Which Translation: The Odyssey

Tell me the tale of a man, Muse, who had so many roundabout ways

To wander, driven off course, after sacking Troy’s hallowed keep;

Many the peoples whose cities he saw and whose ways of thinking he learned,

Many the toils he suffered at sea, anguish in his heart

As he struggled to safeguard his life and the homecoming of his companions.

But he did not save his companions even so, though he longed to,

For their heedlessness destroyed them, theirs and nobody else’s—

Fools that they were, like children, who devoured the sun-god Hyperion’s

Cattle, and so he took from them the day of their homecoming.

Goddess, start where you will; daughter of Zeus, share the tale with us too.

The Man, Muse, tell me the tale of that man

Who survived on his wits—driven afar in his wanderings

After he looted the citadel sacred to Troy.

So many cities he saw and minds he mastered,

So many heartbreaking sorrows he suffered at sea

As he struggled to save his own life and bring his men home;

But not even he could protect them, hard though he tried.

His shipmates were reckless—the fools!—dooming themselves

By gorging on cattle they stole from the pastures of Helios,

God of the Sun, who darkened their homecoming day.

Begin where you will, Goddess, and sing for us too.

Sing to me, Muse, of the man of many paths, the wanderer, who roamed far after laying waste to Troy’s sacred heights. He saw the cities of countless men, learned their minds, and endured deep pain at sea, all in his struggle to survive and to bring his crew back home. But even so, he could not save them. Though he longed to, their own blind folly destroyed them-fools who ate the cattle of the Sun God, Helios, and so robbed themselves of the day of their return. Tell us this tale, goddess, daughter of Zeus.

Moúsa tell me about the man and his great will and his great wanderings

after he sacked the sacred citadel of Troiê.

Great cities and people’s minds he saw and learned

and great agony upon the sea he suffered in his heart

for the salvation of his soul and the return of his men.

But he did not save his men despite his desire.

They were destroyed by their own depravity

for they were fools who ate the oxen of Huperiôn Êelios

so he took away from them the day of their return.

Tell us some of these things O goddess daughter of Zeús

Tell me, Muse, of a man who was always shifting, drifting, driven about so far and wide, after he burned and looted Troy, the holy city. He saw many peoples’ towns, and came to see their views, and in his heart he suffered many agonies on the sea, struggling for his own life and for his crew’s return. But he did not bring them back, despite how much he wanted to. They perished, through their own recklessness—the fools. They feasted on the cattle of Hyperion the Sun, and he took away the day of their return. Of all this, beginning at any point, Goddess, Daughter of Zeus, tell us once again.

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 Helios 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.

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, Muse, of that resourceful man who trekked

far and wide, when he’d sacked Troy’s holy place;

he saw many towns of men and came to know

their minds, his spirit suffering on the sea

as he strove to bring his comrades home alive;

he failed, much though he longed to save them,

for their own blind folly cut them down

– fools, who ate the oxen of Hyperion

the sun-god, who took away their homecoming.

Daughter of Zeus, tell us the tale from there...

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.

Find the beginning.

Tell how he wandered, Muse, time and again

confounded, after he sacked Troy’s citadel,

how many towns he saw and learned their ways,

how many trials the man endured at sea

to save his comrades’ lives, return them home.

Hard though he tried, he failed to save those men

whose recklessness secured their own demise.

Like fools they ate the sun god Helios’ cows,

and he made certain they would not survive.

Choose where to start your story, Zeus’s daughter!

So many other men eluded ruin,

A man, resourceful but forced into so many wanderings from the time he sacked the sacred stronghold of Troy—sing me his story, Muse. There were many people whose towns he saw, whose minds he took the measure of, and many miseries he suffered at sea, sick at heart, while trying to earn his own life and a way home for his shipmates. But there was no saving those shipmates, determined as he was; they were undone by their own reckless acts. With no more sense than infants they fell on the cattle of the sun god Hyperion and ate them. The god robbed them of the day—their day of homecoming. Start anywhere, goddess, daughter of Zeus, 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 he 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.

Muse, tell of the wily-minded man

Who wandered far after he sacked and burned

The holy towers of Troy; he saw many men’s cities,

And learned their minds, and his spirit suffered much

Out on the sea, striving to keep his own life

And bring his comrades home. But he did not save them,

For the fools died by their own wicked deed

When they killed and ate the cattle of Hyperion Helios,

Who took their homecoming away; but he endured.

Begin where you will, Muse, and tell his story.

Sing to me, Muse, of a man of guile and many guises, who was made to

Wander greatly, after he had sacked the sacred towers of Troy.

He saw many cities of many men, and knew their minds.

Many were the woes he suffered in spirit on the sea

Trying to preserve his life and bring home his comrades.

