book 13 summary odyssey

The Odyssey

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The Odyssey

The odyssey summary and analysis of books 13-16, book xiii summary:.

Odysseus stops telling his story, and the next day Alcinous and others give him gifts. Odysseus thanks Alcinous for his hospitality, and after some fanfare Alcinous' men set sail while Odysseus sleeps peacefully on board. The Phaeacians arrive at Ithaca the next day, unload Odysseus and his gear, and return home.

Poseidon appeals to Zeus, angry that Odysseus has had such a placid return home. He receives permission from Zeus to turn the Phaeacian ship into stone near their harbor for punishment. Alcinous observes this, which fulfills a prophecy (from Book VIII) and leads his men in a sacrifice to Poseidon; the Phaeacians resolve never again to give strangers conveyance.

Odysseus awakens, thinking he is in a strange land. Athena comes to him in the form of a shepherd and informs him he is in Ithaca. Odysseus makes up a story about how he came to Ithaca. Athena turns into a woman and good-naturedly tells him she knows he is lying, and then reveals her identity. She warns him not to let anyone know of his return, and helps him plan death for the suitors. He will reunite with his old swineherd, while she will recall Telemachus from Lakedaimon. She transforms him into a decrepit old man for safety, and they part ways.

This episode marks a change in the Greek attitude toward hospitality. While the Phaeacians are gracious as ever in helping Odysseus, the fulfillment of the prophecy and sinking of their ship forces them to stop helping travelers. Zeus wearily permits the destruction of the ship only because Poseidon feels he has been wronged by the other gods; ensuring harmony among the gods, it seems, is more important than maintaining hospitality at all costs among the mortals.

Odysseus' penchant for quick-witted lying is rendered almost comical when Athena calls him on his made-up story. However, as she points out, he will need this skill to defeat the suitors and, in fact, she physically transforms him for his return - the most literal form of disguise we see Odysseus take in the poem.

Odysseus is upset that Athena has let Telemachus journey for him when she could have merely told him what happened, but she points out that she sent him off "to make his name" (528). We have not heard from him in a long time, but we may assume that his mini-odyssey is complete, and he is now ready to rejoin his father and help him drive off the suitors.

Book XIV Summary:

At his forest hut, Odysseus, disguised as a beggar, meets his old swineherd, Eumaeus. Eumaeus gives him dinner and tells him about the suitors and his dead lord, Odysseus. Odysseus promises him that his lord will return and seek vengeance against the suitors. Eumaeus, who hates the suitors and misses Odysseus dearly, tells him that the suitors are going to ambush Telemachus upon his return. When pressed for his background, Odysseus spins a yarn about growing up on Krete, fighting in the Trojan War, gaining his fortune in Egypt, and being enslaved and made the beggar he is now. During his adventures he heard that Odysseus was still alive, though Eumaeus is skeptical. Odysseus sleeps in the hut while Eumaeus faithfully tends to his lord's herd.

Odysseus displays his gifts for disguise (albeit aided by Athena) and improvisation (read: lying) in his encounter with Eumaeus. Just as he did in the famous Trojan horse story, Odysseus must secretly "invade" a city - this time his own - under wraps, and he must maintain this air of secrecy no matter what. His ability to weave spontaneous stories is exceptional, and this story even has some parallels to his own. He speaks of the greed of his crew, and we have seen evidence of greed in his men when they opened the bag of winds and sacrificed the oxen of Helios, and the story of his enslavement is not far off from what the suitors are attempting to do.

Odysseus' lying to Eumaeus may seem somewhat unnecessary, but he must test the loyalty of his old swineherd if he is to execute the suitors as planned. He can trust few people, but Eumaeus' overwhelming loyalty - he forgoes sleep to take care of Odysseus' herd, and he even treats the "beggar" as if he were, indeed, his lord - proves that he will be a strong ally.

Homer reminds us of Telemachus' return and the impending ambush by the suitors, creating suspense in this otherwise transitional episode.

Book XV Summary:

Athena finds Telemachus in Lakedaimon and urges him to return home lest his mother marry one of the suitors, Eurymakhos. She also warns him of the looming ambush, and tells him to find Eumaeus and have him deliver the message to Penelope that he has returned. Telemachus receives permission from Menelaos to leave and, his cart laden with gifts from his hosts, rides off with Peisistratos, Nestor's son, but not before an eagle flies off with a goose in its clutches. Helen interprets this as a sign that Odysseus will soon return to seek vengeance on the suitors.

Back at Pylos, Telemachus prepares to sail home with his crew. Theoklymenos, the son of a prophet and a fugitive for a murder he committed in his homeland, asks for and receives a place on Telemachus' ship. They sail through the night, wind-aided by Athena.

Back in Ithaca, Odysseus tries to get Eumaeus to invite him to stay longer by announcing he will leave in the morning and look for work with the suitors. Eumaeus refuses, insisting he stay until Telemachus returns. Odysseus asks about his parents, and Eumaeus tells him about the death of Odysseus' mother and the loneliness of his father, Laertes. Eumaeus then relates his life story: abducted by pirates, Laertes purchased him, and Odysseus' mother raised him as if he were her own son.

