Page 29 of The Odyssey


  "Lord Alkinoos, exalted above all people, there's

  a time for long stories, and a time for sleep. But if

  you're still eager to listen, I wouldn't begrudge you

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  the telling of other matters yet more piteous than these--

  the troubles of my companions, who perished later,

  after escaping the Trojans' grim battle cry: they died

  on the way home, through a wicked woman's will.9

  "After holy Persephone scattered the female souls

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  of the women hither and thither, in all directions,

  there came up the ghost of Atreus' son Agamemnon,

  grieving; and round him clustered the ghosts of all those

  who'd died and met their fate with him in Aigisthos' house.

  He knew me at once, as soon as he'd drunk the dark blood:

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  he was weeping aloud, and shedding big tears. He stretched

  his hands out toward me, eager to reach and touch me,

  but no longer did he have strength or vigor remaining

  in his limbs as once, when they were live and supple.

  "When I saw him I wept, and pitied him in my heart,

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  and spoke, and addressed him with winged words, saying:

  'Most renowned son of Atreus, Agamemnon king of men,

  what fate of long-grief-giving death was it overcame you?

  Was it Poseidon destroyed you aboard your vessels

  by stirring up the dread blast of hard-blowing gales?

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  Or did hostile men work your destruction on dry land

  when you were lifting their cattle and fine fleecy sheep

  or fighting them for their city and for their women?'

  "So I spoke; and he at once responded to me, saying:

  'Scion of Zeus, Laertes' son, resourceful Odysseus,

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  neither did Poseidon destroy me aboard my ships

  by stirring up the dread blast of hard-blowing gales,

  nor did hostile men work my destruction on dry land:

  Aigisthos it was fixed my death and destiny, slew me--

  he, with my damnable wife--as a guest in his house

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  for dinner, the way one slaughters an ox at its manger.

  So I died a most piteous death, and round me all my comrades

  were killed without mercy, like so many white-tusked hogs

  in the house of a wealthy and highly powerful man

  for a wedding or communal feast, or some sumptuous banquet.

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  Before now you'll have witnessed the killing of many men,

  slain in single combat or the violent crush of battle,

  but this sight would have stirred the most pity in your heart--

  how all about the mixing bowl and the laden tables

  we lay in that hall, and the whole floor swam with blood.

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  The most piteous cry I heard was that of Priam's daughter

  Kassandre, murdered by treacherous Klytaimnestra

  as she clung to me. I, fallen, raised my arms in self-defense

  and, dying, flung them about the sword. That bitch

  turned her back, could not be bothered, though I was on

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  my way to Hades, to close my eyes or my gaping mouth.

  There's nothing more frightful or shameless than a woman

  who conceives the idea of such misdeeds in her heart,

  like the horrifying act that this woman planned, contriving

  her own wedded husband's murder. I honestly believed

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  that my return home would be welcomed by my children

  and household. But she, mind set upon utter evil,

  has brought shame both on herself and on women yet unborn--

  the whole female sex, even those of faultless conduct.'

  "So he spoke, and I then responded to him, saying:

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  'Alas, far-seeing Zeus has nursed a fearsome hatred

  against Atreus' whole line, by means of women's wiles,

  from the start: for Helen's sake large numbers of us died,

  and Klytaimnestra ensnared you when you were far away.'

  "So I spoke. He at once responded to me, saying:

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  'That's why you should never go easy, even with your wife!

  Don't tell her every thought you have in your head:

  Tell her some only, keep the rest of them well hidden!

  Still, your own death, Odysseus, will not come from your wife:

  thoroughly sensible, her mind full of virtuous thoughts

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  is Ikarios' daughter, prudent Penelope, whom we left

  behind there as a bride, a young wife lately wed,

  when we went off to the war: she had a child at the breast,

  a baby son, who now must sit numbered among the men

  and is lucky, for his own father will return and see him,

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  and the boy will embrace his father, as is right and proper.

  But that bedfellow of mine did not even let me feast

  my eyes on my son: before that she'd murdered me.

  Another thing, too, I'll tell you, and you lay it to heart:

  In secret, not openly, hold your vessel on her course

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  to your native shore: no more is there faith in women.

