18 Aug Homer: Odyssey: Book IX: The Cyclops

Introduction

The introductory sections to previous translations on this blog of the “Odyssey”, Book V (17th September 2010), Book VI (24th June 2011) and Book VII (9th July 2011) give relevant supplementary information to the whole work and to Homer and his style of writing. Book IX, which is translated below, is an enthralling, albeit gruesome, tale, in which Odysseus encounters, and eventually escapes from, Polyphemus, a savage member of the giant tribe of the Cyclopes, although not without losing six of his companions, whom Polyphemus eats. Like most of the Homeric epics, this book is exciting and quick-moving. Polyphemus’ outrageous behaviour continues the theme, central to the whole work, of ‘xenia’ , that is, the duty of hospitality to strangers, or, in this case, the grievous abuse of it by Polyphemus, whose blinding is a just punishment for his killing of Odysseus’ friends. But Book IX also brings to the surface other universal themes of permanent interest to humanity: the struggle of civilised men against senseless cruelty and violence; cunning and cleverness pitted against apparently invincible brutal strength; and the dangers that arise from over-confidence at the point of victory. For these and many others reasons Book IX is a particularly memorable section of this wonderful tale, first written down in the Seventh or Eighth Century B.C. but probably existing in oral form for centuries prior to that. As with much of Homer’s works, the reader or listener is not spared the grisly details, in this case Polyphemus’ vomiting of human body parts after a drunken binge, and the graphic description which accompanies the driving of the red-hot stake into his one eye. Memorable too is the close escape which Odysseus and his companions have from the huge rocks, which the enraged, but now blinded, monster hurls at their ship when Odysseus unwisely taunts him while sailing away. It is surely significant that much of Odysseus’ success in escaping from his terrible predicament, when imprisoned in the cave of the giant cannibal, is to tell Polyphemus that his name is ‘No-man’, since the other Cyclopes make no attempt to help when Polyphemus tells them No-man is attacking him. On the other hand, because, in a moment of hubris, Odysseus later informs the Cyclops of his real name, Polyphemus prays to his father, the sea-god Poseidon, to punish him, and this is the direct cause of most of Odysseus’ subsequent misfortunes.

As in the case of his other translations, Sabidius seeks here to offer a translation which adheres as closely as possible to the sentence structure of Homer’s actual words. There are many translations of the “Odyssey” into English and some of these, although exciting to read, significantly alter the structure of the work and employ idiomatic English which does not arise directly from Homer’s vocabulary. This may, perhaps, make for an easier and more exciting read, but it does not assist a close understanding of the original Greek. A literal translation does more justice to the original language of the epic poetry, which is obviously important to any student of classical languages, but it also allows non-specialist readers, once they have achieved such an understanding, to make their own contribution as to how best to render the text into more colloquial English. Unless, they have an understanding of the original, such readers are surely excluded from making any contributions of their own to that process, since they will not know at what point a colloquial rendering has moved so far from the poet’s original work as to become an alternative version of the story rather than a translation of it.

A particular feature of Homer’s poetry, and indeed of all epic poetry based on a previously oral tradition, is the use of formulaic epithets and phrases, as well as the repetition of whole lines, and sometimes a number of lines, of verse. Such repetitions frequently relate to particular circumstances, which are themselves subject to repetition, such as the preparation of food, the pouring of drink, the arming of warriors, arrangements for setting sail and coming in to land, and the offering of sacrifices to the gods. This repetition would have allowed an oral poet the opportunity for an intellectual pause, while devising subsequent lines of a more original nature. A feature of the translation below is that the translation of lines which are repeated at least once in this book is shown in italics. It is interesting that the final lines of the poem are made up almost entirely of such repeated lines.

The text for this translation and the short synopses of the sections into which the Book is divided, are taken from the edition of the “Odyssey”, Book IX, edited by J.V.Muir, and published by the Bristol Classical Press, 1980.

Ll. 1-15. Odysseus has escaped from the sea and has been received at the court of King Alcinous. At a great feast Alcinous asks him to tell the story of his past. Odysseus reluctantly agrees.

Then, in answer (lit. answering), the wily Odysseus addressed him:

“Lord Alcinous, renowned among all your people, indeed this is a good thing, to listen to a minstrel of such a kind as this (man) is, like to the gods in respect of his voice. For I, at any rate, declare that there is not any result more pleasant than when merriment overtakes a whole people, and the guests sitting in order in a hall listen to a minstrel, and beside (them) there are tables full of bread and meat, and a cup-bearer, drawing wine from a mixing-bowl, bears (it around) and pours (it) into the goblets. This seems to my mind to be the fairest thing (there is). But your heart has inclined (lit. turned) to ask after my grievous woes, with the result that I, as I lament (lit. lamenting), may groan still more. What then shall I tell you first, and what last? For the heavenly gods have given me many woes.

