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nydus/The OdysseyPublic

An epic poem following a Greek hero trying to return home after the Trojan war.

Page 134 of 400
Table of Contents

Book VIII

Troy to smite and slay. Then sang the bard how, issuing from the womb Of that deceitful horse, the sons of Greece Laid Ilium waste; how each in different ways Ravaged the town, while, terrible as Mars, Ulysses, joined with Menelaus, sought The palace of Deiphobus, and there Maintained a desperate battle, till the aid Of mighty Pallas made the victory his.

So sang renowned Demodocus; the strain Melted to tears Ulysses, from whose lids They dropped and wet his cheeks. As when a wife Weeps her beloved husband, slain before His town and people, fighting to defend Them and his own dear babes from deadly harm, She sees him gasp and die, and at the sight She falls with piercing cries upon his corpse, Meantime the victors beat her on the back And shoulders with their spears, and bear her off To toil and grieve in slavery, where her cheeks In that long bitter sorrow lose their bloom; So from the eyelids of Ulysses fell The tears, yet fell unnoticed by them all Save that Alcinoüs, sitting at his side, Saw them, and heard his heavy sighs, and thus Bespake his people, masters of the oar:⁠—

“Princes and chiefs of the Phaeacian race, Give ear. Let now Demodocus lay by His clear-toned harp. The matter of his song Delights not all alike. Since first we sat At meat, and since our noble bard began His lay, our guest has never ceased to grieve; Some mighty sorrow weighs upon his heart. Now let the bard refrain, that we may all Enjoy the banquet, both our guest and we Who welcome him, for it is fitting thus. And now are all things for our worthy guest Made ready, both the escort and these gifts, The pledges of our kind regard. A guest, A suppliant, is a brother, even to him Who bears a heart not easy to be moved. No longer, then, keep back with studied art What I shall ask; ’twere better far to speak With freedom. Tell the name thy mother gave, Thy father, and all those who dwell within, And round thy city. For no living man Is nameless from the time that he is born. Humble or high in station, at their birth The parents give them names. Declare thy land, Thy people, and thy city,

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