μῆνιν ἄειδε θεὰ Πηληϊάδεω Ἀχιλῆος

οὐλομένην, ἣ μυρί᾽ Ἀχαιοῖς ἄλγε᾽ ἔθηκε,}}

I Thee beseech, O Goddesse milde, the hatefull hate to plaine,

Whereby Achilles was so wroong, and grewe in suche disdaine,

That thousandes of the Greekish Dukes, in hard and heauie plight,

To Plutoes Courte did yeelde their soules, and gaping lay vpright,

Those senceless trunckes of buriall voide, by them erst gaily borne,

By rauening curres, and carreine foules, in peeces to be torne.

Gainst Agamemn of Ioue his wrath, so kindled was the fire,

That he Achil to deere, and crosse so deepely did conspire.

Achilles' banefull wrath resound, O Goddesse, that imposd

Infinite sorrowes on the Greekes, and many brave soules losd

From breasts Heroique—sent them farre, to that invisible cave.

That no light comforts; and their lims to dogs and vultures gave.

To all which Jove's will gave effect; from whom first strife begunne

Betwixt Atrides, king of men, and Thetis' godlike Sonne.

Achilles Peleus Son's destructive Rage,

Great Goddess, sing, which did the Greeks engage

In many Woes, and mighty Hero's Ghosts

Sent down untimely to the Stygian Coasts:

Devouring Vultures on their Bodies prey'd,

And greedy Dogs (so was Jove's Will obey'd;)

Because Great Agamemnon fell at odds

With stern Achilles, Off-spring of the Gods.

Achilles' wrath, to Greece the direful spring

Of woes unnumber'd, heavenly goddess, sing!

That wrath which hurl'd to Pluto's gloomy reign

The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain;

Whose limbs unburied on the naked shore,

Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore.

Since great Achilles and Atrides strove,

Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove!

Achilles' fatal wrath, whence discord rose,

That brought the sons of Greece unnumber'd woes,

O goddess, sing. Full many a hero's ghost

Was driven untimely to th' infernal coast,

While in promiscuous heaps their bodies lay,

A feast for dogs, and every bird of prey.

So did the sire of gods and men fulfil

His steadfast purpose, and almighty will;

What time the haughty chiefs their jars begun,

Atrides, king of men, and Peleus' godlike son.

The wrath of the ſon of Peleus,—O goddeſs of ſong, unfold! The deadly wrath of Achilles : To Greece the ſource of many woes!

Which peopled the regions of death,—with ſhades of heroes untimely ſlain : While pale they lay along the ſhore : Torn by beaſts and birds of prey : But ſuch was the will of Jove! Begin the verſe, from the ſource of rage,—between Achilles and the ſovereign of men.

Achilles sing, O Goddess! Peleus' son;

His wrath pernicious, who ten thousand woes

Caused to Achaia's host, sent many a soul

Illustrious into Ades premature,

And Heroes gave (so stood the will of Jove)

To dogs and to all ravening fowls a prey,

When fierce dispute had separated once

The noble Chief Achilles from the son

of Atreus, Agamemnon, King of men.

The stern resentment of Achilles, son

Of Peleus, Muse record,—dire source of woe;

Which caus'd unnumber'd ills to Greece, and sent

Many brave souls of heroes to the shades

Untimely, and their bodies gave a prey

To dogs and every ravenous bird: so will'd

The all-ruling providence of Jove, when first

In fierce dissension strove the king of men,

Atrides, and Achilles Goddess-born.

Sing Muse the deadly wrath of Peleus' son

Achilles, source of many thousand woes

To the Achaian host, which num'rous souls

Of heroes sent to Ades premature,

And left their bodies to devouring dogs

And birds of Heav'n (so Jove his will perform'd)

From that dread hour when discord first embroil'd

Achilles and Atrides king of men.

Sing, Goddess, the destructive wrath of Achilles, son of Peleus, which brought many disasters upon the Greeks,

and sent before their time many gallant souls of heroes to the infernal regions, and made them a prey to the dogs and to all the fowls of the air (for so the counsel of Jove was fulfilled) from the period at which Atrides, king of men, and the godlike Achilles first stood apart, contended (contending).

Achillies wrath accurst, O Goddess, sing,

Which caused ten thousand sorrows to the Greeks,

And many valiant souls of heroes sent

To Pluto, and their bodies made a prey

To dogs and birds;—but Jove's will was performed—

From that day, when at first contending strove

Atrides, king of men, and Peleus' son.

Sing, O goddess, the destructive wrath of Achilles, son of Peleus, which brought countless woes upon the Greeks,

and hurled many valiant souls of heroes down to Hades, and made themselves a prey to dogs and to all birds [but the will of Jove was being accomplished], from the time when Atrides, king of men, and noble Achilles, first contending, were disunited.

Of Peleus' son, Achilles, sing, oh goddess, the resentment

Accursed, which with countless pangs Achaia's army wounded,

And forward flung to Aïdes full many a gallant spirit

Of heroes, and their very selves did toss to dogs that ravin,

And unto every fowl, (for so would Jove's device be compass'd);

From that first day when feud arose implacable, and parted

The son of Atreus, prince of men, and Achileus the godlike.

Sing, O goddess, the destructive wrath of Achilles son of Peleus, which caused ten thousand thousand griefs to the Achæans

and sent before their time many valiant souls of heroes to Hades, and made themselves prey to dogs and to [all kinds of] birds; but the will of Jupiter was being accomplished; from the time when indeed, at first having quarrelled [those two] separated, both the son of Atreus king of men, and divine Achilles.

Sing, divine Muse, sing the implacable wrath of Achilleus!

Heavy with death and with woe to the banded sons of Achaia!

Many the souls of the mighty, the souls of redoubtable heroes,

Hurried by it prematurely to Hades. The vultures and wild-dogs

Tore their tombless limbs. Yet thus did the will of the Highest

Work to an end—from the day when strife drove madly asunder,

Atreus' son, king of men; and the Godlike leader Achilleus.

The wrath of Peleus' son Achilles sing,

O goddess, wrath destructive, that did on

Th' Achæans woes innumerable bring,

And many mighty souls of heroes down

To Hades hurl untimely, themselves thrown

To dogs a prey and all the birds obscene.

But so in sooth the will of Zeus was down,

Since parted first in strife those chieftains twain,

Divine Achilles, and Atrides lord of men.

Goddess! O sing the wrath of Pêleus' son,

Achillès' wrath,—baneful,—that on the Achaians

Brought countless woes; and sent untimely down

Full many a chieftain's mighty soul to Hadès;

And gave their bodies for a prey to dogs,

And to all manner of birds: (but Jove's high will

Was on achievement) from the time when first

Atreidès, chief of chiefs, and prince Achillès

Quarrelled and were at strife. And who of the gods,—

Of Peleus' son, Achilles, sing, O Muse,

The vengeance, deep and deadly; whence to Greece

Unnumbered ills arose; which many a soul

Of mighty warriors to the viewless shades

Untimely sent; they on the battle plain

Unburied lay, a prey to rav'ning dogs,

And carrion birds; but so had Jove decreed,

From that sad day when first in wordy war,

The mighty Agamemnon, King of men,

Confronted stood by Peleus' godlike son.