Ll. 16-28. Odysseus tells Alcinous his name and describes Ithaca, his birthplace.

Now I shall tell my name first, so that you too may know (it) and I, escaping from the pitiless day (of doom) , can then be a guest-friend to you, (although) dwelling in a home far away. I am Odysseus, son of Laertes, I, who am known to men for all (kinds of) tricks, and my fame reaches heaven. But I dwell in clear-seen Ithaca; and in it (there is) a mountain, Neriton, very splendid with quivering foliage; and around (it) are situated many islands very near to one another, Dulichium and Same and wooded Zacynthus; and low-lying (Ithaca) itself lies the furthest out to sea towards the darkness (i.e. the west), but the (others lie) far away (facing) towards the dawn and the sun; (it is) a rugged (isle), but a good nurse of young men; (and) indeed I can see no other thing sweeter (for a man) than his own land.

Ll. 29-61. Odysseus tells of his adventures with Calypso and Circe and of his longing for home. He describes the disastrous expedition against the Cicones.

Now truly Calypso, beautiful among goddesses, kept me there in her hollow cavern, desiring (me) to be her husband; and so likewise Circe detained me in her palace, the witch of Aeaea, desiring (me) to be her husband. But my heart in its breast did not ever persuade me, since nothing appears sweeter (to a man) than his native-land and his parents. But come now indeed, and I shall tell (you) of my troubled journey home, which Zeus laid upon me coming back from Troy.

The wind, bearing me from Ilium (i.e. Troy), brought (me) to the Cicones, to Ismarus; and there I sacked the city and killed their men (lit. them); and, taking from the city their wives and many possessions, we divided (them) up, so that, (in so far as it lay) within me, no one would go away being cheated of an equal (share). Then, I would have you know, I commanded that we should flee as fast as possible (lit. with a swift foot), but (being) very foolish they did not obey (me). But there much wine was drunk, and by the shore they slaughtered many sheep and and curved-horned oxen with a shambling gait. Meanwhile, then, the Cicones, going forth, call out to the Cicones who were their neighbours dwelling inland, (and) at the same time (being) more (numerous) and better, knowing how to fight with men from horses and, where it was necessary (for a man to fight), being on foot. Then, they came in the early morning, as many as leaves and flowers appear in season; so then indeed an evil fate beset (lit. stood near) us, luckless ones, so that we might suffer many woes. Having taken their stand, they fought a battle by the swift ships, and (both sides) hurled their bronze-tipped spears at each other. As long as it was morning (lit. dawn) and the sacred day was waxing, so long, keeping (them) off, we held our ground, although they were (lit. being) more (numerous); but, when the sun had passed its zenith, towards the time for unyoking the oxen, then indeed the Cicones, having subdued the Achaeans, put (them) to flight. And so six well-greaved comrades from each ship were killed; but the rest (of us) escaped death and fate.

Ll. 62-81. Odysseus and his companions set sail but Zeus sends a great storm. They put in to the shore, but eventually leave again and are driven off course.

Thence we sailed onwards, grieved at heart, glad (to have escaped) from death, (although) having lost our dear comrades. Nor did my rolling ships go onwards before one (of us) had called three times upon each of our wretched comrades, who had died on the plain, cut down by the Cicones. But Zeus, the cloud-gatherer, aroused the North Wind against our ships with a wondrous storm, and hid land and sea together with clouds at the same time; and night sprang forth from heaven. Then the ships were borne sideways and the force of the wind split apart their sails into three and four parts. And we took down the (sails) into the ships, fearing destruction, and we rowed the (ships) hurriedly on towards the land. There, for two nights and two days continuously we lay the whole time, eating at our hearts with weariness and grief. But, when fair-tressed dawn fashioned the third day, having set up the masts and having hauled up the white sails, we took our seats; and both the wind and the helmsmen steered the (ships). And now I should have arrived at my native-land unscathed, but the waves and the current and the North Wind drove me away, as I was rounding (lit. rounding) Malea, and sent (me) off course past Cythera.

Ll. 82-99. They arrive in the land of the Lotus-Eaters, and three of Odysseus’ men taste the lotus.

Thence, for nine days, I was borne by destructive winds over the sea teeming with fish; but on the tenth (day) we disembarked on the land of the Lotus-eaters, who eat a flowery food. There we went on land and drew water, and my comrades took their meal forthwith. But, when we had partaken of food and drink, then I sent forth (some of my) comrades to go and find out what these men might be who ate (lit. eating) their bread in this land, having chosen two men (and) having sent a third together (with them as) a messenger. And, going forth at once, they mingled with the men of the Lotus-eaters; the Lotus-eaters did not devise death for my comrades, but gave them (some) of the lotus to eat. And of these men, whoever ate the honey-sweet fruit of the lotus no longer wished to report back or to return, but they wanted to remain there with the men of the Lotus-eaters, feeding on the lotus, and to forget the journey home. These men did I bring (back) to the ships by force, weeping, having dragged (them) inside the hollow ships and having bound them beneath the benches.

