Which Translation: The Odyssey

Lovelace Bigge-Wither

1869 · Accentual verse

Features

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35
Holdings
4
Reviews

Biography

The Reverend Lovelace Bigge-Wither (1805-1874) was an English clergyman and Lord of the Manor of Manydown Park in Hampshire, from a prominent gentry family associated with Jane Austen. He produced extensive manuscript translations of classical verse throughout his life.

Bigge-Wither published ‘A Nearly Literal Translation of Homer’s Odyssey Into Accentuated Dramatic Verse’ in 1869, attempting to combine high fidelity with an English verse form that matched the flexibility and approximate length of the original Greek. He modeled his style on that of Shakespeare, Milton, and the King James Bible.

Bigge-Wither’s translation attracted minimal critical notice and remains exceedingly obscure. Nevertheless, it has been credited for inventing the phrase ‘out of sight, out of mind’.

Publication History

  • 1869 — James Parker, A Nearly Literal Translation of Homer's Odyssey into Accentuated Dramatic Verse ★

Reviews

The proem

1.1–11
Tell me, oh Muse, of-the-many-sided man,
Who wandered far and wide full sore bestead,
When he had razed the mighty town of Troy:
And-of-many-a-race of human-kind he saw
The cities; and he learned their mind and ways:
And on the deep full many-a-woe he bore
In his own bosom, while he strove to save
His proper life, and-his-comrades’ home-return.
But them not so he saved with all his zeal;
For they in their own wilful folly perished:
Infatuates! to devour Hyperion’s kine!
So he bereft them of their home-return.
Of these things, Goddess, where thou wilt beginning,
Daughter of Zeus, the tale tell e’en to us!

Penelope's weaving trick

2.96–111
‘Sir suitors mine! since dead is great Odysseus,
My marriage-await awhile, tho’ bent on speed,
Until I finish-off this winding sheet,
(Lest all in vain my spindled threads be wasted)
For the Lord Laërtes’ burial, whene’er
Him the ill-fiend shall seize of stark-stiff death:
Lest any ‘mid the Achaian women blame me,
If he unshrouded lie, malgrè his wealth.’
Thus would she say: our manly hearts assented.
Then all day long she wove her mighty web—
A’ nights unravelling-it, by torches’ glimmer.
Thus three long years her wiles deceived the chieftains:
But when the fourth was come and its hours drew on,
’Twas told us then by-a-woman in the secret;
And-we-caught her-in-act of-unravelling the web.
So then she finished it, tho’ sore unwilling,
No thanks to her, for force was put upon her.

Calypso's double standard

5.118–131
“Hard are ye, gods! and jealous above all,
Who grudge at goddesses for marrying men
Openly, if one-has-made her-a-husband dear!
Thus when Orion, rosy-fingered dawn
Chose for her spouse, ye careless gods did grudge her:
Till him in-Ortygia, gold-throned Artĕmis-chaste,
With-her-kindly arrows, came upon and slew:
Thus when with Jason-bold, well-tressed Demēter,
To-her-own heart yielding, mingled in fond love,
In-a-thrice-ploughed tilth: not long was he to hear it—
Zeus,—who destroyed him with his lightning white.
So-now ye gods grudge me a mortal husband!
Him I did save a’ clinging to his keel—

Weeping on Calypso's shore

5.151–159
Him sitting on the beach she found: his eyes
Not dry of tears: sweet life was ebbing low,
As-he-wept for home, for-the-nymph no longer pleased him.
And sure the weary nights he slept perforce
In-the-cave by willing her—unwilling he!
The livelong days on rocks and shores he sat,
With tears, and groans, and woes, his heart a’ wreaking;
And gazed on-the-barren deep with pouring tears.

