μῆνιν ἄειδε θεὰ Πηληϊάδεω Ἀχιλῆος
οὐλομένην, ἣ μυρί᾽ Ἀχαιοῖς ἄλγε᾽ ἔθηκε,

πολλὰς δ᾽ ἰφθίμους ψυχὰς Ἄϊδι προΐαψεν
ἡρώων, αὐτοὺς δὲ ἑλώρια τεῦχε κύνεσσιν
5οἰωνοῖσί τε πᾶσι, Διὸς δ᾽ ἐτελείετο βουλή,
ἐξ οὗ δὴ τὰ πρῶτα διαστήτην ἐρίσαντε
Ἀτρεΐδης τε ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν καὶ δῖος Ἀχιλλεύς.
τίς τ᾽ ἄρ σφωε θεῶν ἔριδι ξυνέηκε μάχεσθαι;
Λητοῦς καὶ Διὸς υἱός: ὃ γὰρ βασιλῆϊ χολωθεὶς
10νοῦσον ἀνὰ στρατὸν ὄρσε κακήν, ὀλέκοντο δὲ λαοί,
οὕνεκα τὸν Χρύσην ἠτίμασεν ἀρητῆρα
Ἀτρεΐδης: ὃ γὰρ ἦλθε θοὰς ἐπὶ νῆας Ἀχαιῶν
λυσόμενός τε θύγατρα φέρων τ᾽ ἀπερείσι᾽ ἄποινα,
στέμματ᾽ ἔχων ἐν χερσὶν ἑκηβόλου Ἀπόλλωνος
15χρυσέῳ ἀνὰ σκήπτρῳ, καὶ λίσσετο πάντας Ἀχαιούς,
Ἀτρεΐδα δὲ μάλιστα δύω, κοσμήτορε λαῶν:
Ἀτρεΐδαι τε καὶ ἄλλοι ἐϋκνήμιδες Ἀχαιοί,
ὑμῖν μὲν θεοὶ δοῖεν Ὀλύμπια δώματ᾽ ἔχοντες
ἐκπέρσαι Πριάμοιο πόλιν, εὖ δ᾽ οἴκαδ᾽ ἱκέσθαι:
20παῖδα δ᾽ ἐμοὶ λύσαιτε φίλην, τὰ δ᾽ ἄποινα δέχεσθαι,
ἁζόμενοι Διὸς υἱὸν ἑκηβόλον Ἀπόλλωνα.

Ἄνδρα μοι ἔννεπε, Μοῦσα, πολύτροπον, ὃς μάλα πολλὰ
πλάγχθη, ἐπεὶ Τροίης ἱερὸν πτολίεθρον ἔπερσε·

πολλῶν δ’ ἀνθρώπων ἴδεν ἄστεα καὶ νόον ἔγνω,
πολλὰ δ’ ὅ γ’ ἐν πόντῳ πάθεν ἄλγεα ὃν κατὰ θυμόν,
ἀρνύμενος ἥν τε ψυχὴν καὶ νόστον ἑταίρων.
ἀλλ' οὐδ' ὧς ἑτάρους ἐρρύσατο, ἱέμενός περ·
αὐτῶν γὰρ σφετέρῃσιν ἀτασθαλίῃσιν ὄλοντο,
νήπιοι, οἳ κατὰ βοῦς Ὑπερίονος Ἠελίοιο
ἤσθιον· αὐτὰρ ὁ τοῖσιν ἀφείλετο νόστιμον ἦμαρ.
τῶν ἁμόθεν γε, θεά, θύγατερ Διός, εἰπὲ καὶ ἡμῖν.

ândra moi   ênnepe,   Moûsa, po-  lûtropon,   hôs mala   pôlla
plângthe, e-  peî Troî-  ês hiër-  ôn ptoli-  êthron e-  pêrse;
pôllôn   d'ânthrô-  pôn iden   âstea   kaî noön   êgnô,
pôlla d'ho   g'ên pôn-  tô pathen   âlgea   hôn kata   thûmon
ârnumen-  ôs hên   tê psûch-  ên kaî   nôston he-  taîrôn.
âll' oûd'   hôs heta-  roûs êr-  rûsato,   îëmen-  ôs per;
aûtôn   gâr spheter-  êsin a-  tâsthali-  eîsin o-  lônto,
nêpioi,   hoî kata   boûs hyper-  îonos   êëli/oîo
toîsin a-   pheîleto   nôstimon   êmar.
tôn hamo-   thên ge, the-   â, thuga-  têr Dios,   eîpe kai   hêmîn.

