HomerOdysseyVariousTransBk1

G9. Excerpts from English Translations of Homer's Odysssey, Plus Notes

G9-1. George Chapman (1616):

[This is one of the earliest translations of Homer's second epic into English by an important Renaissance English poet and dramatist. This translation is immortalized in a famous sonnet by John Keats, "On First Looking Into Chapman's Homer," which is widely anthologized. Note the use of rhymed couplets as well as archaic spelling, usage, and grammar. Like the translation of Alexander Pope, which follows immediately below, the indentions indicate what are termed "verse paragraphs."]

        The man, O muse, informe, that many a way
Wound with his wisedome to his wished stay;
That wanderd wondrous farre when He the towne
Of sacred Troy had sackt and shiverd downe,
The cities of a world of nations,
With all their manners, mindes and fashions,
He saw and knew; at Sea felt many woes,
Much care sustaind, to save from overthrowes
Himselfe and friends in their retreate for home.
But so their fates he could not overcome,
Though much he thirsted it. O men unwise,
They perisht by their owne impieties,
That in their hunger's rapine would not shunne,
The Oxen of the loftie-going Sunne,
Who therefore from their eyes the day bereft
Of safe returne. These acts, in some part left,
Tell us, as others, deified seed of Jove.
        Now all the rest that austere Death out-strove
At Troy's long siege at home safe anchor'd are,
Free from the malice both of sea and warre;
Onely Ulysses is denide accesse
To wife and home. The Grace of Goddesses,
The reverend Nymph Calypso, did detaine
Him in her Caves, past all the race of men
Enflam'd to make him her lov'd Lord and Spouse.
And when the Gods had destin'd that his house,
Which Ithaca on her rough bosome beares
(The point of time wrought out by ambient yeares)
Should be his haven, Contention still extends
Her envie to him, even amongst his friends.
All goods tooke pitie on him; onely he
That girds Earth in the cincture of the sea
Divine Ulysses ever did envie,
And made the fixt port of his birth to flie.
        But he himselfe solemniz'd a retreate
To th'Aethiops, farre dissunderd in their seate
(In two parts parted, at the Sunne's descent
And underneath his golden Orient
the first and last of men), t'enjoy their feast
Of buls and lambes in Hecatombs addrest:
At which he sat, given over to Delight.

G9-2. Alexander Pope, et al. (1725):

[A great poet of the Augustan or Neoclassical era in British literature, Pope was a great scholar and student of Classical literature, doing translations of both Homer's epics, like Chapman, though Pope also had some help from collaborators. Pope is one of the greatest exponents of the rhymed couplet, and some of his witty poetry is widely anthologized, especially his mock epic The Rape of the Lock (found in vol. 2 of the Western Literature NAWM, not the expanded edition with non-Western literature). Touches of what came to be called "poetic diction," as well as of the influence of John Milton's poetry (particularly Paradise Lost) can be found in the following passage, and throughout Pope's poetry.]

The man, for wisdom's various arts renown'd,
Long exercised in woes, O muse! resound;
Who, when his arms had wrought the destin'd fall
Of sacred Troy, and raz'd her heaven-built wall,
Wandering from clime to clime, observant stray'd,
Their manners noted, and their states survey'd.
On stormy seas unnumber'd toils he bore,
Safe with his friends to gain his natal shore;
Vain toils! their impious folly dar'd to prey
On herds devoted to the god of day;
The god vindictive doom'd them never more
(Ah, men unbless'd!) to touch that natal shore.
Oh, snatch some portion of these acts from fate,
Celestial Muse! and to our world relate
Now at their native realms the Greeks arriv'd;
All who the wars of ten long years surviv'd,
And 'scap'd the perils of the gulfy main.
Ulysses, sole of all the victor train,
An exile from his dear paternal coast,
Deplor'd his absent queen and empire lost.
Calypso in her caves constrain'd his stay,
With sweet, reluctant, amorous delay:
In vain--for now the circling years disclose
The day predestin'd to reward his woes.
At length his Ithaca is given by fate,
Where yet new labours his arrival wait;
At length their rage the hostile powers restrain,
All but the ruthless monarch of the main.
But now the god, remote, a heavenly guest,
In Aethiopia graced the genial feast;
(A race divided, whom with sloping rays
The rising and descending sun surveys;)
There on the world's extremest verge rever'd
With hecatombs and prayer in pomp preferr'd,
Distant he lay; while in the bright abodes
Of high Olympus, Jove convened the gods. . . .

G9-3. William Cowper (1791)

[William Cowper is one of the most important poets of late eighteenth-century British literature. His style of translation is heavily influenced by his education in Latin and his reading of Milton, as in the persistent use of postpositional adjectives, as in "genius versatile," or the transposition of pronouns, as in "Him only." Cowper also uses the Roman and Latin versions of names, as in Neptune, Ulysses, and Jove, rather than Poseidon, Odysseus, and Zeus. Everyman Library paperbacks has recently republished this translation.]

Muse make the man thy theme, for shrewdnes famed
And genius versatile, who far and wide
A Wand'rer, after Ilium overthrown,
Discover'd various cities, and the mind
And manners learn'd of men, in lands remote
He num'rous woes on Ocean toss'd, endured,
Anxious to save himself, and to conduct
His followers to their home; yet all his care
Preserved them not; they perish'd self-destroy'd
By their own fault; infatuate! who devoured
The oxen of the all-o'erseeing Sun,
And, punish'd for that crime, return'd no more.
Daughter divine of Jove, these things record,
As it may please thee, even in our ears.
The rest, all those who had perdition 'scaped
By war or on the Deep, dwelt now at home;
Him only, of his country and his wife
Alike desirous, in her hollow grots
Calypso, Goddess beautiful, detained
Wooing him to her arms. But when, at length
(Many a long year elapsed), the year arrived
Of his return (by the decree of heav'n)
To Ithaca, not even then had he,
Although surrounded by his people, reach'd
The period of his suf'rings and his toils.
Yet all the Gods, with pity moved, beheld
His woes, save Neptune; He alone with wrath
Unceasing and implacable pursued
Godlike Ulysses to his native shores.
But Neptune, now, the Aethiopians fought
(The Aethiopians, utmost of mankind,
These Eastward situate, those toward the West),
Call'd to an hecatomb of bulls and lambs.
There sitting, pleas'd he banqueted; the Gods
In Jove's abode, meantime, assembled all,
'Midst whom the Sire of heav'n and earth began.
For he recall'd to mind Aegisthus slain
By Agamemnon's celebrated son
Orestes, and retracing in his thought
That dread event, the Immortals thus address'd.