Wrath of Achilleus, son of Peleus, sing,

O heavenly Muse, which in its fatal sway

Thousands of griefs did on the Achaians bring,

And many a hero-spirit ere his day

To Hades hurled, and left their limbs a prey

To dogs and fowls of heaven: so the design

Of Zeus meanwhile was working forth its way:

Since to fell strife did at the first incline

Atrides, lord of men, and Peleus' son divine.

The baneful wrath, O goddess, sing, of Peleus' son, the source

Of sorrows dire, and countless woes to all the Grecian force;

That wrath which many a stout heroic soul from joyful day

To gloomy Hades hurled, and left their mangled limbs a prey

To dogs and vultures: thus the will of mightiest Jove was done;

Since first contention keen arose, and slumbering strife begun

Between Atrides king of men, and Peleus' godlike son.

The wrath of Peleus' son, that evil wrath

Which on Achaia piled a myriad woes,

Oh Goddess, sing: which down to darkness hurled

Brave souls of mighty men, and made their flesh

A prey to dogs and every ravening fowl.

Yet Zeus his will was working: since the day

When first 'twixt Atreus' son, the King of men,

And proud Achilles there arose up war.

Sing, celestial Muse! the destroying wrath of Achilles,

Peleus' son: which myriad mischiefs heaped on the Grecians,

Many a valiant hero's soul dismissing to Hades;

Flinging their corses abroad for a prey to dogs and to vultures,

And to each bird of the air. Thus Jove's high will was accomplished.

Ev'n from that fatal hour when opposed in angry contention

Stood forth Atreides, King of men, and god-like Achilles.

Sing, O heavenly goddess, the wrath of Peleides Achilles,

Ruinous wrath, whence numberless woes came down to Achaia,

Many a valiant soul of her sons untimely dismissing,

Sending to Hades; their mangled bodies a prey to vultures

Left, and the dogs: but the counsels of Jove were meanwhile evolving

E'en from the time, when contention arising 'tween King Agamemnon

Ruler of heroes, and godlike Achilles, they stood disunited.

Peleïdes Achilles, his anger, Goddess, sing;

Fell anger, fated on the Greeks ten thousand woes to bring;

Which forth to Hades hurried full many valiant souls

Of heroes, but themselves she gave to dogs and carrion fowls

Of every wing for ravin: so wrought the rede of Jove,

Since first contentious disaccord the chiefs asunder rove.

Then when Atrides, king of men, with great Achilles strove.

Sing, Goddess, the pernicious wrath of Achilles the son of Peleus, which caused innumerable woes to the Greeks,

and prematurely sent to Hades many brave souls of heroes, and made themselves to become a prey to dogs and all birds of prey: but the will of Jupiter was being accomplished: from the time indeed, that both the son of Atrus, King of men, and noble Achilles, contending, were first separated.

O goddess! sing the wrath of Peleus' son,

Achilles; sing the deadly wrath that brought

Woes unnumbered upon the Greeks, and swept

To Hades many a valiant soul, and gave

Their limbs a prey to dogs and birds of air—

For so had Jove appointed—from the time

When the two chiefs Atrides, king of men,

And great Achilles, parted as foes.

Sing of Achilles' wrath, oh heavenly muse,

Which brought upon the Greeks unnumbered woes,

And sent so many heroes to their doom;

Whose bodies, strewed unburied o'er the plain,

Became the prey of vultures and of dogs;

So Jove decreed, when first a quarrel rose

Betwixt the godlike warrior Achilles

And Agamemnon, sovereign of men.

Muse, of Pelidéan Achilles sing the resentment

Ruinous, who brought down many thousand griefs on Achaians,

And untimely banish'd many souls to the mansion of Hades

Of warriors puissant, them making a booty for hounds and

All manner of prey-birds, wherein Jove's will was accomplish'd

From that time forward, when first was in enmity parted

Atrides, king of hosts, from Jove-exampling Achilles.

Sing, goddess, the deadly wrath of Achilles, Peleus' son, which caused for the Achæans countless woes,

and hurled to the house of Hades headlong many sturdy souls of warriors, and made men a prey to dogs and every fowl, while the plan of Zeus was being fulfilled, ever since the son of Atreus king of men and goodly Achilles were parted when they had quarreled.

Sing, goddess, the wrath of Achilles Peleus' son, the ruinous wrath that brought on the Achaians woes innumerable,

and hurled down into Hades many strong souls of heroes, and gave their bodies to be a prey to dogs and all winged fowls; and so the counsel of Zeus was wrought out its accomplishments from the day when first strife parted Atreides king of men and noble Achilles.

The wrath of Achilles, the Peleus-begotten, O Song-queen, sing,

Fell wrath, that dealt the Achaians woes past numbering;

Yea, many a valiant spirit to Hades' halls did it send,

Spirits of heroes, and cast their bodies to dogs to rend,

And to fowls of ravin,—yet aye Zeus' will wrought on to its end

Even from the hour when first that feud of the mighty began,

Of Atreides, King of Men, and Achilles the godlike man.

Sing for me, goddess, the wrath, the wrath of Peleian Achilles

Ruinous wrath, which laid unnumbered woes on the Grecians;

Many mighty souls of heroes he sent down to Hades,

Giving their bodies up to be but the prey of devouring

Dogs and all the ravenous birds,—but thsu Jove's will was accomplished,

Ever now since first with hot words were estranged from each other,

Atreus' son, the king of men and the noble Achilles.

The wrath, that rose accursèd, and that laid

Unnumbered sorrows on Achaia's host,

Sing, heavenly Muse—the wrath of Peleus' son!

Of many heroes in their flower of strength

It flung the souls to Hades, and themselves

Prey to the dogs and all the fowls of heaven:

Yet was the will of Zeus being wrought thereby;

Then first when Atreus' son, the king of men,

And great Achilles, sunder'd, stood at strife.

Sing, Goddess, how Pelides' wrath arose,

Disastrous, working Greece unnumbered woes,

And many a hero's soul to Hades sped,

And glutted dogs and vultures with the dead.

So the design of Zeus was compassed, when

Achilles braved Atrides, king of men.

Sing, O goddess, the fatal wrath of Peleus' son Achilles, which brought ten thousand troubles on the Achæans,

and sent to Hades many valiant souls of heroes, and made themselves a prey to dogs and every fowl—such was the will of Zeus—after that day when first Atrides, king of men, and divine Achilles, quarrelled and were parted.

Goddess, sing the destroying wrath of Achilles, Peleus' son, which brought woes unnumbered on the Achæans,

and sent down to Hades many brave spirits of heroes, while it consigned their corses a prey to the dogs, and to all manner of birds—and thus the will of Zeus was being fulfilled—from what time Atreidês, Lord of men, and Godlike Achilles, having quarrelled, were first divided.

Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans.

Many a brave soul did it send hurrying down to Hades, and many a hero did it yield a prey to dogs and vultures, for so were the counsels of Jove fulfilled from the day on which the son of Atreus, king of men, and great Achilles, first fell out with one another.