The men talk into the night; meanwhile, Telemachus lands, having safely avoided the ambush. Nearby, a hawk picks up a dove, and Theoklymenos sees this as a sign that Telemachus' family will stay in power forever. Telemachus sends his guest home with a shipmate and goes off on his own to meet Eumaeus.

Two omens foretell positive things for Odysseus, and it is interesting that Homer does the analytical work for the audience, having the characters interpret the symbols. Clearly, literary interpretation has changed dramatically since Homer's time, yet Homer - and the Greeks - still sought out symbolic meaning in both nature and in their literature. The symbolic depiction of Odysseus as a bird of prey fits with his persona: while not a cold-blooded killer, Odysseus acts swiftly and with keen foresight.

Odysseus's testing of Eumaeus continues to showcase the swineherd's loyalty. He is amassing a small contingent to help him vanquish the suitors, and Homer stretches out the suspense by ending the episode with Telemachus about to reunite with his father.

Telemachus has completed his mini-odyssey, growing up from a powerless boy at the beginning of the poem to an independent young man ready to fight alongside his father. He also extends the hospitality he has received throughout his journey to Theoklymenos, whose virtue is summed up by Homer's calling him a "noble passenger" (614).

Book XVI Summary:

Telemachus arrives at Eumaeus' hut. The swineherd embraces him as if he was his own son, and introduces him to his "beggar" companion, Odysseus. Telemachus is reluctant to place Odysseus under his protection as requested, as he has his hands full with the suitors; he can only give him some staples and send him where he wishes. Odysseus tries to rally him to fight the suitors, but Telemachus insists that he is powerless against them. He asks Eumaeus to tell Penelope and Laertes that he has returned safely, but not to let the suitors know.

Athena appears to Odysseus as a tall woman and instructs him to disclose his true identity to his son. She makes him youthful and attractive again. Telemachus sees his new appearance and believes him to be a god, but Odysseus reveals he is his father and explains that Athena changed his form. Telemachus hugs him and both men cry. Odysseus recounts how the Phaeacians gave him safe passage to Ithaca, and says they need to plan to kill the suitors. Telemachus does not think they can defeat the suitors, who number over one hundred, even with the help of Athena and Zeus.

Odysseus hatches a plan: tomorrow Telemachus will return to the manor, and Odysseus, disguised as a beggar, will join him later with Eumaeus. Odysseus will endure whatever abuses the suitors heap on him. Then Athena will give Odysseus the word, and he shall signal to Telemachus to stow away all their weapons but two sets of arms for them to use later. He warns him not to let anyone, even Eumaeus or Penelope, know about his identity, as a test of loyalty.

Meanwhile, a messenger from Telemachus' ship loudly informs Penelope that her son has returned; Eumaeus whispers the same message to her. The suitors hear the messenger and do not understand how Telemachus escaped their ambush. They decide they must kill him before he tells the Achaeans about their murderous plans, and they will redouble their courtship of Penelope. One of the suitors, Amphinomos, argues that they should consult the gods to see if murdering Telemachus is the correct action; the others agree and they break up the meeting. Penelope, who has already heard that the suitors plan to kill her son, tells them to cease their plotting. The suitor Eurymakhos denies it, and Penelope goes off to sleep.

Eumaeus returns to his hut and tells Telemachus and the "beggar" that the messenger already gave word to Penelope about her son's return. The men go to sleep.

When father and son reunite in Eumaeus' hut, the audience is in a privileged position, in that we know who Odysseus is while neither Eumaeus nor Telemachus does. This privileged position continues once Odysseus reveals himself to Telemachus, since they will continue to obscure his identity as they try to overtake the suitors. Only three "characters," then, know who Odysseus truly is: Odysseus himself, Telemachus, and the audience. If his nobility of character and the suitors' despicability were not enough already, we are now irrevocably on Odysseus' side, in on his plot.

One of the many ironies in this episode - among them Odysseus' beggarly disguise and his residing in a lowly hut - is that the element of surprise has changed hands. The suitors believed they would surely ambush Telemachus, though, as they surmise, heavenly help prevented it. Odysseus and Telemachus are now planning their own ambush by hiding the weapons in the house and disguising Odysseus as a common beggar. Homer starts the engine of the rising climactic act exactly two-thirds of the way through the poem (the plan is conceived in Book XVI out of a total of XXIV books; the final act thus commences in Book XVII). We can now see that he has divided the poem into three distinct acts. The first eight episodes provide exposition and begin the various subplots; the next section of eight episodes begins with Odysseus' taunting Polyphemus in Book IX and raising the hackles of Poseidon, thus starting the central conflict of Odysseus against Poseidon.

Lest we think that Odysseus' keen planning will easily subdue the suitors, we are reminded of their great numbers and also of their intelligence. They rationally decide to consult with the gods over their planned murder of Telemachus, and they lie to Penelope about said plans. Whether or not she believes them is unclear, though her confrontation is at least her first show of strength we have seen.

Homer's simile in describing the tearful reunion of Odysseus and Telemachus - "cries burst from both as keen and fluttering / as those of the great taloned hawk" (257-8) - recalls the symbolic association Odysseus had with a hawk in Book XV.

The Odyssey Questions and Answers

The Question and Answer section for The Odyssey is a great resource to ask questions, find answers, and discuss the novel.

