The Odyssey

  a belt of gold on which wondrous objects had been fashioned--

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  bears and wild boars, and lions with glinting eyes,

  and fights and battles and murder and the slayings of men.

  May he never have crafted, or again craft, another such,

  the man who stamped that belt with his special craftsmanship!

  Herakles recognized me the moment he saw me,

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  and sorrowfully addressed me with winged words, saying:

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

  poor wretch, are you leading the kind of grim existence

  such as I too bore beneath the rays of the sun?

  I was Kronos' son Zeus' offspring, and yet I suffered

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  woes beyond measure, for I was placed in subjection

  to a man far worse man than myself,14 who laid hard labors on me.

  He even once sent me here to get Hades' hound:15 he could think

  of no harder labor for me than this. Yet that hound I did

  indeed carry off and bring up out of Hades--

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  I had Hermes and grey-eyed Athene serving as my guides.'

  "So saying, he went on his way, back into Hades' realm,

  but I remained firmly there,16 in case there might come up

  any more of the heroes who'd perished so long ago;

  and I might indeed have seen men of old whom I wanted to--

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  Theseus, Peirithoos, famed progeny of the gods--

  but before that, great swarms of the dead came thronging up

  with loud eerie cries, and pale terror gripped me, the fear

  that the head of the Gorgon, that ghastly monster, might

  be sent against me from Hades by holy Persephone.

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  "So at once I went back to the ship, and ordered my comrades

  to embark again themselves, and cast off the stern warps.

  So they came aboard quickly, and sat down on the benches,

  and the current bore the ship fast down Ocean's river,

  helped first by our rowing, and then by a following wind."

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  Book 12

  "After our ship left the course of Ocean's river and came

  to the swelling waves of the wide-tracked sea, and the isle

  of Aiaia, where is the abode of Dawn, the early riser,

  and her dancing floors, and the risings of Helios the sun,

  then we beached our vessel, hauled her up on the sands,

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  and ourselves disembarked on the seashore. There we fell

  asleep, and stayed thus, awaiting the bright dawn.

  "When Dawn appeared, early risen and rosy-fingered,

  I sent my companions off to Kirke's domain

  to bring back the body of the deceased Elpenor.

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  Next we cut wood for his pyre and at the seaward tip

  of the headland held his funeral, mourning and shedding tears.

  Then after his corpse was burned--along with its armor--

  We heaped up a burial mound, raised a marker on it,

  and on top of the tomb set up his well-shaped oar.

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  "So we busied ourselves with these matters, nor was Kirke

  unaware that we'd got back from Hades: very promptly

  she readied herself, and came out. The handmaids with her

  brought bread and much meat, and tawny-red wine, and she,

  bright among goddesses, now spoke in the midst of us, saying:

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  'Foolhardy men, who went down to Hades' realm alive,

  and met death twice, when others die only the once!

  But come now, you've food to eat and wine to drink

  the whole day through! Then, at the coming of Dawn,

  you'll set sail. I'll show you your route and brief you

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  on every detail. That way, no ruinous bad decisions,

  at sea or ashore, will leave you in desperate trouble.'

  "So she spoke: the proud spirit in us was persuaded.

  The whole day long, then, till sunset we sat feasting

  on abundant meat and sweet wine; but when the sun

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  went down, and darkness came on, then all the others

  lay down to sleep beside the ship's stern warps;

  but me Kirke took by the hand, led apart from my comrades,

  made me sit down, then questioned me in detail,

  and I told her the whole story, just as it happened.

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  Thereupon the lady Kirke spoke at length to me, saying:

  'All that, then, has been accomplished. Now listen to what

  I shall tell you: the god himself will remind you of it.

  First off, you'll come to the Sirens. They bewitch

  and beguile all mortals who come within earshot of them.

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  Any man who unwittingly gets close enough to hear

  the Sirens' voices will never again be surrounded

  by wife and children greeting him on his return home;

  the Sirens will enchant him with their clear high singing

  as they sit in a meadow, among great heaps of bones

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  from men's rotted bodies, the skin on them all shriveled.