Ll. 100-115. Odysseus orders his men to sea again and they approach the land of the Cyclopes, who are uncivilised creatures.

But I commanded the rest of my trusty comrades to embark in haste (lit. hurrying) on the swift ships, lest somehow anyone eating of the lotus should forget the journey home. So they went on board at once and sat down at the rowing-benches, and, sitting in order, they smote the gray sea with their oars.

Thence we sailed onwards, grieved at heart. We came to the land of the Cyclopes, a presumptuous and lawless (people), who, having put their trust in the immortal gods, neither plant crops ( lit. a plant) nor plough, but all things grow unsown and unploughed, wheat and barley and vines, which bear wine made of fine grapes, and the rain of Zeus makes them grow. They have (lit. [There are] to them) neither counsel-giving assemblies nor laws, but they dwell on the peaks of high mountains in hollow caves, and each one makes laws for his children and his wives, and they have no concern for one another.

Ll. 116-139. A description of the island which lies off-shore.

Now a small (or fertile) island lies (lit. extends) outside the harbour of the land of the Cyclopes, neither nearby nor afar off, a wooded (isle); therein innumerable wild goats live (lit. have been born); for the tread of men does not keep (them) away, nor do hunters visit it, men who endure toils in the forest, as they make (lit. making) for the peaks of the mountains. Nor is it occupied (lit. held) by flocks or ploughed land, but, unsown and unploughed all its days, it is empty of men and (only) feeds the bleating goats. For the red-cheeked Cyclopes have (lit. there are to the red-cheeked Cyclopes) no ships at hand, nor (are there) men in (their lands) (who are) builders of ships, who might fashion well-benched ships, which could have accomplished journeys (lit. to come) to each of the cities of men as frequently as men cross the sea in ships to (visit) one another; these men could have fashioned a well-settled island for themselves also. For (it is) not at all poor, but can bear all things in season; for in (it) (there are) damp soft meadows by the shores of the gray sea; (there) the vines would be quite imperishable. And in its level ploughlands (men) could reap very plentiful crops constantly as the seasons (come), since (there is) much richness beneath the surface (of the soil). And in (it too is a) harbour with good anchorage, where there is no need of cables, either to throw (out) anchor-stones or to fasten stern-hawsers, but (it is needful for men), having beached (their ships), to wait their time until the hearts of the sailors may rouse (them) and the winds may blow.

Ll. 140-169. Odysseus and his men sail into the harbour under cover of darkness. At dawn they leave on a hunting expedition and feast when they return.

Now, at the head of the harbour there flows bright water, a spring beneath a cave; and poplars have grown around (it). Thither we sailed in and some god guided (us) through the murky night, nor did (anything) show (for us) to look at; for there was a thick mist around the ships, and the moon did not shine from heaven but was obscured by clouds. There no man looked upon the island with his eyes; nor therefore did we see the long waves rolling towards the shore before we beached our well-benched ships. And we took down all the sails from our beached ships, and went forth ourselves along the edge of the sea; and, having fallen asleep there, we awaited the bright Dawn.

And when the child of the morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, we roamed about the island, marvelling at it. And the nymphs, the daughters of aegis-bearing Zeus, roused the mountain goats, so that my comrades might eat their meal. Straightway, we took from the ships our curved bows and our long-socketed hunting spears, and arranged in three (bands), we kept hurling (them); and at once god gave us plentiful prey. Twelve ships followed me and to each nine goats fell by lot; but for me alone (my men) chose ten. So, then, all day (long) to the sun setting, we sat feasting on abundant meat and pleasant wine. For the red wine was not yet consumed from out of our ships, but there was (wine left) in (them); for, when we took (lit. taking) the sacred citadel of the Cicones, each (crew) had drawn off much (wine) in two-handled jars. And we looked at the land of the Cyclopes, who were (lit. being) nearby, and (noticed) their smoke and their sounds and (those) of their sheep and goats. But, when the sun went down and darkness came on, then we fell asleep by the edge of the sea.

Ll. 170-186. Next day, Odysseus with some of his companions sets sail in his ship to explore the mainland. They catch sight of a lofty cave near the sea.

And, when the child of the morning, rosy fingered Dawn, appeared, then I, having arranged an assembly, spoke among (them) all (thus):

“Remain behind, (all) the rest (of you), my trusty comrades; but I, with my own ship and my own companions, shall make trial of yonder men, (to learn) who they are, whether (they are) aggressive and wild and not just, or whether (they are) friendly to strangers and they have (lit. there is to them) a god-fearing mind.”

