Category: Writing

Please help me on these two poetry questions. Thanks
The following poem by Christina Rossetti was first published in 1881. It employs the form of the Italian or Petrarchan sonnet, a fourteen-line poem divided into an octave (eight lines) and a sestet (six lines). Typically, this type of sonnet develops two sides of a question: one in the octave and the other in the sestet. I loved you first: but afterwards your love outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song as drowned the friendly cooings of my dove. Which owes the other most? my love was long, and yours one moment seemed to wax more strong; I loved and guessed at you, you construed me and loved me for what might or might not be — Nay, weights and measures do us both a wrong, for verily love knows not ‘mine’ or ‘thine;’ with separate ‘I’ and ‘thou’ free love has done, for one is both and both are one in love: rich love knows nought of ‘thine that is not mine;’ both have the strength and both the length thereof, both of us, of the love which makes us one.
In context, the reference to “strength” and “length” in line 13 serves to suggest that what had previously been a point of contention between the lovers has now been resolved; a source of attraction has ceased to be so; a quality of one lover now characterizes the other lover; a notion shared by the lovers has now been forgotten; a difference between the lovers has now been erased.
In a Petrarchan sonnet, the “turn” generally occurs between the octave and the sestet, but here it occurs between lines 7 and 8. Which of the following is the most plausible explanation for this departure from the conventional pattern? By rejecting common poetic practices, the departure conveys the speaker’s contempt for social conventions. By changing the structure of a Petrarchan sonnet, the departure demonstrates the speaker’s cosmopolitan worldview. By dividing the poem into two equal halves, the departure reinforces the speaker’s views about equality in love. By suggesting a lack of familiarity with poetic form, the departure underscores the speaker’s point that rules are unimportant. By signaling impatience with poetic traditions, the departure emphasizes the speaker’s disdain for the customs governing romantic relationships.

Film begins as an entertainment for the wealthy? True or false
Both OEDIPUS REX and HAMLET have themes that center around doing the right thing? True or False
The cinematographer is responsible for editing different film footage? True or False
Cinema is a collaborative art form? True or false
Theater is an event that occurs only when an actor and audience meets in time? True or false
who is the theatrical designer also decides the hair and makeup designs of a character?

The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis
Reading Comprehension Questions
Chapter 9:
How is the character George MacDonald described?
How does the narrator react when he hears that the man is George MacDonald?
After they are acquainted, by what title does the narrator refer to George MacDonald?
How does GM describe the bus trips? Where else does he say that people in Hell can visit?
What are the two “types of people” that GM says that all people fall into? How does this summarize what GM wants to teach the narrator?
What do you think GM means when he says regarding the complaining woman, “the question is whether she is a grumbles, or only a grumble”?
What does the Famous Painter Ghost want to do on his “excursion”? Why does his Spirit companion say that it is pointless?
What does the Spirit say about famous people in heaven?
Eventually, what is revealed to be the painter’s true
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9. “Where are ye going?’ said a voice with a strong Scotch accent. I stopped and looked. The sound of the unicoms had long since died away and my ?ight had brought me to open country, I saw the mountains where the unchanging sunrise lay, and in the foreground two or three pines on a little knoll, with some large smooth rocks, and heather. On one of the rocks sat a very tall man, almost a giant, with a ?owing heard. I had not yet looked one of the Solid People in the face. Now, when I did so, I discovered that one sees them with a kind of double vision. Here was an enthroned and shining god, whose ageless spirit weighed upon mine like a burden of solid gold: and yet, at the very same moment, here was an old weather-beaten man, one who might have been a shepherd—such a man as tourists think simple because he is honest and neighbours think ‘deep’ for the same reason. His eyes had the far-seeing look of one who has lived long in open, solitary places; and somehow I divined the network of wrinkles which must have surrounded them before re- birth had washed him in immortality. ‘I—l don’t quite know,’ said I. ‘Ye can sit and talk to me, then,’ he said, making room for me on the stone. ‘1 don’t know you, Sir,’ said I, taking my seat beside him. ‘My name is George,’ he answered. ‘George Maedonald.’ ‘Oh!’ I cried. ‘Then you can tell me! You at least will not deceive me.’ Then, supposing that these expressions of con?dence needed some explanation, I tried, trembling, to tell this man all that his writings had done for me. I tried to tell how a certain frosty aftemoon at It?l Leatherhead Station when I ?rst bought a copy of Phanrastes (being then about sixteen years old) had been to me what the ?rst sight of Beatrice had been to Dante: Here begins the New Life. I started to confess how long that Life had delayed in the region of imagination merely: how slowly and reluctantly I had come to admit that his Christendom had more than an accidental connexion with it, how hard I had tried not to see that the true name of the quality which ?rst met me in his books is Holiness. He laid his hand on mine and stopped me. “Son,’ he said, ‘Your love—all love—is of inexpressible value to me. But it may save precious time’ {here he suddenly looked very Scotch} ‘if I inform ye that I am already well acquainted with these biographical details. In fact, I have noticed that your memory misleads you in one or two partieulars.’ ‘Ohl’ said I, and became still. ‘Yc had started’, said my Teacher, ‘to talk of something more pro?table.’ ‘Sir,’ said I, ‘I had almost forgotten it, and I have no anxiety about the answer now, though I have still a curiosity. It is about these Ghosts. Do any of them stay? Can they stay? Is any real choice offered to them? How do they come to be here?’ ‘Did ye never hear of the Refrigerium? A man with your advantages might have read of it in Prudentius, not to mention Jeremy Taylor.’ ‘The name is familiar, Sir, but I’m afraid I’ve forgotten what it means.’ ‘It means that the damned have holidays—excursions, ye understand.’ It” ‘Exeursions to this country?’ “For those that will take them. Of course most of the silly creatures don’t. They prefer taking trips back to Earth. They go and play tricks on the poor daft women ye call mediums. They go and try to assert their ownership of some house that once belonged to them: and then ye get what’s called a Haunting. Or they go to spy on their children. Or literary ghosts hang about public libraries to see if anyone’s still reading their books.’ ‘But if they come here they can really stay?’ ‘Aye. Ye’ll have heard that the emperor Trajan did.’ ‘But I don’t understand. Is judgement not final? Is there really a way out of Hell into Heaven?” ‘It depends on the way ye’re using the words. If they leave that grey town behind it will not have been Hell. To any that leaves it, it is Purgatory. And perhaps ye had better not call this country Heaven. Not Deep Heaven, ye understand.’ (Here he smiled at me). LYe can call it the Valley of the Shadow of Life. And yet to those who stay here it will have been Heaven from the ?rst. And ye can call those sad streets in the town yonder the Valley of the Shadow of Death: but to those who remain there they will have been Hell even from the beginning.’ I suppose he saw that I looked puzzled, for presently he spoke again.
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‘Son,1 he said, ‘ye cannot in your present state understand eternity: when Anodos looked through the door of the Timeless he brought no message back. But ye can get some It” likeness of it if ye say that both good and evil, when they are full grown, become retrospective. Not only this valley but all their earthly past will have been Heaven to those who are saved. Not only the twilight in that town, but all their life on earth too, will then be seen by the damned to have been Hell. That is what mortals misunderstand. They say of some temporal suffering, “No future bliss can make up for it,” not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory. And of some sinful pleasure they say “Let me but have this and I’ll take the consequences”: little dreaming how damnation will spread back and back into their past and contaminate the pleasure of the sin. Both processes begin even before death. The good man’s past begins to change so that his forgiven sins and remembered sorrows take on the quality of Heaven: the bad man ‘5 past already conforms to his badness and is ?lled only with dreariness, And that is why, at the end of all things, when the Sun rises here and the twilight turns to blackness down there, the Blessed will say “We have never lived anywhere except in Heaven”, and the Lost, “We were always in Hell.” And both will speak truly.’ ‘Is not that very hard, Sir?’ ‘I mean, that is the real sense of what they will say. In the actual language of the Lost, the words will be different, no doubt. One will say he has always sewed his country right or wrong; and another that he has sacri?ced everything to his Art; and some that they’ve never been taken in, and some that, thank God, they’ve always looked after Number “‘3′ One, and nearly all, that, at least they’ve been true to themselves.’ ‘And the Saved?’ ‘Ah, the Saved . . . what happens to them is best described as the opposite of a mirage. What seemed, when they entered it, to be the vale of misery turns out, when they look back, to have been a well; and where present experience saw only salt deserts memory truth?rlly records that the pools were full of water.’ ‘Then those people are right who say that Heaven and Hell are only states of mind?’ ‘Hush,’ said he stcrnly. ‘Do not blasphcmc. Hell is a state of mind—ye never said a truer word. And every state of mind, le? to itself, every shutting up of the creature within the dungeon of its own mind—is, in the end, Hell. But Heaven is not a state of mind. Heaven is reality itself. All that is fully real is Heavenly. For all that can be shaken will be shaken and only the unshakeable remains.’ ‘But there is a real choice after death? My Roman Catholic friends would be surprised, for to them souls in Purgatory are already saved. And my Protestant friends would like it no better, for they’d say that the tree lies as it falls.’ ‘Thcy’rc both right, maybe. Do not fash yourself with such questions. Yo cannot ?illy understand the relations of choice and Time till you are beyond both. And ye were not brought here to study such curiosities. What concerns you is the nature of the choice itself: and that yo can watch them making.’ ‘Well, Sir,’ 1 said, ‘That also needs explaining. What do they choose, these souls who go [“1 back (I have yet seen no others)? And how can they choose it?’ ‘Milton was right,’ said my Teacher. ‘The choice of every lost soul can be expressed in the words “Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.” There is always something they insist on keeping, even at the price of misery, There is always something they prefer to joyithat is, to reality. Ye see it easily enough in a spoiled child that would sooner miss its play and its supper than say it was sorry and be friends. Ye call it the Sulks. But in adult life it has a hundred ?ne names—Achillcs’ wrath and Coriolanus’ grandeur, Revenge and Injured Merit and Self-Respect and Tragic Greatness and Proper Pride.’ ‘Then is no one lost through the undignified vices, Sir? Through mere sensuality?’ ‘Some are, no doubt. The sensualisl, I’ll allow ye, begins by pursuing a real pleasure, though a small one. His sin is the less. But the time comes on when, though the pleasure becomes less and less and the craving ?ercer and ?ercer, and though he knows that joy can never come that way, yet he prefers to joy the mere fondling of unappeasable lust and would not have it taken from him. He’d ?ght to the death to keep it. He’d like well to be able to scratch: but even when he can scratch no more he’d rather itch than not? He was silent for a few minutes, and then began again. ‘Ye’ll understand, there are innumerable forms of this choice. Sometimes forms that one hardly thought of at all on earth. There was a creature came here not long ago and went back—Sir Archibald they called him. In his earthly life he’d been interested in nothing IW but Survival. He’d written a whole shelf-full of books about it He began by being philosophical, but in the end he took up Psychics] Research. It grew to be his only occupation—experimenting, lecturing, running a magazine. And travelling too: digging out queer stories among Thibetan lamas and being initiated into brotherhoods in Central Africa. Proofs—and more proofs—and then more proofs again—were what he wanted. It drove him mad if ever he saw anyone taking an interest in anything else. He got into trouble during one of your wars for running up and down the country telling them not to ?ght because it wasted a lot of money that ought to be spent on Research, Well, in good time, the poor creature died and came here: and there was no power in the universe would have prevented him staying and going on to the mountains. But do ye think that did him any good? This country was no use to him at all. Everyone here had “survived” already. Nobody took the least interest in the question. There was nothing more to prove. His occupation was clean gone. Of course if he would only have admitted that he’d mistaken the means for the end and had a good laugh at himself he could have begun all over again like a little child and entered into joy. But he would not do that. He cared nothing about joy. In the end he went away.”