M. P.

dramatist, poet, classicist

The man, O Muse, inform, that many a way
Wound with his wisdom to his wished stay;

That wandered wondrous far, when he the town
Of sacred Troy had sack'd and shivered down;
The cities of a world of nations,
With all their manners, minds, and fashions,
He saw and knew; at sea felt many woes,
Much care sustained, to save from overthrows
Himself and friends in their retreat for home;
But so their fates he could not overcome,
Though much he thirsted it. O men unwise,
They perish'd by their own impieties,
That in their hunger's rapine would not shun
The oxen of the lofty-going Sun,
Who therefore from their eyes the day bereft
Of safe return. These acts, in some part left,
Tell us, as others, deified Seed of Jove.

cartographer, publisher, translator

That prudent Hero's wandering, Muse, rehearse,
Who (Troy b'ing sack'd) coasting the Universe,

Saw many Cities, and their various Modes;
Much suffering, tost by Storms on raging Floods,
His Friends conducting to their Native Coast:
But all in vain, for he his Navy lost,
And they their Lives, prophanely feasting on
Herds consecrated to the glorious Sun;
Who much incens'd obstructed so their way,
They ne'er return'd : Jove's Daughter this display.

acclaimed philosopher, etc.

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.

dramatist

Poet Laureate

translator, accountant

1689–1745

poet, translator

1680–1734

poet

The man for wisdom’s various arts renown’d,
Long exercised in woes, O Muse! resound;

Who, when his arms had wrought the destined fall
Of sacred Troy, and razed her heaven-built wall,
Wandering from clime to clime, observant stray’d,
Their manners noted, and their states survey’d,
On stormy seas unnumber’d toils he bore,
Safe with his friends to gain his natal shore:
Vain toils! their impious folly dared to prey
On herds devoted to the god of day;
The god vindictive doom’d them never more
(Ah, men unbless’d!) to touch that natal shore.
Oh, snatch some portion of these acts from fate,
Celestial Muse! and to our world relate.

poet

poet, biographer, translator

poet, compiler of Scots Gaelic poems, politician

poet and hymnodist

Muse make the man thy theme, for shrewdness famed
And genius versatile, who far and wide

A Wand’rer, after Ilium overthrown,
Discover’d various cities, and the mind
And manners learn’d of men, in lands remote.
He num’rous woes on Ocean toss’d, endured,
Anxious to save himself, and to conduct
His followers to their home; yet all his care
Preserved them not; they perish’d self-destroy’d
By their own fault; infatuate! who devoured
The oxen of the all-o’erseeing Sun,
And, punish’d for that crime, return’d no more.
Daughter divine of Jove, these things record,
As it may please thee, even in our ears.

Scots Roman Catholic theologian; scholar, poet

author, translator

O Muse, inspire me to tell of the crafty
man, who wandered very much after he

had brought to destruction the sacred
city of Tioy, and saw the cities of many
men, and became acquainted with their
disposition. He suffered many griefs in
his mind on the sea, to preserve his own
life, and to obtain a return for his
companions; but not even thus, although
anxious, did he save his companions: for
they perished by their own wickedness,
fools who consumed the cattle of the
Sun who journeys above; but he
deprived them of their return. O
Goddess, daughter of Jove, relate even
to us some of these things at least.

poet, translator

Muse! sing the Man by long experience tried,
Who, fertile in resources, wander'd wide,

And when Troy's sacred walls in dust were laid,
Men's varying moods and many a realm survey'd.
He much endured on ocean's stormy wave,
Intent his followers, and himself to save,
In vain:—they perish'd by their guilt undone;
Fools! who devour'd the bullocks of the Sun—
The God, in vengeance for his cattle slain,
In their return destroy'd them on the main.
Daughter of Jove! deign thou to us disclose,
Celestial Muse, a portion of their woes.

American lawyer

mathematician, inventor, classicist

translator

O Muse, sing to me of the man full of
resources, who wandered very much

after he had destroyed the sacred city
of Troy, and saw the cities of many
men, and learned their manners. Many
griefs also in his mind did he suffer on
the sea, although seeking to preserve
his own life, and the return of his
companions; but not even thus,
although anxious, did he extricate his
companions : for they perished by
their own infatuation, fools! who
devoured the oxen of the Sun who
journeys on high; but he deprived
them of their return. O goddess,
daughter of Jove, relate to us also
some of these things.

barrister

Sing me, O Muse, that all-experienced Man,
Who, after he Troy's sacred town o'erthrew,

Did tossing wander much, and cities scan
Of men a many, and their genius knew;
Woes manifold by sea he suffer'd too
While life and friends' return he 'd fain have won.
Nathless he rescued not his comrades, who
By their own wilful folly were undone;
The fools! that ate the beeves of the o'ergoing Sun.
 