Nausicaa finds Odysseus

6.127–141
This said, from ’neath the shrubs crept great Odysseus:
And from the thicket broke with vigorous hand
A leafy branch, to hide his nakedness.
On went he, like a lion mountain-bred
In pride of strength, who rain and storm defies;
His sunk eyes blaze like coals of living fire.
So on he comes on-the-oxen, or the sheep;
Or after-the-wilder deer: and-his-hunger bids him
In quest of-the-flocks to invade e’en-crowded homestead:
Thus was Odysseus ready to encounter
Those fair-haired girls! all naked as he was!
For sure a mighty need was laid upon him.
To them horrific loomed he—grimed with spray!
In fright they fled, scattered this way and that
Over the jutting headlands of the shore!
Alone stood firm the daughter of Alcinöus!
To her, gave courage in her breast Athènè,
And took all trembling from her limbs away!

War-widow simile

8.521–532
These were the deeds the glorious singer sang:
And so Odysseus’ spirit waned away;
And tears beneath his lids bedewed his cheeks.
As weeps a wife her husband dear embracing—
Who ‘ore his town and people just hath fallen
Guarding her walls and babes from-the-ruthless day:
She with eyes fixed, as-he-sobs his life away,
Pours herself round him with shrill-wailing cry:
And they behind her back and shoulders smiting
Make her a slave for ceaseless toil and sorrow:
With piteous woe her cheeks consume away:
Thus did Odysseus drop the piteous tear.

Cyclops eats the men

9.287–299
“Thus I—but he with-his-ruthless heart replied not;
But with a rush laid hands upon my comrades;
And grasping two at once, like pups on-the-ground
He dashed them:-out-flowed their brains and soaked the ground!
And cutting-them-limb from limb he served his supper!
He gorged like-a-mountain lion; and ne’er left
Nor inwards—nor-flesh—nor marrowy-bones behind!
We weeping raised-up high our hands to Zeus
At-the-horrid sight! our hearts were paralyzed.
So when the Cyclops-had-filled his mighty paunch
With human flesh, and draughts of unmixed milk,
He lay in-the-cave stretched-out amid his flocks.

The Nobody trick

9.364–371
‘Cyclops! you ask my famous name: I’ll tell you!
So give me now the guest-gift, as you promised!
My name is Nobody! my mother dear,
And father-and-friends all call me Nobody!’
“Thus I: he answered-back full ruthlessly:
‘Nobody! I will eat him last of all:
The others first; and this shall be thy guest-gift!’

Circe recognizes Odysseus

10.325–336
‘Who? whence art thou? where is thy town, and parents?
Astounded-am-I, that thou, tho’ drinking freely,
No whit art tamed-down by those drugs so potent!
Never! no never!-has-one defied these drugs,
Whoe’er has drunk, when once they’ve passed his lips!
Thou hast a soul within unwinable!
Art thou Odysseus? he of-the-many shifts—
Whom Argeifontes of the golden wand
Used ever tell me was about to come—
From Troy returning with his swift black ship?
But come! replace thy hanger in the scabbard—
And we ere long will climb-up to my couch,
To take our fill of love and kindliness;
That we henceforth may trust in one another!’

Anticlea's shade

11.204–215
“Thus she: but I in-my-mind’s perplexity
Would clasp the soul of-my-mother dead and gone:
Thrice I ran-forth at-my-heart’s behest to-embrace her;
Thrice from my hands, like-a-shadow or a dream,
She fled: and sharper pangs went thro’ my soul!
And her addressing wingëd words I spake:
‘My mother! why not bide my heart’s embrace—
That e’en in Hades’ clasping loving arms
We both may-enjoy our fill of icy tears?
Or why to me hath dread Persephónia
This image sent, that I may grieve the more?’

Achilles in the underworld

11.488–501
‘Mock not at death, I pray thee, bright Odysseus!
Rather would I, a serf upon the glebe,
Toil for scant wages from a lack-land churl,
Than over all the dead-and-gone be lord!
But come! now tell me of my noble child—
Did-he-go to-the-war to be a foremost warrior,
Or not? and what hast heard of faultless Peleus?
Is he still honoured ‘mid the host of Myrmidons—
Or do men scorn him now throughout broad Hellas,
Because old age hath bound him hand and foot?
No more am I his helper ’neath the sun—
Such as I was, when once on Troy’s wide plain
I fought for Argos,-and-slew a host of heroes!

