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Reading Response Post from Book 11 to 15. Attached is the book Iliad.Q. The Gods’ Role, and What That Says about Hellenic CultureAns: If you have studied Greek mythology, you might have learned that Ares is the god of war. That is inaccurate. War is too great a part of ancient life to be covered by one god. Ares is more properly thought of as the god of battle and of bloodlust. Pallas Athena is equally associated with war, but she is known more for strategy and skill. Meanwhile, the Greeks embody other attributes of battle in lesser deities such as Eris (Strife) and Rout. Consider the gods’ role in the war and their place in the story. Why are both so significant? What do the gods’ characters, behavior, influence, and interference say about Hellenic (Greek) culture and the way the people perceived and understood the world?Quoting and citing:Iliad is written in verse. That means line-breaks and capitalization matter. When you quote, mark line-breaks with a forward slash with a space on each side: “Zeus, clouds scudding around him: / ‘Better to put Athena on him / She’s always been the best at giving him grief’” (5.816-18). Note also that the citation belongs after the quotation marks but before whatever punctuation you want to use after the quotation.If a passage of verse you want to quote is longer than three lines, block-quote it. That means you should skip down to the next line, you do not add (or remove) quotation marks, you reproduce the format of the lines as closely as possible, and you do not need punctuation after the citation:The reins slipped out of Nestor’s hands,And with fear in his heart he said to Diomedes:“Son of Tydeus, turn your horses around.Zeus has given this man the glory today.” (8.141-44)Note that all four of these lines are part of the quotation, but the third and fourth lines are in quotation marks in the text.To cite quotations in these posts, use the book number and the line numbers of the specific passage; for example, (8.141-44) means Book 8, lines 141 through 144. You do not need the author’s name in the citation because that will be obvious.
iliad_by_homer__stanley_lombardo__z_lib.org_.pdf

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Homer
ILIAD
Translated by
Stanley Lombardo
Introduced by
Sheila Murnaghan
For Judy, my wife,
Mae, my mother,
Ben, my son
and Ursula, my daughter
CONTENTS
TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE………………………………………………6
INTRODUCTION……………………………………………………………15
The Iliad and the Trojan Legend……………………………………18
Heroic Society……………………………………………………………21
The Homeric Gods……………………………………………………..26
Achilles…………………………………………………………………….32
Hector……………………………………………………………………….41
The Enduring Heart…………………………………………………….44
The Iliad as a Poem of War…………………………………………..50
The Historical Context…………………………………………………59
The Poetic Tradition……………………………………………………67
ILIAD…………………………………………………………………………….74
Book 1………………………………………………………………………74
Book 2………………………………………………………………………99
Book 3…………………………………………………………………….138
Book 4…………………………………………………………………….158
Book 5…………………………………………………………………….181
Book 6…………………………………………………………………….218
Book 7…………………………………………………………………….239
Book 8…………………………………………………………………….259
Book 9…………………………………………………………………….282
Book 10…………………………………………………………………..309
Book 11…………………………………………………………………..333
Book 12…………………………………………………………………..367
Book 13…………………………………………………………………..386
Book 14…………………………………………………………………..420
Book 15…………………………………………………………………..441
Book 16…………………………………………………………………..472
Book 17…………………………………………………………………..507
Book 18…………………………………………………………………..538
Book 19…………………………………………………………………..563
Book 20…………………………………………………………………..580
Book 21…………………………………………………………………..600
Book 22…………………………………………………………………..625
Book 23…………………………………………………………………..648
Book 24…………………………………………………………………..683
Major Characters……………………………………………………………716
Gods and Goddesses………………………………………………….716
The Greeks (Achaeans, Argives, and Danaans)……………..719
The Trojans (Dardanians) and Allies…………………………….725
Catalogue of Combat Deaths……………………………………………730
Index of Speeches…………………………………………………………..737
TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE
Suggestions for Further Reading……………………………………….752
TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE
TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE
A musician once asked Ezra Pound if there was anywhere
one could get all of poetry, in the sense that one could get all of
music in Bach. Pound’s response was that if a person would take
the trouble really to learn Greek, he could get all of it, or nearly
all of it, in Homer. If Pound is right, and I think he is, then the
real work of the Homeric translator is clear: to produce a version
that is responsive not only to meaning and nuance but also to
overall poetic effect, a version that has as much poetry as the