The wrath sing, goddess, of Peleus' son, Achilles, that destructive wrath which brought the countless woes upon the Achaeans,

and sent forth to Hades many valiant souls of heroes, and made them themselves spoil for dogs and every bird; thus the plan of Zeus came to fulfillment, from the time when first they parted in strife Atreus' son, king of men, and brilliant Achilles.

An angry man—there is my story: the bitter rancour of Achillês, prince of the house of Peleus, which brought a thousand troubles upon the Achaian host.

Many a strong soul it sent down to Hadês, and left the heroes themselves a prey to dogs and carrion birds, while the will of God moved on to fulfillment.

It began first of all with the quarrel between my lord King Agamemnon of Atreus' line and the Prince Achillês.

The Wrath of Achilles is my theme, that fatal wrath which, in fulfillment of the will of Zeus, brought the Achaeans so much suffering and sent the gallant souls of many noblemen to Hades

Sing, O Goddess, of the wrath of Peleus' son Achilles, the deadly wrath that brought upon the Achaeans countless woes

and sent many mighty souls of heroes down to the house of Death and made their bodies prey for dogs and all the birds, as the will of Zeus was done, from the day when first the son of Atreus, king of men, and godlike Achilles parted in strife.

Sing, goddess, the anger of Peleus' son Achilleus

and its devastation, which put pains thousandfold upon the Achaians,

hurled in their multitudes to the house of Hades strong souls

of heroes, but gave their bodies to be the delicate feasting

of dogs, of all birds, and the will of Zeus was accomplished

since that time when first there stood in division of conflict

Atreus' son the lord of men and brilliant Achilleus.

Sing, MOUNTAIN GODDESS, sing through me

That anger which most ruinously

Inflamed Achilles, Peleus' son

And which, before the tale was done

Had glutted Hell with champions—bold,

Stern spirits by the thousandfold;

Ravens and dogs their corpses ate

For thus did ZEUS, who watched their fate,

See his resolve, first taken when

Proud Agamemnon, king of men,

An insult on Achilles cast,

Achieve accomplishment at last.

Sing, O goddess, the ruinous wrath of Achilles,

Son of Peleus, the terrible curse that brought

Unnumbered woes upon the Achaeans and hurled

To Hades so many heroic souls, leaving

Their bodies the prey of dogs and carrion birds

The will of Zeus was done from the moment they quarreled,

Agamemon, son Atreus, and godlike Achilles.

Anger be now your song, immortal one,

Akhilleus' anger, doomed and ruinous,

that caused the Akhaians loss on bitter loss

and crowded brave souls into the undergloom,

leaving so many dead men—carrion

for dogs and birds; and the will of Zeus was done.

Begin it when the two men first contending

broke with one another—

Agamémnon, Atreus' son, and Prince Akhilleus.

Sing, goddess, of the anger of Achilleus, son of Peleus, the accursed anger which brought uncounted anguish on the Achaians

and hurled down to Hades many mighty souls of heroes, making their bodies the prey to dogs and the birds' feasting: and this was the working of Zeus' will. Sing from the time of the first quarrel which divided Atreus' son, the lord of men, and godlike Achilleus.

Rage—Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus' son Achilles,

murderous, doomed, that cost the Achaeans countless losses,

hurling down to the House of Death so many sturdy souls,

great fighters' souls, but made their bodies carrion,

feasts for the dogs and birds,

and the will of Zeus was moving toward its end.

Begin, Muse, when the two first broke and clashed,

Agamemnon lord of men and brilliant Achilles.

Sing, Goddess, Achilles' maniac rage:

ruinous thing! it roused a thousand sorrows

and hurled many souls of mighty warriors

to Hades, made their bodies food to dogs

and carrion birds—as Zeus's will foredoomed—

from the time relentless strife came between

Atreus's son, king, and brave Achilles.

Rage:

Black and murderous, that cost the Greeks

Incalculable pain, pitched countless souls

Of heroes into Hades' dark,

And left their bodies to rot as feasts

For dogs and birds, as Zeus' will was done.

The Greek warlord—and godlike Achilles.

Sing, Goddess, sing of the rage of Achilles, son of Peleus—

that murderous anger which condemned Achaeans

to countless agonies and threw many warrior souls

deep into Hades, leaving their dead bodies

carrion food for dogs and birds—

all in fulfillment of the will of Zeus.

Start at the point where Agamemnon, son of Atreus,

that king of men, quarrelled with noble Achilles.

Anger—sing, goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that accursed anger, which brought the Greeks endless sufferings

and sent the mighty souls of many warriors to Hades, leaving their bodies as carrion for the dogs and a feast for the birds; and Zeus' purpose was fulfilled. It all began when Agamemnon lord of men and godlike Achilles quarrelled and parted.

Sing now, goddess, the wrath of Achilles the scion of Peleus,

ruinous rage which brought the Achaians uncounted afflictions;

many the powerful souls it sent to the dwelling of Hades,

those of the heroes, and spoil for the dogs it made of their bodies,

plunder for all of the birds, and the purpose of Zeus was accomplished—

sing from the time when first stood hostile, starting the conflict,

Atreus' scion, the lord of the people, and noble Achilles.

Sing, goddess, of Peleus' son Achilles' anger,

ruinous, that caused the Greeks untold ordeals,

consigned to Hades countless valiant souls,

heroes, and left their bodies prey for dogs

or feasts for vulures. Zeus's will was done

from when those two first quarreled and split apart,

the king, Agememnon, and matchless Achilles.

Goddess, sing me the anger, of Achilles Peleus' son, that fatal anger that brought countless sorrows on the Greeks,

and sent many valiant souls of warriors down to Hades, leaving their bodies as spoil for dogs and carrion birds: for thus was the will of Zeus brought to fulfilment. Sing of it from the moment when Agamemnon, Atreus' son, that king of men, parted in wrath from noble Achilles.

The rage of Achilles—sing it now, goddess, sing through me

the deadly rage that caused the Achaeans such grief

and hurled down to Hades the souls of so many fighters,

leaving their naked flesh to be eaten by dogs

and carrion birds, as the will of Zeus was accomplished.

Begin at the time when bitter words first divided

that king of men, Agamemnon, and godlike Achilles.

Sing, goddess, the anger of Achilles, Peleus' son,

the accursed anger which brought the Achaeans countless

agonies and hurled many mighty shades of heroes into Hades,

causing them to become the prey of dogs and

all kinds of birds; and the plan of Zeus was fulfilled.

Sing from the time the two men were first divided in strife—

Atreus' son, lord of men, and glorious Achilles.

Sing of rage, Goddess, that bane of Akhilleus,

Peleus' son, which caused untold pain for Akhaians,

sent down throngs of powerful spirits to Aides,

war-chiefs rendered the prize of dogs and every

sort of bird. So the plan of Zeus was accomplished

right from the start when two men parted in anger—

Atreus' son, ruler of men, and godlike Akhilleus.

