Which Translation: The Odyssey

Thomas Hobbes

1675 · Heroic couplets

Features

IntroNotesGlossaryIndexBibliographyMapsIllustrationsGreek textGreek line numbersLine-by-lineBy Iliad translatorComplete
16
Holdings
7
Reviews

Biography

Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679) was an English philosopher and political theorist, best known for his 1651 work Leviathan, which popularized social contract theory and the idea of a state of nature. In addition to political philosophy, he also made contributions to history, geometry, optics, ethics, and theology.

Hobbes translated the Odyssey in his eighties, as his last major literary project. His translation is characterized by its sparsity and rapidity; he omitted whole similes and sentences, and rewrote passages to align with his philosophical views on politics and rhetoric.

Hobbes dictated the translation to a secretary because his hands shook from what appears to have been Parkinson’s disease. In his prefatory essay he wrote: ‘Why then did I write it? Because I had nothing else to do.’ Since his philosophical works had been effectively banned, translating Homer served as an indirect vehicle for his political ideas, ‘a continuation of Leviathan by other means.’ Hobbes emphasized ‘discretion’ as Odysseus’s decisive virtue. His translation has been the subject of renewed scholarly attention since Eric Nelson’s critical edition of 2008.

Thomas Hobbes on Wikipedia ↗

Publication History

  • 1673 — William Crook, The Travels of Ulysses; as they were related by himself in Homer's ninth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth books of his Odysses, to Alcinous, king of Phaeacia; translated into English verse
  • 1675 — William Crook, The Iliads and Odysses of Homer; translated out of Grek into English by Thomas Hobbes of Malmsbury; with a large preface concerning the virtues of an heroick poem, written by the translator
  • 1677 — William Crook, The Iliads and Odysses of Homer; translated by Th[omas] Hobbes of Malmesbury (2nd ed.)
  • 1689 — London, The Iliads and Odysses of Homer; translated by Thomas Hobbes of Malmesbury (4th ed.)
  • 1843 — John Bohn, The Iliad and Odyssey of Homer; translated out of Greek into English; with a preface concerning the virtues of an heroic poem, written by the translator; now first edited by William Molesworth ★
  • 1979 — AMS Press, The Iliads and Odysses of Homer; translated out of Greek into English, with a large preface concerning the virtues of an heroick poem, written by the translator
  • 1992 — Routledge / Thoemmes Press, The Collected Works of Thomas Hobbes; collected and edited by Sir William Molesworth; with new introduction by G. A. J. Rogers
  • 2008 — Oxford University Press, Homer's Odyssey (ed. Eric Nelson)

Reviews

The proem

1.1–11
Tell me, O Muse, th’ adventures of the man
That having sack’d the sacred town of Troy,
Wander’d so long at sea; what course he ran
By winds and tempests driven from his way:
That saw the cities, and the fashions knew
Of many men, but suffer’d grievous pain
To save his own life, and bring home his crew;
Though for his crew, all he could do was vain,
They lost themselves by their own insolence,
Feeding, like fools, on the Sun’s sacred kine;
Which did the splendid deity incense
To their dire fate. Begin, O Muse divine.

Penelope's weaving trick

2.96–111
Suitors, said she, since dead Ulysses is,
Stay yet a little while, and give me leave
To make an end but of one business.
I must for old Laertes make a cloth,
Which in his sepulchre he is to wear.
T’ offend the wives of Greece I should be loth;
For to accuse me they will not forbear,
But say I very hasty was to wed,
If I go hence and not provide a shroud
Wherein Laertes may be buried
Out of such wealth, that might have been allow’d.
Her suitors all were well content. And then
All day she wove, but ere she went to bed,
What she had wov’n, she ravell’d out again.
Three years her suitors thus she frustrated,
In the fourth year her woman her betrayed,
And in we came, whilst she the web undid,
And then to end it she could not avoid,
Since now her purpose could no more be hid.

Calypso's double standard

5.118–131
Malicious ye Gods, and jealous are,
That think much Goddesses should mortals wed.
See but how hardly did Orion fare,
After Aurora was become his wife.
How angry at him, O ye Gods, were you,
Until Diana took away his life,
With shafts invisible before ’twas due.
And so when Ceres with Iäsion
Themselves delighted with the gift of love,
How soon it was by th’ other Gods made known,
And with a thunder-bolt he slain by Jove!
And now they angry are with me. And why?
Because I taken have a man to bed
Who in the sea had perish’d, had not I
Receiv’d him in my house and cherished.

Weeping on Calypso's shore

5.151–159
Himself lamenting sitting there was he,
And when she came his eyes were not yet dried.
For now he lov’d the nymph less than before,
And lay with her a-nights unwillingly;
A-days he weeping sat upon the shore,
And on th’ unbounded sea oft cast his eye.

Nausicaa finds Odysseus

6.127–141
Then with strong hand he wringed off a bough
With many leaves upon it from a tree,
To cover what became him not to show;
Then as a lion, confident and bold,
Howe’er it blow or rain, with fiery eyes
Comes from the mountain to a herd or fold,
And on the flock at last his fortune tries;
So came Ulysses boldly from the wood
Stark naked, forc’d to’t by necessity,
And in the presence of the maidens stood.
The sight was terrible and made them fly;
Nausicaa fled not, but hid her eyes.