However he could not save his friends

For they were destroyed by their own folly,

Fools that slaughtered the cattle of Hyperion the Sun God,

Who then denied them a homecoming.

Sing to us of these things and their like, Lady, Daughter of Zeus.

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.

Tell me my Muse, of the man, the resourceful one, who wandered

so much and so far from the sacking of Troy, the holy city.

Many the peoples whose towns he saw and whose ways he noted,

and many the sorrows he endured at sea

protecting his life and his comrades’ long journey home.

Yet he could not save his companions, hard though he strove to.

They were destroyed by their own blind folly,

the fools who feasted on the cattle of the Sun-god.

It was he who cancelled their hope of going home.

Tell us their story also, o goddess, daughter of Zeus.

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.

Tell me, Muse, about the wily man who wandered

long and far after he sacked the sacred citadel of Troy.

He saw the cities and knew the minds of many men,

but suffered at sea many sorrows in his heart,

struggling for his life and comrades’ return home.

But he didn’t save his comrades, much though he wanted to,

for by their own recklessness they perished,

childish fools, who devoured the cattle of the Sun, Hyperion,

who then deprived them of their homecoming day.

Tell us also, goddess, daughter of Zeus, of sundry things.

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—and so 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 that man of many resources, who wandered far and wide, after sacking the holy citadel of Troy. Many the men whose cities he saw, whose ways he learned. Many the sorrows he suffered at sea, while trying to bring himself and his friends back alive. Yet despite his wishes he failed to save them, because of their own un-wisdom, foolishly eating the cattle of Helios, the Sun, so the god denied them their return. Tell us of these things, beginning where you will, Goddess, Daughter of Zeus.

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.

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.

Sing to me the story of that Wanderer who sacked Troy and sundered her Heaven-built walls, only to be forced to roam Uncharted seas and visit strange lands Where he faced many grueling trials. Sing to me of his great adventures among nations Of all manners, minds, fashions, and traditions. Sing to me of a man, abandoned by the gods After his men slew the sun god’s sacred cattle, Who still proves himself worthy of song and story. Sing, O Muse, of him in his glory.

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. But even so, for all his efforts, he could not save 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.

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.

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

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 behaviour, 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, goddes, daughter of Zeus, tell us too about these things.

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

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

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.

Goddess of song, teach me the story of a hero. This was the man of wide-ranging spirit who had sacked the sacred town of Troy and who wandered afterwards long and far. Many were those whose cities he viewed and whose minds he came to know, many the troubles that vexed his heart as he sailed the seas, labouring to save himself and to bring his comrades home. But his comrades he could not keep from ruin, strive as he might; they perished instead by their own presumptuousness. Fools, they devoured the cattle of Hyperion, and he, the sun-god, cut off from them the day of their homecoming. Goddess, daughter of Zeus, to me in turn impart some knowledge of all these things, beginning where you will.

Tell, Muse, of that most devious man who wandered

so far after he sacked Troy’s sacred city

and of the towns he saw, the minds he learned from,

The many woes he suffered on the sea

to save his life and bring his comrades home,

but how, although he tried, he couldn’t save them;

they died of their own recklessness, the fools:

they ate the cattle of the Sun God who

deprived them of the day they would reach home.

Goddess, Zeus’ daughter, start your tale and tell us.

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.

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.

Recall for me, Muse, the toils of that man so ready of wit in every need, who wandered far and wide after he had sacked the sacred citadel of Troy. He chanced upon the towns of many men, whose ways of life and thought he also learned, while enduring many woes within his heart as he struggled on the deep to save his life and win a safe return home for his comrades. Yet, even so, he did not save his comrades, though much he yearned to do so. For through the wicked folly of their own hearts they perished, fools that they were to devour the cattle of the sun-god Helios, son of Hyperion. The god therefore took from them the day for their return. Begin at some point, goddess, daughter of Zeus, and tell us of these exploits.

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 Helios, 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 the great song again.

How he wandered both long and far after sacking

The city of holy Troy. Many 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 wish, tell even us.

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 destroy’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.

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.

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.

O divine poesy Goddess-daughter of Zeus Sustain for me This song of the various-minded man Who after he had plundered The innermost citadel of hallowed Troy Was made to stray grievously About the coasts of men The sport of their customs good or bad While his heart through all the sea-faring Ached in an agony to redeem himself And bring his company safe home Vain hope—for them For his fellows he strove in vain Their own witlessness cast them away The fools To destroy for meat The oxen of the most exalted sun Wherefore the sun-god blotted out The day of their return Make the tale live for us In all its many bearings O Muse

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.

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 returning home. Tell us also of this, O goddess, daughter of Zeus, beginning where you will.

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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.

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 discerned.

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.

