When we had come to the limits of deep-flowing Ocean. Where the Cimmerians live wrapped in mist and cloud and never see the sun, we beached the ship, took the sheep. And walked the shore to the place Circe had named. There I dug the pit, poured the drink-offerings I had vowed, and cut the victims’ throats so the dark blood ran into the hollow.
The souls of the dead gathered from Erebus. Brides, young men, worn old men, soft girls with hearts new to grief, and many stabbed by bronze on the field, armor still bloody. They thronged the trench with an eerie cry. I went pale with fear and drew my sword to keep them from the blood until I had spoken with Tiresias.
“The souls of the dead gathered from Erebus. Brides, young men, worn old men, soft girls with hearts new to grief, and many stabbed by bronze on the field, armor still bloody. They thronged the trench with an eerie cry. I went pale with fear and drew my sword to keep them from the blood until I had spoken with Tiresias.”
First came the shade of my comrade Elpenor. He had died at Circe’s house — drunk, he fell from the roof and broke his neck, and we left him unwept and unburied in our haste. I wept and asked how he had come under the dark west sooner than I in my black ship. He begged me, by those I left behind, to burn him with his armor when I returned to Aeaea, heap a mound, and plant his oar on the tomb. The oar he pulled with his friends while he lived. I swore I would.
Then came the soul of my mother, Anticleia daughter of Autolycus. I had left her alive when I sailed for Troy. I wept to see her but would not let her near the blood until I had questioned Tiresias. At last the Theban prophet came, holding a golden staff. He knew me and asked why I had left the light to see the dead. He told me to stand back from the trench so he might drink and speak true.
“He told me to stand back from the trench so he might drink and speak true. When he had tasted the dark blood he said Poseidon would not forget the blinding of his son, and would make my road hard. Yet I might still reach home if I held my own desire and my comrades’ in check.”
When he had tasted the dark blood he said Poseidon would not forget the blinding of his son, and would make my road hard. Yet I might still reach home if I held my own desire and my comrades’ in check. On Thrinacia the cattle and fat sheep of Helios pastured. If I left them untouched we might limp home to Ithaca; if I harmed them I foresaw destruction for ship and crew. I myself might escape, but late, in misery, in another’s ship, having lost all my men, and find trouble in my house. Arrogant men eating up my livelihood and courting my wife.