So saying, I went on board my ship, and ordered my comrades to embark themselves and to let loose the stern-hawsers. They went on board at once and sat down on the rowing-benches, and sitting in order they smote the gray sea with their oars. But, when we reached the place, which was (lit. being) nearby, there on an extremity near the sea we saw a cave, high up, shaded with laurels; and there many flocks, sheep and goats, were wont to sleep; round about (it) a high court-yard had been built with stones embedded in the earth, and with tall pines and oaks with lofty foliage.

Ll. 187-215. The cave is the home of a huge inhuman creature. Odysseus with twelve companions goes up to the cave taking with him a skin of sweet wine, one of several presents from Maron.

There a monstrous man was wont to sleep, who indeed was used to tending his flocks alone (and) afar off; and he did not mingle with others, but being apart he knew lawless things. For he had been fashioned (as) a monstrous wonder, and was not like a bread-eating man, but (like) a wooded peak of lofty mountains he appeared apart from the rest.

Then, I told the rest of my trusty comrades to stay there by the ship and to guard the ship; but I, having chosen twelve of the best of my comrades, went (onwards). I had a goat-skin of dark sweet wine which Maron, son of Euanthes, had given me, the priest of Apollo, who had been protecting Ismarus, because we had defended him, together with his child and his wife out of reverence (lit. reverencing); for he dwelt in a wooded grove of Phoebus Apollo; and he had offered me splendid gifts: he gave me seven talents of well-wrought gold, and a mixing bowl all of silver, besides having drawn off sweet unmixed wine in twelve double-handled jars in all, a divine drink; not anyone of this slaves nor (anyone) of the maids in his house knew he was (lit. knew him) (doing this), but himself and his dear wife and one housekeeper alone. And when (men) drank that honey-sweet red wine, he, having filled one goblet, poured (it) into twenty measures of water, and a wondrously sweet aroma arose from the mixing-bowl; then, to be sure, it would not be pleasing to abstain. I took (with me) a great skin, having filled (it) with this (wine), and (I) also (took with me) provisions in a sack; for straightway my manly heart thought that a man would come (to me) clothed in great might, a wild (man), acquainted with (lit. knowing well) neither justice nor laws.

Ll. 216-227. They enter the cave and gaze round at the cheese, the sheep-pens, the animals and the buckets for milking. Odysseus’ companions urge him to take some cheeses and go.

Speedily we came to the cave, and we did not find him inside, but he was grazing his fat flocks in their pasture-land. So, going into the cave, we gazed at every thing (there): the crates were heavy with cheeses, and the pens were full of lambs and kids; each (kind) had been penned separately, by themselves the firstlings, by themselves the later born, and again by themselves the newly-weaned; and all the (well) wrought vessels were overflowing with whey, both the milk-pails and the bowls into which he milked. Then my comrades first of all besought me with words that (they), seizing the cheeses, should go back, and moreover thereafter that they, having speedily driven the kids and the lambs out of their pens to the swift ships, should set sail over the salty water.

Ll. 228-249. Odysseus refuses, and they wait for the monster to return with his sheep and goats. When he does, he closes the entrance to the cave with a mighty rock.

But I was not persuaded, and in truth it would have been much better (if I had been), in order that I might see (the man) himself and (see) if he would give me guest-gifts. But he, having appeared, was not going to be pleasant to my comrades.

Then, kindling a fire, we offered a sacrifice and also, seizing the cheeses, we ate (them) ourselves, and, sitting down, we remained inside it until he returned, herding (his flocks). He carried a mighty weight of dry wood, so that it might be there at supper for him. Hurling (it) inside the cave, he put (it) down (with ) a crash; and we, in fear (lit. fearing), darted away to an inner part of the cave. But he drove his fat flocks into the broad cavern, all those just as many as he was used to milking, but he left the males, the rams and the he-goats out-of-doors, in the deep courtyard outside. Then, having lifted on high the great door-stone, he set (it) in place, a mighty (rock); two and twenty stout four-wheeled wagons could not lift it from the ground; he set such a towering rock in the doorway. Then, sitting down (on the ground), he milked the ewes and the bleating she-)goats in turn, and he placed a young one under each (dam). Then forthwith, having curdled half of the white milk (and) having gathered (it) in wicker baskets, he stored (it) away, and half again he put in vessels so that it might be (there) for him to drink and (so that) it might be there at supper for him.

Ll. 250-271. The monster catches sight of Odysseus and his men, and in a frightful voice he asks them who they are. Odysseus replies and they present themselves as suppliants under the protection of Zeus.

