Homer · Complete work
Chryse: The Ransom Returned (lines 419–492)
Chryse: The Ransom Returned (lines 419–492) of 7. Read it here for reference, or continue through the entire work without leaving the reader.
Open the complete readerOriginal Ancient Greek
τοῦτο δέ τοι ἐρέουσα ἔπος Διὶ τερπικεραύνῳεἶμʼ αὐτὴ πρὸς Ὄλυμπον ἀγάννιφον αἴ κε πίθηται.ἀλλὰ σὺ μὲν νῦν νηυσὶ παρήμενος ὠκυπόροισιμήνιʼ Ἀχαιοῖσιν, πολέμου δʼ ἀποπαύεο πάμπαν·Ζεὺς γὰρ ἐς Ὠκεανὸν μετʼ ἀμύμονας Αἰθιοπῆαςχθιζὸς ἔβη κατὰ δαῖτα, θεοὶ δʼ ἅμα πάντες ἕποντο·δωδεκάτῃ δέ τοι αὖτις ἐλεύσεται Οὔλυμπον δέ,καὶ τότʼ ἔπειτά τοι εἶμι Διὸς ποτὶ χαλκοβατὲς δῶ,καί μιν γουνάσομαι καί μιν πείσεσθαι ὀΐω.ὣς ἄρα φωνήσασʼ ἀπεβήσετο, τὸν δὲ λίπʼ αὐτοῦχωόμενον κατὰ θυμὸν ἐϋζώνοιο γυναικὸςτήν ῥα βίῃ ἀέκοντος ἀπηύρων· αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσεὺςἐς Χρύσην ἵκανεν ἄγων ἱερὴν ἑκατόμβην.οἳ δʼ ὅτε δὴ λιμένος πολυβενθέος ἐντὸς ἵκοντοἱστία μὲν στείλαντο, θέσαν δʼ ἐν νηῒ μελαίνῃ,ἱστὸν δʼ ἱστοδόκῃ πέλασαν προτόνοισιν ὑφέντεςκαρπαλίμως, τὴν δʼ εἰς ὅρμον προέρεσσαν ἐρετμοῖς.ἐκ δʼ εὐνὰς ἔβαλον, κατὰ δὲ πρυμνήσιʼ ἔδησαν·ἐκ δὲ καὶ αὐτοὶ βαῖνον ἐπὶ ῥηγμῖνι θαλάσσης,ἐκ δʼ ἑκατόμβην βῆσαν ἑκηβόλῳ Ἀπόλλωνι·ἐκ δὲ Χρυσηῒς νηὸς βῆ ποντοπόροιο.τὴν μὲν ἔπειτʼ ἐπὶ βωμὸν ἄγων πολύμητις Ὀδυσσεὺςπατρὶ φίλῳ ἐν χερσὶ τίθει καί μιν προσέειπεν·ὦ Χρύση, πρό μʼ ἔπεμψεν ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν Ἀγαμέμνωνπαῖδά τε σοὶ ἀγέμεν, Φοίβῳ θʼ ἱερὴν ἑκατόμβηνῥέξαι ὑπὲρ Δαναῶν ὄφρʼ ἱλασόμεσθα ἄνακτα,ὃς νῦν Ἀργείοισι πολύστονα κήδεʼ ἐφῆκεν.ὣς εἰπὼν ἐν χερσὶ τίθει, ὃ δὲ δέξατο χαίρωνπαῖδα φίλην· τοὶ δʼ ὦκα θεῷ ἱερὴν ἑκατόμβηνἑξείης ἔστησαν ἐΰδμητον περὶ βωμόν,χερνίψαντο δʼ ἔπειτα καὶ οὐλοχύτας ἀνέλοντο.τοῖσιν δὲ Χρύσης μεγάλʼ εὔχετο χεῖρας ἀνασχών·κλῦθί μευ ἀργυρότοξʼ, ὃς Χρύσην ἀμφιβέβηκαςΚίλλαν τε ζαθέην Τενέδοιό τε ἶφι ἀνάσσεις·ἦ μὲν δή ποτʼ ἐμεῦ πάρος ἔκλυες εὐξαμένοιο,τίμησας μὲν ἐμέ, μέγα δʼ ἴψαο λαὸν Ἀχαιῶν·ἠδʼ ἔτι καὶ νῦν μοι τόδʼ ἐπικρήηνον ἐέλδωρ·ἤδη νῦν Δαναοῖσιν ἀεικέα λοιγὸν ἄμυνον.