And from them verily he took away
The day of their return. These things to me,
Daughter of Zeus, O goddess, somewhat say.

classics professor

translator, poet, accountant

critic, social commentator, poet

theologian, textual critic, scholar, poet, hymnodist

Tell of the man, thou Muse, much versed, who widely
Wandered, when he had sacked Troy’s sacred fortress;

Many men’s town 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.

poet

Sing me. O Muse, that hero wandering,
Who of men's minds did much experience reap,

And knew the citied realms of many a king,
Even from the hour he smote the Trojan keep.
Also a weight of sorrows in the deep,
Brooding he bore, in earnest hope to save,
'Mid hard emprise and labour all to keep,
Himself and comrades from a watery grave —
Whom yet he rescued not with zeal nor yeareings brave;
For they were slain in their own foolishness.
 
Self-blinded, feasting on Hyperion's kine.
He, the great Sun, in vengeance merciless,
Wroth for the slaughter of his herds divine,
Did bend their fortunes to a stern decline.
And raze out wholly their returning day
With disadventure and destroying tyne —
These even to me, who hearken as I may,
Great goddess, child of Zeus, unfold in verse, I pray!

headmaster, scholar, prolific author, clergyman

Εννεπε declare μοιI to me, Мουσα Muse,
ανδρα the man πολυτροπον of many

fortunes, ός whoπλαγχθη wandered μαλα
πολλα very much, επει when επερσεν he
had destroyed ιερον πτολιεθρον the
sacred city Τροιης of Troy: ιδε δε and saw
αστεα towns και and εγνων learnt νοον
the mood πολλων ανθρωπων of many
men, πολλα δε αλγεα but many sorrows
όγε he indeed παθε suffered όν κατα
θυμον in his soul, αρνυμενος while
grasping ήν τε ψυχην both his own life και
and νοστον the return έταιρων of his
companions. Αλλα but ουδε not even ώς
thus ερρυσατο did he save έταρους his
companions ίεμενος περ though bent
upon it: ολοντο γαρ for they perished
σφετερησιν ατασσθαλιησι by their own
phrensies, νηπιοι fools, όι who κατα
ησθιον ate up βους the oxen Ήελιοιο of
the SunΎπερινος who rolls above us:
αυταρ but ό he αφειλετο took away τοισι
from them νοστιμον ημαρ the day of their
return: των of these things άμοθεν γε from
whatever source, θεα O goddess, θυγατερ
daughter Διος of Jupiter, ειπε tell και ημιν
to us also.

East India Company

Sing, divine Muse, sing the implacable wrath of Achilleus!
Heavy with death and with woe to the banded sons of Achaia!

Many the souls of the mighty, the souls of redoubtable heroes,
Hurried by it prematurely to Hades. The vultures and wild-dogs
Tore their tombless limbs. Yet thus did the will of the Highest
Work to an end—from the day when strife drove madly asunder,
Atreus' son, king of men; and the Godlike leader Achilleus.

clergyman

The travelled Man of many a turn,—driven far,
Far wandering, when he had sacked Troy’s sacred Town;

Tell me, O Muse, his tale; how too he conned
The manners of mankind, and visited
Full many a City, and how on the deep he suffered
Many a heart-pang, striving to secure
His own and comrades’ lives and safe return,
Yet them he rescued not, howe’er desirous;
For by their own blind folly they all perished:
Fools that they were! to eat the Sun-god’s herds;
So, Hyperion, he who Walks above,
Bereft them of their day of home-return!
Whereof, from whatsoever source, O goddess,
Daughter of Zeus, vouchsafe to tell e’en Us!—

Prime Minister

poet

1825–1869

classics professor

clergyman, scholar, writer

Tell me, O Muse, declare to me that man
Tost to and fro by fate, who, when his arms

Had laid Troy’s holy city in the dust,
Far wand’ring roam’d on many a tribe of men
To bend his gaze, their minds and thoughts to learn.
Grief upon grief encounter’d he, when, borne
On ocean-waves, his life he carried off
A prize from perils rescued, and would fain
Have homeward led his brethren in arms;
But, not to him,—not to his anxious zeal
Was giv’n their rescue; destin’d as they were
In their mad arrogance to perish; fools!
That dared to seize, and to consume for food,
Hyperion’s herds, the oxen of the Sun
That walks on high, by whose behest the day
Of their return was evermore denied.
And thou, too, goddess daughter of great Jove,
The theme pursue, and thine own record bear!

Scots professor of classics

scientist

poet, wit

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 hosom, 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!