The rage sing, O goddess, of Achilles the son of Peleus,

the destructive anger that brought ten-thousand pains to the

Achaeans and sent many brave souls of fighting men to the house

of Hades and made their bodies a feast for dogs

and all kinds of birds. For such was the will of Zeus.

Sing the story from the time when Agamemnon, the son

of Atreus, and godlike Achilles first stood apart in contention.

Wrath—sing, goddess, of the ruinous wrath of Peleus' son Achilles,

that inflicted woes without number upon the Achaeans,

hurled forth to Hades many strong souls of warriors

and rendered their bodies prey for the dogs,

for all birds, and the will of Zeus was accomplished;

sing from when they two first stood in conflict—

Atreus' son, lord of men, and godlike Achilles.

Sing, goddess, of the wrath of Achilles Peleusson, the ruinous wrath that brought immense pain to the Acheans

and propelled many valiant souls of heroes down to Hades, and made them pickings for dogs and birds of all kinds, that the plan of Zeus might be brought to completion. Tell why they were first separated in quarreling, the son of Atreus, the Supreme Commander—Agamemnon—and noble Achilles.

Wrath, goddess, sing of Achilles Pēleus' son's

calamitous wrath, which hit the Achaians with countless ills—

many the valiant souls it saw off down to Hādēs,

souls of heroes, their selves left as carrion for dogs

and all birds of prey, and the plan of Zeus was fulfilled—

from the first moment those two men parted in fury,

Atreus' son, king of men, and the godlike Achilles.

The man, O Muse, inform, that many a way

Wound with his wisdom to his wished stay;

That wandered wondrous far, when he the town

Of sacred Troy had sack'd and shivered down;

The cities of a world of nations,

With all their manners, minds, and fashions,

He saw and knew; at sea felt many woes,

Much care sustained, to save from overthrows

Himself and friends in their retreat for home;

But so their fates he could not overcome,

Though much he thirsted it. O men unwise,

They perish'd by their own impieties,

That in their hunger's rapine would not shun

The oxen of the lofty-going Sun,

Who therefore from their eyes the day bereft

Of safe return. These acts, in some part left,

Tell us, as others, deified Seed of Jove.

That prudent Hero's wandering, Muse, rehearse,

Who (Troy b'ing sack'd) coasting the Universe,

Saw many Cities, and their various Modes;

Much suffering, tost by Storms on raging Floods,

His Friends conducting to their Native Coast:

But all in vain, for he his Navy lost,

And they their Lives, prophanely feasting on

Herds consecrated to the glorious Sun;

Who much incens'd obstructed so their way,

They ne'er return'd : Jove's Daughter this display.

Tell me, O Muse, th’ adventures of the man

That having sack’d the sacred town of Troy,

Wander’d so long at sea; what course he ran

By winds and tempests driven from his way:

That saw the cities, and the fashions knew

Of many men, but suffer’d grievous pain

To save his own life, and bring home his crew;

Though for his crew, all he could do was vain,

They lost themselves by their own insolence,

Feeding, like fools, on the Sun’s sacred kine;

Which did the splendid deity incense

To their dire fate. Begin, O Muse divine.

The man for wisdom’s various arts renown’d,

Long exercised in woes, O Muse! resound;

Who, when his arms had wrought the destined fall

Of sacred Troy, and razed her heaven-built wall,

Wandering from clime to clime, observant stray’d,

Their manners noted, and their states survey’d,

On stormy seas unnumber’d toils he bore,

Safe with his friends to gain his natal shore:

Vain toils! their impious folly dared to prey

On herds devoted to the god of day;

The god vindictive doom’d them never more

(Ah, men unbless’d!) to touch that natal shore.

Oh, snatch some portion of these acts from fate,

Celestial Muse! and to our world relate.

Muse make the man thy theme, for shrewdness famed

And genius versatile, who far and wide

A Wand’rer, after Ilium overthrown,

Discover’d various cities, and the mind

And manners learn’d of men, in lands remote.

He num’rous woes on Ocean toss’d, endured,

Anxious to save himself, and to conduct

His followers to their home; yet all his care

Preserved them not; they perish’d self-destroy’d

By their own fault; infatuate! who devoured

The oxen of the all-o’erseeing Sun,

And, punish’d for that crime, return’d no more.

Daughter divine of Jove, these things record,

As it may please thee, even in our ears.

O Muse, inspire me to tell of the crafty

man, who wandered very much after he

had brought to destruction the sacred

city of Tioy, and saw the cities of many

men, and became acquainted with their

disposition. He suffered many griefs in

his mind on the sea, to preserve his own

life, and to obtain a return for his

companions; but not even thus, although

anxious, did he save his companions: for

they perished by their own wickedness,

fools who consumed the cattle of the

Sun who journeys above; but he

deprived them of their return. O

Goddess, daughter of Jove, relate even

to us some of these things at least.

Muse! sing the Man by long experience tried,

Who, fertile in resources, wander'd wide,

And when Troy's sacred walls in dust were laid,

Men's varying moods and many a realm survey'd.

He much endured on ocean's stormy wave,

Intent his followers, and himself to save,

In vain:—they perish'd by their guilt undone;

Fools! who devour'd the bullocks of the Sun—

The God, in vengeance for his cattle slain,

In their return destroy'd them on the main.

Daughter of Jove! deign thou to us disclose,

Celestial Muse, a portion of their woes.

O Muse, sing to me of the man full of

resources, who wandered very much

after he had destroyed the sacred city

of Troy, and saw the cities of many

men, and learned their manners. Many

griefs also in his mind did he suffer on

the sea, although seeking to preserve

his own life, and the return of his

companions; but not even thus,

although anxious, did he extricate his

companions : for they perished by

their own infatuation, fools! who

devoured the oxen of the Sun who

journeys on high; but he deprived

them of their return. O goddess,

daughter of Jove, relate to us also

some of these things.

Sing me, O Muse, that all-experienced Man,

Who, after he Troy's sacred town o'erthrew,

Did tossing wander much, and cities scan

Of men a many, and their genius knew;

Woes manifold by sea he suffer'd too

While life and friends' return he 'd fain have won.

Nathless he rescued not his comrades, who

By their own wilful folly were undone;

The fools! that ate the beeves of the o'ergoing Sun.

 

And from them verily he took away

The day of their return. These things to me,

Daughter of Zeus, O goddess, somewhat say.

Tell of the man, thou Muse, much versed, who widely

Wandered, when he had sacked Troy’s sacred fortress;

Many men’s town he saw, and knew their manners;

Many the woes he suffered on the ocean,

To win his life, and safety for his comrades.

But them he might not rescue, though he loved them;

For they were slain amidst their impious daring,

Fools, who the cattle of the mighty Sun-god

Devoured,—and He cut short their homeward journey.

Of all this, Goddess, what thou wilt, inform us.

Sing me. O Muse, that hero wandering,

Who of men's minds did much experience reap,

And knew the citied realms of many a king,

Even from the hour he smote the Trojan keep.

Also a weight of sorrows in the deep,

Brooding he bore, in earnest hope to save,

'Mid hard emprise and labour all to keep,

Himself and comrades from a watery grave —

Whom yet he rescued not with zeal nor yeareings brave;

For they were slain in their own foolishness.