original text, the translator’s talent, and the current literary
situation will yield. This requires loyalty to the essential qualities
of Homeric poetry—its directness, immediacy, and effortless
musicality—more than replication of the verse’s technical
features (although these must be at least suggested). In the end, it
is the greatness and reach of Homer as a poet that the translator
must confront. Accuracy and nuance are attainable through
scholarship and good writing; technical problems admit of
various solutions; but what we love is the poet’s voice, and
finding its tone, rhythm, and power is the heart of Homeric
translation. This translation of the Iliad began as scripts for solo
performances I began giving ten years ago. In this respect, the
production of the translation mirrors that period in the evolution
of the Iliad when writing began to shape the body of poetry that
had until then existed only in the mind of the composer and in
live performance. We don’t know exactly how writing shaped the
monumental Iliad that we possess. Many scholars are convinced
that the grand scale of the poem and its detailed, symmetrical
architecture can only have been accomplished in a final written
TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE
version. I am not sure that this view gives sufficient credit to the
compositional and revisional powers of the human memory,
especially when it is stimulated by repeated performance. Still, it
does seem likely that as writing became more common,
performance scripts would have been made and that these would
have become the basis for texts for definitive public performance
and for private reading. At some point, then, perhaps in the sixth
century B.C.E., the Iliad became a written text. Although it
continued to be performed for hundreds of years as one of the
central documents of Greek culture, and although ancient editors
continued to quibble about this or that word or line, the Iliad’s
character had become essentially fixed as text. More than two
millennia later, and more than five hundred years after its
reintroduction into western European culture as a printed book,
we now encounter the Iliad in Greek primarily in the Oxford
Classical Text edition by Monro and Allen (first published in
1902)—15,693 lines of hexameter verse, the solid blocks of
almost calligraphic text interrupted only by the twenty-four book
divisions adopted by ancient editors. Reading it now, in the late
twentieth century, is the work of a scholar. Bringing it to life
again is the work of the scholar, the translator, and the performer.
Performance is the beginning and the end point of the Iliad. But a
translation of the Iliad cannot be simply a script; it must become,
like the original Iliad, a text and, finally, a printed poem. The
poetics of this translation insists that it also be a performance on
the page for the silent reader. So the circle is complete.
Throughout the period of composing the translation as poetry on
the page, I continued reciting it to audiences, voicing the text as I
crafted it and crafting it to capture the voice that I heard. This,
then, is a translation that has been shaped by the alternating and
TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE
complementary pressures of poetic composition and dramatic
performance. Perhaps the most easily demonstrable example of
this process is my treatment of the similes. Critics have long
observed that similes in the Iliad tend to assume a poetic life of
their own, taking us away from the battlefield into the natural and
domestic world. In the Greek text, these passages are
syntactically (and typographically) integrated into the narrative,
typically introduced by a phrase meaning “As when,” and
followed by a phrase meaning “So also.” In performance, I found
myself isolating the similes somewhat and marking them—
pausing a little before and after, changing the voice, dropping any
percussion I may have been using—in order to bring out their
quality as poetic events distinct from the poetry of the narrative
and speeches. I found that the narrative resumed with a kind of
quiet power after a simile had been given full attention in this
way, and that the audience’s engagement with the performance
was deepened. I wanted to accomplish some of this on the
printed page as well and settled on using italics, spaces, and
indentation to mark the similes. Once the similes were
typographically marked, the framing phrases “As when” and “So
also” seemed less necessary, and I would often omit them or
replace them with phrases inviting the imaginative participation
of the reader, a practice that I then carried over into performance.
The final version of the text of the translation retains traces of
both the traditional Homeric style in similes and my own
performing style.