G9-4. William Cullen Bryant (1871)

[William Cullen Bryant is an important American poet of the mid nineteenth century. Like William Cowper, Bryant uses the Roman and Latin versions of names, as in Jove, Neptune, and Ulysses.]

Tell me, O Muse, of that sagacious man
Who, having overthrown the sacred town
Of Ilium, wandered far and visited
The capitals of many nations, learned
The customs of their dwellers, and endured
Great suffering on the deep; his life was oft
In peril, as he labored to bring back
His comrades to their homes. He saved them not,
Though earnestly he strove; they perished all,
Through their own folly; for they banqueted,
Madmen! upon the oxen of the Sun --
The all-o'erlooking Sun, who cut them off
From their return. O goddess, virgin-child
Of Jove, relate some part of this to me.
Now all the rest, as many as escaped
The cruel doom of death, were at their homes
Safe from the perils of the war and sea,
While him alone, who pined to see his home
And wife again, Calypso, queenly nymph,
Great among goddesses, detained within
Her spacious grot, in hope that he might yet
Become her husband. Even when the years
Brought round the time in which the gods decreed
That he should reach again his dwelling-place
In Ithaca, though he was with his friends,
His toils were not yet ended. Of the gods
All pitied him save Neptune, who pursued
With wrath implacable the godlike chief,
Ulysses, even to his native land.

G9-5. S. H. Butcher and Andrew Lang (1879):

[Butcher and Lang were two British scholars who did one of the early prose translations of Homer's epics. They used what came to be termed "Wardour Street English"--that is, language that was intentionally very archaic, to suggest the ancientness of the text they were translating. Some later translators and scholars have asserted that this archaism distorts Homer's language, since it was not archaic in its time, when the epic was composed and heard or read. On the other hand, some translators and critics have defended Wardour Street English, asserting that Homer's language is, indeed, intentionally different. Butcher and Lang are also obviously influenced, as were many from the late seventeenth through the nineteenth centuries, by the King James version translation of the Bible. This translation was disseminated into the 1950's and 1960's through inclusion in the Modern Library - Random House series.]

Tell me, Muse, of that man, so ready at need, who wandered far and wide, after he had sacked the sacred citadel of Troy, and many were the men whose towns he saw and whose mind he learnt, yea, and many the woes he suffered in his heart upon the deep, striving to win his own life and the return of his company. Nay, but even so he saved not his company, though he desired it sore. For through the blindness of their own hearts they perished, fools, who devoured the oxen of Helios Hyperion; but the god took from them their day of returning. Of these things, goddess, daughter of Zeus, whencesoever though hast heard thereof, declare thou even unto us.

Now all the rest, as many as fled from sheer destruction, were at home, and had escaped both war and sea, but Odysseus only, craving for his wife and for his homeward path, the lady nymph Calypso held, that fair goddess, in her hollow caves, longing to have him for her lord. But when now the year had come in the courses of the seasons, wherein the gods had ordained that he should return home to Ithaca, not even there was he quit of labours, not even among his own; but all the gods had pity on him save Poseidon, who raged continually against godlike Odysseus, till he came to his own country. Howbeit Poseidon had now departed for the distant Ethiopians, the Ethiopians that are sundered in twain, the uttermost of men, abiding some where Hyperion sinks and some where he rises. There he looked to receive his hecatomb of bulls and rams, there he made merry sitting at the feat, but the other gods were gathered in the halls of Olympian Zeus.

G9-6. Samuel Butler (1900)

[Samuel Butler is a late Victorian satirical British novelist, famous for Erewhon and The Way of All Flesh; naturally, he has a good sense of the free flow of narrative in his translation. Besides his translation of the Odyssey, Butler also wrote a book asserting that Homer was really a young Sicilian girl; typical of Butler's arguments to be found in his book The Authoress of the Odyssey was that only a woman writer would think that timber is seasoned before it is cut down. However, modern archaeology has discovered that the description is correct about the order in which the Greeks seasoned and cut their wood. Barnes and Noble has republished this translation in paperback.]

Tell me, O Muse, of that ingenious hero who traveled far and wide after he had sacked the famous town of Troy. Many cities did he visit, and many were the nations with whose manners anc customs he was acquainted; moreover, he suffered much by sea while trying to save his own life and bring his men safely home; but do what he might, he could not [s]ave his men, for they perished through their own sheer folly in eating the cattle of the Sun-god Hyperion; so the god prevented them from ever reaching home. Tell me, too, about all these things, O daughter of Zeus, from whatsoever source you may know them.

So now all who escaped death in battle or by shipwreck had got safely home except Odysseus, and he, though he was longing to return to his wife and country, was detained by the goddess Calypso, who had got him into a large cave and wanted to marry him. But as years went by, there came a time when the gods settled that he should go back o Ithaca; even then, however, when he was among his own people, his troubles were not yet over. Nevertheless, all the gods had now begun to pity him except Poseidon, who still persecuted him without ceasing and would not let him go home.

Now Poseidon had gone off to the Ethiopians, who are at the world's end, and lie in two halves, the one looking west and the other east. He had gone there to accept a hecatomb of sheep and oxen, and was enjoying himself at his festival; but the other gods met in the house of Olympian Zeus, and the sire of gods and men spoke first. At that moment he was thinking of Aegisthus, who had been killed by Agamemnon's son Orestes; so he said to the other gods: "See now, how men lay blame upon us gods for what is after all nothing but their own folly. Look at Aegisthus; he must needs make love to Agamemnon's wife unrighteously and then kill AGamemnon, though he knew it would be the death of him; for I sent Hermes to warn him not to do either of these things, inasmuch as Orestes would be sure to take his revenge when he grew up and wanted to return home. Hermes told him this in all good will, but he would not listen, and now he has paid for everything in full."

