"The Odyssey" by Homer, Books 1–7

But not by will nor valor could he save them, for their own recklessness destroyed them all

My word, how mortals take the gods to task! All their afflictions come from us, we hear.

But my own heart is broken for Odysseus, the master mind of war, so long a castaway upon an island in the running sea; a wooded island, in the sea’s middle, and there’s a goddess in the place, the daughter of one whose baleful mind knows all the deeps of the blue sea

To be amid the din, the suitors’ riot, would ruin his guest’s appetite, he thought, and he wished privacy to ask for news about his father, gone for years.

How arrogant they seem, these gluttons, making free here in your house!

If you choose to slaughter one man’s livestock and pay nothing, this is rapine

“Telemakhos, no doubt the gods themselves are teaching you this high and mighty manner. Zeus forbid you should be king in Ithaka, though you are eligible as your father’s son.”

But keep your property, and rule your house, and let no man, against your will, make havoc of your possessions, while there’s life on Ithaka.

Athena lavished on him a sunlit grace that held the eye of the multitude.

A wave of sympathy ran through the crowd, all hushed; and no one there had the audacity to answer harshly except Antmoos, who said: “What high and mighty talk, Telemakhos! No holding you!"

Now Zeus who views the wide world sent a sign to him, launching a pair of eagles from a mountain crest in gliding flight down the soft blowing wind, wing-tip to wing-tip quivering taut, companions, till high above the assembly of many voices they wheeled, their dense wings beating, and in havoc dropped on the heads of the crowd—a deathly omen—wielding their talons, tearing cheeks and throats

Let no man holding scepter as a king be thoughtful, mild, kindly, or virtuous; let him be cruel, and practice evil ways; it is so clear that no one here remembers how like a gentle father Odysseus ruled you.

Athena was nearby and came to him, putting on Mentor’s figure and his tone, the warm voice in a lucid flight of words

The son is rare who measures with his father, and one in a thousand is a better man, but you will have the sap and wit and prudence—for you get that from Odysseus—to give you a fair chance of winning through.

Now they made all secure in the fast black ship, and, setting out the winebowls all a-brim, they made libation to the gods, the undying, the ever-new, most of all to the grey-eyed daughter of Zeus.

I have no practice in elaborate speeches, and for a young man to interrogate an old man seems disrespectful

Athena liked his manners, and the equity that gave her precedence with the cup of gold

Menelaos harangued them to get organized—time to ride home on the sea’s broad back, he said; but Agamemnon wouldn’t hear of it.

I’d be revenged for outrage on my insidious and brazen enemies.

Now Zeus forbid, and the other gods as well, that you should spend the night on board, and leave me as though I were some pauper without a stitch, no blankets in his house, no piles of rugs, no sleeping soft for host or guest!

And that day, too, he brought Alektor’s daughter to marry his tall scion, Megapenthes, born of a slave girl during the long war

You must have heard your fathers tell my story, whoever your fathers are; you must know of my life, the anguish I once had, and the great house full of my treasure, left in desolation.

It had been supplied her by Polydamna, mistress of Lord Thon, in Egypt, where the rich plantations grow herbs of all kinds, maleficent and healthful; and no one else knows medicine as they do, Egyptian heirs of Paian, the healing god.

let me tell you what the Ancient of the Sea, who is infallible, said to me—every word.

But here the nymph, again, came to our rescue, dabbing ambrosia under each man’s nose—a perfume drowning out the bestial odor.

Old one, you know the reason—why feign not to know?

One is alive, a castaway at sea; the other, Aias, perished with all hands—though first Poseidon landed him on Gyrai promontory, and saved him from the ocean.

I would be seen among those ruffians, hateful as they are. I might well say a word, then, to my son, for his own good—tell him to shun that crowd

And show more grace in your obedience, or be chastised by Zeus.

Son of Laertes, versatile Odysseus, after these years with me, you still desire your old home?

What a dear welcome thing life seems to children whose father, in the extremity, recovers after some weakening and malignant illness

O hear me, lord of the stream: how sorely I depend upon your mercy! derelict as I am by the sea’s anger.

In vigil through the night here by the river how can I not succumb, being weak and sick, to the night’s damp and hoarfrost of the morning?

How so remiss, and yet thy mother’s daughter? leaving thy clothes uncared for, Nausikaa, when soon thou must have store of marriage linen

so came out rustling, like a mountain lion, rain-drenched, wind-buffeted, but in his might at ease, with burning eyes

The Olympian gods cannot be all averse to this man’s coming here among our islanders. Uncouth he seemed, I thought so, too, before; but now he looks like one of heaven’s people.

O listen to me now—thou so aloof while the Earthshaker wrecked and battered me.

He prayed for that, and Pallas Athena heard him—although in deference to her father’s brother she would not show her true form to Odysseus,
at whom Poseidon smoldered on until the kingly man came home to his own shore.

But cliffs and rock shoals made that place forbidding, so I turned back, swimming off shore, and came in the end to a river, to auspicious water, with smooth beach and a rise that broke the wind.

But she gave me good provender and good red wine, a river bath, and finally this clothing.