  Row on past them, and stop up the ears of your comrades

  with beeswax--soften it first--so none of them can hear.

  But as for yourself, if you're determined to listen,

  have them tie you, hand and foot, while upright, against

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  your swift ship's mast, in its step, with rope ends lashed

  to the mast itself, so you can hear and enjoy the Sirens.

  But if you beg and command your comrades to release you,

  they are then to bind you more firmly with yet more bonds!

  Then, when your comrades have rowed you beyond the Sirens,

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  from that point on, I'll no longer tell you in full detail

  which course is the one to follow, but you yourself

  must make up your mind. I shall give you two options.

  On the one side are crags, overhanging, and against them

  crash the great breakers of dark-eyed Amphitrite:

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  these crags the blessed gods call the Wandering Rocks.

  That way not even winged creatures go, not even the shy

  doves that carry ambrosia to Zeus the Father: the smooth-

  worn rock always snatches one at least of these away,

  and the Father sends in another to restore the numbers.

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  No mortal vessel that tried it has ever got past those rocks--

  ship's timbers and human bodies are both together

  carried off by the waves and gusts of destructive fire--

  save that one seafaring vessel which alone escaped them:

  Argo, of worldwide fame, sailing home from Aietes--

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  and she too would soon have been slammed into those great crags

  had Here not steered her safe through, out of love for Jason.1

  'Next are the two headlands. One of them towers up

  to broad heaven, with a sharp peak. Dark clouds surround it,

  that never disperse: its summit never enjoys clear air,

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  not even in spring or autumn. There's not a man alive

  could scale that peak or set foot on its crest, not even

  were he endowed with a score of hands and feet,

  for the rock is as smooth as though it had been polished.

  Halfway up this headland there's a murky cavern

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  facing west, toward the dusk and Erebos. It's that way

  you should steer your hollow ship, illustrious Odysseus,

  from which hollow ship not even the stro
ngest man

  could shoot an arrow up into that cave's interior.

  There, in it, dwells Skylle, yelping most fearsomely;

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  Her voice may be only as loud as that of a newborn puppy,

  but she is an evil monster, the sight of whom would please

  nobody, were it even a god who encountered her.

  A dozen legs she has, all waving in the air,

  and six necks, very lengthy, and on every one of them

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  a horrible head, with three rows of teeth in each,

  close-set and crowded, all full of black death. From below

  the waist her body is hidden inside the hollow cavern,

  but her heads she stretches out from that fearsome abyss

  and goes fishing there, searches all around the rock face

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  for dolphin or dogfish or whatever larger creature

  she can catch of the thousands loud Amphitrite breeds.

  Past her no sailors yet can boast of having voyaged

  unharmed, for with each of her heads she carries off

  a man that she snatches out of his dark-prowed vessel.

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  'But the other headland, Odysseus, as you'll see, is lower--

  the two are close together, within easy bowshot--

  and on it grows a great fig tree with luxuriant foliage.

  Beneath this divine Charybdis sucks in the dark water--

  thrice daily she spews it out upward, thrice sucks it all back

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  with fearsome effect--may you never be there then!

  Not even the Earth-Shaker could save you from destruction.

  Rather hold course close to Skylle's headland and quickly

  steer your ship past it, since it's far preferable

  to lose six of your crew than for all of you to perish.'

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  "So she spoke, and I then responded to her, saying:

  'Come, I beg you, goddess. Tell me this truthfully: Is there

  any way I can both get clear of deadly Charybdis

  and stop the other, when she tries to snatch my comrades?'

  "So I spoke, and she, bright among goddesses, snapped back:

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  'Foolhardy man, once again you're set on deeds of warfare

  and hardship! Will you not yield even to the immortal

  gods? Because she's not mortal, but an immortal evil,

  dread, disastrous, wild--and not to be fought with,

  for there's no defense--best course is to flee from her.

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  For if you linger to arm yourself beside her rock

  I fear she may once again dart out and assault you

  with as many heads, and seize as many men as before.