G9-7. T.E. Shaw [= T.E. Lawrence] (1932)

[T.E. Shaw, or T.E. Lawrence, led a life, in reality, almost as exciting as that of Odysseus. He became known as "Lawrence of Arabia" for his exploits, and is immortalized in one of the great epic feature films of all time, Lawrence of Arabia. Lawrence was an important author of nonfiction prose books, as well as his prose translation of Homer's Odyssey. The following excerpt begins after the epic invocation, which is the only part of Lawrence's translation in poetry, all the rest being in prose. This translation was published in the Galaxy Books paperback series of Oxford University Press and remains in print.]

By now the other warriors, those that had escaped headlong ruin by sea or in battle, were safely home. Only Odysseus tarried, shut up by Lady Calypso, a nymph and very Goddess, in her hewn-out caves. She craved him for her bed-mate: while he was longing for his house and his wife. Of a truth, the rolling seasons had at last brought up the year marked by the Gods for his return to Ithaca; but not even there among his loved things would he escape further conflict. Yet had all the Gods with lapse of time grown compassionate towards Odysseus -- all but Poseidon, whose enmity flamed ever against him till he had reached his home. Poseidon, however, was for the moment far away among the Aethiopians, that lace race of men, whose dispersion across the world's end is so broad that some of them can see the Sun-God rise while others see him set. Thither had Poseidon gone in the hope of burnt offerings, bulls and rams, by hundreds: and there he sat feasting merrily while the other Gods came together in the halls of Olympian Zeus. To them the father of Gods and men began speech, for his breast teemed with thought of great Aegisthus, whom famous Orestes, the son of Agamemnon, had slain.

"It vexes me to see how mean are these creatures of a day towards us Gods, when they charge against us the evils (far beyond our worst dooming) which their own exceeding wantonness has heaped upon themselves. Just so, did Aegisthus exceed when he took to his bed the lawful wife of Atrides and killed her returning husband. He knew the sheer ruin this would entail. Did we not warn him by the mouth of our trusty Hermes, the keen-eyed slayer of Argus, neither to murder the man nor lust after the woman's body? 'For the death of the son of Atreus will be requited by Orestes, even as he grows up and dreams of his native place.' These were Hermes' very words: but not even such friendly interposition could restrain Aegisthus, who now pays the final penalty."

Swiftly there took him up Athene, goddess of the limpid eyes. "Our Father, heir of Kronos, Lord of lords! That man Aegisthus has been justly served. May everyone who slaughters a victim after his fashion go down likewise into hell! But my heart is heavy for Odysseus, so shrewd, so ill-fated, pining in long misery of exile on an island which is just a speck in the belly of the sea. This wave-beset, wooded island is the domain of a God-begotten creature, the daughter of baleful Atlas, whose are the pillars that prop the lofty sky, whose too are the deepest soundings of the sea. The daughter has trapped the luckless wretch and with subtle insistence cozens him to forget his Ithaca. Forget! Odysseus is so sick with longing to see if it were but the smoke of his home spring up, that he prays for death. I marvel, my Lord of Olympus, how your heart makes no odds of it. Can you lightly pass over the burnt offerings Odysseus lavished upon you, by the Argive ships in the plain of Troy?"

G9-8. W.H.D. Rouse (1937)

[W.H.D. Rouse was an outstanding Classicist in Britain in his time, contributing to the authority of his translation. However, like some other translations, it does omit some details and phrasing in its quest for simplicity. British usage can be seen in "learnt" rather than "learned." Through its inclusion in the Mentor Books paperback, millions have read this translation.]

This is the story of a man, one who was never at a loss. He had travelled far in the world, after the sack of Troy, the virgin fortress; he saw many cities of men, and learnt their mind; he endured many troubles and hardships in the struggle to save his own life and to bring back his men safe to their homes. He did his best, but he could not save his companions. For they perished by their own madness, because they killed and ate the cattle of Hyperion the Sun-god, and the god took care that they should never see home again.

At the time when I begin, all the others who had not been killed in the war were at home, safe from the perils of batle and sea: but he was alone, longing to get home to his wife. He was kept prisoner by a witch, Calypso, a radiant creature, and herself one of the great family of gods, who wanted him to stay in her cave and be her husband. Well then, the seasons went rolling by, and when the year came, in which by the thread that fate spins for every man he was to return home to Ithaca, he had not yet got free of his troubles and come back to his own people. The gods were all sorry for him, except Poseidon, god of the sea, who bore a lasting grudge against him all the time until he returned.

But it happened that Poseidon went for a visit a long way off, to the Ethipians, who live at the ends of the earth, some near the sunrise, some near the sunset. There he expected a fine sacrifice of bulls and goats, and there he was, feasting and enjoying himself mightily; but the other gods were all gathered in the palace of Olympian Zeus.

G9-9. E.V. Rieu (1946)

[E.V. Rieu was a founding editor, with Allen Lane, of Penguin Classics, one of the three great publishing series -- all British -- along with Oxford University Press's World Classics and J.M. Dent's Everyman's Library, aimed at bringing the world's great writings to readers in well-edited and affordable editions. Rieu was also an excellent translator, and his translation of Homer's Odyssey was the very first of the Penguin Classics, whose catalog now runs 100 8-1/2 by 11" pages. In the 1991 revision of Rieu's original translation by D.C.H. Rieu, E.V. Rieu's son, and Peter Jones, Rieu's son notes that the 1946 translation, in print from 1946 to 1990, had joie de vivre, natural English rendering of the Greek, avoidance of archaism and allusion to the King James Version Bible, but also some addition of details not in the original, and some tendencies to render the simple with the more rhetorical.]

The hero of the tale which I beg the Muse to help me tell is that resourceful man who roamed the wide world after he had sacked the holy citadel of Troy. He saw the cities of many peoples and he learnt their ways. He suffered many hardships on the high seas in his struggles to preserve his life and bring his comrades home. But he failed to save those comrades, in spite of all his efforts. It was their own sin that brought them to their doom, for in their folly they devoured the oxen of Hyperion the Sun, and the god saw to it that they should never return. This is the tale I pray the divine Muse to unfold to us. Begin it, goddess, at whatever point you will.