But, when he has hastened to perform through toil his tasks, then he lit the fire also, and he looked at us and asked:

“Who are you, O strangers? Whence do you sail the watery ways? Do you wander over the sea for trade in some way or at random like pirates, and (those) who wander, hazarding their lives (and) bringing evil to foreign people?”

So he spoke, and for us moreover the very spirit of (ourselves), fearing both his deep voice and his monstrous self, was broken. But even so, in reply (lit replying), I addressed him in these words:

“We, you should know, (are) from Troy, Achaeans driven off course by all manner of winds over the great gulf of the sea, (and), wishing (to go) home, we have come (by) another way, another path; Zeus, I suppose, wished to bring (it) about thus. So, we proclaim that we are the people of Agamemnon, the son of Atreus, whose fame is now the greatest under heaven; for he sacked so great a city and slew many people; and moreover we have come to you as suppliants (lit. arriving at your knees), (to see) if will you offer (us) the gift of hospitality in some way, or even give (us) a present in another way, which is the due of strangers. But, (O) best of men, have regard for the gods; we are your suppliants. And Zeus is the avenger both of suppliants and of strangers, the (god) of strangers, who at the same time attends strangers worthy of respect.”

Ll. 272-286. The Cyclops is contemptuous, and asks them where their ship is. Odysseus is evasive.

So I spoke, but he answered me at once with a pitiless heart: “You are foolish, O stranger, or you have come from afar, as you have bid me either to fear or to shun the gods; for the Cyclopes do not heed aegis-bearing Zeus nor the blessed gods, since truly we are much the stronger. Nor would I, to escape (lit. escaping) the wrath of Zeus, spare either you or your companions, unless my heart bids me. But tell me where you moored your ship (on) coming (here), so that I may know whether (it was) perhaps on some extremity (of the island) or nearby even.”

So he spoke, trying (me) out, but he could not trap (lit. elude) me, as I knew (lit. knowing) many things, but in return I addressed him with cunning words: “Poseidon, the earth-shaker, shattered my ship, casting (her) upon the rocks on the furthest point of your land, having brought (her) near to the headland; and the wind bore (her) in from the sea; but I with these men escaped utter destruction.”

Ll. 287-306. The Cyclops callously slaughters two of Odysseus’ men and eats them; Odysseus wonders what to do.

So I spoke, but he from his pitiless heart did not reply to me at all, but, leaping up, stretched out his hands to my comrades, (and) seizing two (of them), he dashed (them) on the ground like puppies; and their brains flowed out on to the ground, and soaked the earth. Then, cutting (them) up limb from limb, he prepared his dinner; and, like a lion reared in the mountains, he ate the entrails, the flesh and the bones full of marrow, nor did he leave (anything). And we, beholding his abominable deeds, held up our hands to Zeus, wailing; and helplessness took hold of our souls. But, when the Cyclops had filled his great belly (by) eating human meat, and afterwards drinking fresh milk, he lay down inside the cave, stretched out among his flocks. I deliberated in my great heart, going nearer, (and), drawing my sword from beside my thigh, stabbing him in the breast, where the midriff holds the liver, feeling for (it) with my hand; but another thought (lit. mind) restrained me. For (otherwise) we too should have perished there in utter ruin; for we should not have been able to push away with our hands from the high door the mighty stone which he had placed (there). So then we awaited the bright Dawn, lamenting.

Ll. 307-335. Next day the Cyclops kills and eats two more men. Odysseus makes a plan; he prepares a great stake, hides it and chooses four men to help him.

And, when the child of the morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, then he rekindled the fire, and milked his splendid flocks, all in turn, and put a young one under each (dam). Then, when he had hastened to perform his tasks with toil, he, snatching up two (of my men) again, prepared his meal. Having eaten, he drove his fat flocks out of the cave, easily removing the great door-stone; but then he put it back in place, as if he were putting the lid on a quiver. Then with loud whistling, the Cyclops turned his fat flocks towards the mountain; but I was left (there) brooding evil things, if somehow I might take vengeance (on him) and Athene might grant my prayer. Now this seemed to my mind the best plan. For a great stake of green olive-wood lay beside the Cyclops’ sheep-pen; he had cut this down, so that he could carry (it when) seasoned. Looking at it, we reckoned (it was) as big as the mast of a dark twenty-oared ship, a broad merchant-vessel, which crosses the great deep of the sea. To look upon, it was as big in length as (it was) big in thickness. And I, standing beside (it), cut off from it as much as an arm’s span, and put (it) beside my comrades and ordered (them) to sharpen (it); and they made (it) smooth; and I, standing beside (it), made its point sharp, and, taking (it) at once, hardened (it) in the blazing fire. And I laid (it) down well, hiding (it) under the dung, which indeed was spread wide throughout the cave extremely abundantly. Then, I ordered the others to cast lots, (to see) which one would dare with me, having lifted up the stake, to grind (it) in his eye, when sweet sleep should come upon him. And they drew by lot (those) whom I would have wished to choose myself, four (men there were), but I was reckoned with them (as) the fifth.