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“How fantastic! ‘ said I. ‘Do ye think so?’ said the Teacher with a piercing glance. ‘It is nearer to such as you than ye think. There have been men before now who got so interested in proving the existence of God that they came to care nothing for God Himself . . . as if the good Lord had I”! nothing to do but exist! There have been some who were so occupied in spreading Christianity that they never gave a thought to Christ. Man! Ye see it in smaller matters. Did ye never know a lover of books that with all his ?rst editions and signed copies had lost the power to read them? Or an organiser of charities that had lost all love for the poor? It is the subtlest of all the snares.’ Moved by a desire to change the subject, I asked why the Solid People, since they were full of love, did not go down into Hell to rescue the Ghosts. Why were they content simply to meet them on the plain? One would have expected a more militant charity. ‘Ye will understand that better, perhaps before ye go,’ said be. ‘In the meantime, I must tell ye they have come further for the sake of the Ghosts than ye can understand. Every one of us lives only to journey further and further into the mountains. Every one of us has interrupted that journey and retraced immeasurable distances to come down to-day on the more chance of saving some Ghost. Of course it is also joy to do so, but ye cannot blame us for that! And it would be no use to come further even if it were possible. The sane would do no good if they made themselves mad to help madmen.’ ‘But what of the poor Ghosts who never get into the omnibus at all?’ ‘Everyone who wishes it does. Never fear. There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, “Thy will be done,” and those to whom God says, in the end, I”! “Thy will be done.” All that are in Hell, choose it. Without that self-choice there could be no Hell. No soul that seriously and constantly desires joy will ever miss it. Those who seek find. To those who knock it is opened.’ At this moment we were suddenly interrupted by the thin voice of a Ghost talking at an enormous speed. Looking behind us we saw the creature. [t was addressing one of the Solid People and was doing so too busily to notice us. Every now and then the Solid Spirit tried to get in a word but without success. The Ghost’s talk was like this: ‘Oh, my dear, I’ve had such a dreadful time, I don’t know how I ever got here at all, I was coming with Elinor Stone and we’d arranged the whole thing and. we were to meet at the corner of Sink Street; I made it perfectly plain because I knew what she was like and if I told her once I told her a hundred times I would not meet her outside that dreadful Marjoribanks woman’s house, not after the way she’d treated me . . . that was one of the most dreadful things that happened to me; I’ve been dying to tell you because I felt sure you’d tell me [ acted rightly; no, wait a moment, dear, till I’ve told you—l tried living with her when I ?rst came and it was all ?xed up, she was to do the cooking and I was to look after the house and I did think I was going to be comfortable after all I’d been through but she tumed out to be so changed, absolutely sel?sh, and not a particle of sympathy for anyone but herself—and as I once said to her “I do think I’m entitled to a little consideration because you at least lived out your time, but I oughtn’t to have been here I651 for years and years yet”—oh but of course I’m forgetting you don’t know—I was murdered, simply murdered, dear, that man should never have operated, I ought to be alive to—day and they simply starved me in that dreadful nursing home and no one ever came near me and . . .’ The shrill monotonous whine died away as the speaker still accompanied by the bright patience at her side, moved out of hearing. “What troubles ye, son?’ asked my Teacher. ‘I am troubled, Sir,’ said I, ‘because that unhappy creature doesn’t seem to me to be the sort of soul that ought to be even in danger of damnation. She isn’t wicked: she’s only a silly, garrulous old woman who has got into a habit of grumbling, and one feels that a little kindness, and rest, and change would put her all right.’ “That is what she once was. That is maybe what she still is. If so, she certainly will be cured. But the whole question is whether she is now a grumbler.’ ‘I should have thought there was no doubt about that!’ ‘Aye, but ye misunderstand me. The question is whether she is a grumbler, or only a grumble. If there is a real womangeven the least trace of one—still there inside the grumbling, it can be brought to life again. If there’s one wee spark under all those ashes, we’ll blow it till the whole pile is red and clear. But if there’s nothing but ashes we’ll not go on blowing them in our own eyes forever. They must be swept up.’ ‘But how can there be a grumble without a grumbler’?’ ‘Thc whole dif?culty of understanding Hell is that the thing to be understood is so nearly Nothing. But ye’ll have had experiences . . . it begins with a grumbling mood, and I6” yourself still distinct from it: perhaps criticising it. And yourself, in a dark hour, may will that mood, embrace it. Ye can repent and come out of it again. But there may come a clay when you can do that no longer. Then there will be no you le? to criticise the mood, nor even to enjoy it, but just the grumble itself going on forever like a machine. But come! Ye are here to watch and listen. Lean on my arm and we will go for a little walk.’
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I obeyed. To lean on the arm of someone older than myself was an experience that carried me back to childhood, and with this support I found the going tolerable: so much so, indeed, that I ?attered myself my feet were already growing more solid, until a glance at the poor transparent shapes convinced me that I owed all this ease to the strong arm of the Teacher. Perhaps it was because of his presence that my other senses also appeared to be quickened. [ noticed scents in the air which had hitherto escaped me, and the country put on new beauties. There was water everywhere and tiny ?owers quivering in the early breeze. Far off in the woods we saw the deer glancing past, and, once, a sleek panther came purring to my companion’s side. We also saw many of the Ghosts. I think the most pitiable was a female Ghost. Her trouble was the very opposite of that which afflicted the other, the lady frightened by the Unicorns. This one seemed quite unaware of her phantasmal appearance. More than one of the Solid People tried to talk to her, and at ?rst I was quite at a loss to understand her behaviour to them. She appeared to be contorting her all but invisible face and writhing her smokelike body in a quite I’M meaningless fashion. At last I came to the conclusion—incredible as it seemed—that she supposed herself still capable of attracting them and was trying to do 30. She was a thing that had become incapable of conceiving conversation save as a means to that end. If a corpse already liquid with decay had arisen From the cof?n, smeared its gums with lipstick, and attempted a ?irtation, the result could not have been more appalling. In the end she muttered ‘Stupid creatures’, and turned back to the bus. This put me in mind to ask my Teacher what he thought of the a?air with the Unicorns. “It will maybe have succeeded,’ he said. ‘Ye will have divined that he meant to frighten her; not that fear itself could make her less a Ghost, but if it took her mind a moment off herself, there might, in that moment, be a chance. I have seen them saved so.’ We met several Ghosts that had come so near to Heaven only in order to tell the Celcstials about Hell. Indeed this is one of the commonest types. Others, who had perhaps been (like myself) teachers of some kind actually wanted to give lectures about it: they brought fat notebooks full of statistics, and maps, and (one of them) a magic lantern. Some wanted to tell anecdotes of the notorious sinners of all ages whom they had met below. But the most part seemed to think that the mere fact of having contrived for themselves so much misery gave them a kind of superiority. ‘You have led a sheltered life!” they bawled. ‘You don’t know the seamy side. We’ll tell you. We’ll give you some hard facts’—as it’ to tinge Heaven with infernal images and colours had been the only purpose for which they came. All alike, so far as I could judge from my own exploration of the lower world, were “‘1 wholly unreliable, and all equally ineurious about the country in which they had arrived. They repelled every attempt to teach them, and when they found that nobody listened to them they went back, one by one, to the bus This curious wish to describe Hell turned out, however, to be only the mildest form of a desire very common among the Ghosts—the desire to extend Hell, to bring it bodily, if they could, into Heaven. There were tub-thumping Ghosts who in thin, bat-like voices urged the blessed spirits to shake off their ferrets, to escape from their imprisonment in happiness, to tear down the mountains with their hands, to seize Heaven ‘for their own’: Hell offered her co-operation. There were planning Ghosts who implored them to dam the river, cut down the trees, kill the animals, build a mountain railway, smooth out the horrible grass and moss and heather with asphalt. There were materialistic Ghosts who informed the immortals that they were deluded: there was no life after death, and this whole country was a hallucination. There were Ghosts, plain and simple: mere bogies, fully conscious of their own decay, who had accepted the traditional role of the spectre, and seemed to hope they could frighten someone. I had had no idea that this desire was possible. But my Teacher reminded me that the pleasure of frightening is by no means unknown on earth, and also of Tacitus’ saying: ‘They terrify lest they should fear.’ When the débrt’s of a decayed human soul finds itself crumbled into ghosthood and realises LI myself am now that which all humanity has feared, I am just that cold churchyard shadow, that hon-ible thing which I111 cannot be, yet somehow is’, then to terrify others appears to it an escape from the doom of being a Ghost yet still fearing Ghosts—fearing even the Ghost it is. For to be afraid of oneself is the last horror. But, beyond all these, I saw other grotesque phantoms in which hardly a trace of the human form remained; monsters who had faced the journey to the bus stop—perhaps for them it was thousands of miles—and come up to the country of the Shadow of Life and limped far into it over the torturing grass, only to spit and gibber out in one ecstasy of hatred their envy and (What is harder to understand) their contempt, of joy. The voyage seemed to them a small price to pay if once, only once, Within sight of that eternal dawn, they could tell the pn’gs, the toffs, the sanctimonious humbugs, the snobs, the ‘haves’, what they thought of them. ‘How do they come to be here at all?’ I asked my Teacher. ‘1 have seen that kind convertcd’, said he, ‘whcn those ye would think less deeply damned have gone back. Those that hate goodness are sometimes nearer than those that know nothing at all about it and think they have it already.’ ‘Whisht, now!’ said my Teacher suddenly. We were standing close to some bushes and beyond them I saw one of the Solid People and a Ghost who had apparently just that moment met. The outlines of the Ghost looked vaguely familiar, but I soon realized that what I had seen on earth was not the man himself but photographs of him in the papers. He had been a famous artist
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‘God!’ said the Ghost, glancing round the landscape. [‘1’ ‘God what?’ asked the Spirit. ‘What do you mean, “God what”? asked the Ghost. ‘In our grammar God is a noun.’ ‘Ohil see, I only meant “By Gum” or something of the sort. I meant . . . well, all this. It’s . . . it’s . . . I should like to paint this.’ ‘I shouldn’t bother about that just at present if I were you.” ‘Look here; isn’t one going to be allowed to go on painting?’ Looking comes ?rst.’ ‘But I’ve had my look. I’ve seen just what I want to do. Godlil wish I’d thought of bringing my things with me!’ The Spirit shook his head, scattering light from his hair as he did so. ‘That sort of thing’s no good here,” he said. ‘What do you mean?’ said the Ghost. ‘When you painted on earth—at least in your earlier days—it was because you caught glimpses of Heaven in the earthly landscape. The success of your painting was that it enabled others to see the glimpses too. But here you are having the thing itself. It is from here that the messages came. There is no good telling us about this country, for we see it already. In fact we see it better than you do.” ‘Then there’s never going to be any point in painting here?” ‘I don’t say that. When you’ve grown into a Person (it’s all right, we all had to do it) there’ll be some things which you’ll see better than anyone else. One of the things you’ll want to do will be to tell us about them. But not yet. At present your business is to see. WI Come and see. He is endless. Come and feed.” There was a little pause. ‘That will be delightful,” said the Ghost presently in a rather dull voice. ‘Come, then,’ said the Spirit. offering it his am. ‘How soon do you think I could begin painting?’ it asked. The Spirit broke into laughter. ‘Don’t you see you’ll never paint at all ifthat’s what you’re thinking about?’ he said. ‘What do you mean?’ asked the Ghost, ‘Why, if you are interested in the country only for the sake of painting it, you’ll never learn to see the country.’ ‘But that’s just how a real artist is interested in the country.’ ‘No. You’re forgetting,” said the Spirit. ‘That was not how you began. Light itself was your ?rst love: you loved paint only as a means of telling about light} ‘Oh, that’s ages ago,’ said the Ghost. ‘One grows out of that. Of course, you haven’t seen my later works. One becomes more and more interested in paint for its own sake.’ ‘One does, indeed. I also have had to recover from that. It was all a snare. Ink and eatgut and paint were necessary down there, but they are also dangerous stimulants. Every poet and musician and artist, but for Grace, is drawn away from love of the thing he tells, to love ofthe telling till, down in Deep Hell, they cannot be interested in God at all but only in what they say about Him. For it doesn’t stop at being interested in paint, you know. They sink lower—become interested in their own personalities and then in nothing but their own reputations.’ ‘l don’t think I’m much troubled in that way,’ said the Ghost stitlly. “5| ‘That’s exeellent,’ said the Spirit. ‘Not many of us had quite got over it when we first arrived. But if there is any of that inflammation left it will be cured when you come to the fountain.’ ‘What fountain’s that?’ ‘It is up there in the mountains,’ said the Spirit. ‘Very cold and clear, between two green hills. A little like Lethe. When you have drunk of it you forget forever all proprietorship in your own works. You enjoy them just as if they were someone else’s: without pride and without modesty.’ ‘That’ll be grand.’ said the Ghost without enthusiasm. ‘Well, come,’ said the Spirit: and for a few paces he supported the hobbling shadow forward to the East. ‘Of course,’ said the Ghost, as if speaking to itself, ‘there’ll always be interesting people to meet. . . .’ ‘Everyone will be interesting.’ ‘Oh—ah—yes, to be sure. I was thinking of people in our own line. Shall I meet Claude? 0r Cezanne? Ori.’ ‘Sooner or lateriif they’re here.” ‘But don’t you know?’ ‘Well, of course not. I’ve only been here a few years. All the chances are against my having run across them . . . there are a good many of us. you know.’ ‘But surely in the ease of distinguished people, you’d hear?’ ‘But they aren’t distinguished—no more than anyone else. Don’t you understand? The Glory ?ows into everyone, and back from everyone: like light and mirrors, But the WI light’s the thing.’
