεχολωμένος Ἄρει,
βῆ ῥ’ ἴμεν ἐς θάλαμον, ὅθι οἱ φίλα δέμνι’ ἔκειτο,
ἀμφὶ δ’ ἄρ’ ἑρμῖσιν χέε δέσματα κύκλῳ ἁπάντῃ·
πολλὰ δὲ καὶ καθύπερθε μελαθρόφιν ἐξεκέχυντο,
ἠύτ’ ἀράχνια λεπτά, τά γ’ οὔ κέ τις οὐδὲ ἴδοιτο,
οὐδὲ θεῶν μακάρων; πέρι γὰρ δολόεντα τέτυκτο.
αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ δὴ πάντα δόλον περὶ δέμνια χεῦεν,
εἴσατ’ ἴμεν ἐς Λῆμνον, ἐυκτίμενου πτολίεθρον,
ἥ οἱ γαιάων πολὺ φιλτάτη ἐστιν ἁπασέων.
(Homer, Od. 8.272-284)

And when Hephaestus heard the grievous tale*, he went his way to his smithy, pondering evil in the deep of his heart, and set on the anvil block the great anvil and forged bonds which might not be broken or loosed, that the lovers might bide fast where they were. But when he had fashioned the snare in his wrath against Ares, he went to his chamber where lay his bed, and everywhere round about the bed-posts he spread the bonds, and many too were hung from above, from the roof-beams, fine as spiders’ webs, so that no one even of the blessed gods could see them, so exceeding craftily were they fashioned. But when he had spread all his snare about the couch, he made as though he would go to Lemnos, that well-built citadel, which is in his eyes far the dearest of all lands.

* of the minstrel Demodocus, who sang how Aphrodite cheated on Hephaestus with Ares.

(tr. Augustus Taber Murray)

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)

Ἀμφοτέρας δ’ ὀφρῦς σύνελεν λίθος, οὐδέ οἱ ἔσχεν
ὀστέον, ὀφθαλμοὶ δὲ χαμαὶ πέσον ἐν κονίῃσιν
αὐτοῦ πρόσθε ποδῶν· ὁ δ’ ἄρ’ ἀρνευτῆρι ἐοικὼς
κάππεσ’ ἀπ’ εὐεργέος δίφρου, λίπε δ’ ὀστέα θυμός.
τὸν δ’ ἐπικερτομέων προσέφης, Πατρόκλεες ἱππεῦ·
“ὢ πόποι, ἦ μάλ’ ἐλαφρὸς ἀνήρ, ὡς ῥεῖα κυβιστᾷ.
εἰ δή που καὶ πόντῳ ἐν ἰχθυόεντι γένοιτο,
πολλοὺς ἂν κορέσειεν ἀνὴρ ὅδε τήθεα διφῶν,
νηὸς ἀποθρῴσκων, εἰ καὶ δυσπέμφελος εἴη,
ὡς νῦν ἐν πεδίῳ ἐξ ἵππων ῥεῖα κυβιστᾷ.
ἦ ῥα καὶ ἐν Τρώεσσι κυβιστητῆρες ἔασιν.”
(Homer, Il. 16.740-750)

It* shattered both his eyebrows, crushing the bone; and his eyes fell out and rolled in the dust at his feet. He fell back out of the well-built chariot like a diver, and life left his bones. Mocking him, charioteer Patroclus, you said: ‘Well, well! How light on his toes, judging by that acrobatic somersault! Now, if the delightful dive he has taken from the chariot on to the plain is anything to go by, he’d satisfy the hunger of lots of people by doing the same at sea. Even in the roughest weather he could leap off a boat and grope about for molluscs. I never knew the Trojans had such acrobats!’

* the stone thrown by Patroclus at Cebriones, Hector’s charioteer.

(tr. Robert Fagles)

Τρεῖς δὲ ἕκαστον φῶτ’ ὄιες φέρον· αὐτὰρ ἐγώ γε –
ἀρνειὸς γὰρ ἔην μήλων ὄχ’ ἄριστος ἁπάντων,
τοῦ κατὰ νῶτα λαβών, λασίην ὑπὸ γαστέρ’ ἐλυσθεὶς
κείμην· αὐτὰρ χερσὶν ἀώτου θεσπεσίοιο
νωλεμέως στρεφθεὶς ἐχόμην τετληότι θυμῷ.
ὣς τότε μὲν στενάχοντες ἐμείναμεν Ἠῶ δῖαν.
(Homer, Od. 9.431-5)

So there was a man to every three sheep. As for me I took the pick of the flock, and curled below his shaggy belly, gripped his back and lay there face upwards, patiently gripping his fine fleece tight in my hands. Then, sighing, we waited for the light. (tr. A.S. Kline)