 

Self-blinded, feasting on Hyperion's kine.

He, the great Sun, in vengeance merciless,

Wroth for the slaughter of his herds divine,

Did bend their fortunes to a stern decline.

And raze out wholly their returning day

With disadventure and destroying tyne —

These even to me, who hearken as I may,

Great goddess, child of Zeus, unfold in verse, I pray!

Εννεπε declare μοιI to me, Мουσα Muse,

ανδρα the man πολυτροπον of many

fortunes, ός whoπλαγχθη wandered μαλα

πολλα very much, επει when επερσεν he

had destroyed ιερον πτολιεθρον the

sacred city Τροιης of Troy: ιδε δε and saw

αστεα towns και and εγνων learnt νοον

the mood πολλων ανθρωπων of many

men, πολλα δε αλγεα but many sorrows

όγε he indeed παθε suffered όν κατα

θυμον in his soul, αρνυμενος while

grasping ήν τε ψυχην both his own life και

and νοστον the return έταιρων of his

companions. Αλλα but ουδε not even ώς

thus ερρυσατο did he save έταρους his

companions ίεμενος περ though bent

upon it: ολοντο γαρ for they perished

σφετερησιν ατασσθαλιησι by their own

phrensies, νηπιοι fools, όι who κατα

ησθιον ate up βους the oxen Ήελιοιο of

the SunΎπερινος who rolls above us:

αυταρ but ό he αφειλετο took away τοισι

from them νοστιμον ημαρ the day of their

return: των of these things άμοθεν γε from

whatever source, θεα O goddess, θυγατερ

daughter Διος of Jupiter, ειπε tell και ημιν

to us also.

The travelled Man of many a turn,—driven far,

Far wandering, when he had sacked Troy’s sacred Town;

Tell me, O Muse, his tale; how too he conned

The manners of mankind, and visited

Full many a City, and how on the deep he suffered

Many a heart-pang, striving to secure

His own and comrades’ lives and safe return,

Yet them he rescued not, howe’er desirous;

For by their own blind folly they all perished:

Fools that they were! to eat the Sun-god’s herds;

So, Hyperion, he who Walks above,

Bereft them of their day of home-return!

Whereof, from whatsoever source, O goddess,

Daughter of Zeus, vouchsafe to tell e’en Us!—

Tell me, O Muse, declare to me that man

Tost to and fro by fate, who, when his arms

Had laid Troy’s holy city in the dust,

Far wand’ring roam’d on many a tribe of men

To bend his gaze, their minds and thoughts to learn.

Grief upon grief encounter’d he, when, borne

On ocean-waves, his life he carried off

A prize from perils rescued, and would fain

Have homeward led his brethren in arms;

But, not to him,—not to his anxious zeal

Was giv’n their rescue; destin’d as they were

In their mad arrogance to perish; fools!

That dared to seize, and to consume for food,

Hyperion’s herds, the oxen of the Sun

That walks on high, by whose behest the day

Of their return was evermore denied.

And thou, too, goddess daughter of great Jove,

The theme pursue, and thine own record bear!

Tell me, oh Muse, of-the-many-sided man,

Who wandered far and wide full sore bestead,

When he had razed the mighty town of Troy:

And-of-many-a-race of human-kind he saw

The cities; and he learned their mind and ways :

And on the deep full many-a-woe he bore

In his own hosom, while he strove to save

His proper life, and-his-comrades’ home-return.

But them not so he saved with all his zeal;

For they in their own wilful folly perished:

Infatuates! to devour Hyperion’s kine!

So he bereft them of their home-return.

Of these things, Goddess, where thou wilt beginning,

Daughter of Zeus, the tale tell e’en to us!

Sing, Muse, of that deep man, who wander'd much,

 When he had raz'd the walls of sacred Troy,

And many towns saw, many customs learnt, And many griefs endur'd upon the sea; Anxious to save his comrades and himself: But them he sav'd not, though desiring it: But through their rash deeds perish'd of that band

Those foolish men, who ate Apollo's kine:

That god depriv'd them of return's glad day.

Of these men, goddess, tell us too in part!

Tell me, 0 Muse, of that sagacious man

Who, having overthrown the sacred town

Of Ilium, wandered far and visited

The capitals of many notians, learned

The customs of their dwellers, and endured

Great suffering on the deep; his life was oft

In peril, as he labored to bring back

His comrades to their homes. He saved them not,

Though earnestly he strove; for they perished all

Through their own folly ; for they banqueted,

Madmen! upon the oxen of the Sun, —

The all-o'erlooking Sun, who cut them off,

From their return. O goddess, virgin child

Of Jove, relate some'part of this to me.

Muse! tell me of the man with much resource,

Who wandered far, when sacred Troy he sacked;

Saw towns of many men, learned all they knew,

Winning his own life and his friends’ return.

Yet them he saved not, earnest though he was,

For by their own temerity they died.

Fools! who devoured the oxen of the sun,

Who from them took the day of their return.

[Muse, child of Jove! from some source tell us this.]

 — Note: not a translation, per se, but theGreek text with commentary —

O Muse! inspire me to tell of the man,

skilled in sxpedients, who wandered

very much after he had brought to

destruction the sacred city of Troy,

and saw the cities of many men, and

become acquainted with their

dispositions. And he, indeed, on the

deep, endured in bis mind many

sufferings, whilst endeavoring to

secure his own life and the return of

his companions; but not even thus,

although anxious, did he save his

companions : for they perished by

their own infatuation; foolish [men

that they were], who did eat up the

Sun who journeys above; but he

deprived them of their return [the

day of return]. Of these events,

arising from whatever cause, O

goddess! daughter of Jove, inform

us also.

Tell me, Muse, of that man, so ready at need,

who wandered far and wide, after he had sacked

the sacred citadel of Troy, and many were the

men whose towns he saw and whose mind he

learnt, yea, and many the woes he suffered in

his heart upon the deep, striving to win his own

life and the return of his company. Nay, but even

so he saved not his company, though he desired

it sore. For through the blindness of their own

hearts they perished, fools, who devoured the

oxen of Helios Hyperion: but the god took from

them their day of returning. Of these things,

goddess, daughter of Zeus, whencesoever thou

hast heard thereof, declare thou even unto us.

Sing Muse the hero versatile, who roved

So far, so long, after he overthrew

Troy's holy citadel ; of many men

He saw the cities, and their manners learned;

And woes he suffered on the deep; he strove

To win his comrades' lives, and safe return.

But all his strivings failed to rescue them:

They perished for their witless sacrilege,

Who ate the oxen of Hyperion Sun;

Hence nevermore saw they their native land.

Daughter of Jove, help us to tell the tale.

Muse! of that hero versatile indite to me the song,

Doomed, when he sacred Troy had sacked, to wander far and long.

Who saw the towns of many men, much knowledge did obtain

Anent their ways, and with much woe was heart-wrung on the main,

Seeking his own life to preserve, his friends' return to gain.

E'en so he rescued not his friends, though eagerly he strove,

For them their own infatuate deeds to direful ending drove.