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‘Do you mean there are no famous men?’ ‘They are all famous. They are all known, remembered, recognised by the only Mind that can give a perfect judgement.’ ‘Oh, of course, in that sense. . . .’ said the Ghost. ‘Don’t stop,’ said the Spirit, making to lead him still forward. ‘One must be content with one’s reputation among posterity, then,’ said the Ghost. ‘My friend,’ said the Spirit. ‘Don’t you know?’ ‘Know what?’ ‘That you and I are already completely forgotten on the Earth?’ ‘Eh? What’s that?’ exclaimed the Ghost, disengaging its arm. ‘Do you mean those damned Neo-Regionalists have won after all?’ ‘Lord love you, yes!’ said the Spirit, once more shaking and shining with laughter. ‘You couldn’t get five pounds for any picture of mine or even of yours in Europe or America to- day. We’re dead out of fashion.’ ‘I must be off at once,’ said the Ghost. ‘Let me go! Damn it all, one has one’s duty to the future of Art. I must go back to my friends. I must write an article. There must be a manifesto. We must start a periodical. We must have publicity. Let me go. This is beyond a joke!’ And Without listening to the Spirit’s reply, the spectre vanished. [77]

Answer it True or False
History concerns only about the past.
?      TRUE
?      FALSE
You can do historical method without historiography.
?      TRUE
?      FALSE
History is not bias.
?      TRUE
?      FALSE
Historians are the only credible source of history.
?      TRUE
?      FALSE
The history that we know at present is not complete  and comprehensive.
?      TRUE
?      FALSE
You can relive the past by studying history.
?      TRUE
?      FALSE
Truth is relative in history, it should not be based only in hearsay and rumors.
?      TRUE
?      FALSE
You can also test your moral sense thru history.
?      TRUE
?      FALSE
The Father of Filipino nationalist historiography is Teodoro Alcantara.
?      TRUE
?      FALSE
History tells only the story of hero and villain.
?      TRUE
?      FALSE

Shakuntala by Kalidasa
Shakuntala was a beautiful maiden who was the adopted daughter of Sage Karnva. She lived with him and her pet deer, in his hermitage in the forest. One day, Dushyanta, the king of Hastinapur, came hunting in the forest. He saw the beautiful deer and shot an arrow at it. Shakuntalsa found her deer whimpering in pain and tried to comfort it. Shakuntala loved the animals of the forest and her affection for the animal touched Dushyanta’s heart and he asked her to forgive him for his cruelty. She forgive him but asked him to stay in the forest for a few days to tend the wounded deer. They fell in love and King Dushyanta married Shakuntala and gave her a wedding ring his name on it. The king then left for his king-dom after promising to return soon and take Shakuntala back with him.
One day , Sage Durwasa came to Shakuntala’s door. He repeatedly asked for water, but Shakuntala was lost in thoughts of Dushyanta and paid no attention. The sage was insulted and got very angry. Known for his temper, he cursed Shakuntala saying that the person whom she was thinking about would forget her. When Shakuntala heard the cause, she was frightened and begged the sage to forgive her. The sage said that he could not the back the curse but he could change, if she showed Dushyanta something he had given her then he will remember again about her.
Due to the curse Dushyanta forgot Shakuntala. After days of waiting for him to return, Shakuntala decided to go to the capital to meet him. On the way, as Shakuntala was crossing a river, her wedding ring fell into the water. A fish swallowed the ring. When Shakuntala arrived at the palace, the king did not recognize her. He asked her to prove her identity but Shakuntala didn’t have the ring to show him, as it was lost. She wept and told the king about the time he had spent with her in the forest but he couldn’t remember anything. Feeling sad she left the palace.
Ashamed to return to her father’s home, she started living alone in another part of the forest where she gave birth to a son. She called him Bharata. Bharata was a brave boy. He grew up among the animals of the forest and would play with wild animals.
One day at the king’s palace, a fisherman brought him a ring. He told the king that he had found the ring in the stomach of a fish that he had brought it straight to him. As soon as the king saw the ring, the curse was broken and the king remembered Shakuntala. He was very upset and hurried at once to her home in the forest to look for her, but could not find her. In despair, he returned to his palace.
Few years passed. The king again went hunting in the forest. There he was surprised to find a boy playing with a lion cub. The boy fearlessly held open the mouth of the cub and said, ” O king of the jungle! Open your mouth wide, so I can count your teeth.” The king went up to the boy and asked him about his parents. The little boy replied that he was the son of king Dushyanta and Shakuntala. Dushyanta was very happy to have found Shakuntala and asked the boy to take him to his mother. The family was united and Dushyanta took Shakuntala and Bharata along with him to Hastinapur. Bharata grew up to become a great king.
QUESTION:
Based on this story, why do scholars claim Shakuntala as cinderella?

In this story, much of O’Connor’s wry humor comes from situational and dramatic irony. Review the story to find at least two examples of each kind of irony. Also, see whether you can find one example that reveals both kinds at once. What do these multiple ironies suggest about O’Connor’s view of her fellow human beings?

Read the passage and answer the questions below
Use this link to access the passage:
https://www.commonlit.org/texts/the-sit-in-movement
Questions:
1). Consider other forms of protesting, such as marching and rioting. In your opinion, are sit-ins an effective form of protest? Why or why not? Put yourself in the protestors’ shoes. Do you think that you could have sat there peacefully while people poured ketchup or hot liquids on you?
2). What forms of protest do you see occurring today? In your opinion, is it more common to see violent or peaceful protests? How are the protests of the Civil Rights movement still continuing today? What have you seen in the news or in your own towns and communities?
3). In the context of the article, how do people create change? What was required of civil rights activists in order to achieve their goals? Cite evidence from this text, your own experience, and other literature, art, or history in your answer.
4). Why does promoting equal rights promote peace? Do you believe that the protestors of the sit-in movement were successful in promoting peace?

At the start of section 6 of Whitman’s “Song of Myself,” the speaker says, “A child said What is the grass?fetching it to me with full hands;” What’s the effect of this line? C) A. It indicates that section 6 isn’t an important part of “Song of Myself.” 0 B. It suggests Whitman’s fascination with urban life. © 6. It shows the speaker won’t be in control of this section of the poem. 0 D. It says children are wiser than adults. 0 E. It invites the reader to consider the question.

Hector Returns
Answer the question with the attached reading…
Contrast Achilles’ attitude to that of Hector. Given your understanding of the shape of the ancient world, do you think modern audiences were meant to identify with one or the other, and why?