The Sirens' song

12.184–192
‘Come hither on your course, much-praised Odysseus!
Oh thou great glory of th’ Achaian name.
Bring-to thy ship and listen to our voices!
For never-a-one in ship hath speeded-by,
Ere hearing from our mouths our honied voices:
So he with joy goes-on a wiser man.
For we are wise in all things, that befel
On Troy’s broad plain the Argives and the Trojans;
Where by the will of God they laboured sore!
And we know all, that’s done on-the-wide green earth!’

Hyperion's cattle

12.341–352
All deaths are hateful to us wretched mortals;
But death by famine is most pitiable.
So come! and seize the best of Hélius’ kine,
And slay to-the-deathless ones, who hold broad heaven!
If we reach Ithăca—our fatherland—
Anon a temple rich to Hyperion
We will construct, and therein we can place
Full many-a-gift—a joy to him for ever!
But if in anger for his long-horned heifers
He will destroy our ship (and the gods consent;)—
I had much rather once for all gasp-out
My wretched life beneath the deep sea wave,
Than have life’s sap drained drop by drop from out me—
A’ lingering here cribbed in this desert island!’

Argos recognizes Odysseus

17.324–328
Thus saying-he-entered-the-well-appointed mansion:
Went straight thro’-the-hall amid the high-born suitors.
On Argus seized the fate of darksome death—
Just seeing-Odysseus in the twentieth year!

Sleepless Odysseus

20.25–34
As when a wight a’ front a blazing fire
A savoury haggis full of fat and gravy
Restlessly turns and tumbles to and fro—
In hope right well and quickly for to roast it:
Thus he on-his-bed tossed to and fro revolving
How now to lay his hands on-the-shameless suitors—
He one; they many! Nigh him drew Athènè
From heaven descended—like in form a woman:
She stood above his head and-addressed him thus:
“Why wakeful still, most luckless thou of all men!

Stringing the bow

21.404–412
Thus talked the suitors: but Odysseus wise—
When once he-had-handled-the-bow, and scanned it o’er;—
As when a man well-skilled of lyre and song
Stretches with ease on a new peg his string,
At each end fixing the well-twisted sheep-gut—
Thus without effort bent the-great-bow Odysseus!
Then with his right hand took and tied the string;
Which sung a sweet undertone—full-like a swallow’s!

Odysseus reveals himself

22.1–8
But he all bared of-his-rags—the wise Odysseus—
Leaped on the threshold huge with bow and quiver
Choke-full of shafts: and out he poured the arrows
There at his feet; and thus addressed the suitors:
“This stubborn game at last is well played-out!
Now other mark, which yet ne’er man hath hit,
I’ll see if I can reach; and-Apollo aid me!”

The disloyal maids

22.465–474
Thus did he speak; and cordage of a ship
He hung from a mighty pillar winding it
Around the pantry,-and-stretched in-a-line aloft,
That none with-her-feet should reach unto the ground.
As when the long-winged field-fares, or wild doves
Impinge on-the-net in some thick covert set
As-to-roost they speed,—and-a-hateful perch receives them;
Thus held these women in a row their heads,
And all their necks around were nooses fixed,
That they might die the wretchedest of deaths!
They quivered-their-feet a little while—not long!

The olive-tree bed

23.181–190
Thus did she speak, sore-trying of her husband:
But sorely vexed at heart was great Odysseus,
And thus addressed his all-too-cautious wife:
“Oh ladie! sure a bitter word thou’st said!
And who hath placed my bed elsewhere? ’twere hard
E’en for a wight, who knew it all, to do so;
Unless some god should come himself, and place it
By force of-his-will with ease on-another site.
Of men no living mortal-in-pride of manhood
Would easily-move it: a mighty marvel lies
In that wrought bed: I worked it, and no other!

Shipwrecked sailor simile

23.233–241
As when right-welcome land looms-forth to swimmers,
Whose well-wrought ship Posidon in the deep
Shatters by force of winds and solid waves;
And few have ‘scaped from-the-hoary brine to shore
By swimming—smirched all o’er with-the-scurfy foam;
Right joyed they mount the strand a’ fleeing death :—
Right welcome thus to-her-gazing eyes her spouse!
No whit from-his-neck she loosed her snowy arms!