ὣς ἔφατʼ εὐχόμενος, τοῦ δʼ ἔκλυε Φοῖβος Ἀπόλλων.αὐτὰρ ἐπεί ῥʼ εὔξαντο καὶ οὐλοχύτας προβάλοντο,αὐέρυσαν μὲν πρῶτα καὶ ἔσφαξαν καὶ ἔδειραν,μηρούς τʼ ἐξέταμον κατά τε κνίσῃ ἐκάλυψανδίπτυχα ποιήσαντες, ἐπʼ αὐτῶν δʼ ὠμοθέτησαν·καῖε δʼ ἐπὶ σχίζῃς ὁ γέρων, ἐπὶ δʼ αἴθοπα οἶνονλεῖβε· νέοι δὲ παρʼ αὐτὸν ἔχον πεμπώβολα χερσίν.αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ κατὰ μῆρε κάη καὶ σπλάγχνα πάσαντο,μίστυλλόν τʼ ἄρα τἆλλα καὶ ἀμφʼ ὀβελοῖσιν ἔπειραν,ὤπτησάν τε περιφραδέως, ἐρύσαντό τε πάντα.αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ παύσαντο πόνου τετύκοντό τε δαῖταδαίνυντʼ, οὐδέ τι θυμὸς ἐδεύετο δαιτὸς ἐΐσης.αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ πόσιος καὶ ἐδητύος ἐξ ἔρον ἕντο,κοῦροι μὲν κρητῆρας ἐπεστέψαντο ποτοῖο,νώμησαν δʼ ἄρα πᾶσιν ἐπαρξάμενοι δεπάεσσιν·οἳ δὲ πανημέριοι μολπῇ θεὸν ἱλάσκοντοκαλὸν ἀείδοντες παιήονα κοῦροι Ἀχαιῶνμέλποντες ἑκάεργον· ὃ δὲ φρένα τέρπετʼ ἀκούων.ἦμος δʼ ἠέλιος κατέδυ καὶ ἐπὶ κνέφας ἦλθε,δὴ τότε κοιμήσαντο παρὰ πρυμνήσια νηός·ἦμος δʼ ἠριγένεια φάνη ῥοδοδάκτυλος Ἠώς,καὶ τότʼ ἔπειτʼ ἀνάγοντο μετὰ στρατὸν εὐρὺν Ἀχαιῶν·τοῖσιν δʼ ἴκμενον οὖρον ἵει ἑκάεργος Ἀπόλλων·οἳ δʼ ἱστὸν στήσαντʼ ἀνά θʼ ἱστία λευκὰ πέτασσαν,ἐν δʼ ἄνεμος πρῆσεν μέσον ἱστίον, ἀμφὶ δὲ κῦμαστείρῃ πορφύρεον μεγάλʼ ἴαχε νηὸς ἰούσης·ἣ δʼ ἔθεεν κατὰ κῦμα διαπρήσσουσα κέλευθον.αὐτὰρ ἐπεί ῥʼ ἵκοντο κατὰ στρατὸν εὐρὺν Ἀχαιῶν,νῆα μὲν οἵ γε μέλαιναν ἐπʼ ἠπείροιο ἔρυσσανὑψοῦ ἐπὶ ψαμάθοις, ὑπὸ δʼ ἕρματα μακρὰ τάνυσσαν·αὐτοὶ δʼ ἐσκίδναντο κατὰ κλισίας τε νέας τε.αὐτὰρ ὃ μήνιε νηυσὶ παρήμενος ὠκυπόροισιδιογενὴς Πηλῆος υἱὸς πόδας ὠκὺς Ἀχιλλεύς·οὔτέ ποτʼ εἰς ἀγορὴν πωλέσκετο κυδιάνειρανοὔτέ ποτʼ ἐς πόλεμον, ἀλλὰ φθινύθεσκε φίλον κῆραὖθι μένων, ποθέεσκε δʼ ἀϋτήν τε πτόλεμόν τε.
Mouseia
Mouseia's complete machine-assisted Musean translation, made directly from the complete Greek text of Book 1 (611 lines, Perseus Digital Library edition) for fidelity, epic force, Homeric epithet and simile, and scene structure.