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At Thetis’ request, Zeus intervenes to help the Trojans defeat the Achaeans. Bitter fighting resumes, causing massive casualties on both sides. Although the Achaeans suffer a disadvantage from Achilles’ absence, they manage to subdue the Trojans. Under the leadership of Diomedes, the Achaeans drive the Trojans back into temporary retreat behind the city gates. Realizing the gravity of the Trojan cause, Hector and his men go to Priam’s palace to urge the gods to take pity on Troy. Hector also tries to persuade his brother Paris, who caused the war by abducting Helen, to fight. Finally, Hector goes in search of his wife, Andromache. A flash of his helmet and off he strode and quickly reached his sturdy, well-built house. But white-armed Andromache- Hector could not find her in the halls. 5 She and the boy and a servant finely gowned were standing watch on the tower, sobbing, grieving. When Hector saw no sign of his loyal wife inside he went to the doorway, stopped and asked the servants, “Come, please, tell me the truth now, women. 10 Where’s Andromache gone? To my sisters’ house? To my brothers’ wives with their long flowing robes? Or Athena’s shrine where the noble Trojan women gather to win the great grim goddess over?” A busy, willing servant answered quickly, 15 “Hector, seeing you want to know the truth, she hasn’t gone to your sisters, brothers’ wives or Athena’s shrine where the noble Trojan women gather to win the great grim goddess over. Up to the huge gate-tower of Troy she’s gone 20 because she heard our men are so hard-pressed, the Achaean fighters coming on in so much force. She sped to the wall in panic, like a madwoman- the nurse went with her, carrying your child.” 336 Ancient Greece and Rome
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At that, Hector spun and rushed from his house, 25 back by the same way down the wide, well-paved streets throughout the city until he reached the Scaean Gates,’ the last point he would pass to gain the field of battle. There his warm, generous wife came running up to meet him, Andromache the daughter of gallant-hearted Eetion Reading Stra 30 who had lived below Mount Placos3 rich with timber, Analyze Confu tences Which in Thebe below the peaks, and ruled Cilicia’s people.4 lines 28-31 are His daughter had married Hector helmed in bronze. tial to the cent She joined him now, and following in her steps the sentence? a servant holding the boy against her breast, 5 in the first flush of life, only a baby, Hector’s son, the darling of his eyes and radiant as a star . . . Hector would always call the boy Scamandrius, townsmen called him Astyanax, Lord of the City, 40 since Hector was the lone defense of Troy. The great man of war breaking into a broad smile, his gaze fixed on his son, in silence. Andromache, pressing close beside him and weeping freely now, clung to his hand, urged him, called him: “Reckless one, my Hector-your own fiery courage will destroy you! Have you no pity for him, our helpless son? Or me, and the destiny that weighs me down, your widow, – now so soon? Yes, soon they will kill you off, all the Achaean forces massed for assault, and then, bereft (be reft’) adj 50 bereft of you, better for me to sink beneath the earth. deprived or robber What other warmth, what comfort’s left for me, once you have met your doom? Nothing but torment! I have lost my father. Mother’s gone as well. Father . . . the brilliant Achilles laid him low 55 when he stormed Cilicia’s city filled with people, Thebe with her towering gates. He killed Eetion, not that he stripped his gear-he’d some respect at least- for he burned his corpse in all his blazoned bronze, then heaped a grave-mound high above the ashes 30 and nymphs of the mountain planted elms around it, daughters of Zeus whose shield is storm and thunder. And the seven brothers I had within our halls . . all in the same day went down to the House of Death, the great godlike runner Achilles butchered them all, 95 tending their shambling oxen, shining flocks. Reading Check Who does Andromach 2. Eetion 1. Scaean (se’ en) Gates northwest gates of Troy. killed her father,
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And mother, who ruled under the timberline of woody Placos once- he no sooner haled her here with his other plunder than he took a priceless ransom, set her free and home she went to her father’s royal halls 70 where Artemis,6 showering arrows, shot her down. You, Hector-you are my father now, my noble mother, a brother too, and you are my husband, young and warm and strong! Pity me, please! Take your stand on the rampart here, Literary Analysis before you orphan your son and make your wife a widow. Theme and Foresha 75 Draw your armies up where the wild fig tree stands, ing What do Androm there, where the city lies most open to assault, che’s comments in th passage suggest abo the walls lower, easily overrun. Three times the fate of Hector, his they have tried that point, hoping to storm Troy, ily, and the city of Tro their best fighters led by the Great and Little Ajax, 80 famous Idomeneus, Atreus’ sons, valiant Diomedes.9 for Corral Perhaps a skilled prophet revealed the spot- or their own fury whips them on to attack.” And tall Hector nodded, his helmet flashing: “All this weighs on my mind too, dear woman. 85 . But I would die of shame to face the men of Troy and the Trojan women trailing their long robes if I would shrink from battle now, a coward. Nor does the spirit urge me on that way. I’ve learned it all too well. To stand up bravely, ford tittle of am. not 90 always to fight in the front ranks of Trojan soldiers, olmos (any winning my father great glory, glory for myself. Allow Smbob woot For in my heart and soul I also know this well: patel ymi teolove the day will come when sacred Troy must die, bigleaffurlan jer ; and sill Priam must die and all his people with him, down buffift vito s’pullED berazote ad nap 95 Priam who hurls the strong ash spear .. . Even so, it is less the pain of the Trojans still to come that weighs me down, not even of Hecubalo herself or King Priam, or the thought that my own brothers le vigil bauam- in all their numbers, all their gallant courage, 100 may tumble in the dust, crushed by enemies- That is nothing, nothing beside your agony when some brazen Argive hales you off in tears, wrenching away your day of light and freedom! sister of Apollo. 6. Artemis (ar’ te mis) goddess of the hunt and of the moon; daughter of Zeus and Leto; Critical Viewing 7. Great and Little Ajax Ajax of Salamis, son of Telamon, and Ajax of Locris, son of Oileus. How well do you think Deucalion. 8. Idomeneus (i’ da’ men yoos) commander of the Achaean forces from Crete; son of this painting captures the 9. Diomedes (di’ e me’ dez) son of Tydeus, king of Argos. mood of Hector’s farewell 10. Hecuba (hek’ you be) queen of Troy; wife of Priar to his family? Explain.
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13 1 Then far off in the land of Argos you must live, 105 laboring at a loom, at another woman’s beck and call, fetching water at some spring, Messeis or Hyperia, “! resisting it all the way- the rough yoke of necessity at your neck. And a man may say, who sees you streaming tears, 110 There is the wife of Hector, the bravest fighter they could field, those stallion-breaking Trojans, long ago when the men fought for Troy.’ So he will say What think tor if I 11. Messeis (me se’ is) . . . Hyperia (hip a ri a) locations of springs in Greece.
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and the fresh grief will swell your heart once more, widowed, robbed of the one man strong enough 115 to fight off your day of slavery. No, no, let the earth come piling over my dead body before I hear your cries, I hear you dragged away!” In the same breath, shining Hector reached down for his son-but the boy recoiled, 120 cringing against his nurse’s full breast, screaming out at the sight of his own father, terrified by the flashing bronze, the horsehair crest, the great ridge of the helmet nodding, bristling terror- so it struck his eyes. And his loving father laughed, 125 his mother laughed as well, and glorious Hector, quickly lifting the helmet from his head, set it down on the ground, fiery in the sunlight, and raising his son he kissed him, tossed him in his arms, lifting a prayer to Zeus and the other deathless gods: 130 “Zeus, all you immortals! Grant this boy, my son, may be like me, first in glory among the Trojans, strong and brave like me, and rule all Troy in power and one day let them say, ‘He is a better man than his father!’- when he comes home from battle bearing the bloody gear 135 of the mortal enemy he has killed in war- a joy to his mother’s heart.” So Hector prayed and placed his son in the arms of his loving wife. Andromache pressed the child to her scented breast, smiling through her tears. Her husband noticed, 140 and filled with pity now, Hector stroked her gently, trying to reassure her, repeating her name: “Andromache, dear one, why so desperate? Why so much grief for me? No man will hurl me down to Death, against my fate. 145 And fate? No one alive has ever escaped it, neither brave man nor coward, I tell you- Literary Analysis it’s born with us the day that we are born. Theme What outlook on So please go home and tend to your own tasks, life and death does Hecto the distaff and the loom, and keep the women express in this passage? working hard as well. As for the fighting, 150 men will see to that, all who were born in Troy but I most of all.” Andromache goes home, where she and her handmaidens mourn Hector in anticipation of his death. Paris takes arms and joins Hector in driving the Achaeans out of Troy. Hector and the Trojans campaign vigorously until they complet
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Achaeans off the battlefield back to their ships. To prevent the Achaeans from sailing away, the Trojans light watchfires and camp on the plain over- night, ready to attack in the morning. The demoralized Achaean army feels handicapped by Achilles’ absence. To persuade their most valuable fighter to reconsider and join the battle, Agamemnon sends Ajax and Odys- seus on an embassy to Achilles. In his speech to Achilles, Odysseus reminds him of his father’s advice. Peleus had told Achilles that the Argives would hold him in higher honor if he did not let the anger of his proud heart get the best of him. Odysseus adds that if Achilles gives up his anger and joins the Achaeans in battle, Agamemnon has promised to give Achilles numerous war prizes, including the prize he stole: Briseis. Finally, Odysseus pleads with Achilles to fight, if not in acceptance of Agamemnon’s offer, at least for the afflicted Achaeans who will honor Achilles as a god. Agamemnon’s offer serves only to drive Achilles deeper into his pride. Hurt, dishon- ored, and, above all, angry, he refuses to help the Greeks defeat Hector and the Trojans. Odysseus and Ajax return to Agamem- non with the news of their unsuccessful embassy.

In the class notes, the chapters 9-12 of the Odyssey are the so-called narratives (apologoi) in which Odysseus’ famous adventures are related by him directly. In these book the supernatural element predominates. As time passes, Odysseus’ adventures become increasingly fantastical, supernatural and otherworldly.
The task is to post a original statement  in which you list and discuss at least three of the specific supernatural and otherworldly adventures that Odysseus is narrating in these particular chapters and explain their effects on his journey and his men.
Class Notes:
CHAPTERS 5-13
Chapter 5:
This is the chapter in which Odysseus enters the narrative in “flesh and bone.” In all previous 4 chapters he was a shadow, an image, a recollection in people’s (like Nestor) talks.
We find him stranded on Calypso’s island. By now you should be able to figure out what is he doing there? For how long has he been there? Who is Calypso and what is her connection to Odysseus? Why does Odysseus reject Calypso’s alluring proposition to make him immortal? What finally takes him out of there and how?
Chapter 6:
Odysseus leaves Calypso’s island where he existed for 7 years without identity. Thus, he undergoes a symbolic birth. He is again in charge of his journey, destiny and
nostos
. The real threat to his
nostos
is amnesia, which Calypso’s island represented.
Chapters 7-8:
Odysseus enters the palace of the Phaeacians as the honored
xenos
. Key figures: Princess Nausicaa, King Alcinous, Queen Arete, the blind court bard of the Phaeacians, Demodocus. Pay attention to Demodocus’ song, which tells Odysseus’ story and reveals the two different modes of Odysseus struggle: cunning intelligence (
metis
) and physical strength (violence).
Find out who is Demodocus? Who brought him to the palace? What is Odysseus’ reaction to his song? What the song is about in detail?
Chapters 9-12:
The Narratives or
apologoi
.
These 4 crucial chapters find Odysseus in the very hospitable land of the Phaeacians.
Demodocus’ song has an immediate effect on Odysseus and sets the pace for Odysseus’ upcoming own narration, a confessional tale of his adventures that is called
apologoi
(or the
narratives
), a Greek term which means a story inside a story. It derives from the word
apologos
which means “story.” Odysseus’ apologoi is in books 9 to 12 of the
Odyssey
. In that apologoi Odysseus tells the Phaeacians the story of his travels from Troy to Calypso’s island Ogygia. The narrative turns from a third person narration (Homer telling the story) to a first-person narration (Odysseus narrating his own story) during those 4 chapters.
Pay attention to his tale which is full of supernatural elements. As time passes his adventures become more fantastical, supernatural, otherworldly.
Apologoi
trace a progression from violence to enchantment, from natural to supernatural.
Which are these adventures in particular? Please list them and know them. Highlight some of the key figures of this section: Cyclops, Cirke, Sirens, Tiresias, Anticleia, among others, and their relationship to Odysseus.
Chapter 11:
The Underworld. This is one of the most memorable supernatural spaces of the
Odyssey
. Prompted by Circe, Odysseus descends into the Underworld, the realm of Hades, a space of shadows in which the spirits of the dead reside for eternity. For Ancient Greeks there was no such distinction as Heaven and Hell after death (this is primarily a division of monotheistic religions). The Underworld, ruled by Hades, is a democratic space where all dead spirits – the good and the bad – descend and coexist. It is not entirely uncommon for a privileged epic hero like Odysseus to be allowed to descend to the Underworld temporarily for the purpose of conversing with dead spirits who will give him knowledge about the past and divination (ability to foresee) about the future. In this chapter Elpenor is the first dead spirit to encounter Odysseus, he is the bridge between the living and the dead. Some of the key spirits that will speak to Odysseus in his journey under after Elpenor are: Tiresias, Anticleia, Achilles, Agamemnon. Please single them out and follow their encounters with Odysseus and the importance of their messages to him. Know WHO they are and HOW they relate to Odysseus.