Sing, Muse, of that deep man, who wander'd much,
When he had raz'd the walls of sacred Troy,

And many towns saw, many customs learnt,
And many griefs endur'd upon the sea;
Anxious to save his comrades and himself:
But them he sav'd not, though desiring it:
But through their rash deeds perish'd of that band
Those foolish men, who ate Apollo's kine:
That god depriv'd them of return's glad day.
Of these men, goddess, tell us too in part!

clergyman, historian

American poet, Evening Post editor

Tell me, 0 Muse, of that sagacious man
Who, having overthrown the sacred town

Of Ilium, wandered far and visited
The capitals of many notians, learned
The customs of their dwellers, and endured
Great suffering on the deep; his life was oft
In peril, as he labored to bring back
His comrades to their homes. He saved them not,
Though earnestly he strove; for they perished all
Through their own folly ; for they banqueted,
Madmen! upon the oxen of the Sun, —
The all-o'erlooking Sun, who cut them off,
From their return. O goddess, virgin child
Of Jove, relate some'part of this to me.

civil servant, British Raj

Sing through my lips, O Goddess, sing the man
Resourceful, who, storm-buffeted far and wide,

After despoiling of Troy's sacred tower,
Beheld the cities of mankind, and knew
Their various temper! Many on the sea
The sorrows in his inmost heart he bore
For rescue of his comrades and his life;
Those not for all his effort might he save;
Fools, of their own perversities they fell,
Daring consume the cattle of the Sun
Hyperion, who bereft them of return!
That we too may have knowledge, sing these things,
Daughter of Zeus, beginning whence thou wilt!

American lawyer

clergyman, translator

Muse! tell me of the man with much resource,
Who wandered far, when sacred Troy he sacked;

Saw towns of many men, learned all they knew,
Winning his own life and his friends’ return.
Yet them he saved not, earnest though he was,
For by their own temerity they died.
Fools! who devoured the oxen of the sun,
Who from them took the day of their return.
[Muse, child of Jove! from some source tell us this.]

Oxford classicist and clergyman

1823–1866

Oxford classicist

 — Note: not a translation, per se, but the
Greek text with commentary —

translator

O Muse! inspire me to tell of the man,
skilled in sxpedients, who wandered

very much after he had brought to
destruction the sacred city of Troy,
and saw the cities of many men, and
become acquainted with their
dispositions. And he, indeed, on the
deep, endured in bis mind many
sufferings, whilst endeavoring to
secure his own life and the return of
his companions; but not even thus,
although anxious, did he save his
companions : for they perished by
their own infatuation; foolish [men
that they were], who did eat up the
Sun who journeys above; but he
deprived them of their return [the
day of return]. Of these events,
arising from whatever cause, O
goddess! daughter of Jove, inform
us also.

Anglo-Irish professor of classics

1844–1912

Scots poet, historian, critic, folk tales collector, etc.

Tell me, Muse, of that man, so ready at need,
who wandered far and wide, after he had sacked

the sacred citadel of Troy, and many were the
men whose towns he saw and whose mind he
learnt, yea, and many the woes he suffered in
his heart upon the deep, striving to win his own
life and the return of his company. Nay, but even
so he saved not his company, though he desired
it sore. For through the blindness of their own
hearts they perished, fools, who devoured the
oxen of Helios Hyperion: but the god took from
them their day of returning. Of these things,
goddess, daughter of Zeus, whencesoever thou
hast heard thereof, declare thou even unto us.

British Raj army general

Sing Muse the hero versatile, who roved
So far, so long, after he overthrew

Troy's holy citadel ; of many men
He saw the cities, and their manners learned;
And woes he suffered on the deep; he strove
To win his comrades' lives, and safe return.
But all his strivings failed to rescue them:
They perished for their witless sacrilege,
Who ate the oxen of Hyperion Sun;
Hence nevermore saw they their native land.
Daughter of Jove, help us to tell the tale.

governor, M. P.

Muse! of that hero versatile indite to me the song,
Doomed, when he sacred Troy had sacked, to wander far and long.

Who saw the towns of many men, much knowledge did obtain
Anent their ways, and with much woe was heart-wrung on the main,
Seeking his own life to preserve, his friends' return to gain.
E'en so he rescued not his friends, though eagerly he strove,
For them their own infatuate deeds to direful ending drove.
Fools, who the sun-god's sacred beeves dared madly to devour,
Doomed by his anger ne'er to see of glad return the hour.
Sing, goddess, child of mighty Jove, of these events, I pray,
And from what starting-point thou wilt begin with me the lay.

Australian classicist, headmaster

The Hero of craft-renown, O Song-goddess, chant me his fame,
Who, when low he had laid Troy town, unto many a far land came,

And many a city beheld he, and knew the hearts of their folk,
And by woes of the sea was unquelled, o'er the rock of his spirit that broke,
When he fain would won for a prey his life, and his friends' return,
Yet never they saw that day, howsoever his heart might yearn,
But they perished every one, by their own mad deeds did they fall,
For they slaughtered the kine of the Sun, and devoured them — fools were they all.
So the God in his wrath took awav their day of return for their guilt.
[(1903 edition): So in anger their home-coming day did the God take away for their guilt.]
O Goddess, inspire my lay, with their tale; take it up as thou wilt.

translator, clergyman

 — Note: not a translation, per se, but the
Greek text with "marginal references, various
readings, notes and appendices." —

 — Note: Not a translation, per se,
but a commentary. Edition inclusive
of Books 11 – 24 —

Scots poet, historian, critic, folk tales collector, etc.

