1/The Homeric notion of  nostos,  which is discussed in my...

1/The Homeric notion of nostos, which is discussed in my notes, as well as on page 71 of the introduction of the Odyssey. Nostos, is the drive engine of the entire epic. It's nostos that keeps pushing Odysseus homeward. In order to reach his destination he needs to overcome great obstacles threatening his memory and thus his identity. As the opposite of memory, oblivion (forgetfulness, amnesia) undermines a person's consciousness of the self, thus it destabilizes and destroys any sense of identity. Odysseus needs to constantly fight the forces of oblivion to maintain his memory and attain his nostos. 

Notes:

Who is Homer? In truth no one knows. Homer is a name full of symbolism, legacy, tradition, epic memory and Greek blood. But whether Homer was a man, or an idea is up to interpretation and this ambiguity forms the so-called Homeric Question, which is explained in the introduction of your copy of the Odyssey (p.p. 7-10).

In the above image, there is visual ancient impression of Homer discovered by an American archaeologist in Greece in 1939. The image stems from a fresco of the Archaic period circa 800 BC (consult your time periods chart in my precious documents), the alleged time of Homer. Against a purple red background, a bard, supposedly Homer sits on a luminous, polychromed rock dressed in a long-striped robe. In his arms he holds a large five-stringed lyre, the fingers of his right hand plucking at the strings. Against the red of the wall behind him is the most telling part of this image: an enormous bird, the color of the poet's robe, its eye as bright and open as Homer's, its body larger than his. The bird is poetry itself taking wing, so big, so much stronger than little Homer. It is the bird of eloquence, the 'winged words,' which Homeric heroes speak to each other. Meaning and beauty take flight from Homer's song.

It is one of the most extraordinary visualizations of poetry ever created, its life entirely self-sufficient as it makes its way out across that ragged horizon. There is a deep paradox here, one that is central to the whole experience of Homer's epics. Nothing is more insubstantial than poetry. It has no body, and yet it persists. 

As noted in my previous notes, epic poetry preceded written text, thus it came before recorded history. It was composed, delivered and maintained orally. A bard like Homer would sing stories of conflict and war, love and betrayal, life and death, and thus entertain and instruct the eager audiences of his time. Around a certain ancient culture's epic poems, being the Sumerian, the Chinese or the Greek, societies and nations still unify around a common memory that runs like invisible blood, the bloodstream of tradition and imagination, equal in magnitude, in mystery and in scope with the magic of a sunset painted-red horizon. 

Epic poetry, which was invented after memory and before history, occupies a third space in the human desire to connect the present to the past: it is the attempt to extend the qualities of memory over the reach of time embraced by history. Epic's purpose is to make the distant past as immediate to us as our own lives, to make the great stories of long ago beautiful and painful now.

Homer's epics are the stories of beginnings and the primordial conflicts of the early Greeks. They take place at least half a millennium after the Sumerian Gilgamesh we just discussed. An epic poem is never about its own time, and that is one of its main characteristics. It's about a bygone time that the poet reconstructs through memory and tradition. Homer allegedly lived and composed in the 7^th century BC but the stories he is telling us in the Iliad and the Odyssey took place at least half millennium before him in Greece during the Mycenean Period (consult your chart of time periods). By the time we get to Homer's time, civilization is much older and more mature than Gilgamesh's time: people know more and question more. There is no illusion of immortality for mortals. It has become clear that only gods can be immortal and that the only way for a mortal to achieve immortality is to be famous (one of the main preoccupations of the epic hero) so his name, legacy and reputation will live far more than his perished body. Most Homeric heroes are very much preoccupied with the idea of fame and Odysseus is one of them.

As the British scholar Adam Nicolson further notes in his book Why Homer Matters (2014):

Homer's poems depict early Greek civilization as it crystallized from the fusion of two very different worlds: the seminomadic, hero-based culture of the European steppes to the north and west of the Black Sea, and the sophisticated, authoritarian and literate cities and palaces of the eastern Mediterranean. Greekness -and eventually Europeanness- emerged from the meeting and melding of those worlds. Hoer is the trace of that encounter -in war, despair and eventual reconciliation at Troy in the Iliad, in flexibility and mutual absorption in the Odyssey. Homer's urgency comes from the pain associated with that clash of worlds and his immediacy from the eternal principles at stake: what matters more, the individual or the community, the city or the hero? What is life, something of everlasting value or a transient and hopeless irrelevance?