We should begin by asking what the overall purpose of his journey was down there and who are some of the KEY figures he encounters? Another key question to ponder is what did Odysseus learn in the Underworld? What truths and predictions about his destiny did he extract from the dead and how did the knowledge he acquired in the Underworld determine the course of events in his subsequent path?
Chapter 13:
According to Greek superstition 13 is not a lucky number, but for Odysseus it certainly is! Chapter 13 is when he finally reaches Ithaca after 20 years. He is back home! And so, a new adventure begins at home that will run through the remaining half of the book. If the first half is about traveling, surviving , disguising, returning, the second is about reuniting, plotting, revealing, restoring.
But who brought to Ithaca? What is his first reaction of the place?
What/where is Ithaca exactly? Does it exist? This topic will occupy our attention next week.
ROLES OF WOMEN/SHAPESHIFTNG/DIALOGUE WITH DEATH
In addition, I wanted to expand further upon some of the themes you are currently reading about in the
Odyssey.
Some of these themes and motifs have become archetypes that influence literature and art ever since.
To begin with, in
The Odyssey
, it is clear that truth is not a good criterion by which to judge the success of a story.” Storytelling, like the character of Odysseus, is
polytropous
, shape-shifting, tricking, complicated and highly intriguing. In this light, everyone should suspect the connection between the actions of the main character and the intentions of the storyteller. Is Homer hiding behind Odysseus? Who knows? Certainly, he hides behind his story!
Why women are so important in this story? To begin with, without women’s decisions and actions (let alone loyalty and cunning) there wouldn’t be any HOME for Odysseus to return to; thus, there would NOT be a story. And so, women are as omnipresent and significant in this narrative as the sea, that great, untamable, motherly, fluid element that shapes and maintains Odysseus’ adventures from Troy to Ithaca. Athena, Penelope, Euricleia, Anticleia, Cirke, Nausicaa, Calypso -both the mortal and the immortal main and secondary female characters- support and encourage Odysseus’ epic journey (Calypso does it reluctantly, but she does).
As a critic mentions, “Odysseus values Penelope’s intelligence, and the poem celebrates the desirability of ‘like-mindedness’ within a marriage.”. Moreover, cunning intelligence and resolution are not exclusive masculine properties in the
Odyssey
. The poem tells us that even though women were not regarded as equal to men in Homer’s time, yet they were AS resourceful as men.
Another topic of discussion is the everlasting allure of Ithaca (Odysseus’ home island and destination) not only as the physical place and home of Odysseus, but also as a state of mind that underlies the modern understanding of the
Odyssey
as a spiritual biography. Ithaca is a symbol of a home, of a destination. It is the heart and image of
nostos
(more notes on this topic to posted tomorrow).
Another topic and motif of the
Odyssey
that I would like you to evaluate is that of Divine Intervention. Odysseus receives abundant help from Athena throughout his journey. In fact, without Athena’s intervention, Odysseus would not have reached his destination. Does this add or detract from his achievement? I would like you to ponder over this question as we will be discussing it later on.
These are some primary themes of the poem we should emphasize:
SHAPE SHIFTING
-The
Odyssey
is fascinated with transformations and disguises. These are some characters that embody transformation:
Circe, Proteus, Athena, Odysseus
-The poem is a generic shape-shifter, changing from a heroic epic into a quest narrative, a revenge tragedy, a domestic comedy, a romance and a biography.
-The poem is as fluid as the sea: it is unlimited, unfixable, wonderful.
WOMEN’S ROLES
-Odysseus values Penelope’s intelligence, and the poem celebrates the desirability of like-mindedness’ within a marriage. It was to Penelope, after all, that Odysseus delegated the responsibility of his household. The satisfactory outcome of the poem depends us much upon Penelope’s qualities as on those of Odysseus.
-Athena as a divine alter-ego of Penelope: shape-shifting, cunning, uncompromised protector of Odysseus and his legacy.
-Penelope’s space: a room of solitude and determination to develop an identity in the absence of Odysseus
DIALOGUE WITH DEATH
-Part of Odysseus’ long return in the path of
nostos
(
Nostos
: significant both of action of returning and the story of the person who returns by sea.) Conceiving death as a journey to a darker location veiled from the sun and the living, a phenomenon manifested in almost all the world’s myth systems reflected in literary works from
The Epic of Gilgamesh
to
The Odyssey
.
-The Underworld: a primordial place of a buried humanity and its secret wisdom of experience.
-Significant spirits encountered by Odysseus: Elpenor, Teiresias, Anticlea, Agamemnon, Achilles
-The
nekyia
(
katabasis
, or the descent of the living to the underworld) also refers to the process of artistic production itself as it may offer a metaphor for a literary encounter with writers of the past
FOUR HOMERIC TERMS TO REMEMBER AS DEFINED ABOVE:
METIS
APOLOGOI
NOSTOS
NEKYIA
CHAPTERS:
Chapter 9
A Pirate in a Shepherd’s Cave
Wily Odysseus, the lord of lies,
answered,
“My lord Alcinous, great king,
it is a splendid thing to hear a poet
as talented as this. His voice is godlike.
I think that there can be no greater pleasure
than when the whole community enjoys
a banquet, as we sit inside the house,
and listen to the singer, and the tables
are heaped with bread and meat; the wine boy ladles
drink from the bowl and pours it into cups.      10
To me this seems ideal, a thing of beauty.
Now something prompted you to ask about
my own sad story. I will tell you, though
the memory increases my despair.
Where shall I start? Where can I end? The gods
have given me so much to cry about.
First I will tell my name, so we will be
acquainted and if I survive, you can
be my guest in my distant home one day.
I am Odysseus, Laertes’ son,           20
known for my many clever tricks and lies.
My fame extends to heaven, but I live
in Ithaca, where shaking forest hides
Mount Neriton. Close by are other islands:
Dulichium, and wooded Zacynthus
and Same. All the others face the dawn;
my Ithaca is set apart, most distant,
facing the dark. It is a rugged land,
but good at raising children. To my eyes
no country could be sweeter. As you know,        30
divine Calpyso held me in her cave,
wanting to marry me; and likewise Circe,
the trickster, trapped me, and she wanted me
to be her husband. But she never swayed
my heart, since when a man is far from home,
living abroad, there is no sweeter thing
than his own native land and family.
Now let me tell you all the trouble Zeus
has caused me on my journey home from Troy.
A blast of wind pushed me off course towards        40
the Cicones in Ismarus. I sacked
the town and killed the men. We took their wives
and shared their riches equally among us.
Then I said we must run away. Those fools
refused to listen. They were drinking wine
excessively, and killing sheep and cattle
along the beach. The Cicones called out
to neighbors on the mainland, who were strong
and numerous, and skilled at horseback fighting,
and if need be, on foot. They came like leaves         50
and blossoms in the spring at dawn. Then Zeus
gave us bad luck. Poor us! The enemy
assembled round the ships and fought with swords
of bronze. And while the holy morning light
was bright and strong, we held them off, though they
outnumbered us. But when the sun turned round
and dipped, the hour when oxen are released,
the Cicones began to overpower
us Greeks. Six well-armed members of my crew
died from each ship. The rest of us survived,          60
and we escaped the danger. We prepared
to sail away with heavy hearts, relieved
to be alive, but grieving for our friends.
Before we launched the ships, we called aloud
three times to each of our poor lost companions,
slaughtered at the hands of the Cicones.
The Cloud Lord Zeus hurled North Wind at our ships,
a terrible typhoon, and covered up
the sea and earth with fog. Night fell from heaven
and seized us and our ships keeled over sideways;        70
the sails were ripped three times by blasting wind.
Scared for our lives, we hoisted down the sails
and rowed with all our might towards the shore.
We stayed there for two days and nights, exhausted,
eating our hearts with pain. When bright-haired Dawn
brought the third morning, we set up our masts,
unfurled the shining sails, and climbed aboard.
The wind blew straight, the pilots steered, and I
would have come safely home, to my own land,
but as I rounded Malea, a current.        80
and blast of wind pushed me off course, away
from Cythera. For nine days I was swept
by stormy winds across the fish-filled sea.
On the tenth day, I landed on the island
of those who live on food from lotus flowers.
We gathered water, and my crew prepared
a meal. We picnicked by the ships, then I
chose two men, and one slave to make the third,
to go and scout. We needed to find out
what kind of people lived there on that island.        90
The scouts encountered humans, Lotus-Eaters,
who did not hurt them. They just shared with them
their sweet delicious fruit. But as they ate it,
they lost the will to come back and bring news
to me. They wanted only to stay there,
feeding on lotus with the Lotus-Eaters.
They had forgotten home. I dragged them back
in tears, forced them on board the hollow ships,
pushed them below the decks, and tied them up.
I told the other men, the loyal ones,       100
to get back in the ships, so no one else
would taste the lotus and forget about
our destination. They embarked and sat
along the rowing benches, side by side,
and struck the grayish water with their oars.
With heavy hearts we sailed along and reached
the country of high-minded Cyclopes,
the mavericks. They put their trust in gods,
and do not plant their food from seed, nor plow,
and yet the barley, grain, and clustering wine-grapes      110
all flourish there, increased by rain from Zeus.
They hold no councils, have no common laws,
but live in caves on lofty mountaintops,
and each makes laws for his own wife and children,
without concern for what the others think.
A distance from this island is another,
across the water, slantways from the harbor,
level and thickly wooded. Countless goats
live there but people never visit it.
No hunters labor through its woods to scale        120
its hilly peaks. There are no flocks of sheep,
no fields of plowland—it is all untilled,
unsown and uninhabited by humans.
Only the bleating goats live there and graze.
Cyclopic people have no red-cheeked ships
and no shipwright among them who could build
boats, to enable them to row across
to other cities, as most people do,
crossing the sea to visit one another.
With boats they could have turned this island into        130
a fertile colony, with proper harvests.
By the gray shore there lie well-watered meadows,
where vines would never fail. There is flat land
for plowing, and abundant crops would grow
in the autumn; there is richness underground.
The harbor has good anchorage; there is
no need of anchor stones or ropes or cables.
The ships that come to shore there can remain
beached safely till the sailors wish to leave
and fair winds blow. Up by the harbor head        140
freshwater gushes down beneath the caves.
The poplars grow around it. There we sailed:
the gods were guiding us all through the darkness.
Thick fog wrapped round our ships and in the sky
the moon was dark and clothed in clouds, so we
saw nothing of the island. None of us
could see the great waves rolling in towards
the land, until we rowed right to the beach.
We lowered all the sails and disembarked
onto the shore, and there we fell asleep.        150
When early Dawn shone forth with rosy fingers,
we roamed around that island full of wonders.
The daughters of the great King Zeus, the nymphs,
drove out the mountain goats so that my crew
could eat. On seeing them, we dashed to fetch
our javelins and bows from on board ship.
We split into three groups, took aim and shot.
Some god gave us good hunting. All twelve crews
had nine goats each, and ten for mine. We sat there
all day till sunset, eating meat and drinking       160
our strong red wine. The ships’ supply of that
had not run out; when we had sacked the holy
citadel of the Cicones, we all
took gallons of it, poured in great big pitchers.
We looked across the narrow strip of water
at the Cyclopic island, saw their smoke,
and heard the baaing of their sheep and goats.
The sun went down and in the hours of darkness
we lay and slept on shore beside the sea.