What universal themes does Homer explore in the Odyssey?

Check out these themes below:

What do you learn about the character of Odysseus through the poet's introduction in Book 1?

In Book I, we learn that Odysseus fought in the Trojan War, that he has been on the island of Ogygia for eight years, that Poseidon is planning to make his journey home extremely difficult because Odysseus blinded his son, and that his Odysseus'...

summarize terisias' prophecy in the odyssey?

In the Odyssey, Circe sends Odysseus to Tiresias to advise him how to get home. The prophet tells him that he will survive the trip, but if his crew touches the cattle of Helios, they will not. His crew ends up eating the cattle and subsequently...

Study Guide for The Odyssey

The Odyssey study guide contains a biography of Homer, literature essays, a complete e-text, quiz questions, major themes, characters, and a full summary and analysis.

• About The Odyssey
• The Odyssey Summary
• Character List

Essays for The Odyssey

The Odyssey essays are academic essays for citation. These papers were written primarily by students and provide critical analysis of The Odyssey by Homer.

• The Underworld in The Aeneid Versus The Odyssey
• A Musing Contrast
• Homeric Formalism
• The Evolution of Civil Justice
• Modus Operandi - The Ways of Greek Literature

Lesson Plan for The Odyssey

• About the Author
• Study Objectives
• Common Core Standards
• Introduction to The Odyssey
• Relationship to Other Books
• Bringing in Technology
• Notes to the Teacher
• Related Links
• The Odyssey Bibliography

E-Text of The Odyssey

The Odyssey e-text contains the full text of The Odyssey by Homer.

• Books 13-16

Wikipedia Entries for The Odyssey

• Introduction

The Odyssey Book 13 Summary

• Alkinoös, moved by Odysseus' harrowing tale, promises that each Phaiakian man will give him a gift to build up wealth for his return to Ithaka.
• They feast all the next day while Alkinoös' men prepare the ships. Odysseus is impatient to leave.
• Alkinoös' men row him to Ithaka during the night as Odysseus sleeps on the ship, and we're kind of surprised he actually made it home this time.
• They land on a rocky grotto, unload the still sleeping Odysseus, and leave him on the shore with all his treasure.
• Up in the clouds, or wherever it is that gods hang out, Poseidon sees Odysseus in Ithaka and approaches Zeus angrily. He wants Odysseus to suffer—more! Mwah-hah-hah.
• Zeus tells him that he is a god and therefore may take his revenge against a mortal any time he wants.
• So Poseidon finds the Phaiakians' returning ship, which is almost back to its homeland, and turns it into stone. Where it promptly sinks.
• He'd like to throw up some mountains around their city as well, but Zeus says that would be overkill.
• Alkinoös, seeing this happen, remembers the prophecy we heard in Book VIII (that his ship would be turned to stone and mountains thrown up around his island if his people were nice to strangers) and promptly whacks himself on the forehead.
• Meanwhile, Athene, up to her old tricks again, conjures a grey mist to hide Odysseus while he sleeps.
• When he wakes, Odysseus doesn't recognize his home and has no idea where he is. He thinks the Phaiakians have deceived him.
• After he counts his treasure and realizes none of it is stolen, Athene tarts herself as a shepherd and approaches him.

• They have a little exchange, and Odysseus makes up an elaborate story about being a hunted man from Crete who fought in the Trojan War and just escaped a ship of pirates.
• Athene, highly amused, reveals her true form and has a hearty laugh. Then she comments that Odysseus is indeed a master liar. Which is a compliment. We think.
• We learn that Odysseus thought himself abandoned by the goddess after the Trojan War, but is pleased to discover that she's been the one following him around and putting protective clouds over him.
• Athene reaffirms that this land is Ithaka. She lifts the protective cloud so he can see clearly that this is indeed his beloved homeland.
• They stash the treasure safely in the grotto and start planning revenge.
• Athene tells Odysseus she will disguise him as a beggar, because she is the master of disguises and no one likes to look too closely at beggars anyway. She orders him to go see his swineherd in the forest while she flies to Sparta to call Telemachos home.

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W hy's T his F unny?

The Odyssey Summary:Book 13

Odysseus, still recounting his tale to King Alkinoos and the Phaiakian court, finally reaches the end. Alkinoos, moved by Odysseus’ plight, provides him with a ship to return him home. After much feasting and many offerings, the Phaiakians bestow great gifts of treasure upon Odysseus, who bids them an eloquent farewell and boards ship for home. At sea, he falls into a deep sleep, and is delivered onto the shores of Ithaca still sleeping. Poseidon, Odysseus’ tormentor, petitions Zeus for consent to take reprisal for this betrayal by the Phaiakaans, who, witnessing their returning ship changed into stone quickly decree no more castaways.

Odysseus awakens on Ithaka’s shore and despairs because he does not recognize it and fears he has been betrayed by the Phaiakians. That his treasure is piled beside him intact seems to bring little comfort. Athena appears to him in the shape of a shepherd. They exchange false stories under this artifice; Odysseus manufacturing a new persona and background, thus displaying his cunning. Athena then assumes a female shape and declares them two of a kind. They stash the treasure and plot Odysseus’ return.

