10.178-207

The next eight verses describe the preparations for the feast, followed by a tranquil night’s sleep:

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ τάρπησαν ὁρώμενοι ὀφθαλμοῖσιν,
χεῖρας νιψάμενοι τεύχοντ᾽ ἐρικυδέα δαῖτα.
ὣς τότε μὲν πρόπαν ἦμαρ ἐς ἠέλιον καταδύντα
ἥμεθα δαινύμενοι κρέα τ᾽ ἄσπετα καὶ μέθυ ἡδύ:
ἦμος δ᾽ ἠέλιος κατέδυ καὶ ἐπὶ κνέφας ἦλθε,
δὴ τότε κοιμήθημεν ἐπὶ ῥηγμῖνι θαλάσσης.
ἦμος δ᾽ ἠριγένεια φάνη ῥοδοδάκτυλος Ἠώς,
καὶ τότ᾽ ἐγὼν ἀγορὴν θέμενος μετὰ πᾶσιν ἔειπον:

But when they had enjoyed looking at the stag, 
they washed their hands and prepared a glorious meal.
Then all day until the setting of the sun,
we sat feasting on the unlimited meal and sweet wine.
And when the sun went down and darkness fell,
we lay down to sleep on the edge of the sea.
But when rosy-fingered, early-born Dawn appeared,
I assembled the men and spoke to them:

Odyssey 10.181–88

The measured pace of these verses, with their high degree of coincidence between verse structure and sentence structure (that is, no harsh enjambment) and concentration of traditional, formulaic phrases (marked in bold typeface), give the passage a serene tone. We find a similar style in the last verses of the Iliad, as Homer describes the funeral of Hector, a soothing diminuendo after the tense and dramatic scenes in the hut of Achilles:

ἦμος δ᾽ ἠριγένεια φάνη ῥοδοδάκτυλος Ἠώς,
τῆμος ἄρ᾽ ἀμφὶ πυρὴν κλυτοῦ Ἕκτορος ἔγρετο λαός.
αὐτὰρ ἐπεί ῥ᾽ ἤγερθεν ὁμηγερέες τ᾽ ἐγένοντο
πρῶτον μὲν κατὰ πυρκαϊὴν σβέσαν αἴθοπι οἴνῳ
πᾶσαν, ὁπόσσον ἐπέσχε πυρὸς μένος: αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα
ὀστέα λευκὰ λέγοντο κασίγνητοί θ᾽ ἕταροί τε
μυρόμενοι, θαλερὸν δὲ κατείβετο δάκρυ παρειῶν.
καὶ τά γε χρυσείην ἐς λάρνακα θῆκαν ἑλόντες
πορφυρέοις πέπλοισι καλύψαντες μαλακοῖσιν.
αἶψα δ᾽ ἄρ᾽ ἐς κοίλην κάπετον θέσαν, αὐτὰρ ὕπερθε
πυκνοῖσιν λάεσσι κατεστόρεσαν μεγάλοισι:
ῥίμφα δὲ σῆμ᾽ ἔχεαν, περὶ δὲ σκοποὶ ἥατο πάντῃ,
μὴ πρὶν ἐφορμηθεῖεν ἐϋκνήμιδες Ἀχαιοί.
χεύαντες δὲ τὸ σῆμα πάλιν κίον: αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα
εὖ συναγειρόμενοι δαίνυντ᾽ ἐρικυδέα δαῖτα
δώμασιν ἐν Πριάμοιο διοτρεφέος βασιλῆος.

When early-born, rosy-fingered Dawn appeared,
then the people gathered around the pyre of famous Hector;
but when they were gathered in one place and all together,
first they quenched the fire’s embers with gleaming wine,
all of it, as much as the force of the fire held; but then
Hector’s brothers and companions gathered the white bones,
grieving, and warm tears flowed down their cheeks.
And lifting them they placed them in a golden urn,
covered all around with soft purple robes.
Swiftly they set the urn into a hollow grave,
and over it they piled huge, closely-packed stones;
quickly they poured a funeral barrow; around it guards sat
all night, lest the well-greaved Achaeans attack too soon.
They piled up the grave barrow and went away; but then
coming together they enjoyed a glorious meal
in the home of Priam, the king nourished by Zeus.
So they buried Hector, tamer of horses.

Iliad 24. 788–804

In both cases, the rhythmic and linguistic modulation lowers the tension of the passages, a respite for the audience after the dramatic scenes that precede them. Like the variation in the scale of successive episodes, this stylistic variation is further evidence of Homer’s skill at keeping his audience engaged in his long and complex narrative.

Odysseus’s next words to his crew shatter the temporary calm:

ὦ φίλοι, οὐ γάρ τ᾽ ἴδμεν, ὅπῃ ζόφος οὐδ᾽ ὅπῃ ἠώς,
οὐδ᾽ ὅπῃ ἠέλιος φαεσίμβροτος εἶσ᾽ ὑπὸ γαῖαν,
οὐδ᾽ ὅπῃ ἀννεῖται: ἀλλὰ φραζώμεθα θᾶσσον
εἴ τις ἔτ᾽ ἔσται μῆτις. ἐγὼ δ᾽ οὔκ οἴομαι εἶναι.

O friends, we know neither where the darkness is nor the dawn,
nor yet where the sun, which brings light to mortals, goes down,
nor where it rises. Still, we must find out as quickly as we can
if there is still any way out for us. But I do not think there is.

Odyssey 10. 190–93

Not the speech one wants to hear from the captain of the ship. In the context, μῆτις (193) could mean “plan, or “strategy,” but after the Polyphemus episode, we inevitably think of the hero’s crafty triumph over that powerful monster. Insofar as that echo is in our minds, we might conclude that not only does Odysseus fear that a similar cleverness may be unavailable, but that given the punning wordplay in the episode, Homer is hinting that the trickster who embodied it will also be absent. In the event, the interlude on Aiaia will turn out to be much less threatening to the hero and his crew than they might fear. Though Circe resembles Calypso at first, with frightening consequences for some of the crew, a critical divine intervention will change the atmosphere in the witch’s domain radically, as Circe becomes part of the next big adventure, the trip to the Underworld.

But for the moment, the poet hints at a dark and threatening future for the Greeks. By the end of Odysseus’s speech, the crew is already filled with dread, remembering what happened when they went to investigate the Cyclopes and Laestrygonians. Undaunted, the hero divides his men into two groups, one led by Eurylochus, the other by himself. Though the choice of which group will go first to scout the house in the woods is decided by lot, we are perhaps not surprised to hear that Odysseus’s group will stay behind.

Further Reading

Edwards, M.W. 1987. Homer: Poet of the Iliad, 55–60. Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press. 

———. 2002. Sound, Sense, and Rhythm: Listening to Greek and Latin Poetry, 1–37. Princeton: Princeton University Press.