  But come, tell me this, and give me a truthful answer:

  Have you heard any news of my son, that he's still alive

  in Orchomenos maybe, or out at sandy Pylos

  or perhaps with Menelaos in broad Sparta?--for not yet

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  has any place on this earth witnessed noble Orestes' death.'

  "So he spoke, and I then responded to him, saying:

  'Son of Atreus, why ask me this? I have no knowledge

  of whether he's dead or alive. Empty guesses are pointless.'

  "While we two stood together exchanging grim words,

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  with lamentation, and shedding many big tears,

  there came up the ghost of Peleus' son Achilles,

  and those of Patroklos, and of peerless Antilochos,

  and Aias, unmatched for handsomeness and stature

  among all the Danaans save for Peleus' peerless son.

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  The ghost of Aiakos' swift-footed grandson knew me,

  and sorrowfully addressed me with winged words, saying:

  'Son of Laertes, scion of Zeus, resourceful Odysseus,

  rash man, what yet greater deed will your mind think up?

  How dared you come down to Hades, where reside

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  the mindless dead, the phantoms of outworn mortals?'

  "So he spoke; and I then responded to him, saying:

  'Achilles, Peleus' son, most valiant of the Achaians,

  I came out of need for Teiresias, if maybe he could tell me

  some plan that would get me home to rugged Ithake.

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  Not yet have I come near Achaia, not yet have I set foot

  on my own land, but have endless trouble. No man, Achilles,

  was more blest than you in the past, nor shall be hereafter;

  for while you were living we Argives honored you equally

  with the gods; and now you're here you exercise great power

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  over the dead. Your death is no cause for grief, Achilles.'

  "So I spoke. He at once responded to me, saying:

  'Don't talk up death to me, illustrious Odysseus!

  I'd rather work as a field hand, a hireling, for some other

  landless man who could just scrape a livelihood together

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  than be lord over all the corpses who've ever perished!

  But come, tell me the news about that fine son of mine
--

  has he gone off to war, and made it as champion, or not?

  And have you had any news about Peleus? If so, tell me--

  Is he still honored among the mass of the Myrmidons?

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  Or do they show him no honor throughout Hellas and Phthie

  now that old age has crippled him, hand and foot,

  and I'm no longer there to help him, out in the sunlight,

  or strong, as once I was in the wide terrain of Troy

  when I slew the best of their men while defending the Argives?

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  If I could come thus, only briefly, to my father's house

  then I'd make my strength and invincible hands most bitter

  to any who show him violence and diminish his honor.'

  "So he spoke, and I then responded to him, saying:

  'In fact I've heard no news regarding flawless Peleus,

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  but about your dear son Neoptolemos I'll tell you

  the whole truth, as you requested. I fetched him myself

  aboard my trim hollow vessel, brought him out

  from Skyros to join the ranks of the well-greaved Achaians.

  And when we were planning action around the city of Troy

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  he was always the first to speak, had never a bad idea:

  godlike Nestor and I alone came up with better ones.

  Whenever we fought with the bronze out on the Trojan plain

  he'd never hold back among the main body of our troops,

  but was always far out ahead, unrivaled in prowess,

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  and many the men he slaughtered in fearsome battle.

  I couldn't recount or name all the victims he slew,

  all the many men he dispatched when fighting for the Argives--

  but one great man, Telephos' son, he felled with the bronze:

  the hero Eurypylos, and with him a crowd of his Keteian

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  comrades all perished because of a woman's gifts.10

  No handsomer man I ever saw, except noble Memnon.

  And when we, the best of the Argives, were going into

  the Horse that Epeios made, all under my command--

  when to wait, when we should spring our close-built ambush--

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  then the other Danaan chieftains and counselors

  had to wipe away tears, the limbs of all were trembling,

  yet him I never once noticed with my own eyes

  dabbing the tears from his cheeks, or his handsome features

  losing their color; he kept on pleading with me

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  to let him out from the Horse, his hand was always

  on his sword hilt or bronze-heavy spear, impatient to get at

  the Trojans. But when we'd sacked the steep citadel of Priam,

  he boarded his ship with a good prize-share of the booty--

  and all unscathed, neither pierced by the sharp bronze

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  nor cut up in close combat, as so often happens

  to men during battle: Ares rages in wild confusion.'