Homer's two renowned epics are the Iliad and the Odyssey. The former is the story of the Trojan War, its moral consequences on the Greek heroes as much as a reminder of the futility of war. At the same time, the Iliad is story that exhorts valor, denunciates violence and questions the necessity for war. The Odyssey, on the other hand is a post-war story of returning, healing and redeeming. The one who is in the process of returning and redeeming, of course, is no other than the one of the most famous literary characters ever, king Odysseus of Ithaca who went to fight alongside with Greeks in Troy and it took him 20 years to return. He spent 10 years fighting in Troy (he is the mastermind of the Trojan Horse, the device that ended the war with victory for the Greeks in a dishonorable way that angered the Gods) and another 10 years to return. Why did it take him so long? Well, he had to atone for his hubris, as much as Gilgamesh had to expiate for his. Odysseus is not striving for immortality, he is fighting for his memory -a memory that will enable him to retain his identity, return home and reinstate his power and reputation. His fight thus is against the forces of oblivion that constantly undermine and threaten his memory.

Annually global audiences vote the Odyssey as the most influential and beloved story ever. It takes a reading of the epic to know why Odysseus' story has touched countless people throughout the ages and the continents. 

Page 71 from the reading

The first lines of the poem invite us to see these deaths in terms of the dead men's own folly or childish naïveté, because they chose to eat the Cattle of the Sun. They were "poor fools" (nepioi), a term that suggests childish thoughtlessness. This foolishness is sharply contrasted with Odysseus' own characteristic qualities of scheming intelligence, quick planning, and forward thinking (metis). But this prologue does not hint at the numerous other deaths suffered by the men in Odysseus' crew—including those who are eaten alive by the sea-monster Scylla when Odysseus chooses to sail past her island; those who are devoured by the Cyclops, thanks to Odysseus' insistence on visiting his cave; or those who are skewered from their ships and eaten by the man-eating giants, the Laestrygonians, when Odysseus docks the fleet at their island and moors only his own ship in a safe place outside the harbor. These deaths clearly have nothing to do with the men's cognitive or moral qualities. The prophet Tiresias predicts that, if Odysseus hurts the Cattle of the Sun, he will arrive home only "late and exhausted, in a stranger's boat, / having destroyed [his] men," and a similar prophesy is made by the goddess Circe. The participle here translated as "having destroyed" can also mean "having lost." The ambiguous phrasing matters, because the ultimate responsibility for all these deaths remains an open question.

Endings

The traditional poetic stories of archaic Greece included tales of how the heroes came home from the Trojan War—the Nostoi, as they were known. The Odyssey is obviously a story of nostos, meaning "homecoming" (the word from which we get "nostalgia," the pain of missing home). But the poem suggests that it may not be entirely easy to see what a homecoming is, and when exactly it happens. Coming home means more than simply reaching a particular spatial or geographical location. The hero reaches his home country of Ithaca when the poem is almost exactly halfway through. The remaining books trace a series of journeys across a tiny geographical area: from the port of Ithaca to the loyal swineherd's hut; back and forth between the hut and the palace; from the hallway to the marriage bed, and back again; out from the palace to the orchard, and back again to slaughter his fellow countrymen who are assembled in front of his house. Each of these locations seems to offer a different version of home, and one can wonder when and where Odysseus feels most fully that he has arrived.

Thanks to Athena's magic, Odysseus initially does not recognize Ithaca; it seems like yet another unfamiliar and probably dangerous place. Once the divine mist disperses, Odysseus knows that he is on Ithaca, but we can also see that his initial suspicions were in many ways correct: Ithaca is indeed a dangerous and unfamiliar place, and there are real questions about how and when Odysseus might be able to transform it again into the home that he left behind.

A key part of his strategy for doing so is to test the loyalty and behavior of various members of his household. He appears in disguise to the key players, each in turn, and tests their responses to his own persona as a

homeless migrant. Those who pass the test are to be incorporated into Odysseus' plan and restored into the household; those who fail are killed. Thanks to the long process by which Odysseus gradually infiltrates his way into the community of Ithaca, he is able to assess who will help him, and whom he must destroy in order to reassert his own power over his home.

But it is unclear when Odysseus finally achieves his ends and reaches his home, if indeed this moment ever comes. Odysseus is reunited with Penelope, but the poem continues. We see the ghosts of the suitors travel down to the underworld and meet the spirits of Achilles and Agamemnon, which might have been a kind of ending; but the poem continues. We see Odysseus reunite with his old father, Laertes; but the poem continues. Fighting breaks out on Ithaca between Odysseus and his supporters, and the friends and family members of the dead suitors. The battle grows intense, and Odysseus is wild with martial rage; only thanks to the intervention of Athena does it stop. And there the poem ends.