All the survivors of the war had reached their homes by now and so put the perils of battle and the sea behind them. Odysseus alone was prevented from returning to the home and wife he longed for by that powerful goddess, the Nymph Calypso, who wished him to marry her, and kept him in her vaulted cave. Not even when the rolling seasons brought in the year which the gods had chosen for his homecoming to Ithaca was he clear of his troubles and safe among his friends. Yet all the gods were sorry for him, except Poseidon, who pursued the heroic Odysseus with relentless malice till the day when he reached his own country.

Poseidon, however, was now gone on a visit to the distant Ethipians, the farthest outposts of mankind, half of whom live where the Sun goes down, and half where he rises. He had gone to accept a sacrifice of bulls and rams, and there he sat and enjoyed th epleasures of the feat. Meanwhile, the rest of the gods had assembled in the palace of Olympian Zeus, and the Father of men and gods opened a discussion among them. He had been thinking of that nobleman, Aegisthus, whom Agamemnon's son, Orestes, killed, to his own great renown; and it was with Aegisthus in his mind that Zeus now addressed the immortals:

G9-10. S.O. Andrew (1953)

[A replacement volume in 1953 in the Everyman Library series, this translation keeps close with some literalism to the Greek text, using a verse form which, while corresponding with Homeric hexameter, does not keep strictly to blank verse. Like the famous Butcher and Lang translation, this one has Wardour Street archaism. Extra spacing is used instead of echeloning of lines to indicate changes of thought or subject]

Tell me, O muse, of the hero fated to roam
So long and so far when Ilion's keep he had sack'd,
And the city and mind of many a people he knew,
And many a woe he endur'd on the face of the deep
To win both life for himself and his comrades' return;
Yet for all his striving he brought not his company home,
For they by their own blindness at last were stroy'd,
Fools! who ate of the sacred beeves of the Sun
And he, Hyperion, ras'd out their day of return:
Sing, then, O daughter of Zeus, that Wanderer's tale.
When all his peers that had sheer destruction escap'd
Were at home, safe-hous'd from peril of war and of wave,
Him only (tho' sorely he yearn'd to return to his wife)
A goddess, the lady Calypso, fairest of nymphs,
Held pent in her caves, and would fain have made him her lord;
And when with the circling seasons the year had arriv'd
Wherein was ordain'd by the Gods his homeward return,
Not even then was he quit of his troubles and toils
Or safe with his friends. And the Gods had pity on him,
All but Poseidon, whose wrath still raged as of old
'Gainst godlike Odysseus ere ever his home he might reach,
But He to the far-off Ethips' countgry was gone --
The Ethips sunder'd apart, remotest of men,
Some towards the rising, some towards the westering, sun;
Just then was his hecatomb due from the Ethiop folk
And he sat there enjoying the feast. But the rest of the Gods
In the halls of Olympian Zeus were assembled, and there
The Father of Gods and of men to address them began,
Recalling the fate of the lord Aegisthus to mind
Whom far-fam'd Orestes, to avenge his father, had slain;
Remembering that felon, among the Immortals He spake:

G9-11. Ennis Rees (1960)

[Published in the Library of Liberal Arts paperback series, this translation aims at some literalism but also make a readable English poem; the diction steers a middle course between stilted and vulgar, and in meter, corresponding to Homer's dactylic hexameter, is a loose measure of five major stresses plus a varying number of relatively unaccented syllables.]

        Of that versatile man, O Muse, tell me the story,
How he wandered both long and far after sacking
The city of holy Troy. May were the towns
He saw and many the men whose minds he knew,
And many were the woes his stout heart suffered at sea
As he fought to return alive with living comrades.
Them he could not save, though much he longed to,
For through their own thoughtless greed they died -- blind fools
Who slaughtered the Sun's own cattle, Hyperion's herd,
For food, and so by him were kept from returning.
Of all these things, O Goddess, daughter of Zeus,
Beginning wherever you swish, tell even us.
        Now all the others who had managed to escape destruction
Were safe at home, untroubled by war or the sea.
Odysseus alone, full of longing for wife and friends,
Was kept from returning by that beautiful nymph Calypso,
The powerful goddess who hoped to make him her husband.
Even in the year of his predestined return,
At home among his own people, his toils were many.
And for his suffering all the gods pitied him
Except Poseidon, who continued to rage against
That godlike many till at last he reached his own country.
        It happened that Poseidon had gone to receive a hecatomb
Of rams and bulls from the far-off Ethiopians, remotest
Of men -- some live where Hyperion sets, some
Where he rises -- and there he was, enjoying himself
At the feast. But the other gods were gathered in the palace
Of Olympian Zeus. And he was the first to speak,
For lately he had been thinking of handsome Aegisthus,
Whom Agamemnon's son, the renowned Orestes,
Had slain. And thus he spoke among the immortals:

G9-12. George H. Palmer, revised by Howard Porter (1891, 1962)

[Palmer and Porter were Classicists of the late Victorian and modern periods, respectively. Palmer tried to be "minutely faithful" or literal to the Greek while maintaining "direct and simple expression in English," but Porter, the reviser, notes that the second goal was not as well achieved as the first. Through its inclusion in a Bantam Book paperback, millions have read this translation.]

Speak to me, Muse, of the adventurous man who wandered long after he sacked the sacred citadel of Troy. Many the men whose towns he saw, whose ways he proved; and many a pang he bore in his own breast at sea while struggling for his life and his men's safe return. Yet even so, by all his zeal, he did not save his men; for through their own perversity they perished -- fools! who devoured the cattle of the exalted Sun. Wherefore he took away the day of their return. Of this, O goddess, daughter of Zeus, beginning where thou wilt, speak to us also.

