Which Translation: The Odyssey

Henry Alford

1861 · Hendecasyllable verse

Features

IntroNotesGlossaryIndexBibliographyMapsIllustrationsGreek textGreek line numbersLine-by-lineBy Iliad translatorComplete
36
Holdings
4
Reviews

Biography

Henry Alford (1810-1871) was an English churchman, theologian, scholar, and poet who served as Dean of Canterbury from 1857 until his death. He is best known for his four-volume Greek Testament, a landmark work of biblical textual criticism.

Alford translated the Odyssey into English hendecasyllable (eleven-syllable) verse, covering only Books I-XII. He cited Shakespeare as a precedent for his choice of meter. Alford wanted to preserve the rhythm and cadence of the original, and his Odyssey may be the first line-for-line English translation. The task was suggested to him by Ichabod Wright, who was translating the Iliad.

It reflects 19th century scholarship and taste.

Henry Alford on Wikipedia ↗

Publication History

  • 1861 — Longman, Green, Longman, and Roberts, The Odyssey of Homer in English Hendecasyllable Verse ★

Reviews

The proem

1.1–11
Tell of the man, thou Muse, much versed, who widely
Wandered, when he had sacked Troy’s sacred fortress;
Many men’s towns he saw, and knew their manners;
Many the woes he suffered on the ocean,
To win his life, and safety for his comrades.
But them he might not rescue, though he loved them;
For they were slain amidst their impious daring,
Fools, who the cattle of the mighty Sun-god
Devoured,-and He cut short their homeward journey.
Of all this, Goddess, what thou wilt, inform us.

Penelope's weaving trick

2.96–111
Ye youths, my suitors,—since divine Odysseus
Is dead, stay your demands, till I shall finish
This work, that all my labour be not fruitless,—
A cerecloth for the hero, old Laertes,
When the stern fate of deadly death o’ertake him:
Lest said the folk the Achaean wives should blame me,
If he, so wealthy, without shroud be buried.
Thus spoke she: we believed, and stayed our passion.
What did she then? By day she wove the garment,—
At night, by torchlight, all her work undoing.
So for three years her craft escaped the Achaeans:
But when the fourth year came, bringing back the seasons,
One of her maidens told us, of her knowledge,
And her we found ravelling the splendid texture.
Thus, by compulsion, she the work hath finished.

Calypso's double standard

5.118–131
Cruel are ye, O gods, of all most jealous,
Who grudge us goddesses to wed with mortals
Openly, and as loving husbands take them.
Thus rosy-fingered Eos chose Orion,
Until ye gods who live at ease grew jealous,
And golden-throned chaste Artemis in Ortygia
Smote him at length with painless darts, and slew him.
Thus lovely-tressed Demeter with Iasion,
Yielding to love, in marriage-rites commingled
In a deep-furrowed field; nor long unknowing
Was Zeus, who with white lightning struck, and slew him.
So now ye envy me my mortal husband.
Him saved I, to his keel in danger clinging,

Weeping on Calypso's shore

5.151–159
Him found she sitting on the shore: nor ever
Were his eyes dry from tears, his sweet life wasting
In weeping for his home, in her no longer
Delighting. By constraint at night he slumbered
In the smooth caverns, loath, beside her willing;
But on the rocks and sands by day reclining,
With tears and groans and wails rending his spirit,
Over the barren ocean, weeping, gazed he.

Nausicaa finds Odysseus

6.127–141
Thus speaking, from the wood came great Odysseus,
But from a tree a leafy branch first gathered,
The parts where shame abides from sight to cover.
As mountain lion in his strength confiding,
Stalks forth from rain and tempest fresh: his eyeballs
Flash fire; in search he goes of sheep, or oxen,
Or pastured hinds, as appetite invites him,
On the well-guarded sheepfold too, designing:
Thus went Odysseus, with the fair-tressed damsels
To mix, though naked: for stern want compelled him.
Savage he seemed to them, with salt all covered:
They fled dispersed along the sands far distant:
Only Alcinous’ daughter stayed: Athena
Put courage in her breast, and terror banished.