1852–1927

banker, scholar

1844–1921

poet, classicist

American professor, philosopher, author

Speak to me, Muse, of the adventurous man
who wandered long after he sacked the sacred

citadel of Troy. Many the men whose towns he
saw, whose ways he proved ; and many a pang
he bore in his own breast at sea while struggling
for his' life and his men's safe return. Yet even
so, by all his zeal, he did not save his men; for
through their own perversity they perished—
fools! who devoured the kine of the exhalted
Sun. Wherefore he took away the day of their return.
Of this, O goddess, daughter of Zeus,
beginning where thou wilt, speak to us also.

poet, author, artist

Tell me, O Muse, of the Shifty, the man who wandered afar.
After the Holy Burg, Troy town, he had wasted with war;

He saw the towns of menfolk, and the mind of men did he learn;
As he warded his life in the world, and his fellow-farers' return,
Many a grief of heart on the deep-sea flood he bore,
Nor yet might he save his fellows, for all that he longed for it sore
They died of their own soul's folly, for witless as they were
They ate up the beasts of the Sun, the Rider of the air,
And he took away from them all their dear returning day;
O goddess, O daughter of Zeus, from whencesoever ye may,
Gather the tale, and tell it, yea even to us at the last!

American educator, author, translator

Tell me, O Muse, of the man of many resources, who many
Ills was made to endure, when he Troy's sacred city had wasted;

Many the people whose cities he saw,and learned of their customs,
Many also the sorrows he suffered at sea in his spirit,
Striving to save his own life and secure the return of his comrades
But not thus his comrades he saved, however he wished it,
For by their own presumptuous deeds they foolishly perished:
Madmen they, who devoured the sun god, Hyperion's oxen,
And in revenge he took from them their day of returning.
Of these things, thou goddess, daughter of Jove, tell us also.

novelist, essayist, critic

Tell me, O muse, of that ingenious hero who
travelled far and wide after he had sacked the

famous town of Troy. Many cities did he visit,
and many were the nations with whose
manners and customs he was acquainted;
moreover he suffered much by sea while
trying to save his own life and bring his
men safely home; but do what he might
he could not save his men, for they
perished through their own sheer folly
in eating the cattle of the Sun-god
Hyperion; so the god prevented them
from ever reaching home. Tell me, too, about
all these things, O daughter of Jove, from
whatsoever source you may know them.

Scots anatomy professor, Homerist

— Note: translation inclusive of Books 13–24 —

Oxford Professor of Poetry

O Muse, instruct me of the man who drew
His changeful course through wanderings not a few

After he sacked the holy town of Troy,
And saw the cities and the counsel knew

Of many men, and many a time at sea
Within his heart he bore calamity,
While his own life he laboured to redeem
And bring his fellows back from jeopardy.

Yet not his fellows thus from death he won,
Fain as he was to save them: who undone
By their own hearts' infatuation died,
Fools, that devoured the oxen of the Sun,

Hyperion: and therefore he the day
Of their returning homeward reft away.
Goddess, God's daughter, grant that now thereof
We too may hear, such portion as we may.

educator, classicist, poet

essayist, translator

Sing, O Muse, of the man so wary and wise, who in far lands
Wandered whenas he had wasted the sacred town of the Trojans.

Many a people he saw and beheld their cities and customs,
Many a woe he endured in his heart as he tossed on the ocean,
Striving to win him his life and to bring home safely his comrades.
Ah but he rescued them not, those comrades, much as he wished it.
Ruined by their own act of infatuate madness they perished,
Fools that they were—who the cows of the sun-god, lord Hyperion,
Slaughtered and ate; and he took from the men their day of returning.
Sing—whence-ever the lay—sing, Zeus-born goddess, for us too!

American professor of classics

Tell me, O Muse, of the man of many devices,
who wandered full many ways after he had

sacked the sacred citadel of Troy. Many
were the men whose cities he saw and
whose mind he learned, aye, and many
the woes he suffered in his heart upon
the sea, seeking to win his own life and
the return of his comrades. Yet even so
he saved not his comrades, though he
desired it sore, for through their own
blind folly they perished—fools, who
devoured the kine of Helios Hyperion;
but he took from them the day of their
returning. Of these things, goddess,
daughter of Zeus, beginning where thou
wilt, tell thou even unto us.

Sing me the Restless Man, O Muse, who roamed the world over,
When, by his wondrous guile, he had sacked Troy's sacred fortress.

Cities of various men he saw: their thoughts he discernéd.
Many a time, in the deep, his heart was melted for trouble.
Striving to win his life, and eke return for his comrades:
Yet, though he strove full sore, he could not save his companions,
For, as was meet and just, through deeds of folly they perished:
Fools ! who devoured the oxen of Him who rides in the heavens,
Helios, who, in his course, missed out their day of returning.
Yet, how they fared and died, be gracious, O Goddess, to tell us.