Fools, who the sun-god's sacred beeves dared madly to devour,

Doomed by his anger ne'er to see of glad return the hour.

Sing, goddess, child of mighty Jove, of these events, I pray,

And from what starting-point thou wilt begin with me the lay.

The Hero of craft-renown, O Song-goddess, chant me his fame,

Who, when low he had laid Troy town, unto many a far land came,

And many a city beheld he, and knew the hearts of their folk,

And by woes of the sea was unquelled, o'er the rock of his spirit that broke,

When he fain would won for a prey his life, and his friends' return,

Yet never they saw that day, howsoever his heart might yearn,

But they perished every one, by their own mad deeds did they fall,

For they slaughtered the kine of the Sun, and devoured them — fools were they all.

So the God in his wrath took awav their day of return for their guilt.

[(1903 edition): So in anger their home-coming day did the God take away for their guilt.]

O Goddess, inspire my lay, with their tale; take it up as thou wilt.

 — Note: not a translation, per se, but theGreek text with "marginal references, variousreadings, notes and appendices." —

 — Note: Not a translation, per se,but a commentary. Edition inclusiveof Books 11 – 24 —

Sing, goddess Muse, the wrath of Peleus' son,

The wrath of Achilleus with ruin fraught,

That to Achaians brought unnumbered woes,

And many mighty souls of heroes hurled

To Hades' home but gave themselves a prey

To dogs and every fowl. For thus its end

The will of Zeus worked out, since at the first

Parted in strife those twain, the king of men

Atrides and the godlike Achileus.

Speak to me, Muse, of the adventurous man

who wandered long after he sacked the sacred

citadel of Troy. Many the men whose towns he

saw, whose ways he proved ; and many a pang

he bore in his own breast at sea while struggling

for his' life and his men's safe return. Yet even

so, by all his zeal, he did not save his men; for

through their own perversity they perished—

fools! who devoured the kine of the exhalted

Sun. Wherefore he took away the day of their return.

Of this, O goddess, daughter of Zeus,

beginning where thou wilt, speak to us also.

Tell me, O Muse, of the Shifty, the man who wandered afar.

After the Holy Burg, Troy town, he had wasted with war;

He saw the towns of menfolk, and the mind of men did he learn;

As he warded his life in the world, and his fellow-farers' return,

Many a grief of heart on the deep-sea flood he bore,

Nor yet might he save his fellows, for all that he longed for it sore

They died of their own soul's folly, for witless as they were

They ate up the beasts of the Sun, the Rider of the air,

And he took away from them all their dear returning day;

O goddess, O daughter of Zeus, from whencesoever ye may,

Gather the tale, and tell it, yea even to us at the last!

Tell me, O Muse, of the man of many resources, who many

Ills was made to endure, when he Troy's sacred city had wasted;

Many the people whose cities he saw, and learned of their customs,

Many also the sorrows he suffered at sea in his spirit,

Striving to save his own life and secure the return of his comrades

But not thus his comrades he saved, however he wished it,

For by their own presumptuous deeds they foolishly perished:

Madmen they, who devoured the sun god, Hyperion's oxen,

And in revenge he took from them their day of returning.

Of these things, thou goddess, daughter of Jove, tell us also.

Sing through my lips, O Goddess, sing the man

Resourceful, who, storm-buffeted far and wide,

After despoiling of Troy's sacred tower,

Beheld the cities of mankind, and knew

Their various temper! Many on the sea

The sorrows in his inmost heart he bore

For rescue of his comrades and his life;

Those not for all his effort might he save;

Fools, of their own perversities they fell,

Daring consume the cattle of the Sun

Hyperion, who bereft them of return!

That we too may have knowledge, sing these things,

Daughter of Zeus, beginning whence thou wilt!

Tell me, O muse, of that ingenious hero who

travelled far and wide after he had sacked the

famous town of Troy. Many cities did he visit,

and many were the nations with whose

manners and customs he was acquainted;

moreover he suffered much by sea while

trying to save his own life and bring his

men safely home; but do what he might

he could not save his men, for they

perished through their own sheer folly

in eating the cattle of the Sun-god

Hyperion; so the god prevented them

from ever reaching home. Tell me, too, about

all these things, O daughter of Jove, from

whatsoever source you may know them.

— Note: translation inclusive of Books 13–24 —

O Muse, instruct me of the man who drew

His changeful course through wanderings not a few

After he sacked the holy town of Troy,

And saw the cities and the counsel knew

Of many men, and many a time at sea

Within his heart he bore calamity,

While his own life he laboured to redeem

And bring his fellows back from jeopardy.

Yet not his fellows thus from death he won,

Fain as he was to save them: who undone

By their own hearts' infatuation died,

Fools, that devoured the oxen of the Sun,

Hyperion: and therefore he the day

Of their returning homeward reft away.

Goddess, God's daughter, grant that now thereof

We too may hear, such portion as we may.

Sing, O Muse, of the man so wary and wise, who in far lands

Wandered whenas he had wasted the sacred town of the Trojans.

Many a people he saw and beheld their cities and customs,

Many a woe he endured in his heart as he tossed on the ocean,

Striving to win him his life and to bring home safely his comrades.

Ah but he rescued them not, those comrades, much as he wished it.

Ruined by their own act of infatuate madness they perished,

Fools that they were—who the cows of the sun-god, lord Hyperion,

Slaughtered and ate; and he took from the men their day of returning.

Sing—whence-ever the lay—sing, Zeus-born goddess, for us too!

Tell me, O Muse, of the man of many devices,

who wandered full many ways after he had

sacked the sacred citadel of Troy. Many

were the men whose cities he saw and

whose mind he learned, aye, and many

the woes he suffered in his heart upon

the sea, seeking to win his own life and

the return of his comrades. Yet even so

he saved not his comrades, though he

desired it sore, for through their own

blind folly they perished—fools, who

devoured the kine of Helios Hyperion;

but he took from them the day of their

returning. Of these things, goddess,

daughter of Zeus, beginning where thou

wilt, tell thou even unto us.

Sing me the Restless Man, O Muse, who roamed the world over,

When, by his wondrous guile, he had sacked Troy's sacred fortress.

Cities of various men he saw: their thoughts he discernéd.

Many a time, in the deep, his heart was melted for trouble.

Striving to win his life, and eke return for his comrades:

Yet, though he strove full sore, he could not save his companions,

For, as was meet and just, through deeds of folly they perished:

Fools ! who devoured the oxen of Him who rides in the heavens,

Helios, who, in his course, missed out their day of returning.

Yet, how they fared and died, be gracious, O Goddess, to tell us.

On page viii, Caulfeild gives the scansion in Homer's "original metre" of the third line of his translation as:

Māny a | tĩme in the | deēp [– (pause or 'cæsura')] hĩs | heārt was | mēlted for | trōublē,^[141]

Tell me, O Muse, of that Great Traveller

Who wandered far and wide when he had sacked

The sacred town of Troy. Of many men

He saw the cities and he learned the mind;

Ay, and at heart he suffered many woes

Upon the sea, intent to save his life

And bring his comrades home. Yet even so

His men he could not save for all his efforts,

For through their own blind wilfulness they perished;

The fools! who ate up Hyperion's kine;

And he bereft them of their homing day.