Now all the others who were saved from their utter ruin were at home, safe both from war and sea. Him only, longing for his home and wife, the potent nymph Calypso, a heavenly goddess, held in her hollow grotto, desiring him to be her husband. Nay, when the time had come in the revolving years at which the gods ordained his going home to Ithaca, even then, among his kin, he was not freed from trouble. Yet the gods felt compassion, all save Poseidon, who steadily strove with godlike Odysseus till he reached his land.

But Poseidon now was with the far-off Ethiopians, the remotest of mankind, who form two tribes, one at the setting of the Exalted one, one at his rising, awaiting there a sacrifice of bulls and rams. So sitting at the feast he took his pleasure. The other gods, meanwhile, were gathered in the halls of Zeus upon Olympus, and thus began the father of men and gods; for in his mind he mused of gentle Aegisthus, whom Agamemnon's far-famed son, Orestes, slew. Mindful of him, he thus addressed the immortals:

G9-13. Albert Cook (1967; revised 1974, 1993)

[Cook is both a Classicist and important literary critic. The inclusion of his translation first in Norton paperbacks and then the Norton Critical Edition series suggests its authority and promulgates widespread reading of it. This is one of the better annotated translations. Somewhat unusually it is not divided into verse paragraphs.]

Tell me, Muse, about the man of many turns, who many
Ways wandered when he had sacked Troy's holy citadel;
He saw the cities of many men, and he knew their thought;
On the ocean he suffered many pains within his heart,
Striving for his life and his companions' return.
But he did not save his companions, though he wanted to:
They lost their own lives because of their recklessness.
The fools, they devoured the cattle of Hyperion,
The Sun, and he took away the day of their return.
Begin the tale somewhere for us also, goddess, daughter of Zeus.
Then all the others, as many as escaped sheer destruction,
Were at home, having fled both the war and the sea.
Yet he alone, longing for his wife and for a return,
Was held back in a hollowed cave by the queenly nymph Calypso,
The divine goddess, who was eager for him to be her husband.
But when in the circling seasons the year came around,
The gods spun the thread for him to return to his home,
To Ithaca; and he did not escape struggle there either,
Even among his dear ones. All the gods pitied him,
Except Poseidon, who contended unremittingly
With godlike Odysseus, till the man reached his own land.
But the god had gone to the far-off Ethiopians --
The Ethiopians, remotest of men, divided asunder,
Some where Hyperion sets, and some where he rises.
He was taking part in the sacrifice of bulls and rams,
And enjoyed being present at a feast there. The others
Were gathered together in the halls of Olympian Zeus.
The Father of men and gods began to speak among them.
In his heart he was remembering excellent Aigisthos
Whom Agamemnon's son, far-famed Orestes, had slain.
Thinking of that man, he made his speech to the immortals:

G9-14. Richmond Lattimore (1967)

[Lattimore was one of the pre-eminent Classical scholars of the second half of the twentieth century; his translation of Homer's Iliad had become a standard when published in the 1950's, and so his translation of the Odyssey was eagerly awaited, particularly for how it would compare with Fitzgerald's 1961 translation. Lattimore prefers long lines, according with Homer's dactylic hexameter, and follows the practice of some modern poets of not capitalizing the first word of each new line of poetry unless the word begins a new sentence. Lattimore sometimes is literal to the spelling of Greek names and words, and sometimes Latinizes them. The inclusion of his translation in the Harper Torchbooks paperback series helped disseminate it among readers.]

        Tell me, Muse, of the man of many ways, who was driven
far journeys, after he had sacked Troy's sacred citadel.
Many were they whose cities he saw, whose minds he learned of,
many the pains he suffered in his spirit on the wide sea,
struggling for his own life and the homecoming of his companions.
Even so he could not save his companions, hard though
he strove to; they were destroyed by their own wild recklessness,
fools, who devoured the oxen of Helios, the Sun God,
and he took away the day of their homecoming. From some point
here, goddess, daughter of Zeus, speak, and begin our story.
        Then all the others, as many as fled sheer destruction,
were at home now, having escaped the sea and the fighting.
This one alone, longing for his wife and his homecoming,
was detailed by the queenly nymph Kalypso, bright among goddesses,
in her hollowed caverns, desiring that he should be her husband.
But when in the circling of the years that very year came
in which the gods had spun for him his time of homecoming
to Ithaka, not even then was he free of his trials
nor among his own people. But all the gods pitied him
except Poseidon; he remained relentlessly angry
with godlike Odysseus, until his return to his own country.
        But Poseidon was gone now to visit the far Aithiopians,
Aithiopians, most distant of men, who live divided,
some at the setting of Hyperion, some at his rising,
to receive a hecatomb of bulls and rams. There
he sat at the feat and took his pleasure. Meanwhile the other
Olympian gods were gathered together in the halls of Zeus.
First among them to speak was the father of gods and mortals,
for he was thinking in his heart of stately Aigisthos,
whom Orestes, Agamemnon's far-famed son, had murdered.
Remembering him he spoke now before the immortals:

G9-15. Samuel Butler, revised by Malcolm Willcock (1900, 1969)

[See the comments about Samuel Butler in G9-6. In 1969, Pocket Books paperbacks had the Cambridge University scholar Willcock revise Butler's text, and many supplementary study materials were added by the academic Walter James Miller. This inclusion in a "mass market" paperback guaranteed wide dissemination. The Willcock revision changes small details; you will have to look carefully to note the differences between this version and that in G9-6.]

Tell me, O muse, of that ingenious hero who travelled far and wide after he had sacked the famous town of Troy. Many cities did he visit, and many were the nations with whose manners and customs he was acquainted; moreover, he suffered much by the sea while trying to save his own life and bring his men safely home; but do what he might, he could not save his men, for they perished through their own sheer folly in eating the cattle of the sun god, Hyperion; so the god prevented them from ever reaching home. Tell me about all these things, daughter of Zeus, beginning the tale at whatever point you choose.

So now all who escaped death in battle or by shipwreck had got safely home except Odysseus, and he, though he was longing to return to his wife and country, was detained by the goddess Calypso, who had got him into a large cave and wanted to marry him. But as years went by, there came a time when the gods settled that he should go back to Ithaca; even then, however, when he was among his own people, his troubles were not yet over; nevertheless all the gods had now begun to pity him except Poseidon, who still persecuted him without ceasing and would not let him get home.