  "So I spoke. The ghost of Aiakos' swift-footed grandson

  made off with long strides across the asphodel meadow,

  happy because I told him his son had distinguished himself.

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  "The remaining shades of those who were dead and gone

  stood sadly there, all asking about their own concerns;

  of all of them, only the shade of Aias, Telamon's son,

  stood apart from the rest, still enraged by the victory

  I'd won over him when we two competed by the ships

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  for Achilles' arms, a prize set up by his lady mother

  with the sons of the Trojans and Pallas Athene as judges.

  Would that I'd never won the contest for such a prize,

  since over so rare a head the earth closed because of it--

  that of Aias, whose beauty and deeds done outshone those

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  of all other Danaans save for Peleus' peerless son.

  To him I now spoke with words of conciliation: 'Aias,

  great Telamon's son, could you not, then, even in death,

  abandon the wrath I roused in you over those fatal

  arms, surely used by the gods to grieve the Argives,

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  such a tower of strength they lost in you! The Achaians

  still ceaselessly mourn your death, as they do the lost life

  of Achilles, Peleus' son. Yet no one's more to blame

  than Zeus, with that terrible hatred he nursed against

  the army of Danaan spearmen: this it was that doomed you.

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  Come close to me, lord, and listen to what I have to tell you!

  Overmaster your great fury, your arrogant spirit!'

  "So I spoke, but he made me no answer, went after the other

  shades of the dead and departed to Erebos. Nevertheless

  he might still, despite his wrath, have addressed me, or I him,

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  but the spirit within this breast of mine was still eager

  to see the shades of those others now dead and gone.

  "Thereafter I saw Minos, Zeus' illustrious son,

  holding a golden scepter, sitting in judgment over

  the dead, as they, sitting or standing, brought each case

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  before their lord, in Hades' wide-gated realm.

  "After him I became aware of gigantic Orion,

  herding and driving across the meadows of asphodel

  the wild beasts he'd killed himself on the lonely mountains,

  with a club of bronze in his hands, forever unbroken.

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  "Tityos too I saw, Gaia's illustrious offspring,

  lying on the ground, spread over nine whole acres,

  a vulture on either side of him tearing at his liver

  and pecking into his guts; he'd no hands to beat them off

  after forcing himself on Leto, Zeus' famed bedfellow,

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  in broad-lawned Panopeus, on her way to Pytho.11

  "I also saw Tantalos suffering painful torment,

  as he stood in a pool, the water lapping his chin:

  he was maddened with thirst, yet couldn't ever reach it,

  for whenever the old fellow bent down to drink

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  the water was sucked down and vanished, and around

  his feet the black earth appeared, dried up by some god.

  Trees too, high and leafy, hung top-heavy with fruit--

  pears, pomegranates, boughs laden with shining apples,

  sweet figs, a profusion of olives. But every time

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  the old man reached out to grasp them, a gust of wind

  would whirl them aloft toward the shadowy clouds.

  "I also saw Sisyphos suffering most painful torment,

  as he labored to raise a huge stone with his two bare hands:

  scrambling with hands and feet he'd try to push it

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  up to the crest of the hill; but when he was on the point

  of getting it over the top, its weight would defeat him:

  bumpity back to the plain the shameless stone would clatter.12

  Yet he kept straining and heaving, while the sweat streamed down

  from his limbs, and the dust rose swirling around his head.

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  "After him I became aware of powerful Herakles,

  [his phantom, for he himself among the immortal gods

  takes joy in the feast, and has the elegant-ankled Hebe,

  child of great Zeus and the golden-sandaled Here:]13

  around him arose a bird like clamor from the dead

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  as they scattered in terror, while he, as dark as night,

  holding a bare bow with an arrow at the st
ring,

  kept glancing sharply round him, as though about to shoot.

  A fearsome thing was the baldric girding his torso,

 
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