War-widow simile

8.521–532
So sung the bard illustrious: but Odysseus
Melted, and from his eyes the moist tear trickled.
As mourns a wife, her dear lord fondly clasping,
Who for his city and his folk hath fallen,
Warding from home and babes destruction cruel:
She, him convulsed with pangs of death beholding,
Falls on him, wailing shrill: but they behind her
With their spears smiting on her back and shoulders,
Take her to bondage, to have toil and sorrow:
The while with bitterest woe her cheeks are faded; —
So from his eyelids dropt the tear Odysseus.

Cyclops eats the men

9.287–299
I spoke: nought answered he, with churlish spirit,
But rushing, threw his arms among my comrades;
Seizing on two, like whelps, upon the pavement
He dashed them; all their brains the ground bespattered.
Then limb from limb he hacked them for his supper,
And ate, like mountain lion; nothing leaving
Of flesh behind, not marrowy bones, nor garbage.
Weeping, our hands to Zeus above we lifted,
Such horrors viewing; and despair possest us.
The Cyclop now had filled his mighty stomach
With flesh of man, and drank sweet milk unmingled;
Then laid him down to sleep within the cavern
Amidst his flocks.

The Nobody trick

9.364–371
Cyclop, wouldst know my name renowned? I’ll tell thee:
And thou the gift bestow, as thou hast promised.
NOMAN my name is: Noman always call me
Father, and mother, and companions each one.
I spoke: with ruthless breast the monster answered:
Noman then eat I last, after his comrades;
The others first; behold the boon I promised.

Circe recognizes Odysseus

10.325–336
Who art thou? whence? where are thy home and parents?
I marvel that these drugs have failed to charm thee:
Never, no never man hath these resisted,
Once having drunk, and in his mouth received them.
Some iron heart within thy bosom dwelleth.
Or thou Odysseus art, much-versed, whom ever
Announced to me the gold-staved Argeiphontes,
From Troy returning in his swift dark vessel.
But come, sheathe thou thy sword; and then let us two
Ascend the bed of love, that there uniting
In rites connubial, we each other gladden.

Anticlea's shade

11.204–215
She spoke: but I yearned deeply in my spirit
To clasp the ghost of my departed mother:
Thrice I essayed by strong desire excited:
Thrice from my hands like dream or empty shadow
It faded: grief sat heavier on my spirit:
And her addressing spoke I winged accents:
Mother, why flee me yearning to o’ertake thee,
That ev’n in Hades with fond arms embracing
We both may take our fill of cruel sorrow?
Or why this form hath dread Persephoneia
Sent me, that I may have increase of mourning?

Achilles in the underworld

11.488–501
Speak me not fair of death, renowned Odysseus;
Rather would I afield for wages labour,
Slave to some needy hind who lacked a living,
Than reign supreme o’er all the shades departed.
But tell me of my valiant boy some tidings,
Waxed he, or not, to be the chief in battles.
And tell me if of Peleus aught thou knowest,
Holds he among the Myrmidons his honour,
Or is in Phthia slighted and in Hellas,
Because old age his hands and feet hath fettered.
For me no longer hath he as his succour
In the sun’s light, such as in Troy’s broad champain
I slew the bravest, for the Argives fighting.

The Sirens' song

12.184–192
Come, famed Odysseus, come, Achaea’s glory,
Thy vessel stay, and to our singing hearken:
Never hath any in dark ship gone by us,
But staid, sweet melody from our lips to listen;
Then went his way with joy, increased in wisdom.
For all we know, whate’er in Troy the Argives
And Trojans too by heaven’s appointment suffered:
And all that on the peopled earth hath happened.

Hyperion's cattle

12.341–352
All deaths to wretched mortals are unwelcome;
But most, to die and suffer fate by famine.
Come then, the best of the Sun’s kine selecting,
We will the gods appease, high heaven’s possessors:
And if we Ithaca reach, our native island,
A wealthy shrine to Helius Hyperion
Straight will we build, and with rich offerings fill it:
But if he, angry for his long-horned cattle,
Desire our ship to wreck, the gods persuading,
Better to die at once, choked in the billows,
Than pine by inches in an island dreary.