Now, Poseidon had gone off to the Ethiopians, who are at the world's ends, and lie in two halves, the one in the west and the other in the east. He had gone there to accept a hecatomb of sheep and oxen, and was enjoying himself at his festival; but the other gods met in the house of Olympian Zeus, and the father of gods and men spoke first. At that moment he was thinking of Aegisthus, who had been killed by Agamemnon's son, Orestes; so he said to the other gods:

G9-16. Walter Shewring (1980)

[A prose translation for the (Oxford) World's Classics paperback series by a master, for fifty years, at Ampleforth College in Britain in Classics and Italian.]

        Goddess of song, teach me the story of a hero.
        This was the man of wide-ranging spirit who had sacked the sacred town of Troy and who wandered afterwards long and far. Many were those whose cities he viewed and whose minds he came to know, many the troubles that vexed his heart as he sailed the seas, labouring to save himself and to bring his comrades home. But his comrades he could not keep from ruin, strive as he might; they perished instead by their own presumptuousness. Fools, they devoured the cattle of Hyperion, and he, the sun-god, cut off from them the day of their homecoming.
        Goddess, daughter of Zeus, to me in turn impart some knowledge of all these things, beginning where you will.
        The tale begins when all those others who had escaped the pit of destruction were safe in their own lands, spared by the wars and seas. Only Odysseus was held elsewhere, pining for home and wife; the nymph Calypso, a goddess of strange power and beauty, had kept him captive within her arching caverns, yearning for him to be her husband. And when there came with revolving seasons the year that the gods had set for his journey home to Ithaca, not even then was he past his troubles, not even then was he with his own people. For though all the gods beside had compassion on him, Poseidon's anger was unabated against the hero until he returned to his own land.
        But now Poseidon had gone to visit the Ethiopians, those distant Ethiopians whose nation is parted within itself, so that some are near the setting and some near the rising sun, but all alike are at the world's end; to these he had gone to receive a great offering of bulls and rams and there he was taking his pleasure now, seated at the banquet. But the other gods were gathered together in the palace of Olympian Zeus, and the father of gods and men began to speak to them. His mind was full of Lord Aegisthus, slain by renowned Orestes, the child of Agamenon; with him in mind Zeus began to speak to the Deathless Ones.

G9-17. Allen Mandelbaum (1990)

[Allen Mandelbaum is perhaps the most versatile translator of the world's great literature, having translated the key works of world literature by Homer (Odyssey), Vergil (The Aeneid), and Dante (The Divine Comedy). (Logically, the next item on his agenda, from the Renaissance, would be either Rabelais' Gargantua and Pantagruel or Cervantes' Don Quixote.) His translations have usually appeared first for University of California Press, and then, as with his translation of the Odyssey, been published as "mass market" paperbacks in the Bantam Classics paperback series. Mandelbaum spends part of every academic year at Wake Forest University. Perhaps one day Augusta State University can get him for a guest appearance.]

Muse, tell me of the man of many wiles,
the man who wandered many paths of exile
after he sacked Troy's sacred citadel.
He saw the cities -- mapped the minds -- of many;
and on the sea, his spirit suffered every
adversity -- to keep his life intact,
to bring his comrades back. In that last task,
his will was firm and fast, and yet he failed:
he could not save his comrades. Fools, they foiled
themselves: they ate the oxen of the Sun,
the herd of Helios Hyperion;
the lord of light requited their transgression --
he took away the day of their return.

Muse, tell us of these matters. Daughter of Zeus,
my starting point is any point you choose.

All other Greeks who had been spared the steep
descent to death had reached their homes -- released
from war and waves. One man alone was left,
still longing for his home, his wife, his rest.
For the commanding nymph, the brightest goddess,
Calypso, held him in her hollow grottoes:
she wanted him as husband. Even when
the wheel of years drew near his destined time --
the time the gods designed for his return
to Ithaca -- he still could not depend
upon fair Fortune or unfailing friends.
While other gods took pity on him, one --
Poseidon -- still pursued: he preyed upon
divine Odysseus until the end,
until the exile found his own dear land.

But now Poseidon was away -- his hosts,
the Ethiopians, the most remote
of men (they live in two divided parts --
half, where the sun-god sets; half, where he starts).
Poseidon, visiting the east, received
the roasted thighs of bulls and sheep. The feast
delighted him. And there he sat. But all
his fellow gods were gathered in the halls
of Zeus upon Olympus; there the father
of men and gods spoke first. His mind upon
the versatile Aegisthus -- whom the son
of Agamemnon, famed Orestes, killed --
he shared this musing with the deathless ones:

G9-18. E.V. Rieu, revised by D.C.H. Rieu and Peter V. Jones (1991)

[In 1991, Penguin Classics commissioned a replacement volume for the 1946 translation by E.V. Rieu; see G9-9 for comments on this translation. The revision was done by Rieu's son, a classical scholar, and Jones, a respected university scholar of classics.]

Tell me, Muse, the story of that resourceful man who was driven to wander far and wide after he had sacked the holy citadel of Troy. He saw the cities of many people and he learnt their ways. He suffered great anguish on the high seas in his struggles to preserve his life and bring his comrades home. But he failed to save those comrades, in spite of all his efforts. It was their own transgression that brought them to their doom, for in their folly they devoured the oxen of Hyperion the Sun-god and he saw to it that they would never return. Tell us this story, goddess daughter of Zeus, beginning at whatever point you will.

All the survivors of the war had reached their homes by now and so put the perils of battle and the sea behind them. Odysseus alone was prevented from returning to the home and wife he yearned for by that powerful goddess, the Nymph Calypso, who longed for him to marry her, and kept him in her vaulted cave. Not even when the rolling seasons brought in the year which the gods had chosen for his homecoming to Ithaca was he clear of his roubles and safe among his friends. Yet all the gods pitied him, except Poseidon, who pursued the heroic Odysseus with relentless malice till the day when he reached his own country.