War-widow simile

8.521–532
This sung Demodocus. And then upon
Ulysses’ cheeks the tears ran down apace.
As when in fight a woman looketh on,
And sees her husband fallen on the place,
That fought had for his town and children dear;
There sprawleth he, she o’er him falls and cries,
But back and shoulders is well basted there,
And carried captive by the enemy.
As wofully as then this woman wept,
So wofully Ulysses now sheds tears;

Cyclops eats the men

9.287–299
To this he answer’d nothing, nor said more,
But snatching up a couple from the ground,
Knocks out their brains, like whelps against the floor;
Then cuts them into joints, and on them fed;
Nor did he flesh, or bone, or entrails leave,
Like hungry lion on the mountains bred.
Then weep we, and to Jove our hands upheave
To see such work, and have no remedy.
When he with human flesh his belly deep
Had fill’d, and drunk the milk that stood him by,
He laid himself along amongst his sheep,
And slept.

The Nobody trick

9.364–371
Cyclops, since you my name desire to know,
I’ll tell it you, and on your word rely.
My name is Noman, all men call me so,
My father, mother, and my company.
To which he soon and sadly made reply,
Noman, I’ll eat you last, none shall outlive you
Of all that are here of your company;
And that’s the gift I promised to give you.

Circe recognizes Odysseus

10.325–336
Who, whence are you? what is your father’s name?
That this drink worketh not, is very strange,
If any else had tasted but the same,
He soon had of his figure found a change;
But you a stubborn heart have in your breast.
Are you Ulysses, that should hither come,
As Hermes told me oft, and be my guest,
When from the Trojan shore he sailed home?
Put up your sword; and that we may confide
In one another better without dread,
Let’s to my chamber go, and side by side
Compose the things we differ in a bed.

Anticlea's shade

11.204–215
When she had spoken, I would very fain
Have ta’en her in my arms; three times I grasp’d
At the beloved shadow, but in vain.
Mine arms I closed, but did nothing clasp.
Sore griev’d hereat, I said unto my mother,
I am your son, why do you fly me so?
Why may we not, embracing one another,
Although in Hell, give ease unto our woe?
Hath Proserpine, my sorrows to augment,
Sent me a phantom in my mother’s stead?

Achilles in the underworld

11.488–501
Talk not to me of honour here in Hell;
I’d rather serve a clown on earth for bread,
Than be, of all things incorporeal,
That are, or ever shall be, supreme head.
But tell me of my son, Neoptolemus;
Whether he came to Troy, and how he fought;
And of my aged father, Peleus,
Whether he keep his place, or be put out.
For since much time his vigour hath decay’d,
Some foe, it may be, hath usurp’d his place
In Pthia, and in Hellas where he sway’d,
And put him, with his people, in disgrace.
But were I now above, and strong as then,
When for the Greeks I fought at Ilium,
And slew so many of their bravest men,

The Sirens' song

12.184–192
Come, come, much prais’d Ulysses, come away;
The brightest glory of the Greeks, come near:
No mortal man did ever come this way,
That did not to our music lend an ear;
Delight they found, and wisdom carried hence.
Stay, stay your good black ship, forbear awhile
To beat the sea; please and inform your sense.
Come disembark yourselves upon our isle.
We know what feats of arms were done at Troy
Between the Greeks and Trojans all along:
We know what’s done on th’ whole earth everyday.
Come, come a’land, and listen to our song.

Hyperion's cattle

12.341–352
All deaths, quoth he,
Are hateful to what thing soever lives;
But death by hunger is the worst can be.
Let’s kill some of the fattest of these cows,
And sacrifice unto the Gods on high;
And to appease the Sun, let’s all make vows
To build a temple to his Deity,
Enrich’d with gifts. If not content with this,
For a few cows displeas’d, he seek our death,
For once to gape and die, far better ’tis
Than strive with hunger till we lose our breath.

Sleepless Odysseus

20.25–34
As one that has raw flesh upon the fire,
And hungry is, is ever turning it;
So turneth he himself, with great desire
’Gainst th’ wooers to devise some mischief fit.
Then Pallas came, and standing at his head
In woman’s shape, O wretched man, said she,
What makes you toss and turn so in your bed?

Stringing the bow

21.404–412
So mock’d they. When he view’d it had enough,
And holden it awhile had in his palms,
He bent it. As a fiddler does not spend
Very much labour the sheep’s gut to strain,
So he, Ulysses his strong bow to bend
Did put himself to very little pain.
Then with his left hand he the string essay’d;
It sounded like the singing of a swallow.

Odysseus reveals himself

22.1–8
Ulysses then himself delivereth
Of his foul rags, and leaps up to the sill,
With bow in hand and arrows tipt with death,
And spake to th’ wooers boasting of his skill.
Suitors, said he, this match is at an end;
Jove speed me now. Another mark have at,
Which none ere shot at yet. Apollo send
Me luck to hit.

The disloyal maids

22.465–474
This having said, he stretch’d
Between two pillars high a great strong rope,
That with their feet the ground could not be reach’d;
Hung there, they sprawl’d awhile, but could not drop.

The olive-tree bed

23.181–190
Thus said she, but to try if that were he,
Yet griev’d him to the heart, and made him doubt.
Woman, said he, who has remov’d my bed?
It cannot be but by a force divine.
With my own hands ’twas wrought and finished,
To th’ end thereby it might be known for mine.

Shipwrecked sailor simile

23.233–241
As a man shipwreck’d swimming for his life,
Rejoiceth when the land he near him spies;
So welcome was Ulysses to his wife.
She hung upon him still, nor had let go