Scholars since antiquity have been puzzled by the ending of The Odyssey. Two Homeric scholars of the Library of Alexandria in the third and second centuries BCE, Aristarchus of Samothrace and Aristophanes of Byzantium (not the comic playwright), argued that the poem really ended at the moment when Odysseus and Penelope go to bed together; on this model, the real ending is in Book 23, when the narrator tells us,

Finally, at last,

with joy the husband and the wife arrived

back in the rites of their old marriage bed. (23.293-95)

We do not know what grounds were given by these ancient scholars for treating the end of Book 23 and the whole of 24 as extraneous. Eustathius, a twelfth-century critic, tried to defend Book 24 on literary and semantic grounds, arguing that the recognition scene between Odysseus and his father is an essential element in the story.

Modern scholars have also argued about the "correct" or "original" place for the poem to end. Linguistic arguments have been made against Book 24, but these are highly debatable; Homer's language, as we have seen, is always a mixture of words and phrases from many different dialects and periods. The episode involving the ghosts of the dead suitors is unusual —but the situation is also unusual. The encounter between Laertes and Odysseus seems cruel to some readers, since Odysseus has no need to "test"his father, now that the suitors are already dead; yet it is arguably not out of character for Odysseus, a person "addicted to deceit," to keep spinning his lies even when they seem to serve no particular purpose.

Question:

• Your first task in this question is to explain and understanding the meaning of nostos and how it relates to the overall journey of Odysseus. Use specific examples/quotes to illustrate your point.
• Your second task is to list and discuss briefly at least 2 incidents/moments in the narrative (Chapters 5-12) in which Odysseus confronts the forces of oblivion that threaten his memory. These forces are represented by certain characters that appear in his path with the purpose of derailing his journey or eliminating him altogether. You need to be specific: Who is threatening Odysseus' memory and how?

2/ In chapter 11 of the Odyssey, Odysseus descends to the Underworld.

Questions:

• Begin by explaining how is the Underworld described in the poem and what is the purpose of Odysseus' journey down there? Then respond to the following:
• Who sends him there?
• -Four of his most important encounters in the Underworld are with Elpenor, Tiresias. Anticleia, and Achilles. Who are these characters and what does Odysseus learn from his interaction with each of them perspectively? Use specific examples and quotes to illustrate your points and your knowledge.

Chapter 11

The Dead

"We reached the sea and first of all we launched the ship into the sparkling salty water,

set up the mast and sails, and brought the sheep on board with us. We were still grieving, weeping, in floods of tears. But beautiful, dread Circe,

the goddess who can speak in human tongues,

sent us a wind to fill our sails, fair wind befriending us behind the dark blue prow.

We made our tackle shipshape, then sat down.

The wind and pilot guided straight our course. 10 The sun set. It was dark in all directions.

We reached the limits of deep-flowing Ocean, where the Cimmerians live and have their city. Their land is covered up in mist and cloud; the shining Sun God never looks on them

with his bright beams—not when he rises up

into the starry sky, nor when he turns

back from the heavens to earth. Destructive night blankets the world for all poor mortals there.

We beached our ship, drove out the sheep, and went 20 to seek the stream of Ocean where the goddess

had told us we must go. Eurylochus

and Perimedes made the sacrifice.

I drew my sword and dug a hole, a fathom

widthways and lengthways, and I poured libations

for all the dead: first honey-mix, sweet wine,

and lastly, water. On the top, I sprinkled

barley, and made a solemn vow that if

I reached my homeland, I would sacrifice

my best young heifer, still uncalved, and pile 30

the altar high with offerings for the dead.

I promised for Tiresias as well

a pure black sheep, the best in all my flock.

So with these vows, I called upon the dead.

I took the sheep and slit their throats above

the pit. Black blood flowed out. The spirits came

up out of Erebus and gathered round.

Teenagers, girls and boys, the old who suffered

for many years, and fresh young brides whom labor destroyed in youth; and many men cut down 40

in battle by bronze spears, still dressed in armor stained with their blood. From every side they crowded around the pit, with eerie cries. Pale fear

took hold of me. I roused my men and told them

to flay the sheep that I had killed, and burn them,

and pray to Hades and Persephone.

I drew my sword and sat on guard, preventing

the spirits of the dead from coming near

the blood, till I had met Tiresias.

First came the spirit of my man Elpenor, 50 who had not yet been buried in the earth.