Ll. 336-352. The Cyclops returns in the evening and kills two more men. Odysseus offers him some wine.

Then, in the evening, he came, herding his well-fleeced flocks; and straightway he drove his fat flocks into the wide cave, absolutely (all of them), nor did he leave any one (of them) outside in the deep courtyard, either suspecting in some way, or even (because) a god had ordered (it) thus. Then, lifting on high the great door-stone, he set (it) in place, and, sitting down, he milked the ewes and bleating she-goats, all (of them) in turn, and placed a young one under each (dam). But, when he had hastened to perform through toil his tasks, then, snatching up two men again, he prepared his dinner. And then I, standing nearby, addressed the Cyclops, holding in my hands an ivy-wood bowl of dark wine.

“Cyclops, take (it and) drink this wine, when you have eaten the human meat, so that you may know what manner of drink this (is that) our ship has concealed; besides I was bringing (it) to you (as) a drink-offering, (to see) if, having pity on me, you would send (me) homewards; but you are raging in a manner no longer bearable. Abominable man, how shall anyone else come to you and your (house again), since you do not behave with propriety?”

Ll. 353-370. The Cyclops likes the wine, drinks more and asks Odysseus his name. Odysseus says that his name is No-man.

So I spoke, and he took (it) and drank; and, drinking the sweet drink, he was greatly pleased, and he asked me again a second time:

“Give (it) to me readily again, and tell me your name at once now, so that I may give you a gift of hospitality by which you may be glad. For even among the Cyclopes our fruitful soil bears wine made from fine grapes, and the rain of Zeus gives them increase; but this is an off-shoot of ambrosia and nectar.”

So he spoke; and again I offered him the sparkling wine; bringing (it), I gave (it to him) three times, and three times in his folly he drained (it). But, when the wine had overcome the Cyclops in respect of his mind, then I spoke to him with soothing words:

“Cyclops, you ask me my good name, and I shall tell you; and do you give me a gift of hospitality, just as you promised. My name (is) No-man; my mother and father and all the rest of my companions call me No-man.”

So I spoke, and he straightway answered me with pitiless heart: “I shall eat No-man last among his comrades, and the others beforehand; and this will be my gift of hospitality to you.”

Ll. 371-381. The Cyclops falls into a sordid, drunken sleep. Odysseus and his men prepare the stake.

He spoke and, sinking back, he fell upon his back, and then lay (there), twisted aslant in respect of his neck, and sleep, the tamer of all, overtook him; and from his throat wine and bits of human beings surged forth; and, heavy with wine, he vomited. Then I drove the stake under the deep ashes until it grew hot; and I encouraged all my comrades with words, lest anyone should shrink from me in fear. But when that stake of olive-wood was on the point of catching in the fire, though being green, it was glowing terribly. Then I brought (it) nearer out of the fire, and my comrades stood around; and a god breathed great courage into (us).

Ll. 382-400. They drive the stake into the Cyclops’ eye. He is mad with pain, and calls to the neighbouring Cyclopes.

They, taking the stake of olive-wood, sharp at the point, thrust (it) into his eye; and I, pressing (it) down from above, twisted (it) around, as when some man bores the timber of a sleep with a drill, and those at the lower end keep (it) going with a thong, getting hold (of it) on either side, and it runs in its place unceasingly; thus, taking the fire-pointed stake, we whirled (it around) in his eye, and the blood flowed around the thing, being hot. And all his eye-lids and the heat of his burning eye-ball singed his eye-brows all around; and its roots crackled in the fire. And, as when a bronze-smith dips a great axe or an adze in cold water, hissing loudly, to temper (lit. tempering) (it) – for, contrary to expectation, this (dipping) is the strength of iron – thus did his eye sizzle around the stake of olive-wood. Then he groaned aloud terribly, and the rock rang out all around, and we, being afraid, ran away. Then he wrenched the stake, much bespattered with blood, from his eye. Then he flung it from him with his hands, utterly distraught, and he called out loudly to the Cyclopes who lived in the caves around him among the wind-swept peaks.

Ll. 401-414. The Cyclopes ask Polyphemus what is wrong, but Odysseus’ trick name ensures they do not come to help.

And they, hearing his cry, came thronging from each and every side, and standing around his cave, they asked him what troubled him:

“Why ever (are you) so much distressed, Polyphemus, (that you) have shouted thus throughout the immortal night, and are making us sleepless? Surely no man among mortals has driven (away) your flocks against your will (lit. you being unwilling)? Surely no man is slaying you yourself by cunning or by means of force?”