But when the rosy hands of Dawn appeared,      170
I called my men together and addressed them.
‘My loyal friends! Stay here, the rest of you,
while with my boat and crew I go to check
who those men are, find out if they are wild,
lawless aggressors, or the type to welcome
strangers, and fear the gods.’
With that, I climbed
on board and told my crew to come with me
and then untie the cables of the ship.
Quickly they did so, sat along the benches,
and struck the whitening water with their oars.
The journey was not long. Upon arrival,
right at the edge of land, beside the sea,
we saw a high cave overhung with laurel,
the home of several herds of sheep and goats.
Around that cave was built a lofty courtyard,
of deep-set stones, with tall pines rising up,
and leafy oaks. There lived a massive man
who shepherded his flocks all by himself.
He did not go to visit other people,
but kept apart, and did not know the ways      190
of custom. In his build he was a wonder,
a giant, not like men who live on bread,
but like a wooded peak in airy mountains,
rising alone above the rest.
I told
my loyal crew to guard the ship, while I
would go with just twelve chosen men, my favorites.
I took a goatskin full of dark sweet wine
that I was given by Apollo’s priest,
Maron the son of Euanthes, who lived
inside the shady grove on Ismarus.                200
In reverence to the god, I came to help him,
and save his wife and son. He gave me gifts:
a silver bowl and seven pounds of gold,
well wrought, and siphoned off some sweet strong wine,
and filled twelve jars for me—a godlike drink.
The slaves knew nothing of this wine; it was
known just to him, his wife, and one house girl.
Whenever he was drinking it, he poured
a single shot into a cup, and added
twenty of water, and a marvelous smell             210
rose from the bowl, and all would long to taste it.
I filled a big skin up with it, and packed
provisions in a bag—my heart suspected
that I might meet a man of courage, wild,
and lacking knowledge of the normal customs.
We soon were at the cave, but did not find
the Cyclops; he was pasturing his flocks.
We went inside and looked at everything.
We saw his crates weighed down with cheese, and pens
crammed full of lambs divided up by age:         220
the newborns, middlings, and those just weaned.
There were well-crafted bowls and pails for milking,
all full of whey. My crew begged, ‘Let us grab
some cheese and quickly drive the kids and lambs
out of their pens and down to our swift ships,
and sail away across the salty water!’
That would have been the better choice. But I
refused. I hoped to see him, and find out
if he would give us gifts. In fact he brought
no joy to my companions. Then we lit        230
a fire, and made a sacrifice, and ate
some cheese, and sat to wait inside the cave
until he brought his flocks back home. He came
at dinnertime, and brought a load of wood
to make a fire. He hurled it noisily
into the cave. We were afraid, and cowered
towards the back. He drove his ewes and nannies
inside to milk them, but he left the rams
and he-goats in the spacious yard outside.
He lifted up the heavy stone and set it         240
to block the entrance of the cave. It was
a rock so huge and massive, twenty-two
strong carts could not have dragged it from the threshold.
He sat, and all in order milked his ewes
and she-goats, then he set the lambs to suck
beside each bleating mother. Then he curdled
half of the fresh white milk, set that aside
in wicker baskets, and the rest he stored
in pails so he could drink it with his dinner.
When he had carefully performed his chores,        250
he lit a fire, then looked around and saw us.
‘Strangers! Who are you? Where did you come from
across the watery depths? Are you on business,
or roaming round without a goal, like pirates,
who risk their lives at sea to bring disaster
to other people?’
So he spoke. His voice,
so deep and booming, and his giant size,
made our hearts sink in terror. Even so,
I answered,
‘We are Greeks, come here from Troy.
The winds have swept us off in all directions     260
across the vast expanse of sea, off course
from our planned route back home. Zeus willed it so.
We are proud to be the men of Agamemnon,
the son of Atreus, whose fame is greatest
under the sky, for sacking that vast city
and killing many people. Now we beg you,
here at your knees, to grant a gift, as is
the norm for hosts and guests. Please sir, my lord:
respect the gods. We are your suppliants,
and Zeus is on our side, since he takes care       270
of visitors, guest-friends, and those in need.’
Unmoved he said, ‘Well, foreigner, you are
a fool, or from some very distant country.
You order me to fear the gods! My people
think nothing of that Zeus with his big scepter,
nor any god; our strength is more than theirs.
If I spare you or spare your friends, it will not
be out of fear of Zeus. I do the bidding
of my own heart. But are you going far
in that fine ship of yours, or somewhere near?’           270
He spoke to test me, but I saw right through him.
I know how these things work. I answered him
deceitfully.
‘Poseidon, the Earth-Shaker,
shipwrecked me at the far end of your island.
He pushed us in; wind dashed us on the rocks.
We barely managed to survive.’
But he
made no reply and showed no mercy. Leaping
up high, he reached his hands towards my men,
seized two, and knocked them hard against the ground
like puppies, and the floor was wet with brains.          290
He ripped them limb by limb to make his meal,
then ate them like a lion on the mountains,
devouring flesh, entrails, and marrow bones,
and leaving nothing. Watching this disaster,
we wept and lifted up our hands in prayer
to Zeus. We felt so helpless. When the Cyclops
had filled his massive belly with his meal
of human meat and unmixed milk, he lay
stretched out among his flocks. Then thinking like
a military man, I thought I should            300
get out my sword, go up to him and thrust
right through his torso, feeling for his liver.
That would have doomed us all. On second thoughts,
I realized we were too weak to move
the mighty stone he set in the high doorway.
So we stayed there in misery till dawn.
Early the Dawn appeared, pink fingers blooming,
and then he lit his fire and milked his ewes
in turn, and set a lamb by every one.
When he had diligently done his chores,         310
he grabbed two men and made a meal of them.
After he ate, he drove his fat flock out.
He rolled the boulder out and back with ease,
as one would set the lid upon a quiver.
Then whistling merrily, the Cyclops drove
his fat flocks to the mountain. I was left,
scheming to take revenge on him and hurt him,
and gain the glory, if Athena let me.
I made my plan. Beside the pen there stood
a great big club, green olive wood, which he         320
had cut to dry, to be his walking stick.
It was so massive that it looked to us
like a ship’s mast, a twenty-oared black freighter
that sails across the vast sea full of cargo.
I went and cut from it about a fathom,
and gave it to the men, and ordered them
to scrape it down. They made it smooth and I
stood by and sharpened up the tip, and made it
hard in the blazing flame. The cave was full
of dung; I hid the club beneath a pile.          330
Then I gave orders that the men cast lots
for who would lift the stake with me and press it
into his eye, when sweet sleep overtook him.
The lots fell on the men I would have chosen:
four men, and I was fifth among their number.
At evening he drove back his woolly flocks
into the spacious cave, both male and female,
and left none in the yard outside—perhaps
suspecting something, or perhaps a god
told him to do it. He picked up and placed           340
the stone to form a door, and sat to milk
the sheep and bleating goats in turn, then put
the little ones to suck. His chores were done;
he grabbed two men for dinner. I approached
and offered him a cup of ivy wood,
filled full of wine. I said,
‘Here, Cyclops! You
have eaten human meat; now drink some wine,
sample the merchandise our ship contains.
I brought it as a holy offering,
so you might pity me and send me home.         350
But you are in a cruel rage, beyond
what anyone could bear. Do you expect
more guests, when you have treated us so rudely?’
He took and drank the sweet delicious wine;
he loved it, and demanded more.
‘Another!
And now tell me your name, so I can give you
a present as my guest, one you will like.
My people do have wine; grape clusters grow
from our rich earth, fed well by rain from Zeus.
But this is nectar, god food!’
So I gave him        360
another cup of wine, and then two more.
He drank them all, unwisely. With the wine
gone to his head, I told him, all politeness,
‘Cyclops, you asked my name. I will reveal it;
then you must give the gift you promised me,
of hospitality. My name is Noman.
My family and friends all call me Noman.’
He answered with no pity in his heart,
‘I will eat Noman last; first I will eat
the other men. That is my gift to you.’            370
Then he collapsed, fell on his back, and lay there,
his massive neck askew. All-conquering sleep
took him. In drunken heaviness, he spewed
wine from his throat, and chunks of human flesh.
And then I drove the spear into the embers
to heat it up, and told my men, ‘Be brave!’
I wanted none of them to shrink in fear.
The fire soon seized the olive spear,
green though it was, and terribly it glowed.
I quickly snatched it from the fire. My crew           380
stood firm: some god was breathing courage in us.
They took the olive spear, its tip all sharp,
and shoved it in his eye. I leaned on top
and twisted it, as when a man drills wood
for shipbuilding. Below, the workers spin
the drill with straps, stretched out from either end.
So round and round it goes, and so we whirled
the fire-sharp weapon in his eye. His blood
poured out around the stake, and blazing fire
sizzled his lids and brows, and fried the roots.         390
As when a blacksmith dips an axe or adze
to temper it in ice-cold water; loudly
it shrieks. From this, the iron takes on its power.
So did his eyeball crackle on the spear.
Horribly then he howled, the rocks resounded,
and we shrank back in fear. He tugged the spear
out of his eye, all soaked with gushing blood.
Desperately with both hands he hurled it from him,
and shouted to the Cyclopes who lived
in caves high up on windy cliffs around.        400
They heard and came from every side, and stood
near to the cave, and called out, ‘Polyphemus!
What is the matter? Are you badly hurt?
Why are you screaming through the holy night
and keeping us awake? Is someone stealing
your herds, or trying to kill you, by some trick
or force?’
Strong Polyphemus from inside
replied, ‘My friends! Noman is killing me
by tricks, not force.’
Their words flew back to him:
‘If no one hurts you, you are all alone:              410
Great Zeus has made you sick; no help for that.
Pray to your father, mighty Lord Poseidon.’
Then off they went, and I laughed to myself,
at how my name, the ‘no man’ maneuver, tricked him.
The Cyclops groaned and labored in his pain,
felt with blind hands and took the door-stone out,
and sat there at the entrance, arms outstretched,
to catch whoever went out with the sheep.
Maybe he thought I was a total fool.
But I was strategizing, hatching plans,          420
so that my men and I could all survive.
I wove all kinds of wiles and cunning schemes;
danger was near and it was life or death.
The best idea I formed was this: there were
those well-fed sturdy rams with good thick fleece,
wool as dark as violets—all fine big creatures.
So silently I tied them with the rope
used by the giant Cyclops as a bed.
I bound the rams in sets of three and set
a man beneath each middle sheep, with one        430
on either side, and so my men were saved.
One ram was best of all the flock; I grabbed
his back and curled myself up underneath
his furry belly, clinging to his fleece;
by force of will I kept on hanging there.
And then we waited miserably for day.
When early Dawn revealed her rose-red hands,
the rams jumped up, all eager for the grass.
The ewes were bleating in their pens, unmilked,
their udders full to bursting. Though their master        440
was weak and worn with pain, he felt the back
of each ram as he lined them up—but missed
the men tied up beneath their woolly bellies.
Last of them all, the big ram went outside,
heavy with wool and me—the clever trickster.
Strong Polyphemus stroked his back and asked him,
‘Sweet ram, why are you last today to leave
the cave? You are not normally so slow.
You are the first to eat the tender flowers,
leaping across the meadow, first to drink,         450
and first to want to go back to the sheepfold
at evening time. But now you are the last.