We left his body in the house of Circe without a funeral or burial;

we were too occupied with other things. On sight of him, I wept in pity, saying,

'Elpenor, how did you come here, in darkness? You came on foot more quickly than I sailed.'

He groaned in answer, 'Lord Odysseus,

you master every circumstance. But I

had bad luck from some god, and too much wine 60 befuddled me. In Circe's house I lay

upstairs, and I forgot to use the ladder

to climb down from the roof. I fell headfirst;

my neck was broken from my spine. My spirit

came down to Hades. By the men you left,

the absent ones! And by your wife! And father,

who brought you up from babyhood! And by

your son, Telemachus, whom you abandoned

alone at home, I beg you! When you sail

from Hades and you dock your ship again

at Aeaea, please my lord, remember me.

Do not go on and leave me there unburied, abandoned, without tears or lamentation—

or you will make the gods enraged at you.

Burn me with all my arms, and heap a mound

beside the gray salt sea, so in the future

people will know of me and my misfortune.

And fix into the tomb the oar I used

to row with my companions while I lived.'

'Poor man!' I answered, 'I will do all this.' We sat there talking sadly—I on one side

80

70

held firm my sword in blood, while on the other the ghost of my crew member made his speech.

Then came the spirit of my own dead mother, Autolycus' daughter Anticleia,

whom I had left alive when I went off

to holy Troy. On seeing her, I wept

in pity. But despite my bitter grief,

I would not let her near the blood till I talked to Tiresias. The prophet came 90 holding a golden scepter, and he knew me, and said,

'King under Zeus, Odysseus, adept survivor, why did you abandon

the sun, poor man, to see the dead, and this place without joy? Step back now from the pit, hold up your sharp sword so that I may drink the blood and speak to you.'

At that, I sheathed my silver-studded sword. When he had drunk

the murky blood, the famous prophet spoke.

'Odysseus, you think of going home 100

as honey-sweet, but gods will make it bitter.

I think Poseidon will not cease to feel

incensed because you blinded his dear son.

You have to suffer, but you can get home,

if you control your urges and your men.

Turn from the purple depths and sail your ship towards the island of Thrinacia; there

you will find grazing cows and fine fat sheep, belonging to the god who sees and hears

all things—the Sun God. If you leave them be, 110 keeping your mind fixed on your journey home, you may still get to Ithaca, despite

great losses. But if you hurt those cows, I see disaster for your ship and for your men.

If you yourself escape, you will come home

late and exhausted, in a stranger's boat,

having destroyed your men. And you will find invaders eating your supplies at home,

courting your wife with gifts. Then you will match the suitors' violence and kill them all, 120

inside your halls, through tricks or in the open,

with sharp bronze weapons. When those men are dead, you have to go away and take an oar

to people with no knowledge of the sea,

who do not salt their food. They never saw

a ship's red prow, nor oars, the wings of boats.

I prophesy the signs of things to come.

When you meet somebody, a traveler,

who calls the thing you carry on your back

a winnowing fan, then fix that oar in earth 130

and make fine sacrifices to Poseidon—

a bull and stud-boar. Then you will go home

and offer holy hecatombs to all

the deathless gods who live in heaven, each

in order. Gentle death will come to you,

far from the sea, of comfortable old age,

your people flourishing. So it will be.'

I said, 'Tiresias, I hope the gods

spin out this fate for me. But tell me this,

and tell the truth. I saw my mother's spirit, 140 sitting in silence near the blood, refusing

even to talk to me, or meet my eyes!

My lord, how can I make her recognize

that it is me?'

At once he made his answer. 'That is an easy matter to explain.

Whenever you allow one of these spirits

to come here near the blood, it will be able to speak the truth to you. As soon as you push them away, they have to leave again.'

With that, Tiresias, the prophet spirit, 150 was finished; he departed to the house

of Hades. I stayed rooted there in place

until my mother came and drank the blood. She knew me then and spoke in tones of grief.

'My child! How did you come here through the darkness while you were still alive? This place is hard

for living men to see. There are great rivers

and dreadful gulfs, including the great Ocean

which none can cross on foot; one needs a ship.

Have you come wandering here, so far from Troy, 160 with ship and crew? Have you not yet arrived

in Ithaca, nor seen your wife at home?'

I answered, 'Mother, I was forced to come

to Hades to consult the prophet spirit,

Theban Tiresias. I have not yet

come near to Greece, nor reached my own home country. I have been lost and wretchedly unhappy

since I first followed mighty Agamemnon

to Troy, the land of horses, to make war

upon the people there. But tell me, how 170

was sad death brought upon you? By long illness? Or did the archer Artemis destroy you

with gentle arrows? Tell me too about

my father and the son I left behind.