But Odysseus came to Chryse with the sacred hecatomb.When they had entered the deep harbor, they furled the sailsand stowed them in the black ship, and lowered the mastswiftly, easing it into its cradle, and rowed her in with oarsto her mooring. They threw out anchor-stones and made fastthe hawsers from the stern; and they went out on the shore of the sea,and carried out the hecatomb to the Far-Shooter Apollo,and set down the daughter of Chryses. And the brilliant Odysseusled her to the altar, and set her in her dear father's hands,and spoke to him: "O Chryses: the son of Atreus, Agamemnon,sent me to bring your daughter here, and to offer to the Far-Shootera sacred hecatomb for the Danaans — so the god may be appeased,who has now sown sorrow and grief upon the Argives."So he spoke, and set her in her father's hands. And the old man rejoiced,and straightway praised the god in words: "I would surely pray to you,lord Apollo, who shoot from afar: may the Achaeans find in youwhat they pray for." So he spoke aloud, and Apollo heard him praying.Then, when they had prayed and scattered barley, they firstdrew back the heads of the victims and cut their throats, and flayed them,and cut slices from the thighbones and wrapped them in fat,double folds, and laid raw meat upon them; and the old man burned themon cleft wood, and poured gleaming wine over them,and beside him the young men held five-pronged forks in their hands.But when the thighbones were burned and they had tasted the innards,they cut the rest into pieces and pierced them with spits,roasting them carefully, and drew all off from the spits.But when the work was done and the meal prepared, they feasted,and every man had his fill of food and drink. And thenthe young men filled the mixing-bowls with wine to the brim,and passed to all men drops in the cups. And all day longthe young men of the Achaeans propitiated the god with singing,singing the beautiful paean, hymning the Far-Shooter;and his heart was glad to hear. But when the sun went downand darkness came on, they laid themselves to sleepby the stern-cables of the ship. But when early Dawnshowed her rosy fingers, they went back to the wide campof the Achaeans. And the Far-Shooter Apollo sent thema fair following wind; and they raised the mast and spreadthe white sails. And the wind filled the belly of the sail,and the bright wave roared loudly about the keel as the ship ran,cutting her way through the waves. But when they came to the wide campof the Achaeans, they drew the black ship up onto the land,high upon the sand, and drove long stays beneath her,and then dispersed, each man to his shelter and his ship.But the son of Peleus, godlike, swift-footed Achillessat by his fast ships, nursing his fury. He did not goto the assembly that brings glory, nor to the field of war,but wasted his dear heart, staying there — and he longedalways for the war-cry and for battle.
Mouseia
Mouseia's complete Plain English edition, made independently and directly from all 611 lines of the Greek Book 1.
Odysseus brought the hundred oxen to Chryse.They sailed into the deep harbor, furled the sails,stowed them, lowered the mast into its cradle, and rowed to the mooring.Anchors down, ropes fast, they went ashoreand carried the hundred oxen out for Apollo,and brought Chryseis off the ship. Odysseus led herto the altar and put her in her father's arms: "Chryses —Agamemnon sent me to bring your daughter home,and a hundred oxen for the Far-Shooter,so the god will calm down and stop grieving the Greeks."He put her in her father's hands, and the old man rejoiced,praising the god aloud: "I pray to you, lord Apollo:let the Greeks find what they pray for."Apollo heard him. Then they prayed, scattered barley,pulled the victims' heads back and cut their throats, flayed them,cut out the thigh bones, wrapped them in fat,and the old man burned them on split wood, pouring wine on top,while the young men stood by with five-pronged forks.When the thigh bones were burned and everyone had tasted the organs,they cut up the rest, spitted it, and roasted it carefully.Then they feasted, everyone full of meat and wine,and the young men filled the wine bowls to the brimand poured cups for everyone. All day longthe young Greeks sang to please the god —a beautiful hymn to the Far-Shooter —and he listened with joy. When the sun went down,they slept by the ship's ropes. At dawn,when rosy-fingered Dawn appeared, they sailed for home.Apollo sent them a fair wind; they raised the mast,spread the white sails, and the wind filled them,the bright waves roaring around the keel as the ship ran.Back at camp they hauled the black ship up the beach,propped it with long timbers, and everyone went to their own tent.But Achilles, the fast runner, son of Peleus,sat by his ships, feeding his rage.He never went to the assembly, never went to battle —he sat there eating his own heart, longingfor the war cry and the fight.