Athena tells Odysseus of the interloping suitors and of the state of his household. They plot revenge. Odysseus is transformed into the appearance of an old wretch by Athena and directed to seek out his still faithful swineherd for information. Athena goes to retrieve Telémakhos from at sea.

Book 12 < Index > Book 14

• World Literature

About this Edition

The arrival of ulysses in ithaca.

Ulysses takes his leave of Alcinous and Arete, and embarks in the evening. Next morning the ship arrives at Ithaca; where the sailors, as Ulysses is yet sleeping, lay him on the shore with all his treasures. On their return, Neptune changes their ship into a rock. In the meantime Ulysses, awaking, knows not his native Ithaca, by reason of a mist which Pallas had cast around him. He breaks into loud lamentations; till the goddess appearing to him in the form of a shepherd, discovers the country to him, and points out the particular places. He then tells a feigned story of his adventures, upon which she manifests herself, and they consult together of the measures to be taken to destroy the suitors. To conceal his return, and disguise his person the more effectually, she changes him into the figure of an old beggar.

He ceased; but left so pleasing on their ear His voice, that listening still they seem’d to hear. A pause of silence hush’d the shady rooms: The grateful conference then the king resumes:

“Whatever toils the great Ulysses pass’d, Beneath this happy roof they end at last; No longer now from shore to shore to roam, Smooth seas and gentle winds invite him home. But hear me, princes! whom these walls inclose, For whom my chanter sings: and goblet flows With wine unmix’d (an honour due to age, To cheer the grave, and warm the poet’s rage); Though labour’d gold and many a dazzling vest Lie heap’d already for our godlike guest; Without new treasures let him not remove, Large, and expressive of the public love: Each peer a tripod, each a vase bestow, A general tribute, which the state shall owe.”

This sentence pleased: then all their steps address’d To separate mansions, and retired to rest.

Now did the rosy-finger’d morn arise, And shed her sacred light along the skies. Down to the haven and the ships in haste They bore the treasures, and in safety placed. The king himself the vases ranged with care; Then bade his followers to the feast prepare. A victim ox beneath the sacred hand Of great Alcinous falls, and stains the sand. To Jove the Eternal (power above all powers! Who wings the winds, and darkens heaven with showers) The flames ascend: till evening they prolong The rites, more sacred made by heavenly song; For in the midst, with public honours graced, Thy lyre divine, Demodocus! was placed. All, but Ulysses, heard with fix’d delight; He sate, and eyed the sun, and wish’d the night; Slow seem’d the sun to move, the hours to roll, His native home deep-imaged in his soul. As the tired ploughman, spent with stubborn toil, Whose oxen long have torn the furrow’d soil, Sees with delight the sun’s declining ray, When home with feeble knees he bends his way To late repast (the day’s hard labour done); So to Ulysses welcome set the sun; Then instant to Alcinous and the rest (The Scherian states) he turn’d, and thus address’d:

“O thou, the first in merit and command! And you the peers and princes of the land! May every joy be yours! nor this the least, When due libation shall have crown’d the feast, Safe to my home to send your happy guest. Complete are now the bounties you have given, Be all those bounties but confirm’d by Heaven! So may I find, when all my wanderings cease, My consort blameless, and my friends in peace. On you be every bliss; and every day, In home-felt joys, delighted roll away; Yourselves, your wives, your long-descending race, May every god enrich with every grace! Sure fix’d on virtue may your nation stand, And public evil never touch the land!”

His words well weigh’d, the general voice approved Benign, and instant his dismission moved, The monarch to Pontonus gave the sign. To fill the goblet high with rosy wine; “Great Jove the Father first (he cried) implore;’ Then send the stranger to his native shore.”

The luscious wine the obedient herald brought; Around the mansion flow’d the purple draught; Each from his seat to each immortal pours, Whom glory circles in the Olympian bowers Ulysses sole with air majestic stands, The bowl presenting to Arete’s hands; Then thus: “O queen, farewell! be still possess’d Of dear remembrance, blessing still and bless’d! Till age and death shall gently call thee hence, (Sure fate of every mortal excellence!) Farewell! and joys successive ever spring To thee, to thine, the people, and the king!”

Thus he: then parting prints the sandy shore To the fair port: a herald march’d before, Sent by Alcinous; of Arete’s train Three chosen maids attend him to the main; This does a tunic and white vest convey, A various casket that, of rich inlay, And bread and wine the third. The cheerful mates Safe in the hollow poop dispose the cates; Upon the deck soft painted robes they spread With linen cover’d, for the hero’s bed. He climbed the lofty stern; then gently press’d The swelling couch, and lay composed to rest.

Now placed in order, the Phaeacian train Their cables loose, and launch into the main; At once they bend, and strike their equal oars, And leave the sinking hills and lessening shores. While on the deck the chief in silence lies, And pleasing slumbers steal upon his eyes. As fiery coursers in the rapid race Urged by fierce drivers through the dusty space, Toss their high heads, and scour along the plain, So mounts the bounding vessel o’er the main. Back to the stern the parted billows flow, And the black ocean foams and roars below.

Thus with spread sails the winged galley flies; Less swift an eagle cuts the liquid skies; Divine Ulysses was her sacred load, A man, in wisdom equal to a god! Much danger, long and mighty toils he bore, In storms by sea, and combats on the shore; All which soft sleep now banish’d from his breast, Wrapp’d in a pleasing, deep, and death-like rest.