Are they still honored as the kings? Or has another taken over, saying I

will not return? And tell me what my wife

is thinking, and her plans. Does she stay with our son and focus on his care, or has

the best of the Achaeans married her?' 180

My mother answered, 'She stays firm. Her heart is strong. She is still in your house. And all

her nights are passed in misery, and days

in tears. But no one has usurped your throne. Telemachus still tends the whole estate unharmed and feasts in style, as lords should do, and he is always asked to council meetings. Your father stays out in the countryside.

He will not come to town. He does not sleep

on a real bed with blankets and fresh sheets. 190

In winter he sleeps inside, by the fire,

just lying in the ashes with the slaves;

his clothes are rags. In summer and at harvest,

the piles of fallen leaves are beds for him.

He lies there grieving, full of sorrow, longing

for your return. His old age is not easy.

And that is why I met my fate and died.

The goddess did not shoot me in my home,

aiming with gentle arrows. Nor did sickness

suck all the strength out from my limbs, with long 200 and cruel wasting. No, it was missing you,

Odysseus, my sunshine; your sharp mind,

and your kind heart. That took sweet life from me.'

Then in my heart I wanted to embrace

the spirit of my mother. She was dead,

and I did not know how. Three times I tried, longing to touch her. But three times her ghost flew from my arms, like shadows or like dreams. Sharp pain pierced deeper in me as I cried,

'No, Mother! Why do you not stay for me, 210 and let me hold you, even here in Hades?

Let us wrap loving arms around each other

and find a frigid comfort in shared tears!

But is this really you? Or has the Queen sent me a phantom, to increase my grief?'

She answered, 'Oh, my child! You are the most unlucky man alive. Persephone

is not deceiving you. This is the rule

for mortals when we die. Our muscles cease

to hold the flesh and skeleton together; 220 as soon as life departs from our white bones, the force of blazing fire destroys the corpse. The spirit flies away and soon is gone,

just like a dream. Now hurry to the light; remember all these things, so you may tell your wife in times to come.'

As we were talking, some women came, sent by Persephone—

the daughters and the wives of warriors.

They thronged and clustered round the blood. I wanted to speak to each of them, and made a plan. 230

I drew my sword and would not let them come together in a group to drink the blood.

They took turns coming forward, and each told

her history; I questioned each. The first

was well-born Tyro, child of Salmoneus,

and wife of Cretheus, Aeolus' son.

She fell in love with River Enipeus,

most handsome of all rivers that pour water

over the earth. She often went to visit

his lovely streams. Poseidon took his form, 240

and at the river mouth he lay with her.

Around them arched a dark-blue wave that stood

high as a mountain, and it hid the god

and mortal woman. There he loosed her belt

and made her sleep. The god made love to her,

and afterwards, he took her hand and spoke.

'Woman, be glad about this love. You will

bear glorious children in the coming year.

Affairs with gods always result in offspring.

Look after them and raise them. Now go home; 250

tell no one who I am. But I will tell you.

I am Poseidon, Shaker of the Earth.'

With that he sank beneath the ocean waves.

She brought two sons to term, named Pelias and Neleus, both sturdy boys who served almighty Zeus; and Pelias' home

was on the spacious dancing fields of Iolcus, where sheep are plentiful; his brother lived in sandy Pylos. And she bore more sons,

to Cretheus: Aeson, Pheres, Amythaeon 260 who loved war chariots.

And after her I saw Antiope, who said she slept

in Zeus' arms and bore two sons: Amphion and Zethus, the first settlers of Thebes,

city of seven gates. Strong though they were, they could not live there on the open plain without defenses.

Then I saw Alcmene, wife of Amphitryon, who by great Zeus

conceived the lionhearted Heracles.

And I saw Megara, proud Creon's child, 270 the wife of tireless Heracles. I saw

fine Epicaste, Oedipus' mother,

who did a dreadful thing in ignorance:

she married her own son. He killed his father, and married her. The gods revealed the truth

to humans; through their deadly plans, he ruled the Cadmeans in Thebes, despite his pain.

But Epicaste crossed the gates of Hades;

she tied a noose and hung it from the ceiling, and hanged herself for sorrow, leaving him 280 the agonies a mother's Furies bring.

Then I saw Chloris, who was youngest daughter of Amphion, who ruled the Minyans

in Orchomenus. She was beautiful,

and Neleus paid rich bride-gifts for her.

She was the queen in Pylos, and she bore Chromius, Nestor, Periclymenus,

and mighty Pyro, who was such a marvel that all the men desired to marry her.