Māny a | tĩme in the | deēp [– (pause or 'cæsura')] hĩs | heārt was | mēlted for | trōublē,

governor, British Raj

Tell me, O Muse, of that Great Traveller
Who wandered far and wide when he had sacked

The sacred town of Troy. Of many men
He saw the cities and he learned the mind;
Ay, and at heart he suffered many woes
Upon the sea, intent to save his life
And bring his comrades home. Yet even so
His men he could not save for all his efforts,
For through their own blind wilfulness they perished;
The fools! who ate up Hyperion's kine;
And he bereft them of their homing day.
Touching these things, beginning where thou wilt,
Tell even us, O goddess, child of Zeus.

American professor of Greek

Tell me, O Muse, of that clever hero
who wandered far after capturing the

sacred city of Troy. For he saw the
towns and learned the ways of many
peoples. Many hardships too he
suffered on the sea while struggling
for his own life and for the safe return
of his men. Yet all his zeal did not save
his companions. They perished through
their own rashness — the fools! — because
they ate the cattle of the Sun, and he
therefore kept them from reaching
home. Tell us also of this, 0 goddess,
daughter of Zeus, beginning where
you will.

novelist, short-story writer

Tell me the tale, Muse, of that man
Of many changes, he who went

Wandering so far when he had plundered
Troy’s sacred citadel. And many
The men whose cities he beheld,
Whose minds he learned to know, and many
The sorrows that his soul endured
Upon the deep the while he strove
To save himself from death and bring
His comrades home.
                                    Of these things now,
Daughter of Zeus, O goddess, tell us,
Even as thou wilt, the tale.

archaeological scholar, military strategist, author

              Goddess-Daughter of Zeus
                       Sustain for Me

  This Song of the Various-Minded Man
        Who after He Had Plundered
 The Innermost Citadel of Hallowed Troy
       Was Made to Stray Grievously
          About the Coasts of Men
The Sport of Their Customs Good or Bad
                  While His Heart
            Through All the Seafaring
  Ached in an Agony to Redeem Himself
     And Bring His Company Safe Home
 
                Vain Hope—For Them
        For His Fellows He Strove in Vain
Their Own Witlessness Cast Them Away
                       The Fools
              To Destroy for Meat
    The Oxen of the Most Exalted Sun
  Wherefore the Sun-God Blotted out
         The Day of Their Return
 
          Make the Tale Live for Us
           In all Its Many Bearings
                        O Muse

Professor of Roman Law, translator, classicist

pedogogist of classic studies

This is the story of a man, one who
was never at a loss. He had travelled

far in the world, after the sack of Troy,
the virgin fortress; he saw many cities
of men, and learnt their mind; he endured
many troubles and hardships in the
struggle to save his own life and to bring
back his men safe to their homes. He did
his best, but he could not save his
companions. For they perished by their
own madness, because they killed and ate
the cattle of Hyperion the Sun-god, and
the god took care that they should never
see home again.

Classicist, translator, poet

American professor of mathematics

1864–1949

American professor of classics, archaeologist

classicist, publisher, poet

The hero of the tale which I beg the
Muse to help me tell is that resourceful

man who roamed the wide world after he
had sacked the holy citadel of Troy. He
saw the cities of many peoples and he
learnt their ways. He suffered many
hardships on the high seas in his
struggles to preserve his life and bring
his comrades home. But he failed to save
those comrades, in spite of all his efforts.
It was their own sin that brought them to
their doom, for in their folly they devoured
the oxen of Hyperion the Sun, and the god
saw to it that they should never return.
This is the tale I pray the divine Muse to
unfold to us. Begin it, goddess, at whatever
point you will.

headmaster, classicist

Tell me, O muse, of the hero fated to roam
So long and so far when Ilion's keep he had sack'd,

And the city and mind of many a people he knew,
And many a woe he endur'd on the face of the deep
To win both life for himself and his comrades' return;
Yet for all his striving he brought not his company home,
For they by their own blindness at last were stroy'd,
Fools! who ate of the sacred beeves of the Sun
And he, Hyperion, ras'd out their day of return:
Sing, then, O daughter of Zeus, that Wanderer's tale.

American chairman of preparatory school classics department

1913–1998

Pychologist, professor of education, classicist

poet, translator

Tell me, Muse, of the man of many ways,
who was driven far journeys, after he had

sacked Troy's sacred citadel. Many were
they whose cities he saw, whose minds he
learned of, many the pains he suffered in
his spirit on the wide sea, struggling for
his own life and the homecoming of his
companions. Even so he could not save
his companions, hard though he strove
to; they were destroyed by their own
wild recklessness, fools, who devoured
the oxen of Helios, the Sun God, and
he took away the day of their
homecoming. From some point here,
goddess, daughter of Zeus, speak, and
begin our story.