You grieve for Master’s eye; that wicked man,
helped by his nasty henchmen, got me drunk
and blinded me. Noman will not escape!
If only you could talk like me, and tell me
where he is skulking in his fear of me.
Then I would dash his brains out on the rocks,
and make them spatter all across the cave,
to ease the pain that no-good Noman brought.’          460
With that, he nudged the ram away outside.
We rode a short way from the cave,
then I first freed myself and then untied my men.
We stole his nice fat animals, and ran,
constantly glancing all around and back
until we reached the ship. The other men
were glad to see us, their surviving friends,
but wept for those who died. I ordered them
to stop their crying, scowling hard at each.
I made them shove the fleecy flock on board,          470
and row the boat out into salty water.
So they embarked, sat on their rowing benches,
and struck their oar blades in the whitening sea.
When I had gone as far as shouts can carry,
I jeered back,
‘Hey, you, Cyclops! Idiot!
The crew trapped in your cave did not belong
to some poor weakling. Well, you had it coming!
You had no shame at eating your own guests!
So Zeus and other gods have paid you back.’
My taunting made him angrier. He ripped         480
a rock out of the hill and hurled it at us.
It landed right in front of our dark prow,
and almost crushed the tip of the steering oar.
The stone sank in the water; waves surged up.
The backflow all at once propelled the ship
landwards; the swollen water pushed us with it.
I grabbed a big long pole, and shoved us off.
I told my men, ‘Row fast, to save your lives!’
and gestured with my head to make them hurry.
They bent down to their oars and started rowing.         490
We got out twice as far across the sea,
and then I called to him again. My crew
begged me to stop, and pleaded with me.
‘Please!
Calm down! Why are you being so insistent
and taunting this wild man? He hurled that stone
and drove our ship right back to land. We thought
that we were going to die. If he had heard us,
he would have hurled a jagged rock and crushed
our heads and wooden ship. He throws so hard!
But my tough heart was not convinced; I was         500
still furious, and shouted back again,
‘Cyclops! If any mortal asks you how
your eye was mutilated and made blind,
say that Odysseus, the city-sacker,
Laertes’ son, who lives in Ithaca,
destroyed your sight.’
He groaned, ‘The prophecy!
It has come true at last! There was a tall
and handsome man named Telemus, the son
of Eurymus, who lived among my people;
he spent his life here, soothsaying for us.               510
He told me that Odysseus’ hands
would make me lose my sight. I always thought
a tall and handsome man would visit me,
endowed with strength and courage. But this weakling,
this little nobody, has blinded me;
by wine he got the best of me. Come on,
Odysseus, and let me give you gifts,
and ask Poseidon’s help to get you home.
I am his son; the god is proud to be
my father. He will heal me, if he wants,           520
though no one else, not god nor man, can do it.’
After he said these words, I answered him,
‘If only I could steal your life from you,
and send you down to Hades’ house below,
as sure as nobody will ever heal you,
even the god of earthquakes.’
But he prayed
holding his arms towards the starry sky,
‘Listen, Earth-Shaker, Blue-Haired Lord Poseidon:
acknowledge me your son, and be my father.
Grant that Odysseus, the city-sacker,              530
will never go back home. Or if it is
fated that he will see his family,
then let him get there late and with no honor,
in pain and lacking ships, and having caused
the death of all his men, and let him find
more trouble in his own house.’
Blue Poseidon
granted his son’s prayer. Polyphemus raised
a rock far bigger than the last, and swung,
then hurled it with immeasurable force.
It fell a little short, beside our rudder,                 540
and splashed into the sea; the waves surged up,
and pushed the boat ahead, to the other shore.
We reached the island where our ships were docked.
The men were sitting waiting for us, weeping.
We beached our ship and disembarked, then took
the sheep that we had stolen from the Cyclops
out of the ship’s hold, and we shared them out
fairly, so all the men got equal portions.
But in dividing up the flock, my crew
gave me alone the ram, the Cyclops’ favorite.       550
There on the shore, I slaughtered him for Zeus,
the son of Cronus, god of Dark Clouds, Lord
of all the world. I burned the thighs. The god
ignored my offering, and planned to ruin
all of my ships and all my loyal men.
So all day long till sunset we were sitting,
feasting on meat and drinking sweet strong wine.
But when the sun went down and darkness fell,
we went to sleep beside the breaking waves.
Then when rose-fingered Dawn came, bright and early,         560
I roused my men and told them to embark
and loose the cables. Quickly they obeyed,
sat at their rowing benches, all in order,
and struck the gray saltwater with their oars.
So we sailed on, with sorrow in our hearts,
glad to survive, but grieving for our friends.”
Chapter 10
The Winds and the Witch
“We reached the floating island of Aeolus,
who is well loved by all the deathless gods.
Around it, on sheer cliffs, there runs a wall
of solid bronze, impregnable. Twelve children
live with him in his palace: six strong boys,
and six girls. He arranged their marriages,
one sister to each brother. They are always
feasting there with their parents, at a banquet
that never ends. By day, the savor fills
the house; the court reverberates with sound.        10
At night they sleep beside the wives they love
on rope beds piled with blankets.
We arrived at that fine citadel. He welcomed me
and made me stay a month, and asked for news
of Troy, the Argive ships, and how the Greeks
went home. I told him everything. At last
I told him he should send me on my way.
So he agreed to help me, and he gave me
a bag of oxhide leather and he tied
the gusty winds inside it. Zeus, the son      20
of Cronus, made him steward of the winds,
and he can stop or rouse them as he wishes.
He bound the bag with shining silver wire
to my curved ship, so no gust could escape,
however small, and he made Zephyr blow
so that the breath could carry home our ships
and us. But it was not to be. Our folly
ruined us. For nine days and nights we sailed,
and on the tenth, our native land appeared.
We were so near, we saw men tending fires.      30
Exhausted, I let sweet sleep overcome me.
I had been doing all the steering, hoping
that we would get home sooner if I did.
But while I slept my men began to mutter,
saying the great Aeolus gave me gifts—
silver and gold that I was taking home.
With glances to his neighbor, each complained,
‘It seems that everybody loves this man,
and honors him, in every place we sail to.
He also has that loot from sacking Troy.       40
We shared the journey with him, yet we come
back home with empty hands. And now Aeolus
has made this friendly gift to him. So hurry,
we should look in the bag, and see how much
is in there—how much silver, how much gold.’
That bad idea took hold of them; they did it.
They opened up the bag, and all the winds
rushed out at once. A sudden buffet seized us
and hurled us back to sea, the wrong direction,
far from our home. They screamed and I woke up,       50
and wondered if I should jump off the ship
and drown, or bite my lip, be stoical,
and stay among the living. I endured it,
covered my face, and lay on deck. A blast
of storm wind whooshed the ships back to the island
of great Aeolus. They began to weep.
We disembarked and filled our jars with water,
and hungrily the men devoured their dinner.
When they were done, I took one slave with me
and one crew member, back to see Aeolus.       60
He was at dinner with his wife and children.
We entered and sat down beside the doorposts.
Startled, they asked,
‘Why are you here again?
You had bad luck? What happened? Surely we
helped you go on your way, and meant for you
to reach your homeland, where you wished to go.’
I answered sadly, ‘Blame my men, and blame
my stubborn urge to sleep, which ruined us.
Dear friends, you have the power to put things right.’
I hoped these words would soften them, but they.       70
were silent. Then the father yelled, ‘Get out!
You nasty creature, leave my island! Now!
It is not right for me to help convey
a man so deeply hated by the gods.
You godforsaken thing, how dare you come here?
Get out!’
He roared and drove us from his palace.
Dispirited, we sailed away. The men
grew worn out with the agony of rowing;
our folly had deprived us of fair winds.
We rowed six days and nights; the seventh day.       80
we came to Laestrygonia—the town
of Telepylus upon the cliffs of Lamos.
A herdsman there, returning to his home,
can greet another herdsman going out.
A sleepless man could earn a double wage
by herding cows, then pasturing white sheep—
the paths of day and night are close together.
We reached the famous harbor, all surrounded
by sheer rock cliffs. On each side, strips of shore
jut out and almost meet, a narrow mouth.         90
No waves rear up in there, not even small ones.
White calm is everywhere. So all the others
harbored their ships inside, crammed close together.
I was the only one who chose to moor
my ship outside the harbor, fastening
the cables to a rock a way away.
I disembarked and climbed a crag to scout.
I saw no sign of cattle or of humans,
except some smoke that rose up from the earth.
I picked two men, and one slave as the third,       100
and sent them to find out what people lived
and ate bread in this land. They disembarked
and walked along a smooth path, where the wagons
brought wood down from the mountains to the city.
They met a girl in front of town, out fetching
some water. She was heading for the fountain
of Artaky, the whole town’s water source.
She was the strapping child of Antiphates,
king of the Laestrygonians. They asked her
about the king and people of the country.       110
She promptly took them to the high-roofed palace
of her own father. When they went inside
they found a woman, mountain-high. They were
appalled and shocked. The giantess at once
summoned the king her husband from the council;
he tried to kill my men, and grabbing one
he ate him up. The other two escaped,
back to the ship. The king’s shout boomed through town.
Hearing, the mighty Laestrygonians
thronged from all sides, not humanlike, but giants.       120
With boulders bigger than a man could lift
they pelted at us from the cliffs. We heard
the dreadful uproar of ships being broken
and dying men. They speared them there like fish.
A gruesome meal! While they were killing them
inside the harbor, I drew out my sword
and cut the ropes that moored my dark-cheeked ship,
and yelling to my men, I told them, ‘Row
as fast as possible away from danger!’
They rowed at double time, afraid to die.         130
My ship was lucky and we reached the sea
beyond the overhanging cliffs. The rest,
trapped in the bay together, were destroyed.
We sailed off sadly, happy to survive,
but with our good friends lost. We reached Aeaea,
home of the beautiful, dreadful goddess Circe,
who speaks in human languages—the sister
of Aeetes whose mind is set on ruin.
Those two are children of the Sun who shines
on mortals, and of Perse, child of Ocean.       140
Under the guidance of some god we drifted
silently to the harbor, and we moored there.
For two days and two nights we lay onshore,
exhausted and our hearts consumed with grief.
On the third morning brought by braided Dawn,
I took my spear and sharp sword, and I ran
up from the ship to higher ground, to look
for signs of humans, listening for voices.
I climbed up to a crag, and I saw smoke
rising from Circe’s palace, from the earth         150
up through the woods and thickets. I considered
if I should go down and investigate,
since I had seen the smoke. But I decided
to go back down first, to the beach and ship
and feed my men, and then set out to scout.
When I had almost reached my ship, some god
took pity on me in my loneliness,
and sent a mighty stag with great tall antlers
to cross my path. He ran down from the forest
to drink out of the river; it was hot.        160
I struck him in the middle of his back;
my bronze spear pierced him. With a moan,
he fell onto the dust; his spirit flew away.
I stepped on him and tugged my bronze spear out,
and left it on the ground, while I plucked twigs
and twines, and wove a rope, a fathom’s length,
well knotted all the way along, and bound
the hooves of that huge animal. I went
down to my dark ship with him on my back.
I used my spear to lean on, since the stag         170
was too big to be lugged across one shoulder.
I dumped him down before the ship and made
a comforting pep talk to cheer my men.
‘My friends! We will not yet go down to Hades,
sad though we are, before our fated day.