But Neleus would only let her marry 290

a man who could drive off the stubborn cattle

of Iphicles from Phylace. The prophet

Melampus was the only one who tried,

but gods restrained him, cursing him; the herdsmen shackled him. Days and months went by, the seasons changed as the year went by, until at last

Iphicles set him free as his reward

for prophecy. The will of Zeus was done.

And then I saw Tyndareus' wife,

Leda, who bore him two strong sons: the horseman 300 Castor, and Polydeuces, skillful boxer.

Life-giving earth contains them, still alive.

Zeus honors them even in the underworld.

They live and die alternately, and they

are honored like the gods.

And then I saw Iphimedeia, wife of Aloeus,

who proudly said Poseidon slept with her.

She had two sons whose lives were both cut short: Otus and famous Ephialtes, whom

the fertile earth raised up as the tallest heroes 310 after renowned Orion. At nine years,

they were nine cubits wide, nine fathoms high. They brought the din of dreadful raging war

to the immortal gods and tried to set

Ossa and Pelion—trees, leaves and all—

on Mount Olympus, high up in the sky.

They might have managed it, if they had reached

full adulthood. Apollo, son of Zeus

by braided Leto, killed them: they were both

dead before down could grow on their young chins, 320 dead before beards could wreathe their naked faces.

Then I saw Phaedra, Procris, and the lovely daughter of dangerous Minos, Ariadne. Theseus tried to bring her back from Crete

to Athens, but could not succeed; the goddess Artemis killed her on the isle of Día,

when Dionysus spoke against her. Then

came Maera, Clymene and Eriphyle:

accepting golden bribes, she killed her husband.

I cannot name each famous wife and daughter 330 I saw there; holy night would pass away

before I finished. I must go to sleep

on board the ship beside my crew, or else right here. I know the gods and you will help my onward journey."

They were silent, spellbound, listening in the shadowy hall. White-armed

Arete spoke.

"Phaeacians! Look at him! What a tall, handsome man! And what a mind!

He is my special guest, but all of you

share in our rank as lords; so do not send him 340 away too fast, and when he leaves, you must

be generous. He is in need, and you

are rich in treasure, through the will of gods."

The veteran Echeneus, the oldest

man in their company, said, "Our wise queen has hit the mark, my friends. Do as she says. But first Alcinous must speak and act."

The king said, "Let it be as she has spoken,

as long as I am ruler of this nation

of seafarers. I know our guest is keen 350

to go back home, but let him stay till morning. I will give all his presents then. You men

will all help him, but I will help the most, since I hold power here."

Odysseus answered with careful tact, "Alcinous,

king over all the people, if you urged me

to stay here for a year before you gave

the parting gifts and sent me on my way,

I would be happy. It would be far better

to reach my own dear home with hands filled full 360 of treasure. So all men would honor me

and welcome me back home in Ithaca."

Alcinous replied, "Odysseus,

the earth sustains all different kinds of people. Many are cheats and thieves, who fashion lies

out of thin air. But when I look at you,

I know you are not in that category.

Your story has both grace and wisdom in it.

You sounded like a skillful poet, telling

the sufferings of all the Greeks, including 370 what you endured yourself. But come now, tell me if you saw any spirits of your friends,

who went with you to Troy and undertook

the grief and pain of war. The night is long;

it is not time to sleep yet. Tell me more

amazing deeds! I would keep listening

until bright daybreak, if you kept on telling

the dangers you have passed."

Odysseus answered politely, "King Alcinous,

it is a time for many tales, but also 380

a time for sleep. If you still want to hear,

I will not grudge you stories. I will tell you

some even more distressing ones, about

my friend who managed to escape the shrieks and battle din at Troy but perished later,

killed in his own home by an evil wife.

Holy Persephone dispersed the ghosts

of women and they went their separate ways. The ghost of Agamemnon came in sorrow

with all the rest who met their fate with him 390 inside Aegisthus' house. He recognized me when he had drunk the blood. He wept out loud, and tearfully reached out his hands towards me, desperate to touch. His energy and strength

and all the suppleness his limbs once had

were gone. I wept and my heart pitied him.

I cried out,

'Lord of men, King Agamemnon!

How did you die? What bad luck brought you down? Was it Poseidon rousing up a blast

of cruel wind to wreck your ships? Or were you 400 killed on dry land by enemies as you

were poaching their fat flocks of sheep or cattle,

or fighting for their city and their wives?'