But when the morning-star with early ray Flamed in the front of heaven, and promised day; Like distant clouds the mariner descries Fair Ithaca’s emerging hills arise. Far from the town a spacious port appears, Sacred to Phorcys’ power, whose name it bears; Two craggy rocks projecting to the main, The roaring wind’s tempestuous rage restrain; Within the waves in softer murmurs glide, And ships secure without their halsers ride. High at the head a branching olive grows, And crowns the pointed cliffs with shady boughs. Beneath, a gloomy grotto’s cool recess Delights the Nereids of the neighbouring seas, Where bowls and urns were form’d of living stone, And massy beams in native marble shone, On which the labours of the nymphs were roll’d, Their webs divine of purple mix’d with gold. Within the cave the clustering bees attend Their waxen works, or from the roof depend. Perpetual waters o’er the pavement glide; Two marble doors unfold on either side; Sacred the south, by which the gods descend; But mortals enter at the northern end. Thither they bent, and haul’d their ship to land (The crooked keel divides the yellow sand). Ulysses sleeping on his couch they bore, And gently placed him on the rocky shore. His treasures next, Alcinous’ gifts, they laid In the wild olive’s unfrequented shade, Secure from theft; then launch’d the bark again, Resumed their oars, and measured back the main, Nor yet forgot old Ocean’s dread supreme, The vengeance vow’d for eyeless Polypheme. Before the throne of mighty Jove lie stood, And sought the secret counsels of the god.

“Shall then no more, O sire of gods! be mine The rights and honours of a power divine? Scorn’d e’en by man, and (oh severe disgrace!) By soft Phaeacians, my degenerate race! Against yon destined head in vain I swore, And menaced vengeance, ere he reach’d his shore; To reach his natal shore was thy decree; Mild I obey’d, for who shall war with thee? Behold him landed, careless and asleep, From all the eluded dangers of the deep; Lo where he lies, amidst a shining store Of brass, rich garments, and refulgent ore; And bears triumphant to his native isle A prize more worth than Ilion’s noble spoil.”

To whom the Father of the immortal powers, Who swells the clouds, and gladdens earth with showers, “Can mighty Neptune thus of man complain? Neptune, tremendous o’er the boundless main! Revered and awful e’en in heaven’s abodes, Ancient and great! a god above the gods! If that low race offend thy power divine (Weak, daring creatures!) is not vengeance thine? Go, then, the guilty at thy will chastise.” He said. The shaker of the earth replies:

“This then, I doom: to fix the gallant ship, A mark of vengeance on the sable deep; To warn the thoughtless, self-confiding train, No more unlicensed thus to brave the main. Full in their port a Shady hill shall rise, If such thy will.”—” We will it (Jove replies). E’en when with transport blackening all the strand, The swarming people hail their ship to land, Fix her for ever, a memorial stone: Still let her seem to sail, and seem alone. The trembling crowds shall see the sudden shade Of whelming mountains overhang their head!”

With that the god whose earthquakes rock the ground Fierce to Phaeacia cross’d the vast profound. Swift as a swallow sweeps the liquid way, The winged pinnace shot along the sea. The god arrests her with a sudden stroke, And roots her down an everlasting rock. Aghast the Scherians stand in deep surprise; All press to speak, all question with their eyes. What hands unseen the rapid bark restrain! And yet it swims, or seems to swim, the main! Thus they, unconscious of the deed divine; Till great Alcinous, rising, own’d the sign.

“Behold the long predestined day I (he cries;) O certain faith of ancient prophecies These ears have heard my royal sire disclose A dreadful story, big with future woes; How, moved with wrath, that careless we convey Promiscuous every guest to every bay, Stern Neptune raged; and how by his command Firm rooted in the surge a ship should stand (A monument of wrath); and mound on mound Should hide our walls, or whelm beneath the ground.

“The Fates have follow’d as declared the seer. Be humbled, nations! and your monarch hear. No more unlicensed brave the deeps, no more With every stranger pass from shore to shore; On angry Neptune now for mercy call; To his high name let twelve black oxen fall. So may the god reverse his purposed will, Nor o’er our city hang the dreadful hill.”

The monarch spoke: they trembled and obey’d, Forth on the sands the victim oxen led; The gathered tribes before the altars stand, And chiefs and rulers, a majestic band. The king of ocean all the tribes implore; The blazing altars redden all the shore.

Meanwhile Ulysses in his country lay, Released from sleep, and round him might survey The solitary shore and rolling sea. Yet had his mind through tedious absence lost The dear resemblance of his native coast; Besides, Minerva, to secure her care, Diffused around a veil of thickened air; For so the gods ordain’d to keep unseen His royal person from his friends and queen; Till the proud suitors for their crimes afford An ample vengeance to their injured lord.

Now all the land another prospect bore, Another port appear’d, another shore. And long-continued ways, and winding floods, And unknown mountains, crown’d with unknown woods Pensive and slow, with sudden grief oppress’d, The king arose, and beat his careful breast, Cast a long look o’er all the coast and main, And sought, around, his native realm in vain; Then with erected eyes stood fix’d in woe, And as he spoke, the tears began to flow.