Come on, since we have food and drink on board,
let us not starve ourselves; now time to eat!’
They quickly heeded my commands, and took
their cloaks down from their faces, and they marveled
to see the big stag lying on the beach.          180
It was enormous. When they finished staring,
they washed their hands and cooked a splendid meal.
So all that day till sunset we sat eating
the meat aplenty and the strong sweet wine.
When darkness fell, we went to sleep beside
the seashore. Then the roses of Dawn’s fingers
appeared again; I called my men and told them,
‘Listen to me, my friends, despite your grief.
We do not know where darkness lives, nor dawn,
nor where the sun that shines upon the world         190
goes underneath the earth, nor where it rises.
We need a way to fix our current plight,
but I do not know how. I climbed the rocks
to higher ground to look around. This is
an island, wreathed about by boundless sea.
The land lies low. I saw smoke in the middle,
rising up through the forest and thick bush.’
At that, their hearts sank, since they all remembered
what happened with the Laestrygonians,
their King Antiphates, and how the mighty.       200
Cyclops devoured the men. They wept and wailed,
and shed great floods of tears. But all that grieving
could do no good. I made them wear their armor,
and split them in two groups. I led one,
and made godlike Eurylochus lead the other.
We shook the lots in a helmet made of bronze;
Eurylochus’ lot jumped out. So he
went with his band of twenty-two, all weeping.
Those left behind with me were crying too.
Inside the glade they found the house of Circe        210
built out of polished stones, on high foundations.
Round it were mountain wolves and lions, which
she tamed with drugs. They did not rush on them,
but gathered around them in a friendly way,
their long tails wagging, as dogs nuzzle round
their master when he comes back home from dinner
with treats for them. Just so, those sharp-clawed wolves
and lions, mighty beasts, came snuggling up.
The men were terrified. They stood outside
and heard some lovely singing. It was Circe,       220
the goddess. She was weaving as she sang,
an intricate, enchanting piece of work,
the kind a goddess fashions. Then Polites,
my most devoted and most loyal man,
a leader to his peers, said,
‘Friends, inside
someone is weaving on that massive loom,
and singing so the floor resounds. Perhaps
a woman, or a goddess. Let us call her.’
They shouted out to her. She came at once,
opened the shining doors, and asked them in.       230
So thinking nothing of it, in they went.
Eurylochus alone remained outside,
suspecting trickery. She led them in,
sat them on chairs, and blended them a potion
of barley, cheese, and golden honey, mixed
with Pramnian wine. She added potent drugs
to make them totally forget their home.
They took and drank the mixture. Then she struck them,
using her magic wand, and penned them in
the pigsty. They were turned to pigs in body            240
and voice and hair; their minds remained the same.
They squealed at their imprisonment, and Circe
threw them some mast and cornel cherries—food
that pigs like rooting for in muddy ground.
Eurylochus ran back to our black ship,
to tell us of the terrible disaster
that happened to his friends. He tried to speak,
but could not, overwhelmed by grief. His eyes
were full of tears, his heart was pierced with sorrow.
Astonished, we all questioned him. At last        250
he spoke about what happened to the others.
‘Odysseus, we went off through the woods,
as you commanded. In the glade we found
a beautiful tall house of polished stone.
We heard a voice: a woman or a goddess
was singing as she worked her loom. My friends
called out to her. She opened up the doors,
inviting them inside. Suspecting nothing,
they followed her. But I stayed there outside,
fearing some trick. Then all at once, they vanished.        260
I sat there for a while to watch and wait,
but none of them came back.’
At this, I strapped
my silver-studded sword across my back,
took up my bow, and told him, ‘Take me there.’
He grasped my knees and begged me tearfully,
‘No no, my lord! Please do not make me go!
Let me stay here! You cannot bring them back,
and you will not return here if you try.
Hurry, we must escape with these men here!
We have a chance to save our lives!’
I said,       270
‘You can stay here beside the ship and eat
and drink. But I will go. I must do this.’
I left the ship and shore, and walked on up,
crossing the sacred glades, and I had almost
reached the great house of the enchantress
Circe, when I met Hermes, carrying his wand
of gold. He seemed an adolescent boy,
the cutest age, when beards first start to grow.
He took my hand and said,
‘Why have you come
across these hills alone? You do not know         280
this place, poor man. Your men were turned to pigs
in Circe’s house, and crammed in pens. Do you
imagine you can set them free? You cannot.
If you try that, you will not get back home.
You will stay here with them. But I can help you.
Here, take this antidote to keep you safe
when you go into Circe’s house. Now I
will tell you all her lethal spells and tricks.
She will make you a potion mixed with poison.
Its magic will not work on you because        290
you have the herb I gave you. When she strikes you
with her long wand, then draw your sharpened sword
and rush at her as if you mean to kill her.
She will be frightened of you, and will tell you
to sleep with her. Do not hold out against her—
she is a goddess. If you sleep with her,
you will set free your friends and save yourself.
Tell her to swear an oath by all the gods
that she will not plot further harm for you—
or while you have your clothes off, she may hurt you,     300
unmanning you.’
The bright mercurial god
pulled from the ground a plant and showed me how
its root is black, its flower white as milk.
The gods call this plant Moly. It is hard
for mortal men to dig it up, but gods
are able to do everything. Then Hermes
flew through the wooded island, back towards
high Mount Olympus. I went in the house
of Circe. My heart pounded as I walked.
I stood there at the doorway, and I saw her,        310
the lovely Circe with her braided hair.
I called; she heard and opened up the doors
and asked me in. I followed nervously.
She led me to a silver-studded chair,
all finely crafted, with a footstool under.
In a gold cup she mixed a drink for me,
adding the drug—she hoped to do me harm.
I sipped it, but the magic did not work.
She struck me with her wand and said,
‘Now go!
Out to the sty, and lie there with your men!’         320
But I drew my sharp sword from by my thigh
and leapt at her as if I meant to kill her.
She screamed and ducked beneath the sword, and grasped
my knees, and wailing asked me,
‘Who are you?
Where is your city? And who are your parents?
I am amazed that you could drink my potion
and yet not be bewitched. No other man
has drunk it and withstood the magic charm.
But you are different. Your mind is not
enchanted. You must be Odysseus,       330
the man who can adapt to anything.
Bright flashing Hermes of the golden wand
has often told me that you would sail here
from Troy in your swift ship. Now sheathe your sword
and come to bed with me. Through making love
we may begin to trust each other more.’
I answered, ‘Circe! How can you command me
to treat you gently, when you turned my men
to pigs, and you are planning to play tricks
in telling me to come to bed with you,         340
so you can take my courage and my manhood
when you have got me naked? I refuse
to come to bed with you, unless you swear
a mighty oath that you will not form plans
to hurt me anymore.’
When I said that,
at once she made the oath as I had asked.
She vowed and formed the oath, and then at last
I went up to the dazzling bed of Circe.
Meanwhile, four slaves, her house girls, were at work
around the palace. They were nymphs, the daughters.     350
of fountains and of groves and holy rivers
that flow into the sea. One set fine cloths
of purple on the chairs, with stones beneath them.
Beside each chair, another pulled up tables
of silver and set golden baskets on them.
The third mixed up inside a silver bowl
sweet, cheering wine, and poured it in gold cups.
The fourth brought water, and she lit a fire
beneath a mighty tripod, till it boiled.
It started bubbling in the copper cauldron;      360
she took me to the bathtub, and began
to wash my head and shoulders, using water
mixed to the perfect temperature, to take
my deep soul-crushing weariness away.
After the bath, she oiled my skin and dressed me
in fine wool cloak and tunic, and she led me
to a silver-studded well-carved chair, and set
a footstool underneath. Another slave
brought water for my hands, in a gold pitcher,
and poured it over them, to a silver bowl.       370
She set a polished table near. The cook
brought bread and laid a generous feast, and Circe
told me to eat. But my heart was unwilling.
I sat there with my mind on other things;
I had forebodings. Circe noticed me
sitting, not touching food, and weighed by grief.
She stood near me and asked, ‘Odysseus!
why are you sitting there so silently,
like someone mute, eating your heart, not touching
the banquet or the wine? You need not fear.        380
Remember, I already swore an oath.’
But I said, ‘Circe, no! What decent man
could bear to taste his food or sip his wine
before he saw his men with his own eyes,
and set them free? If you are so insistent
on telling me to eat and drink, then free them,
so I may see with my own eyes my crew
of loyal men.’
So Circe left the hall
holding her wand, and opened up the pigsty
and drove them out, still looking like fat boars,          390
large and full grown. They stood in front of her.
Majestic Lady Circe walked among them,
anointing each with some new drug. The potion
had made thick hog-hairs sprout out on their bodies.
Those bristles all flew off and they were men,
but younger than before, and much more handsome,
and taller. Then they recognized me. Each
embraced me tightly in his arms, and started
sobbing in desperation. So the house
rang loud with noise, and even she herself     400
pitied them. She came near to me and said,
‘Odysseus, you always find solutions.
Go now to your swift ship beside the sea.
First drag the ship to land, and bring your stores
and all your gear inside the caves. Then come
back with your loyal men.’
My heart agreed;
I went down to my swift ship on the shore.
I found my loyal men beside the ship,
weeping and shedding floods of tears. As when
a herd of cows is coming back from pasture.     410
into the yard; and all the little heifers
jump from their pens to skip and run towards
their mothers, and they cluster round them, mooing;
just so my men, as soon as they saw me,
began to weep, and in their minds it seemed
as if they had arrived in their own home,
the land of rugged Ithaca, where they
were born and raised. Still sobbing, they cried out,
‘Oh, Master! We are glad to see you back!
It is as if we had come home ourselves,          420
to Ithaca, our fatherland. But tell us
about how all our other friends were killed.’
I reassured them, saying, ‘First we must
drag up the ship to land, and put the stores
and all our gear inside the caves; then hurry,
all of you, come with me, and see your friends
inside the goddess Circe’s holy house,
eating and drinking; they have food enough
to last forever.’
They believed my story,
with the exception of Eurylochus,          430
who warned them,
‘Fools! Why would you go up there?
Why would you choose to take on so much danger,
to enter Circe’s house, where she will turn us
to pigs or wolves or lions, all of us,
forced to protect her mighty house for her?
Remember what the Cyclops did? Our friends
went to his home with this rash lord of ours.
Because of his bad choices, they all died.’
At that, I thought of drawing my long sword
from by my sturdy thigh, to cut his head off     440
and let it fall down to the ground—although
he was close family. My men restrained me,
saying to me, ‘No, king, please let him go!
Let him stay here and guard the ship, and we
will follow you to Circe’s holy house.’
So they went up, away from ship and shore.
Eurylochus did not stay there; he came,
fearing my angry scolding.
Meanwhile Circe
had freed the other men, and in her house
she gently bathed them, rubbing them with oil.         450
She had them dressed in woolen cloaks and tunics.
We found them feasting in the hall. The men,
seeing each other face-to-face again,
began to weep; their sobbing filled the hall.
The goddess stood beside me and said,
‘King,
clever Odysseus, Laertes’ son,
now stop encouraging this lamentation.
I know you and your men have suffered greatly,
out on the fish-filled sea, and on dry land
from hostile men. But it is time to eat         460
and drink some wine. You must get back the drive
you had when you set out from Ithaca.
You are worn down and brokenhearted, always
dwelling on pai