He answered right away, 'King under Zeus, Odysseus—survivor! No, Poseidon

did not rouse up a dreadful blast of wind

to wreck my ship. No hostile men on land

killed me in self-defense. It was Aegisthus

who planned my death and murdered me, with help from my own wife. He called me to his house 410 to dinner and he killed me, as one slaughters

an ox at manger. What a dreadful death!

My men were systematically slaughtered

like pigs in a rich lord's house for some feast, a wedding or a banquet. You have seen

many cut down in war in thick of battle,

or slaughtered in a combat hand to hand;

but you would grieve with even deeper pity

if you could see us lying dead beneath

the tables piled with food and wine. The floor 420 swam thick with blood. I heard the desperate voice of Priam's daughter, poor Cassandra, whom deceitful Clytemnestra killed beside me.

As I lay dying, struck through by the sword,

I tried to lift my arms up from the ground.

That she-dog turned away. I went to Hades.

She did not even shut my eyes or close

my mouth. There is no more disgusting act

than when a wife betrays a man like that.

That woman formed a plot to murder me! 430

Her husband! When I got back home, I thought

I would be welcomed, at least by my slaves

and children. She has such an evil mind

that she has poured down shame on her own head and on all other women, even good ones.'

I cried out, 'Curse her! Zeus has always brought disaster to the house of Atreus

through women. Many men were lost for Helen, and Clytemnestra formed this plot against you when you were far away.'

At once he answered, 440 'So you must never treat your wife too well.

Do not let her know everything you know.

Tell her some things, hide others. But your wife will not kill you, Odysseus. The wise

Penelope is much too sensible

to do such things. Your bride was very young when we went off to war. She had a baby

still at her breast, who must be now a man.

He will be glad when you come home and see him, and he will throw his arms around his father. 450

That is how things should go. My wife prevented my eager eyes from gazing at my son.

She killed me first. I have a final piece

of sound advice for you—take heed of it.

When you arrive in your own land, do not anchor your ship in full view; move in secret. There is no trusting women any longer.

But have you any news about my son?

Is he alive? Is he in Orchomenus,

or sandy Pylos, or with Menelaus 460 in Sparta? Surely my fine son Orestes is not yet dead.'

I answered, 'Agamemnon, why ask me this? I do not even know

whether he is alive or dead. It is pointless to talk of hypotheticals.'

Both of us wept profusely, deeply grieving over the bitter words we spoke. Then came the spirits of Achilles and Patroclus

and of Antilochus and Ajax, who

was handsomest and had the best physique, 470 of all the Greeks, next only to Achilles

the sprinter. And Achilles recognized me

and spoke in tears.

'My lord Odysseus,

you fox! What will you think of next? How could you

bear to come down to Hades? Numb dead people live here, the shades of poor exhausted mortals.'

I said, 'Achilles, greatest of Greek heroes,

I came down here to meet Tiresias,

in case he had advice for my return

to rocky Ithaca. I have not even 480

reached Greece, let alone my homeland. I have had

bad luck. But no one's luck was ever better

than yours, nor ever will be. In your life

we Greeks respected you as we do gods,

and now that you are here, you have great power among the dead. Achilles, you should not

be bitter at your death.'

But he replied, 'Odysseus, you must not comfort me

for death. I would prefer to be a workman, hired by a poor man on a peasant farm, 490 than rule as king of all the dead. But come, tell me about my son. Do you have news? Did he march off to war to be a leader?

And what about my father Peleus?

Does he still have good standing among all

the Myrmidons? Or do they treat him badly

in Phthia and Greece, since he is old

and frail? Now I have left the light of day,

and am not there to help, as on the plains

of Troy when I was killing the best Trojans, 500 to help the Greeks. If I could go for even

a little while, with all that strength I had,

up to my father's house, I would make those who hurt and disrespect him wish my hands were not invincible.'

I answered him,

'I have no news to tell about your father,

but I can tell you all about your son,

dear Neoptolemus. I brought him from

Scyros by ship, with other well-armed Greeks. When we were strategizing about Troy, 510 he always spoke up first and to the purpose, unmatched except by Nestor and myself.

And when we fought at Troy, he never paused in the great throng of battle; he was always fearlessly running forward, and he slaughtered

enormous numbers in the clash of war.

I cannot name all those he killed for us.

But with his bronze he cut down Eurypylus,

the son of Telephus, most handsome man

I ever saw, next only to great Memnon. 520

The multitude of Cetians he brought

were also killed, since Priam bribed his mother. When we, the Argive leaders, were preparing

to climb inside the Wooden Horse, it was

my task to open up and close the door.