Touching these things, beginning where thou wilt,

Tell even us, O goddess, child of Zeus.

Tell me, O Muse, of that clever hero

who wandered far after capturing the

sacred city of Troy. For he saw the

towns and learned the ways of many

peoples. Many hardships too he

suffered on the sea while struggling

for his own life and for the safe return

of his men. Yet all his zeal did not save

his companions. They perished through

their own rashness — the fools! — because

they ate the cattle of the Sun, and he

therefore kept them from reaching

home. Tell us also of this, 0 goddess,

daughter of Zeus, beginning where

you will.

Tell me the tale, Muse, of that man

Of many changes, he who went

Wandering so far when he had plundered

Troy’s sacred citadel. And many

The men whose cities he beheld,

Whose minds he learned to know, and many

The sorrows that his soul endured

Upon the deep the while he strove

To save himself from death and bring

His comrades home.

                                    Of these things now,

Daughter of Zeus, O goddess, tell us,

Even as thou wilt, the tale.

This is the story of a man, one who

was never at a loss. He had travelled

far in the world, after the sack of Troy,

the virgin fortress; he saw many cities

of men, and learnt their mind; he endured

many troubles and hardships in the

struggle to save his own life and to bring

back his men safe to their homes. He did

his best, but he could not save his

companions. For they perished by their

own madness, because they killed and ate

the cattle of Hyperion the Sun-god, and

the god took care that they should never

see home again.

The hero of the tale which I beg the

Muse to help me tell is that resourceful

man who roamed the wide world after he

had sacked the holy citadel of Troy. He

saw the cities of many peoples and he

learnt their ways. He suffered many

hardships on the high seas in his

struggles to preserve his life and bring

his comrades home. But he failed to save

those comrades, in spite of all his efforts.

It was their own sin that brought them to

their doom, for in their folly they devoured

the oxen of Hyperion the Sun, and the god

saw to it that they should never return.

This is the tale I pray the divine Muse to

unfold to us. Begin it, goddess, at whatever

point you will.

Tell me, O muse, of the hero fated to roam

So long and so far when Ilion's keep he had sack'd,

And the city and mind of many a people he knew,

And many a woe he endur'd on the face of the deep

To win both life for himself and his comrades' return;

Yet for all his striving he brought not his company home,

For they by their own blindness at last were stroy'd,

Fools! who ate of the sacred beeves of the Sun

And he, Hyperion, ras'd out their day of return:

Sing, then, O daughter of Zeus, that Wanderer's tale.

Tell me, Muse, of the man of many ways,

who was driven far journeys, after he had

sacked Troy's sacred citadel. Many were

they whose cities he saw, whose minds he

learned of, many the pains he suffered in

his spirit on the wide sea, struggling for

his own life and the homecoming of his

companions. Even so he could not save

his companions, hard though he strove

to; they were destroyed by their own

wild recklessness, fools, who devoured

the oxen of Helios, the Sun God, and

he took away the day of their

homecoming. From some point here,

goddess, daughter of Zeus, speak, and

begin our story.

Of that versatile man, O Muse, tell me the story,

How he wandered both long and far after sacking

The city of holy Troy. May were the towns

He saw and many the men whose minds he knew,

And many were the woes his stout heart suffered at sea

As he fought to return alive with living comrades.

Them he could not save, though much he longed to,

For through their own thoughtless greed they died -- blind fools

Who slaughtered the Sun's own cattle, Hyperion's herd,

For food, and so by him were kept from returning.

Of all these things, O Goddess, daughter of Zeus,

Beginning wherever you swish, tell even us.

Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story

of that man skilled in all ways of contending,

the wanderer, harried for years on end,

after he plundered the stronghold

on the proud height of Troy.

                                He saw the townlands

and learned the minds of many distant men,

and weathered many bitter nights and days

in his deep heart at sea, while he fought only

to save his life, to bring his shipmates home.

But not by will nor valor could he save them,

for their own recklessness destroyed them all--

children and fools, they killed and feasted on

the cattle of Lord Hêlios, the Sun,

and he who moves all day through heaven

took from their eyes the dawn of their return.

Of these adventures, Muse, daughter of Zeus,

tell us in our time, lift up great song again.

Tell me, Muse, about the man of many turns, who many

Ways wandered when he had sacked Troy's holy citadel;

He saw the cities of many men, and he knew their thought;

On the ocean he suffered many pains within his heart,

Striving for his life and his companions' return.

But he did not save his companions, though he wanted to:

They lost their own lives because of their recklessness.

The fools, they devoured the cattle of Hyperion,

The Sun, and he took away the day of their return.

Begin the tale somewhere for us also, goddess, daughter of Zeus.

Goddess of song, teach me the story of a hero.
      This was the man of wide-ranging spirit who had sacked the sacred town of Troy and who wandered afterwards long and far.

Many were those cities he viewed and whose minds he came to know, many the troubles that vexed his heart as he sailed the seas, labouring to save himself and to bring his comrades home. But his comrades he could not keep from ruin, strive as he might; they perished instead by their own presumptuousness. Fools, they devoured the cattle of Hyperion, and he, the sun-god, cut off from them the day of their homecoming.

      Goddess, daughter of Zeus, to me in turn impart some knowledge of all these things, beginning where you will.

  Muse, tell me of a man – a man

of much resource, who was made

to wander far and long, after he had sacked the sacred city of Troy. Many were the men whose lands he saw and came to know their thinking, many too the miseries at sea which he suffered in his heart as he sought to win his own life and the safe return of his companions. They perished through their own arrant folly – the fools, they ate the cattle of Hyperion the Sun, and he took away the day of their return.   Start the story where you will, goddess, daughter of Zeus, and share it now with us.

Muse, tell me of the man of many wiles,

the man who wandered many paths of exile

after he sacked Troy's sacred citadel.

He saw the cities—mapped the minds—of many;

and on the sea, his spirit suffered every

adversity—to keep his life intact,

to bring his comrades back. In that last task,

his will was firm and fast, and yet he failed:

he could not save his comrades. Fools, they foiled

themselves: they ate the oxen of the Sun,

the herd of Hélios Hypérion;

the lord of light requited their transgression—

he took away the day of their return.

Muse, tell us of these matters. Daughter of Zeus,

my starting point is any point you choose.

Tell me, Muse of that resourceful

man who was driven to wander far

and wide after he had sacked the

holy citadel of Troy. He saw the

cities of many people and he learnt

their ways. He suffered great

anguish on the high seas in his

struggles to preserve life and

bring his comrades home. But he

failed to save those comrades,

in spite of all his efforts. It

was their own transgression that

brought them to their doom, for in

their folly they devoured the oxen

of Hyperion the Sun-god and he

saw to it that they would never

return. Tell us this story,

goddess daughter of Zeus,

beginning at whatever point you

will.

Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns

driven time and again off course, once he had plundered

the hallowed heights of Troy.