The same can be said for my handling of the epithets and
formulaic language in general. The Greek text meticulously
preserves these stylistic features—set phrases that were fully
TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE
functional only in the ancient performance tradition, which
originally was at least partially improvisatory My own
performances, even when memorized, were always scripted, so
there was no need for formulaic language as an aid to
improvisation. Moreover, strict replication of the formulae
(especially those introducing speeches) and heroic epithets would
have made the performance seem less alive—stilted in style and
slow in pace. Therefore, in preparing script I varied some of the
formulaic phrases and cut others, especially epithets that added
length but not much else to the line. I have operated on the same
principles, although much more conservatively, in transforming
script to poetic text and in composing the parts of the translation
that I had never performed. My primary concern as a poet has
been, in producing text as in performing, to represent as fully as
possible the energy that comes from Homer’s directness and
rapidity. But I am very much a classicist also, and as such I want
all of the contours of the Greek text to be present, too.
Part of the problem in translating epithets and other formulae
is the difference in the genius of the languages involved. Greek
hexameters can manage to be both rapid and direct while
incorporating polysyllabic compound adjectives that would be
deadly in English. This accounts for some of the streamlining I
have done. As for the variations I have introduced, my practice is
in part a response to the linguistic fact that no single word or
phrase in one language ever completely translates even a simple
word or phrase in another language. When the word or phrase to
be translated has poetic resonance, the single translation is even
less adequate. Most of the time we must be content with a single
translation. But repeated epithets (and longer formulations)
TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE
present the possibility of multiple translations, each of which
might capture the poetic essence of the original in a different
way. So, for instance, Athena’s epithet glaukopis, traditionally
rendered as either “grey-eyed” or “owl-eyed,” I translate in both
these ways, but I also bring in other associations to suggest the
depths of the goddess’s gaze: “eyes grey as slate” or (when she is
betraying Hector) “her eyes as grey as winter moons” or (when
she appears to Achilles in his rage) “Athena’s eyes glared through
the sea’s salt haze.” This last version exemplifies as well the
technique of turning an adjective into an image or an event and
integrating it into the action, a device that I use throughout the
translation, although sparingly, in the interests of keeping the
poem dynamic and in the moment.
In the end, then, I have retained most of the substance of
Homer’s formulaic language and enough of the form to give an
impression of the original style, although I have pruned some
phrases and selectively varied and highlighted others.
Formulaic language in Homeric epic is intimately connected
with the metrics of the Greek hexameter line, in which each
phrase having a fixed metrical shape fills certain positions in the
line (or occupies an entire line). Although it is technically
possible to write dactylic hexameter verse in English (witness
Longfellow’s Evangeline) and even to mimic the Greek’s
quantitative structure, in which the rhythm is based on the length
of the syllables rather than the accentuation, the results are far
from satisfactory. Again, it is a matter of the linguistic—and
poetic—differences between the two languages. And in any case,
Homer’s musicality cannot be heard in any kind of English. For
these reasons, I have not tried to compose hexameters, nor have I
TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE
substituted any standard, regular meter, such as iambic
pentameter, for Homer’s dactylics. Instead, I have tried to stay
true to the dominant practice of American poets in a tradition that
leads from Whitman, Pound, and Charles Olson to the present:
writing lines based on the cadences of natural speech, a practice
that has its roots in the earliest English poetry before metrical
forms from Romance languages, with their regular syllabic
count, were imported into English. In this sort of verse, the sort I
am using, the natural stresses of the spoken sentence establish the
rhythm. The rhythmic integrity of each line is important to me
(which is why I follow the tradition of capitalizing the first letter
in each line), as is overall modulation of the sound to suit the
sense in a line and throughout a passage. Tempo, of course,
varies depending on the context, ranging from spondaic to
staccato to anapests with a swing in them, but I have tried to
maintain Homer’s forward momentum at all times and to keep the
lines crisp to reflect the clarity and sharp movement of Homer’s
gaze. I have occasionally used typographical effects to shape
lines or whole passages—most notably the Catalogue of the
Ships in Book 2—choreographing them for the eye as well as
scripting them for the voice, again following contemporary
poetic practice.
A few words about diction and poetic tradition. Homer’s
language does not correspond to any form of Greek ever spoken.