Poseidon, however, was now gone on a visit to the distant Ethiopians, in the most remote part of the world, half of whom live where the Sun goes down, and half where he rises. He had gone to accept a sacrifice of bulls and rams, and there he sat and enjoyed the pleasures of the feast. Meanwhile the rest of the gods had assembled in the palace of Olympian Zeus, and the Father of men and gods opened a discussion among them. He had been thinking of the handsome Aegisthus, whom Agamemnon's far-famed son Orestes killed; and it was with Aegisthus in his mind that Zeus now addressed the immortals:

G9-19. A.T. Murray, revised by George Dimock (1919, 1995)

[The translation of Augustus Taber Murray (1866-1940), professor of Greek at Stanford University for forty years (1892-1932), was done for the Loeb Classical Library, a series for Harvard University in America and Heinemann publishers in England that has the original Greek or Latin text on one page and the English translation on the facing page. The reviser is a modern classical scholar and critic who has published important work on Homer.]

Tell me, Muse, of the man of many devices, driven far astray after he had sacked the sacred citadel of Troy. Many were the men whose cities he saw and whose minds he learned, and many the woes he suffered in his heart upon the sea, seeking to win his own life and the return of his comrades. Yet even so he did not save his comrades, for all his desire, for through their own blind folly they perished -- fools, who devoured the cattle of Helios Hyperion, whereupon he took from them the day of their returning. Of these things, goddess, daughter of Zeus, beginning where you will, tell us in our turn.

Now all the rest, as many as had escaped sheer destruction, were at home, safe from both war and sea; but that man alone, filled with longing for his return and for his wife, did the queenly nymph Calypso, that beautiful goddess, keep prisoner in her hollow caves, yearning that he should be her husband. But when, as the seasons revolved, the year came in which the gods had ordained that he should return home to Ithaca, not even then was he free from toils and among his own people. And all the gods pitied him except Poseidon; he continued to rage unceasingly against godlike Odysseus until at length he reached his own land.

But now Poseidon had gone among the far-off Ethiopians -- the Ethiopians who dwell divided in two, the farthermost of men, some where Hyperion sets and some where he rises -- there to receive a hecatomb of bulls and rams, and there he was taking his joy, sitting at the feast; but the other gods were gathered together in the halls of Olympian Zeus. Among them the father of gods and men was the first to speak, for in his heart he thought of flawless Aegisthus, whom far-famed Orestes, Agamemnon's son, had slain. Thinking of him, he spoke among the immortals, and said:

G9-20. Robert Fagles (1996)

[Robert Fagles, professor of classics at Princeton University, has become the dean of Classics translators, following in the footsteps of Dudley Fitts and Robert Fitzgerald, whose several translations started in the 1940's, through William Arrowsmith and Richmond Lattimore, whose several translations started in the 1950's and 1960's. The publication of Fagles' translation of Homer's Odyssey received full-page coverage in Time magazine and the New York Times, suggesting that the odyssey of translations of Homer, unlike the return of Odysseus, will never end.]

        Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns
driven time and again off course, once he had plundered
the hallowed heights of Troy.
Many cities of men he saw and learned their minds,
many pains he suffered, heartsick on the open sea,
fighting to save his life and bring his comrades home.
But he could not save them from disaster, hard as he strove --
the recklessness of their own ways destroyed them all,
the blind fools, they devoured the cattle of the Sun
and the Sungod blotted out the day of their return.
Launch out on his story, Muse, daughter of Zeus,
start from where you will--sing for our time too.
                                                                                    By now,
all the survivors, all who avoided headlong death
were safe at home, escaped the wars and waves.
But one man alone . . .
his heart set on his wife and his return -- Calypso,
the bewitching nymph, the lustrous goddess, held him back,
deep in her arching caverns, craving him for a husband.
But then, when the wheeling seasons brought the year around,
that year spun out by the gods when he should reach his home,
Ithaca -- though not even there would he be free of trials,
even among his loved ones -- then every god took pity,
all except Poseidon. He raged on, seething against
the great Odysseus till he reached his native land.
                                                                                        But now
Poseidon had gone to visit the Ethiopians worlds away,
Ethiopians off at the farthest limits of mankind,
a people split in two, one part where the Sungod sets
and part where the Sungod rises. There Poseidon went
to receive an offering, bulls and rams by the hundred --
far away at the feast the Sea-lord sat and took his pleasure.
But the other gods, at home in Olympian Zeus's halls,
met for full assembly there, and among them now
the father of men and gods was first to speak,
sorely troubled, remembering handsome Aegisthus,
the man Agamemnon's son, renowned Orestes, killed.
Recalling Aegisthus, Zeus harrangued the immortal powers:

G9-21. Martin Hammond (2000)

[Hammond has been a master of classics or head at several British schools from the 1970's to 1990's, and his prose translation of the Iliad was published in the Penguin Classics series in 1987. His prose translation of Homer's Odyssey so far is only available in the somewhat rare paperback from Duckworth, a British publisher.]

        Muse, tell me of a man -- a man of much resource, who was made to wander far and long, after he had sacked the sacred city of Troy. Many were the men whose lands he saw and came to know their thinking, many too the miseries at sea which he suffered in his heart as he sought to win his own life and the safe return of his companions. They perished through their own arrant folly -- the fools, they ate the cattle of Hyperion the Sun, and he took away the day of their return.
        Start the story where you will, goddess, daughter of Zeus, and share it now with us.
        At that time all the others, all those who had escaped stark destruction, were at their homes, safe from war and sea. He alone was still yearning for his return to home and wife. The great nymph Kalypso, queen among goddesses, was keeping him in her hollow cave, eager to make him her husband. But when, as the years revolved, the time came which the gods had fated for his return home to Ithaka, even there he was not free from trials, even among his own people. And now all the gods felt pity for him, except Poseidon: he was ceaseless in his anger at godlike Odysseus before he reached his own land.
        But Poseidon had gone to visit the Ethiopians far away -- the Ethiopians who are split in two divisions, remote from other men; some live by the setting sun, and others where it rises. There he had gone to receive a full sacrifice of bulls and rams and was seated at the feast taking his pleasure. But the other gods were gathered together in the house of Olympian Zeus, and the father of men and gods began to speak to them. His thought had turned to noble Aigisthos, killed by the son of Agamemnon, famous Orestes. With him in his mind he spoke to the immortals:

G9-22. Stanley Lombardo (2000)

[Lombardo is professor of Classics at the University of Kansas; his translation is published by Hackett, in paperback as well as hardback, a publisher specializing in works from and about Classical literature. In his note on translation, Lombardo mentions that his opening phrasing was meant to allude to the work of Vladimir Nabokov, a great modern literary figure, who was both a creative writer and literary critic.]