The other Greek commanders were in tears;

their legs were shaking. Not your handsome boy! I never saw his face grow pale; he had

no tears to wipe away. Inside the horse,

he begged me to allow him to jump out. 530

He gripped his sword hilt and his heavy spear,

so desperate to go hurt the Trojans.

At last, when we had sacked the lofty city

of Priam, he embarked weighed down with spoils. No sharp bronze spear had wounded him at all; he was unhurt by all the skirmishes

endured in war when Ares rages blind.'

After I told him this, Achilles' ghost

took great swift-footed strides across the fields of asphodel, delighted to have heard 540 about the glorious prowess of his son.

Other dead souls were gathering, all sad;

each told the story of his sorrow. Only

Ajax kept back, enraged because I won

Achilles' armor, when the case was judged

beside the ships. The hero's mother, Thetis,

and sons of Troy, and Pallas, gave the arms

to me. I wish I had not won this contest!

For those arms Ajax lies beneath the earth,

whose looks and deeds were best of all the Greeks 550 after Achilles, son of Peleus.

I spoke to him to try to make it up.

'Please, Ajax, son of mighty Telamon,

can you not set aside your rage at me

about those cursed arms? Not even now,

in death? The gods made them to ruin us.

You were our tower; what a loss you were!

We Greeks were struck by grief when you were gone; we mourned as long for you as for Achilles.

Blame nobody but Zeus. He ruined us, 560

in hatred for the army of the Greeks;

and that was why he brought this doom on you. But listen now, my lord. Subdue your anger.' He did not answer. He went off and followed the spirits of the dead to Erebus.

Despite his rage, we might have spoken longer if I had not felt in my heart an urge

to see more spirits. I saw Minos there,

the son of Zeus, who holds the golden scepter and sits in judgment on the dead. They ask 570 their king to arbitrate disputes, inside

the house of Hades, where the doors are always wide open. I saw great Orion, chasing

across the fields of asphodel the beasts

he killed when living high in lonely mountains, holding his indestructible bronze club.

And I saw Tityus, the son of Gaia,

stretched out nine miles. When Leto, Zeus' lover, was traveling to Pytho, through the fields

of beautiful Panopeus, he raped her. 580

Two vultures sit on either side of him,

ripping his liver, plunging in his bowels;

he fails to push them off. I saw the pain

of Tantalus, in water to his chin,

so parched, no way to drink. When that old man bent down towards the water, it was gone;

some god had dried it up, and at his feet

dark earth appeared. Tall leafy trees hung fruit above his head: sweet figs and pomegranates

and brightly shining apples and ripe olives. 590 But when he grasped them with his hands, the wind hurled them away towards the shadowy clouds. And I saw Sisyphus in torment, pushing

a giant rock with both hands, leaning on it

with all his might to shove it up towards

a hilltop; when he almost reached the peak,

its weight would swerve, and it would roll back down, heedlessly. But he kept on straining, pushing,

his body drenched in sweat, his head all dusty.

I saw a phantom of great Heracles. 600

The man himself is with the deathless gods,

happy and feasting, with fine-ankled Hebe,

the child of mighty Zeus and golden Hera.

Around his ghost, the dead souls shrieked like birds, all panic-struck. He walked like gloomy night, holding his bow uncased and with an arrow

held on the string. He glowered terribly,

poised for a shot. Around his chest was strapped a terrifying baldric made of gold,

fashioned with marvelous images of bears, 610 wild boars, and lions with fierce staring eyes, and battles and the slaughtering of men.

I hope the craftsman who designed this scene will never make another work like this.

This Heracles at once knew who I was,

and full of grief he cried,

'Odysseus! Master of every circumstance, so you

are also tortured by the weight of fortune as I was while I lived beneath the sun?

I was a son of Zeus, and yet my pain 620 was infinite. I was enslaved to someone far less heroic than myself, who laid harsh labors on me. Once he sent me here

to bring back Cerberus, since he could think of no worse task for me. I brought the Dog up out of Hades, with the help of Hermes, and flashing-eyed Athena.'

He went back

to Hades' house. I stayed, in case more heroes

who died in ancient times should come to me.

I would have seen the noble men I hoped for, 630 Pirithous and Theseus, god-born.

But masses of the dead came thronging round

with eerie cries, and cold fear seized me, lest

the dreadful Queen Persephone might send

the monster's head, the Gorgon, out of Hades.

So then I hurried back and told my men

to climb on board the ship and loose the cables. They did so, and sat down along the benches.

The current bore the ship down River Ocean,

first with the help of oars, and then fair wind." 640