It was a poetic dialect developed over generations of
performance-rich, flexible, and capable of producing a wide
variety of musical and semantic effects. It has often been
observed that in the late twentieth century there is no longer
available any traditional poetic language for translation of epic—
TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE
or for writing English or American poetry for that matter—that
we must content ourselves with the diction of prose cast into
verse of some kind, and that we cannot therefore hope to achieve
in translation the epic grandeur of Homer. I do not think there is
much truth to this. What is true is that the use of an artificial
poetic diction would serve to embalm Homer rather than bring
him to life. But English and American poetry contains vast
resources that are available to the translator; these resources
include a modern poetics based on natural language that, far from
being prosaic, is capable of great energy and beauty. A successful
translation, especially of a work of the scale of the Iliad, must
grow out of the poetic tradition of its own language and become
one of its current embodiments. I am not the one to judge my
success in producing living poetry in this translation, but the
production of living poetry has been my goal. Living poetry
means living speech, certainly in the speeches that account for
almost half of the Iliad’s lines—how else could the characters be
credible?—and also in the narrative and the similes. The Iliad is
war poetry, and war poetry at the end of this century must be
dead-on if it is to be done at all. If the diction of this translation is
anachronistic in the broad sense—and sometimes even the
narrower one—that is the condition for taking the great poem
into its own future, which is where I want it to go.
Like every translator of Homer, I am indebted to those who
have gone before me. I have respect for all who have toiled in
these fields, and I have learned from most of them, even when
our poetics differ. I have used Monro and Allen’s Oxford
Classical Text as the basis of the translation and have continually
referred to the six-volume commentary published by Cambridge
TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE
under the general editorship of G. S. Kirk (The Iliad: A
Commentary, Vols. 1 and 2, G. S. Kirk; Vol. 3, J. B. Hainsworth;
Vol. 4, Richard Janko; Vol. 5, Mark Edwards; Vol. 6, Nicholas
Richardson). I have benefitted as well, in ways general and
specific, from other Homeric scholarship, not all of which by any
means is listed in the bibliography, which is intended as a short
list for the general reader.
The Homerists who have helped me most directly have been
Andrew Becker, who served as one of the readers for the press,
and Sheila Murnaghan, who besides providing her splendid
introduction also read the entire manuscript and improved it in
countless details. I would also like to thank others who read early
versions for the press: Georgia Nugent, Paul Woodruff, and
several anonymous readers.
Brian Rak, the editor of this book at the press, has been
deeply involved in every aspect of the work. He deserves and has
my deepest gratitude. My thanks also to Dan Kirklin, Shannon
Bahler, and Shawn Woodyard for their work in turning
manuscript copy into a finished book.
Many friends have had a voice in this translation. William
Levitan has been my literary coach, conscience, and comrade in
this as in many previous ventures. Anne Carson has taught me as
much by example as by direct comment, for both of which I am
grateful. Beth Bailey, a historian of American culture with a good
ear, has kept me on key in many passages. I would like to thank
Karen Bell, Monica Peck, and Kathleen Whalen for critical help
at various junctures. My gratitude also goes to my students at the
University of Kansas, who have helped me in more ways than
they know, and especially the students in a memorable
TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE
undergraduate seminar: David Childers, Amy Coplan, John Lahti,
Heather Lusk, Lesa Marbut, and Amy Welch. Jean Valk, besides
doing most of the work in compiling the indexes, has also
checked the entire manuscript for accuracy and assisted me with
many revisions. Michelle Müller took care of many last-minute
details, including the line numbers. My colleagues in the Classics
Department at the University of Kansas have been unfailing in
their moral and logistical support. And to all who have invited
me to do performances in their homes, schools, and theaters, my
sincerest thanks for providing the audiences who have
collectively shaped the translation as much as any single person
has.
Of all voices, the one I miss the most is that of Gareth
Morgan, who died this past summer and who read Homer’s Greek
out loud more beautifully than any man on earth.
The voice I cherish the most is that of Judy Roitman,
mathematician, poet, and my wife, whose humor and generosity
have seen me through this long labor.
Work on the translation was supported by the University of
Kansas in the form of sabbatical leaves, a fellowship from the
Hall Center for the Humanities, and generous assistance from the
College of Liberal Arts and Sciences.
Stanley Lombardo University of Kansas
INTRODUCTION
INTRODUCTION
The Iliad is the story of a raging anger and its human toll.
The poem recounts “the rage of Achilles,” the greatest of the
Greek heroes fighting in the war against Troy. Achilles’ rage is
superhuman (the Greek word translated as “rage,” mēni …
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