Speak, Memory --
                            Of the cunning hero,
The wanderer, blown off course time and again
After he plundered Troy's sacred heights.
                                                                        Speak
Of all the cities he saw, the minds he grasped,
The suffering deep in his heart at sea
As he struggled to survive and bring his men home
But could not save them, hard as he tried --
The fools -- destroyed by their own recklessness
When they ate the oxen of Hyperion the Sun,
And that god snuffed out their day of return.
                                                    Of these things,
Speak, Immortal One,
And tell the tale once more in our time.

By now, all the others who had fought at Troy --
At least those who had survived the war and the sea --
Were safely back home. Only Odysseus
Still longed to return to his home and his wife.
The nymph Calypso, a powerful goddess --
And beautiful -- was clinging to him
In her caverns and yearned to possess him.
The seasons rolled by, and the year came
In which the gods spun the thread
For Odysseus to return home to Ithaca,
Though not even there did his troubles end,
Even with his dear ones around him.
All the gods pitied him, except Poseidon,
Who stormed against the godlike hero

Until he finally reached his own native land.
But Poseidon was away now, among the Ethiopians,
Those burnished people at the ends of the earth --
Some near the sunset, some near the sunrise --
To receive a grand sacrifice of rams and bulls.
There he sat, enjoying the feast.
The other gods
Were assembled in the hals of Olympian Zeus,
And the Father of Gods and Men was speaking.
He couldn't stop thinking about Aegisthus,
Whom Agamemnon's son, Orestes, had killed:

G9-23. Rodney Merrill (2002)

[Merrill is an independent scholar who says in his preface that he has been working on the translation for twenty-five years. The book is published by the University of Michigan Press, indicating academic and scholarly distinction, and the translation is literal and precise, with lengthy introductions, bibliography, and some maps.]

   Tell me, Muse of the man versatile and resourceful, who wandered
many a sea-mile after he ransacked Troy's holy city.
Many the men whose towns he observed, whose minds he discovered,
many the pains in his heart he suffered, traversing the seaway,
fighting for his own life and a way back home for his comrades.
Not even so did he save his companions, as much as he wished to,
for by their own mad recklessness they were brought to destruction,
childish fools -- they decided to eat up the cows of the High Lord,
Helios: he tthen took from the men their day of returning.
Even for us, holy daughter of Zeus, start there to recount this.
   Then were the others, whoever escaped from the sheer destruction,
all in their homes, since they had escaped from the war and the deep sea;
only the one still yearned to go home, still wanted his woman;
queenly Kalypso, a nymph and illustrious goddess, was holding
him in her spacious cavern; she wanted to make him her husband.
But when the year came round in the course of the seasons' revolving
wherein the gods had spun as his destiny making the journey
homeward to Ithaka, once he was there he did not escape trials,
even among his own friends. All the gods took pity upon him,
all but Poseidon, who hated with deep unquenchable anger
godlike Odysseus, until he arrived at last in his country.
   But to the far Ethipians now that god had departed --
these Ethiopians, farthest of men, are divided asunder;
some of them dwell where the High Lord sets; near the others, he rises.
He was with them to partake of their hecatomb, bulls and mature rams;
there he rejoiced as he sat at the feast; but the other immortals
were in the house of Olympian Zeus all sitting together.
Speaking among them opened the Father of gods and of mankind,
for in his heart he was moved to reflect on faultless Aigisthos,
whom Agamemnon's child had killed, far-honored Orestes.
Mindful of him, Zeus spoke these words there among the immortals:

G9-24. Edward McCrorie (2004)

[McCrorie, a professor of English at Providence College, has published several collections of poems and a respected translation of Virgil's Aeneid. His translation of The Odyssey is published by Johns Hopkins University Press in the series "Johns Hopkins New Translations from Antiquity." Good preface, introduction, notes, and index of names. McCrorie goes even further than some translators in transliteration of Greek letters into English ones, regarding Greek names and terms. The Greek letter upsilon, often transliterated as the English letter y, but sometimes -- with equal (or more) correctness -- as the English letter u, thus accounts for McCrorie's references to Kalupso rather than Kalypso and Olumpos rather than Olympos.]

The man, my Muse, resourceful, driven a long way
after he sacked the holy city of Trojans:
tell me all the men's cities he saw and the men's minds,
how often he suffered heartfelt pain on the broad sea,
striving for life and a way back home for his war-friends.
Yet he saved no friends, much as he longed to:
they lost their lives through their own reckless abandon,
fools who ate the cattle of Helios the Sun-God.
Huperion seized the day they might have arrived home.

Tell us, Goddess, daughter of Zeus, start in your own place.
When all the rest at Troy had fled from that steep doom
and gone back home, away from war and the salt sea,
only this man longed for his wife and a way home.
A queenly Nymph, goddess-like, shining Kalupso,
kept the man in a hollow cave. She wanted a husband.
But now the yuears came round, Gods had arranged it:
the threads were spun for the man's homecoming voyage
to Ithaka. Even there he would undergo trials,
yes, among those he loved. Most of the great Gods
pitied him; only Poseidon's rage was unflagging
at godlike Odysseus until he came to his own land.

Lately Poseidon had gone to remote Ethiopian
people, far from us men, cut off from each other --
some where the God Huperion sets and some where he rises.
Accepting rams and bulls burned by the hundred,
Poseidon sat and enjoyed the feast there. But other
Gods were joining Zeus in his hall on Olumpos.

The Father of Gods and men wanted to speak first.
His heart recalled the high-born, handsome Aigisthos:
Agamemnon's well-known son Orestes had killed him.
He spoke to the deathless Gods, recalling that murder.