He pushed aside the bushes, breaking off
with his great hand a single branch of olive
whose leaves might shield him in his nakedness;
so came out rustling, like a mountain lion,
rain-drenched, wind-buffeted, but in his might at ease
with burning eyes—who prowls among the herds
or flocks, or after game, his hungry belly
taking him near stout homesteads for his prey.
Odysseus had this look, in his rough skin
advancing on the girls with pretty braids;
and he was driven on by hunger, too.
Streaked with brine, and swollen, he terrified them,
so that they fled, this way and that. Only
Alkînoos’ daughter stood her ground, being given
a bold heart by Athena, and steady knees.
The Norton Anthology of World Literature Second Edition Volume A. Book VI: 135-149
Classic Homeric prose can be found in this section of Odysseus’ travels. Odysseus’ “great” hand breaks off an olive—a motif found throughout book VI— branch as he arises from an apparent grave that he dug for himself. It is truly chilling to imagine a heavily bearded, naked man arising from a pit as he rustles and growls “like a mountain lion.” Homer’s description of Odysseus’ hunger is both painful and frightening to the reader as one can sense his starvation while considering that he is “advancing on the girls with pretty braids.” It certainly seems as though Odysseus’ was on the verge of a violent plundering. Additionally, the text reemphasizes his hunger immediately following the mention of the pretty girls. Exactly what one might expect occurs: the girls flee out of terror from the bare man approaching them. To the reader’s satisfaction, however, one girl does remain, and the story unfolds subsequently. This resulting scene of Odysseus and Alkînoos encounter is not surprising, per se, given the background of Alkînoos. However, Homer constructed the stanza in such a manner that the listeners of the story would be on the edge of their seats, eager to know what would ensue between the two characters.
The specific elements of these lines are far superior to their style. After Odysseus is released from the imprisonment of Kalypso and has successfully set sail on the sea, Poseidon sends a storm that completely overwhelms Odysseus and his ship, sending him into the depths of the water. With assistance from various gods, Odysseus manages to stay afloat and arrive at a shore. It is crucial to note that Odysseus is naked in the water (V: 345 “Shed that cloke…”). After experiencing an unparalleled immersion in a vast body of water, he digs a hole in which he will sleep. Nude, overnight in a pit, Odysseus rises in the morning with might that he had lost after Poseidon’s reign of terror. Like a baby was Odysseus, floating through the sea, helpless to care for himself, only to be saved by the gods. Now he has returned—rebirthed, perhaps—to continue on his journey. He is naked, but elects to cover himself with an olive branch. Olive oil and branches have already been mentioned in this book. Thoughts journey to Noah and the flood, where the dove returns with an olive branch in its mouth to indicate that the flood has ceased. The end is seemingly not with regard to the parallels between biblical creation accounts and this portion of the epic. There are more thoughts on the creation of man and the subsequent creation of his “helper,” but too many words are needed for here. There are possibly elements of resurrection or those related to Jesus, but I am not as well versed in those areas, though they seem interesting paths to pursue, nonetheless. It seems, plainly, that there is a plethora to draw on in comparing various creation stories to the epic of the Odyssey.
This post shoots off in a number of fascinating directions! In its first paragraph, it points out how cleverly Homer plays with perspective here. Even though we, the readers, know that Odysseus means no harm to the girls (indeed, we learn in the subsequent line that he hesitates, desiring NOT to terrify Nausicaa as well), Homer’s language makes a different perspective available: that of the young women terrified by an apparently predatory stranger.
The second paragraph moves into new territory. It raises the possibility that this scene offers an image of birth or rebirth (it seems, indeed, to be part of a pattern of birth imagery; Odysseus is repeatedly emerging out of caves, the sea, various hiding places); it further suggests that this imagery is related, perhaps, to other cultures’ narratives of floods and creation. (Side note: Homer had no access to Judeo-Christian texts or traditions, but that doesn’t mean these resonances are meaningless! One of the great puzzles, and pleasures, of studying world literature involves finding these resonances. Many cultures, oddly enough, have a story about a great, destructive flood).
You mentioned the possibility of developing some of this into a paper. I’d love to talk more about which motif you want to track–which thread you’d like to pull–of the many touched on in this post.
P.S. You *do* have a different translator in the 2nd edition–mind telling me the name? It’s all right to stick with what you have, since at this point you are deep in the rhythm of this person’s poetry/verse (not prose!)
The translator is Robert Fitzgerald