Professor of Poetry, translator, novelist

American Professor of English, poet, translator

Of that versatile man, O Muse, tell me the story,
How he wandered both long and far after sacking

The city of holy Troy. May were the towns
He saw and many the men whose minds he knew,
And many were the woes his stout heart suffered at sea
As he fought to return alive with living comrades.
Them he could not save, though much he longed to,
For through their own thoughtless greed they died -- blind fools
Who slaughtered the Sun's own cattle, Hyperion's herd,
For food, and so by him were kept from returning.
Of all these things, O Goddess, daughter of Zeus,
Beginning wherever you swish, tell even us.

American Professor of Rhetoric and Oratory, poet, critic, translator

Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story
of that man skilled in all ways of contending,

the wanderer, harried for years on end,
after he plundered the stronghold
on the proud height of Troy.
                                He saw the townlands
and learned the minds of many distant men,
and weathered many bitter nights and days
in his deep heart at sea, while he fought only
to save his life, to bring his shipmates home.
But not by will nor valor could he save them,
for their own recklessness destroyed them all--
children and fools, they killed and feasted on
the cattle of Lord Hêlios, the Sun,
and he who moves all day through heaven
took from their eyes the dawn of their return.
Of these adventures, Muse, daughter of Zeus,
tell us in our time, lift up great song again.

American classics professor, translator

Professor of Comparative Literature, English and Classics

Tell me, Muse, about the man of many turns, who many
Ways wandered when he had sacked Troy's holy citadel;

He saw the cities of many men, and he knew their thought;
On the ocean he suffered many pains within his heart,
Striving for his life and his companions' return.
But he did not save his companions, though he wanted to:
They lost their own lives because of their recklessness.
The fools, they devoured the cattle of Hyperion,
The Sun, and he took away the day of their return.
Begin the tale somewhere for us also, goddess, daughter of Zeus.

American classicist

Professor of classics, poet

Goddess of song, teach me the story
of a hero.

  This was the man of wide-ranging
spirit who had sacked the sacred town
of Troy and who wandered afterwards
long and far. Many were those whose
cities he viewed and whose minds he
came to know, many the troubles that
vexed his heart as he sailed the seas,
labouring to save himself and to bring
his comrades home. But his comrades
he could not keep from ruin, strive as
he might; they perished instead by
their own presumptuousness. Fools,
they devoured the cattle of Hyperion,
and he, the sun-god, cut off from
them the day of their homecoming.
  Goddess, daughter of Zeus, to me
in turn impart some knowledge of all
these things, beginning where you will.

Headmaster, classicist

Sing, goddess, of the anger of Achilleus, son of Peleus, the

accursed anger which brought uncounted anguish on the Achaians and hurled down to Hades many mighty souls of heroes, making their bodies the prey to dogs and the birds' feasting: and this was the working of Zeus' will. Sing from the time of the first quarrel which divided Atreus' son, the lord of men, and godlike Achilleus.

  Muse, tell me of a man – a man
of much resource, who was made

to wander far and long, after he had sacked the sacred city of Troy. Many were the men whose lands he saw and came to know their thinking, many too the miseries at sea which he suffered in his heart as he sought to win his own life and the safe return of his companions. They perished through their own arrant folly – the fools, they ate the cattle of Hyperion the Sun, and he took away the day of their return.   Start the story where you will, goddess, daughter of Zeus, and share it now with us.

American professor of Italian literature and of humanities, poet, translator

  Muse, tell me of the man of many wiles,
the man who wandered many paths of exile

after he sacked Troy's sacred citadel.
He saw the cities – mapped the minds – of many;
and on the sea, his spirit suffered every
adversity – to keep his life intact,
to bring his comrades back. In that last task,
his will was firm and fast, and yet he failed:
he could not save his comrades. Fools, they foiled
themselves: they ate the oxen of the Sun,
the herd of Helios Hyperion;
the lord of light requited their transgression –
he took away the day of their return.
  Muse, tell us of these matters. Daughter of Zeus,
my starting point is any point you choose.

Poet, classicist, orientalist

classicist, publisher, poet

1916–2008

Headmaster, classicist

____

Classicist, writer, journalist

Tell me, Muse of that resourceful
man who was driven to wander far

and wide after he had sacked the
holy citadel of Troy. He saw the
cities of many people and he learnt
their ways. He suffered great
anguish on the high seas in his
struggles to preserve life and
bring his comrades home. But he
failed to save those comrades,
in spite of all his efforts. It
was their own transgression that
brought them to their doom, for in
their folly they devoured the oxen
of Hyperion the Sun-god and he
saw to it that they would never
return. Tell us this story,
goddess daughter of Zeus,
beginning at whatever point you
will.