“Ye gods (he cried), upon what barren coast, In what new region, is Ulysses toss’d? Possess’d by wild barbarians, fierce in arms? Or men whose bosom tender pity warms? Where shall this treasure now in safely be? And whither, whither its sad owner fly? Ah, why did I Alcinous’ grace implore? Ah, why forsake Phaeacia’s happy shore? Some juster prince perhaps had entertain’d, And safe restored me to my native land. Is this the promised, long-expected coast, And this the faith Phaeacia’s rulers boast? O righteous gods! of all the great, how few Are just to Heaven, and to their promise true! But he, the power to whose all-seeing eyes The deeds of men appear without disguise, ’Tis his alone to avenge the wrongs I bear; For still the oppress’d are his peculiar care. To count these presents, and from thence to prove, Their faith is mine; the rest belongs to Jove.”

Then on the sands he ranged his wealthy store, The gold, the vests, the tripods number’d o’er: All these he found, but still in error lost, Disconsolate he wanders on the coast, Sighs for his country, and laments again To the deaf rocks, and hoarse-resounding main. When lo! the guardian goddess of the wise, Celestial Pallas, stood before his eyes; In show a youthful swain, of form divine, Who seem’d descended from some princely line. A graceful robe her slender body dress’d; Around her shoulders flew the waving vest; Her decent hand a shining javelin bore, And painted sandals on her feet she wore. To whom the king: “Whoe’er of human race Thou art, that wanderest in this desert place, With joy to thee, as to some god I bend, To thee my treasures and myself commend. O tell a wretch in exile doom’d to stray, What air I breathe, what country I survey? The fruitful continent’s extremest bound, Or some fair isle which Neptune’s arms surround?

“From what far clime (said she) remote from fame Arrivest thou here, a stranger to our name? Thou seest an island, not to those unknown Whose hills are brighten’d by the rising sun, Nor those that placed beneath his utmost reign Behold him sinking in the western main. The rugged soil allows no level space For flying chariots, or the rapid race; Yet, not ungrateful to the peasant’s pain, Suffices fulness to the swelling grain; The loaded trees their various fruits produce, And clustering grapes afford a generous juice; Woods crown our mountains, and in every grove The bounding goats and frisking heifers rove; Soft rains and kindly dews refresh the field, And rising springs eternal verdure yield. E’en to those shores is Ithaca renown’d, Where Troy’s majestic ruins strew the ground.”

At this, the chief with transport was possess’d; His panting heart exulted in his breast; Yet, well dissembling his untimely joys, And veiling truth in plausible disguise, Thus, with an air sincere, in fiction bold, His ready tale the inventive hero told:

“Oft have I heard in Crete this island’s name; For ’twas from Crete, my native soil, I came, Self-banished thence. I sail’d before the wind, And left my children and my friends behind. From fierce Idomeneus’ revenge I flew, Whose son, the swift Orsilochus, I slew (With brutal force he seized my Trojan prey, Due to the toils of many a bloody day). Unseen I ‘scaped, and favour’d by the night, In a Phoenician vessel took my flight, For Pyle or Elis bound; but tempests toss’d And raging billows drove us on your coast. In dead of night an unknown port we gain’d; Spent with fatigue, and slept secure on land. But ere the rosy morn renew’d the day, While in the embrace of pleasing sleep I lay, Sudden, invited by auspicious gales, They land my goods, and hoist their flying sails. Abandon’d here, my fortune I deplore A hapless exile on a foreign shore,”

Thus while he spoke, the blue-eyed maid began With pleasing smiles to view the godlike man; Then changed her form: and now, divinely bright, Jove’s heavenly daughter stood confess’d to sight; Like a fair virgin in her beauty’s bloom, Skill’d in the illustrious labours of the loom.

“O still the same Ulysses! (she rejoin’d,) In useful craft successfully refined! Artful in speech, in action, and in mind! Sufficed it not, that, thy long labours pass’d, Secure thou seest thy native shore at last? But this to me? who, like thyself, excel In arts of counsel and dissembling well; To me? whose wit exceeds the powers divine, No less than mortals are surpass’d by thine. Know’st thou not me; who made thy life my care, Through ten years’ wandering, and through ten years’ war; Who taught thee arts, Alcinous to persuade, To raise his wonder, and engage his aid; And now appear, thy treasures to protect, Conceal thy person, thy designs direct, And tell what more thou must from Fate expect; Domestic woes far heavier to be borne! The pride of fools, and slaves’ insulting scorn? But thou be silent, nor reveal thy state; Yield to the force of unresisted Fate, And bear unmoved the wrongs of base mankind, The last, and hardest, conquest of the mind.”

“Goddess of wisdom! (Ithacus replies,) He who discerns thee must be truly wise, So seldom view’d and ever in disguise! When the bold Argives led their warring powers, Against proud Ilion’s well-defended towers, Ulysses was thy care, celestial maid! Graced with thy sight, and favoured with thy aid. But when the Trojan piles in ashes lay, And bound for Greece we plough’d the watery way; Our fleet dispersed, and driven from coast to coast, Thy sacred presence from that hour I lost; Till I beheld thy radiant form once more, And heard thy counsels on Phaeacia’s shore. But, by the almighty author of thy race, Tell me, oh tell, is this my native place? For much I fear, long tracts of land and sea Divide this coast from distant Ithaca; The sweet delusion kindly you impose, To soothe my hopes, and mitigate my woes.”