Tell me, O Muse, of that ingenious hero who travelled far and wide after he had sacked the famous town of Troy. Many were they whose cities he saw and whose manners he learnt, 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, 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!

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.

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, oh daughter of Jove, from whatsoever source you may know them.

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 the man of many resources, who many

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

Many the peoples 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.

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 souls’ 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 that quick witted Chief,

Who, when the sacred citadel of Troy

Was wasted by his arms, wandered abroad,

And many towns beheld and many men,

And knew their ways and purposes; and oft

He suffered trouble on the stormy deep,

Striving for life and seeking a return

For his companions. Yet not even so

Might he achieve deliverance for his friends.

They in their folly perished—the the fools,

Who dared to feast upon the sacred kine

Of Helios, Heavenly King; from whom the God

Withheld the day of safe return to home.

So tell us, of this wife, daughter of Zeus

The story of these doings.

Tell of the storm-tossed man, O Muse, 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, despite his zeal, he did not save his men; for through their own perversity they perished, having recklessly devoured the cattle of the exalted Sun, who therefore took away the day of their return. Of this, O goddess, daughter of Zeus, speak as thou wilt to us.

Muse! of that hero versatile incline 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

About 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 herds had ventured 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 have 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 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.

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.

O Muse! inspire me to tell of \[lit. tell me of\] the man, skilful in expedients, who wandered very much after he had brought to destruction the sacred city of Troy, and saw the cities of many men, and became acquainted with their dispositions. And he, indeed, on the deep, endured in his mind many sufferings, whilst endeavouring 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 oxen of the Sun who journeys above; but he deprived them of their return \[lit. the day of return\]. Of these events, arising from whatever cause, O goddess! daughter of Jove, inform us also.

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 never more saw they their native land.

Daughter of Jove, help us to tell the tale.

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,

Wanting 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.

These, child of Jove! from some source tell us this.

Tell me, O Muse, of that sagacious man

Who, having overthrown the sacred town

Of Ilium, wandered far and visited

The capitals of many nations, learned

The customs of their dwellers, and endured

Great suffering on the deep: his life was oft

In peril, as he labored to bring back

His comrades to their homes. He saved them not,

Though earnestly he strove; they perished all,

Through their own folly; for they banqueted,

Madmen! upon the oxen of the Sun—

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

From their return. O goddess, virgin-child

Of Jove, relate some part of this to me.

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 bosom, 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:

For 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, 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!

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

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

Many men’s towns 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 too steep,

Himself and comrades from a watery grave-

Whom yet he rescued not with zeal nor yearnings 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 μοι to me, Μουσα Muse, ανδρα the man πολυτροπον of many fortunes, ὅς who πλαγχθη wandered μαλα πολλα very much, επει when επερσεν he had destroyed ἱερον πτολιεθρον the sacred city Τροιης of Troy: ἰδε δε and saw αστεα towns και and εγνω learnt νοον the mood πολλων ανθρωπων of many men, πολλα δε αλγεα but many sorrows ὀγε he indeed παθε suffered ὀν κατα θυμον in his soul, αρνυμενος whilst grasping ἠν τε ψυχην both his own life και and νοστον the return ἑταιρων of his companions. Αλλα but ουδε not even ὡς thus ερρυσατο did he save ἑταρους his companions, ἱεμενος περ though bent upon it: ὀλοντο γαρ for they perished σφετερησιν ατασθαλιησι by their own phrensies, νηπιοι fools, οἱ who κατα ησθιον ate up βους the oxen ‘Ηελιοιο of the Sun ‘Υπεριρονος who rolls above us: αυταρ but ὁ he αφειλετο took away τοισσ from them νοστιμον ημαρ the day of their return των of these things αμοθεν γε from whatever source, θεα O goddess, θυγατερ daughter Διος of Jupiter, ειπε tell και ημιν to us also.

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.

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, inspire me to tell of the crafty man, who wandered very much after he had brought to destruction the sacred city of Troy, 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.

The man of wisdom versatile, relate

To me, O Muse! who toss’d by adverse fate,

After his arms and stratagems profound,

Had levell’d sacred Ilion to the ground,

Saw many cities, diligent to trace

The varied manners of the human race,

Suffering dire conflicts on the stormy wave,

His own and comrades’ lives intent to save:

A vain attempt—his men by folly led,

On oxen sacred to Apollo fed.

The god enraged, for ever took away

Of their return the long-protracted day.

These deeds, in part at least, to memory bring,

Daughter of Jove! and aid me as I sing.

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,

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.

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.

That Prudent Hero’s Wandring, Muse, reherse,

Who (Troy being Sack’d) coasting the Universe,

Saw many Cities, and their various Modes,

Much suffering toss’d 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’re return’d: Jove’s Daughter this display!

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.