  So row past at speed, while calling upon Krataiis,

  Skylle's mother, who bore her to be a bane to mortals:

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  she then will stop her from making that second assault.

  'So you'll come to the isle of Thrinakie. There at pasture

  are Helios' numerous cattle and well-fed flocks:

  seven herds of oxen, and as many fine flocks of sheep,

  with fifty head in each herd. They never bear young,

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  nor do they ever grow old. They're tended by goddesses,

  fair-tressed nymphs, Phaethousa and Lampetie,

  whom resplendent Neaira bore to Hyperion Helios.

  These their lady mother, when she'd borne and reared them,

  sent out to the isle of Thrinakie, to a distant life

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  tending their father's flocks and crumple-horned cattle.

  If you leave these unharmed and take care over your return

  you may still get home to Ithake, after much suffering;

  but should you harm them, then I foresee destruction

  for your ship and your comrades. You yourself may escape,

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  though you'll get home late, in bad shape, your comrades all lost.'

  "So she spoke, and then, golden-throned, the Dawn came up.

  She, bright among goddesses, departed up the island,

  while I went back to the ship and aroused my comrades

  to embark themselves and to cast off the stern warps;

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  they came aboard quickly and sat down at the benches,

  and in good order struck the grey salt deep with their oars.

  In the wake of our dark-prowed ship a following breeze

  that filled our sail, a trusty companion, was sent us

  by fair-tressed Kirke, dread goddess of mortal speech.

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  So when we'd secured the tackle throughout the ship

  we sat down: wind and steersman now kept her on her course.

  "Then I finally, grieving at heart, addressed my comrades:

  'Friends, since it's not right that one or two only should know

  the gods' decrees that Kirke, bright among goddesses, told me,

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  I shall now relate them to you: it will be in that knowledge

  that we either die or escape, sidestepping death and fate.

  First, the heavenly Sirens. She bids us keep well away

  from them, their singing, and their flowery meadow.

  Me alone she wanted to hear them: you are to tie me fast

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  with harsh bonds, keep me upright in place against the mast,

  in its step, with rope ends lashed to the mast itself.

  But if I beg and command my comrades to release me,

  you are then to bind me more firmly with yet more bonds.'

  "Thus I was passing on all the details to my comrades,

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  and meanwhile our well-built ship very soon arrived

  at the Sirens' isle, driven on by a following breeze.

  Abruptly the wind now dropped, and was replaced

  by a windless calm. Some god lulled the waves to sleep.

  My comrades stood up, took down and furled the sail,

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  stowed it down in the hollow ship, then sat at the benches

  and whitened the water with their polished pinewood oars.

  Now with the sharp bronze I cut a great wheel of wax

  into small bits, which I kneaded in my strong hands.

  Soon the wax grew warm under their great pressure

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  and the rays of the sun god, Hyperion Helios.2

  With this wax I stopped up the ears of all my comrades,

  and they bound me hand and foot, while standing, to the mast,

  in its step, with rope ends lashed to the mast itself,

  and then sat down, struck the grey salt deep with their oars.

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  "But when we were as far off as a man's shout carries,

  swiftly pursuing our course, the speeding ship did not,

  as it neared, escape notice. The Sirens began their shrill song:

  'Look in here on your way, famed Odysseus, the Achaians' pride:

  put in with your ship, hear the song we two sing! Never yet

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  has any man rowed on past us in his black ship till he's heard

  the honey-sweet music that issues from our mouths,

  and he voyages on rejoicing, his knowledge increased, for we

  know all the toil and suffering that in the wide land of Troy

  Argives and Trojans endured through the will of the gods:

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  Indeed, we know all things that happen on the nurturing earth.'

  "Such the words they uttered in their beautiful voices. My heart

  yearned to listen. I signaled my comrades to release me--

  a nod with my eyebrows. They bent to their oars, rowed on.

  Eurylochos and Perimedes both at once stood up,

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  bound me with further lashings, made them all tighter.

&
nbsp; But when they'd rowed past the Sirens, and no longer

  were their voices or their singing within earshot, then

  my loyal comrades at once removed the wax with which