Thus he. The blue-eyed goddess thus replies; “How prone to doubt, how cautious are the wise! Who, versed in fortune, fear the flattering show, And taste not half the bliss the gods bestow. The more shall Pallas aid thy just desires, And guard the wisdom which herself inspires. Others long absent from their native place, Straight seek their home, and fly with eager pace To their wives’ arms, and children’s dear embrace. Not thus Ulysses; he decrees to prove His subjects’ faith, and queen’s suspected love; Who mourn’d her lord twice ten revolving years, And wastes the days in grief, the nights in tears. But Pallas knew (thy friends and navy lost) Once more ’twas given thee to behold thy coast; Yet how could I with adverse Fate engage, And mighty Neptune’s unrelenting rage? Now lift thy longing eyes, while I restore The pleasing prospect of thy native shore. Bebold the port of Phorcys! fenced around With rocky mountains, and with olives crown’d, Behold the gloomy grot! whose cool recess Delights the Nereids of the neighbouring seas; Whose now-neglected altars in thy reign Blush’d with the blood of sheep and oxen slain, Behold! where Neritus the clouds divides, And shakes the waving forests on his sides.”

So spake the goddess; and the prospect clear’d, The mists dispersed, and all the coast appeared. The king with joy confess’d his place of birth, And on his knees salutes his mother earth; Then, with his suppliant hands upheld in air, Thus to the sea-green sisters sends his prayer;

“All hail! ye virgin daughters of the main! Ye streams, beyond my hopes, beheld again! To you once more your own Ulysses bows; Attend his transports, and receive his vows! If Jove prolong my days, and Pallas crown The growing virtues of my youthful son, To you shall rites divine be ever paid, And grateful offerings on your altars laid.”

Thus then Minerva: “From that anxious breast Dismiss those cares, and leave to heaven the rest. Our task be now thy treasured stores to save, Deep in the close recesses of the cave; Then future means consult.” She spoke, and trod The shady grot, that brighten’d with the god. The closest caverns of the grot she sought; The gold, the brass, the robes, Ulysses brought; These in the secret gloom the chief disposed; The entrance with a rock the goddess closed.

Now, seated in the olive’s sacred shade, Confer the hero and the martial maid. The goddess of the azure eyes began: “Son of Laertes! much-experienced man! The suitor-train thy earliest care demand, Of that luxurious race to rid the land; Three years thy house their lawless rule has seen, And proud addresses to the matchless queen. But she thy absence mourns from day to day, And inly bleeds, and silent wastes away; Elusive of the bridal hour, she gives Fond hopes to all, and all with hopes deceives.”

To this Ulysses: “O celestial maid! Praised be thy counsel, and thy timely aid; Else had I seen my native walls in vain, Like great Atrides, just restored and slain. Vouchsafe the means of vengeance to debate, And plan with all thy arts the scene of fate. Then, then be present, and my soul inspire, As when we wrapp’d Troy’s heaven-built walls in fire. Though leagued against me hundred heroes stand. Hundreds shall fall, if Pallas aid my hand.”

She answer’d: “In the dreadful day of fight Know, I am with thee, strong in all my might. If thou but equal to thyself be found, What gasping numbers then shall press the ground! What human victims stain the feastful floor! How wide the pavements float with guilty gore! It fits thee now to wear a dark disguise, And secret walk unknown to mortal eyes. For this, my hand shall wither every grace, And every elegance of form and face; O’er thy smooth skin a bark of wrinkles spread, Turn hoar the auburn honours of thy head; Disfigure every limb with coarse attire, And in thy eyes extinguish all the fire; Add all the wants and the decays of life; Estrange thee from thy own; thy son, thy wife; From the loathed object every sight shall turn, And the blind suitors their destruction scorn.

“Go first the master of thy herds to find, True to his charge, a loyal swain and kind; For thee he sighs; and to the loyal heir And chaste Penelope extends his care. At the Coracian rock he now resides, Where Arethusa’s sable water glides; The sable water and the copious mast Swell the fat herd; luxuriant, large repast! With him rest peaceful in the rural cell, And all you ask his faithful tongue shall tell. Me into other realms my cares convey, To Sparta, still with female beauty gay; For know, to Sparta thy loved offspring came, To learn thy fortunes from the voice of Fame.”

At this the father, with a father’s care: “Must he too suffer? he, O goddess! bear Of wanderings and of woes a wretched share? Through the wild ocean plough the dangerous way, And leave his fortunes and his house a prey? Why would’st not thou, O all-enlighten’d mind! Inform him certain, and protect him, kind?”

To whom Minerva: “Be thy soul at rest; And know, whatever heaven ordains is best. To fame I sent him, to acquire renown; To other regions is his virtue known; Secure he sits, near great Atrides placed; With friendships strengthen’d, and with honours graced, But lo! an ambush waits his passage o’er; Fierce foes insidious intercept the shore; In vain; far sooner all the murderous brood This injured land shall fatten with their blood.”