Then, from out of the cave the mighty Polyphemus addressed them in turn: “O friends, No-man is slaying me, by cunning and not by means of force.”

And answering, they addressed him with winged words: “If indeed No-man assaults you in your loneliness (lit. being alone), there is not any way (for you) to avoid sickness (coming) from great Zeus. But therefore, do you pray to our father, the lord Poseidon!”

So they spoke thus, as they departed (lit. departing), and my own heart laughed at how my name and excellent cunning had deceived (them).

Ll. 415-436. The Cyclops hopes to catch Odysseus and his men as they leave the cave. Odysseus has a plan for escaping.

But the Cyclops groaning and moaning in agony, (and) groping with his hands, took (away) the stone from the entrance, and sat down himself in the doorway, spreading out both his hands, (to see) if he could perhaps catch anyone making his way towards the door with the sheep; for so in his heart he thought me to be somewhat foolish. But I took counsel so that (everything) might turn out for the very best, if I might find some release from death for my comrades and for myself; and I wove all kinds of trickery and cunning, as (it was) a matter of (lit. about) life (and death), for great was the evil nearby. Now this seemed to my mind the best plan. There were male sheep, well-fed and with thick fleeces, fine (beasts) and large (ones), and having wool dark as violet; these, taking hold of three at the same time, I silently bound together with well twisted willow-twigs, on which that monster of a Cyclops, knowing lawless things, used to sleep; the one in the middle bore a man, and the other two went on either side, saving my comrades; but I – for there was a ram, by far the best of all the sheep – having taken hold of his back, lay curled up beneath his shaggy belly; and with my steadfast heart (and) facing upwards (lit. [with my back] having been turned), I took hold continuously of his wondrous fleece with my hands. So, then, we awaited the bright Dawn, lamenting.

Ll. 437-460. The sheep go out to graze with Odysseus’ men tied under them. He himself is beneath a large ram of which Polyphemus is very fond.

As soon as the child of the morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, then next the rams (lit. males of the flocks) rushed out to pasture, and the unmilked females bleated about the pens; for their udders were bursting. And their master, worn out by grievous pains, felt along the backs of all his sheep, as they stood (lit. standing) upright; but, in his folly (lit. [being] foolish), he did not notice this, that they were bound beneath the breasts of his thick-fleeced sheep. Last of the flocks, the ram made his way to the doorway, loaded with wool and myself thinking shrewdly. And then the mighty Polyphemus, feeling him all over, addressed (him thus):

“Dear ram, why, pray, are you thus going forth from the cave, the last of the flocks? Previously, you have not gone in any way lagging behind, but, taking long strides, you have been the very first to graze on the tender flowers of the pasture, and you have arrived first at the streams of the rivers, and you have been the first to desire to return to the sheep-fold in the evening; now, on the contrary, you are the very last. In truth, you are longing for the eye of your master, whom an evil man, together with his dreadful companions, has blinded, (after) overcoming my mind with wine, (that is) No-man, whom I tell (you) has not yet escaped destruction. If only you could be like-minded (with me) and you could become capable of speech (so as) to tell (me) where that man is fleeing from my might, then his brains would be smashed in all directions throughout the cave, as he was dashed (lit. [him] being dashed) against the floor, and my heart could be released (lit. could rest) from all the woes which that good-for-nothing No-man has given me.”

Ll. 461-479. The escape is successful, and they return to the ships. When they are at sea, Odysseus taunts Polyphemus.

Speaking thus, he sent the ram away from him to the entrance. And, having gone a little way from the cave and the courtyard, I loosed (myself) from under the ram, and (then) freed my comrades. And speedily we drove those long-striding flocks, plump with fat, often turning around, until we arrived at the ship. And we, who had escaped death, appeared welcome to our dear comrades; but, weeping, they lamented the (others). But I did not allow (them) to weep, and forbade each man with a frown (lit. my eye-brows); but I ordered (them), having flung the many finely-fleeced sheep into speedily into the ship, to sail across the salty water. So they went on board at once, and sat down upon the rowing-benches; and, sitting in order, they smote the gray sea with their oars. But when I had gone as far away as (a man by) shouting can make (himself) heard, then I addressed the Cyclops with mocking (words): “Cyclops, so you were not about to devour the comrades of a feeble man by brutal force in your hollow cave. Your evil deeds are about to overtake you completely, (you) wretch, since you did not shrink from devouring guests in your own house; therefore, Zeus has taken revenge on you, and the other gods (as well).”

Ll. 480-499. Polyphemus hurls a great rock, which nearly drives them ashore again. Odysseus’men beg him not to provoke Polyphemus again.