American professor of English, poet

  Sing to me of the man, Muse, the
man of twists and turns driven

time and again off course, once
he had plundered the hallowed
heights of Troy.
  Many cities of men he saw and
learned their minds, many pains
he suffered, heartsick on the
open sea, fighting to save his life
and bring his comrades home.
But he could not save them from
disaster, hard as he strove –
the recklessness of their own
ways destroyed them all, the
blind fools, they devoured the
cattle of the Sun and the Sungod
blotted out the day of their
return. Launch out on his story,
Muse, daughter of Zeus, start
from where you will –sing
for our time too.

Headmaster, classicist

Tell me, O Muse, of a man of resourceful spirit who wandered
Far, having taken by storm Troy's sacred city and sacked it.

Many the men whose cities he saw, whose thoughts he discovered;
Many the grievous troubles he suffered at sea in his spirit,
Striving to save his life and restore his friends to their homeland.
Yet he failed in the end to save his friends by his efforts.
By their folly they perished, by their own folly and blindness,
Fools, who elected to feed on great Hyperion's oxen;
So that God of the Sun denied their day of returning.
Tell us the tale, goddess, daughter of Zeus, and choose the beginning.

Tell me, Muse, of the versatile man who
was driven off course many

times after he had sacked the holy
citadel of Troy. Many were the
peoples whose cities he saw, and
whose minds he got to know; and at
sea many were the pains he felt in
his heart as he tried to secure his own
life and his comrades’ return home.
Even so he did not save them, much
as he wanted to. Instead they perished
through their own outrageous , foolish
men who ate up the cattle of Hyperion
the Sun; and he took from them the day
of their homecoming. From some point
or other, goddess, daughter of Zeus,
tell us too about these things.

Poet

American Professor of Classics

Rage:
Sing, Goddess, Achilles' rage, Black and murderous, that cost the Greeks Incalculable pain,

pitched countless souls Of heroes into Hades' dark, And left their bodies to rot as feasts For dogs and birds, as Zeus' will was done. Begin with the clash between Agamemnon— The Greek warlord—and godlike Achilles.

  Speak, Memory –
                                   Of the cunning hero

The wanderer, blown off course time and again
After he plundered Troy's sacred heights.
                                                           Speak
Of all the cities he saw, the minds he grasped,
The suffering deep in his heart at sea
As he struggled to survive and bring his men home
But could not save them, hard as he tried –
The fools – destroyed by their own recklessness
When they ate the oxen of Hyperion the Sun,
And that god snuffed out their day of return.
                               Of these things,
 Speak, Immortal One,
And tell the tale once more in our time.

Muse, speak to me now of that resourceful man
who wandered far and wide after ravaging

the sacred citadel of Troy. He came to see
many people’s cities, where he learned their customs,
while on the sea his spirit suffered many torments,
as he fought to save his life and lead his comrades home.
But though he wanted to, he could not rescue them—
they all died from their own stupidity, the fools.
They feasted on the cattle of Hyperion,
god of the sun—that’s why he snatched away their chance
of getting home someday. So now, daughter of Zeus,
tell us his story, starting anywhere you wish.

Tell me, Muse, of the man versatile and resourceful, who wandered
many a sea-mile after he ransacked Troy’s holy city.

Many the men whose towns he observed, whose minds he discovered,
many the pains in his heart he suffered, traversing the seaway,
fighting for his own life and a way back home for his comrades.
Not even so did he save his companions, as much as he wished to,
for by their own mad recklessness they were brought to destruction,
childish fools–they decided to eat up the cows of the High Lord,
Helios: he then took from the men their day of returning.
Even for us, holy daughter of Zeus, start there to recount this.

The man, my Muse, resourceful, driven a long way
after he sacked the holy city of Trojans:

tell me all the men’s cities he saw and the men’s minds,
how often he suffered heartfelt pain on the broad sea,
striving for life and a way back home for his war friends.
Yet he saved no friends, much as he longed to:
they lost their lives through their own reckless abandon,
fools who ate the cattle of Helios the Sun-God.
Huperion seized the day they might have arrived home.
 
Tell us, Goddess, daughter of Zeus, start in your own place.

Poet, playwright, novelist

American lawyer, translator

Sing, goddess, of Peleus' son Achilles' anger,
ruinous, that caused the Greeks untold ordeals,

consigned to Hades countless valiant souls,
heroes, and left their bodies prey for dogs
or feasts for vulures. Zeuz's will was done
from when those two first quarreled and split apart,
the king, Agememnon, and matchless Achilles.

Speak through me, O Muse,
of that man of many devices

who wandered much
once he'd sacked the sacred citadel of Troy.
He saw the cities of many men
                    and knew their minds,
suffering many sorrows
in order to win back his life-soul
and the return of his companions.
In the end he failed to save them,
in spite of his longing to do so,
for through their own heedlessness they perished.
Fools--who ate the cows of Helios-Hyperion,
and the day of their return was taken from them.
Of these matters, goddess, daughter of Zeus, speak through us
beginning wherever you will.

American poet, translator