She spake, then touch’d him with her powerful wand: The skin shrunk up, and wither’d at her hand; A swift old age o’er all his members spread; A sudden frost was sprinkled on his head; Nor longer in the heavy eye-ball shined The glance divine, forth-beaming from the mind. His robe, which spots indelible besmear, In rags dishonest flutters with the air: A stag’s torn hide is lapp’d around his reins; A rugged staff his trembling hand sustains; And at his side a wretched scrip was hung, Wide-patch’d, and knotted to a twisted thong. So looked the chief, so moved: to mortal eyes Object uncouth! a man of miseries! While Pallas, cleaving the wild fields of air, To Sparta flies, Telemachus her care.

Homer, Odyssey

("Agamemnon", "Hom. Od. 9.1", "denarius")

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• W. Walter Merry, James Riddell, D. B. Monro, Commentary on the Odyssey (1886) , 11.521

The Odyssey

111 pages • 3 hours read

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Summary and Study Guide

The Odyssey is an ancient Greek epic poem attributed to Homer, though “Homer” is now generally believed to refer more to an epic tradition than to a specific or single person. Scholars debate when and how the poem was composed. It seems to have come into existence contemporaneously or shortly after the adaptation of the ancient Greek alphabet, which places it in the late 8th century BC. It was most likely composed orally, and even after it was written down, its earliest audiences would have heard the poem performed. The text as it is now experienced was likely arranged sometime in the 2nd century BC by scholars at the Library of Alexandria and preserved by the scholars of Constantinople in the Eastern Roman Empire.

Often referred to as the beginning of Western literature, the Odyssey draws on conceits and concepts from Near Eastern epics, most notably the Homecoming Husband. The narrative revolves around the restoration of a family after a prolonged separation, exploring themes of home and family as identity, the virtue of reciprocity, and the intersection of fate, gods, and human choices in determining outcomes.

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This study guide refers to the 2018 paperback edition translated by Emily Wilson. Her 2017 translation, released in hardcover, is the first full-length translation by a woman to be published in English. Wilson has stated that her publisher permits her to update her translation with each new edition; the hardcover and paperback translations are not identical. The ancient Greek text was composed in dactylic hexameter, the meter of archaic Greek narrative poetry. Wilson’s translation is in iambic pentameter. Though it features the same number of lines as the original, it is not a line-for-line translation. Chapter divisions exist in the Greek text, but the chapter titles are Wilson’s own.

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At the start of the poem, Odysseus has been away from Ithaca for 20 years—10 fighting at Troy and 10 attempting to return home—but his fate is to return. At the start of the poem, the goddess Athena prompts Zeus to set Odysseus’s return in motion, but the gods must do so against the wishes of Poseidon. He holds a grudge against Odysseus for having blinded his son, the Cyclops Polyphemus.

The first four books take place in Ithaca, where Odysseus’s wife Penelope is besieged by aggressive young suitors from Ithaca and neighboring islands. Insisting that Odysseus must be dead, they demand that Penelope select one of them as her new husband. They feast on Odysseus’s herds, offering nothing in return, while Penelope stalls for time. Her son with Odysseus, Telemachus , who was an infant when his father left, is too young and inexperienced to assume control. Both Penelope and Telemachus exist in a state of suspended anticipation, longing for Odysseus’s return but unsure whether they can rely on it.

Books 5 through 13 concern Odysseus’s wanderings after leaving Troy. Book 5 finds Odysseus on Calypso’s island. The messenger god Hermes informs her that she must let Odysseus leave. She grudgingly agrees, but Poseidon stirs up the sea to shipwreck Odysseus. Sea nymph Ino helps him reach the Phaeacians’ island, an intermediary space between the human and divine realms. In Books 6 through 8, the Phaeacians accept Odysseus’s request for help, feeding and bathing him and promising to help him return to Ithaca. In return, he tells them his story in Books 9 through 12.

Odysseus narrates the trials he has undergone, including escaping the Lotus Eaters (whose fruit causes men to forget their desire to return home), the Cyclops Polyphemus (who ate six of his men), and the Laestrygonians (human-eating giants). On Circe’s island, she initially turned his men into pigs but eventually helped him devise a plan to return home by consulting with Tiresias, a prophet Odysseus spoke with at the border between earth and the underworld. Odysseus’s men died at sea after failing to follow Tiresias’s order not to eat the Sun God Helius’s sacred cattle. Only Odysseus escaped.

The Phaeacians bring Odysseus to Ithaca, where Books 13 through 24 take place. Athena disguises him so that he can enter the palace by stealth and test his slaves to determine who is loyal. Believing Odysseus is impoverished, Eumaeus provides food and shelter. Odysseus reveals himself only to Telemachus. Athena helps Odysseus plot how to overthrow the suitors despite their numbers. Odysseus and Telemachus put the plan into motion, aided by Eumaeus and another loyal herdsman.

With Athena’s help, Odysseus slaughters the suitors at their feast, then hangs 12 enslaved women who are accused of entertaining the suitors. Penelope and Odysseus reunite after she secretly tests him and he proves his identity. The suitors’ surviving male family members threaten Odysseus, but Athena intervenes to ensure peace and prosperity in Ithaca.

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