So I spoke, and then he was (even) more angry in his heart; and, having broken off the peak of a high mountain, he directed (it at us), and cast it down a little in front of our dark-prowed ship, and it (just) missed reaching the end of the rudder. And the sea churned beneath the rock as it fell (lit. falling); and at once a wave, a swell from the deep, bore the (ship) rushing back towards the land, and forced (it) to come to dry land. But, taking a long pole in my hands, I pushed (it) away; and, having roused my comrades, (and) nodding my head, I told (them) to bend to the oars, so that we might escape from our distress; and, bending forwards, they rowed. But, when, traversing the sea, we were twice as far distant, then I was going to address the Cyclops; but, around (me), my comrades, from all parts of the ship (lit. one from one place, another from another), restrained me with soothing words:

“Hard-hearted man, why ever do you want to provoke this savage man? He, having just now hurled that missile out to sea, brought our ship back to the land, and indeed we thought we had perished. And, if he had heard us crying out or speaking, he would have dashed together our heads and the ship’s timbers (by) hurling a jagged rock (at us); for so mightily does he throw (lit. let go).”

Ll. 500-535. Odysseus takes no notice and shouts back his true identity.

So they spoke, but they did not persuade my great-hearted spirit, but I addressed him again with a spiteful heart:

“Cyclops, if anyone among mortal men shall ask you about the unseemly blinding of your eye, say that Odysseus, sacker of cities, blinded (it), the son of Laertes, who has (lit. having) his home in Ithaca.”

So I spoke, and, groaning, he answered me with these words: “O alas! in truth a prophecy, uttered long ago, has just come upon me. There was here a certain seer, a good man and a tall (one), Telemus, the son of Eurymus, who excelled in prophecy, and grew old, prophesying among the Cyclopes; he told me that all these things should come to pass hereafter, that I should lose my sight at the hands of Odysseus. But I always expected some tall and comely man to come hither, arrayed in great might; but now a man who is (lit. being) small and good-for-nothing and a weakling has blinded me of my eye, when he overcame me with wine. But come here, Odysseus, so that I may set beside you gifts of hospitality, and urge the renowned earth-shaker to give (you) safe-passage; for I am his son and he claims to be my father. And he himself will heal me, if he wishes, and no one else (could do so), either among the blessed gods or among mortal men.”

So he spoke, but, answering him I said: “Would that I, making you deprived of soul and life, could send (you down) into the house of Hades, as surely not even the earth-shaker shall heal your eye.”

So I spoke, but he then prayed to the lord Poseidon, stretching out his hands to the starry heaven:

“Hear (me), Poseidon, girdler of the earth, dark-haired (god): if I am really your son and you claim to be my father, grant that Odysseus, sacker of cities, son of Laertes, who has (lit. having) his home in Ithaca, may not arrive home. But, if it is his fate to see his dear ones (again) and to reach his well-built house and his native land, may he come late and in trouble, having lost all his comrades, (and) in an alien ship, and may he find woes in his house.”

Ll. 536-566. Polyphemus hurls another rock but Odysseus reaches the island and has a joyful reunion with the rest of his companions.

So he spoke in prayer (lit. praying), and the dark-haired (god) heard him. But he, lifting up again a much greater rock, (and) swinging round, he hurled (lit. sent) (it), and applied immeasurable strength, and he cast (it) down a little behind the dark-prowed ship, and it (just) missed reaching the end of the rudder. And the sea churned beneath the stone as it fell (lit. falling); and the wave bore the (ship) forwards and forced (it) to reach land. But when we reached the island, at just (the spot) where the rest of our well-benched ships were waiting all together, and round about (them) our comrades sat weeping, all the time waiting for us, (on) coming thither, we beached the ship on the sands, and went forth ourselves upon the edge of the sea. And, taking from out of the hollow ship the flocks of the Cyclopes, we divided (them) up, in order that, (in so far as it lay) within me, no one might be cheated of an equal (share). But the ram my well-greaved comrades gave to me alone, quite apart from the flocks which they had divided up (lit. having been divided up); and, sacrificing it on the sandy shore to Zeus of the dark-clouds, the son of Cronus, who is ruler of all, I burned the thigh-portions; but he took no heed of my sacrifice, and was then planning how all my well-benched ships and my trusty comrades might be destroyed. So then all day (long) till sunset (lit. to the sun going down) we sat, feasting upon the abundant meat and sweet wine. But, when the sun went down and darkness came on, then we fell asleep on the edge of the sea. But, when the child of the morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, then rousing my comrades, I ordered them to embark and to unloose the stern-cables. So they went on board at once and sat down upon the rowing-benches, and, sitting in order, they smote the gray sea with their oars.

And thence we sailed onwards grieved at heart, (but) glad (to have escaped) from death, (although) having lost our dear comrades.