Many cities of men he saw and learned their minds,

many pains he suffered, heartsick on the open sea,

fighting to save his life and bring his comrades home.

But he could not save them from disaster, hard as he strove—

the recklessness of their own ways destroyed them all,

the blind fools, they devoured the cattle of the Sun

and the Sungod blotted out the day of their return.

Launch out on his story, Muse, daughter of Zeus,

start from where you will—sing for our time too.

Tell me, O Muse, of a man of resourceful spirit who wandered

Far, having taken by storm Troy's sacred city and sacked it.

Many the men whose cities he saw, whose thoughts he discovered;

Many the grievous troubles he suffered at sea in his spirit,

Striving to save his life and restore his friends to their homeland.

Yet he failed in the end to save his friends by his efforts.

By their folly they perished, by their own folly and blindness,

Fools, who elected to feed on great Hyperion's oxen;

So that God of the Sun denied their day of returning.

Tell us the tale, goddess, daughter of Zeus, and choose the beginning.

Tell me, Muse, of the versatile man who

was driven off course many times after he had sacked the holy citadel of Troy.

Many were the

peoples whose cities he saw, and

whose minds he got to know; and at

sea many were the pains he felt in

his heart as he tried to secure his own

life and his comrades’ return home.

Even so he did not save them, much

as he wanted to. Instead they perished

through their own outrageous, foolish

men who ate up the cattle of Hyperion

the Sun; and he took from them the day

of their homecoming. From some point

or other, goddess, daughter of Zeus,

tell us too about these things.

  Speak, Memory –

                                   Of the cunning hero

The wanderer, blown off course time and again

After he plundered Troy's sacred heights.

                                                           Speak

Of all the cities he saw, the minds he grasped,

The suffering deep in his heart at sea

As he struggled to survive and bring his men home

But could not save them, hard as he tried –

The fools – destroyed by their own recklessness

When they ate the oxen of Hyperion the Sun,

And that god snuffed out their day of return.

                               Of these things,

 Speak, Immortal One,

And tell the tale once more in our time.

Muse, speak to me now of that resourceful man

who wandered far and wide after ravaging

the sacred citadel of Troy. He came to see

many people’s cities, where he learned their customs,

while on the sea his spirit suffered many torments,

as he fought to save his life and lead his comrades home.

But though he wanted to, he could not rescue them—

they all died from their own stupidity, the fools.

They feasted on the cattle of Hyperion,

god of the sun—that’s why he snatched away their chance

of getting home someday. So now, daughter of Zeus,

tell us his story, starting anywhere you wish.

Tell me, Muse, of the man versatile and resourceful, who wandered

many a sea-mile after he ransacked Troy’s holy city.

Many the men whose towns he observed, whose minds he discovered,

many the pains in his heart he suffered, traversing the seaway,

fighting for his own life and a way back home for his comrades.

Not even so did he save his companions, as much as he wished to,

for by their own mad recklessness they were brought to destruction,

childish fools–they decided to eat up the cows of the High Lord,

Helios: he then took from the men their day of returning.

Even for us, holy daughter of Zeus, start there to recount this.

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The man, my Muse, resourceful, driven a long way

after he sacked the holy city of Trojans:

tell me all the men’s cities he saw and the men’s minds,

how often he suffered heartfelt pain on the broad sea,

striving for life and a way back home for his war friends.

Yet he saved no friends, much as he longed to:

they lost their lives through their own reckless abandon,

fools who ate the cattle of Helios the Sun-God.

Huperion seized the day they might have arrived home.

 

Tell us, Goddess, daughter of Zeus, start in your own place.

Speak through me, O Muse,

of that man of many devices

who wandered much

once he'd sacked the sacred citadel of Troy.

He saw the cities of many men

                    and knew their minds,

suffering many sorrows

in order to win back his life-soul

and the return of his companions.

In the end he failed to save them,

in spite of his longing to do so,

for through their own heedlessness they perished.

Fools--who ate the cows of Helios-Hyperion,

and the day of their return was taken from them.

Of these matters, goddess, daughter of Zeus, speak through us

beginning wherever you will.

Sing to me, Muse, of that endlessly cunning man

who was blown off course to the ends of the earth, in the years

after he plundered Troy. He passed through the cities

of many people and learned how they thought, and he suffered

many bitter hardships upon the high seas

as he tried to save his own life and bring his companions

back to their home. But however bravely he struggled,

he could not rescue them, fools that they were—their own

recklessness brought disaster upon them all;

they slaughtered and ate the cattle of Hélios,

so the sun god destroyed them and blotted out their homecoming.

Goddess, daughter of Zeus, begin now, wherever

you wish to, and tell the story again, for us.

Sing to me of the resourceful man, O Muse, who wandered

far after he had sacked the sacred city of Troy. He saw

the cities of many men and learned their minds.

He suffered many pains on the sea in his spirit, seeking

to save his life and the homecoming of his companions.

But even so he could not save his companions, though he wanted to,

for they perished of their own folly—the fools! They ate

the cattle of Helios Hyperion, who took from them the day

of their return. Of these matters, beginning where you want,

O daughter of Zeus, tell to us.

Tell me, Muse, of the man of many turns, who was driven

far and wide after he had sacked the sacred city of Troy.

Many were the men whose cities he saw, and learnt their minds,

many the sufferings on the open sea he endured in his heart,

struggling for his own life and his companions' homecoming.

Even so he could not protect them, though he desired it,

since they perished by reason of their own recklessness,

the fools, because they ate the cattle of the Sun, Hyperion,

and he took away the day of their homecoming. Tell us, too,

goddess daughter of Zeus, starting from where you will.

Tell me about a complicated man.

Muse, tell me how he wandered and was lost

when he had wrecked the holy town of Troy,

and where he went, and who he met, the pain

he suffered in the storms at sea, and how

he worked to save his life and bring his men

back home. He failed to keep them safe; poor fools,

they ate the Sun God's cattle, and the god

kept them from home. Now goddess, child of Zeus,

tell the old story for our modern times.

The man, Muse—tell me about that resourceful man, who wandered

far and wide, when he'd sacked Troy's sacred citadel:

many men's townships he saw, and learned their ways of thinking,

many the griefs he suffered at heart on the open sea,

battling for his own life and his comrades' homecoming. Yet

no way could he save his comrades, much though he longed to—

it was through their own blind recklessness that they perished,

the fools, for they slaughtered the cattle of Hēlios the sun god

and ate them: for that he took from them their day of returning.

Tell us this tale, goddess, child of Zeus; start anywhere in it!

Muse, Athena, inspire me to understand the true story of that man, masterful in all ways of cleverness

that troubled wanderer, vexed in misery for ten years after he destroyed the Trojans and their nation's stronghold. He, who saw remote lands and cities and learned the ways of foreign men; weathering bitter nights and anxious days in the deep sea's heart, battling to save his own life and to bring his crew-mates home. He, whose determination, courage and good sense could not save them, for Destiny compelled their excesses, their doom was sealed before birth. For those fools feasted on the cattle of noble Helios, the Sun, He that colours Day from black Night. So, He erased the Dawn of their homecoming day, and their lives.