
Frederick Stuart Church (American, 1842-1924), 'The Sirens'
(Image by sofi01 from flickr) Details DMCA
O Odysseus, rich in praise, great glory of the Achaeans,
Come hither now, halt your ship and hear the sound of our voice!
For no one has ever rowed past us aboard his black-hulled ship
Before he's heard the voice from our lips with its honeyed harmonies.
But once he has taken his pleasure, he returns knowing so much more.
For well we know all the hardships that there, in Troy's sprawling plains,
Both the Argives and the Trojans endured through the will of the gods.
And we know whatever happens on the earth, which nourishes all.
This immortal proimion to hell has been on my mind for weeks and so, in this my latest escape from grim reality, I perused the internet for inspiration and then reread the Greek and have shared above Daniel Mendelsohn's translation into English, the most recent one, well received, now available to the public (University of Chicago Press, 2025).
The Sirens are two bird-women creatures Odysseus and what's left of his crew encounter once they leave Circe's island on their perilous voyage homeward to Ithaca. This daughter of Helios has directed our hero to stuff his comrades' ears with wax and tie him hand and foot to the mast so that he alone can hear their fabled song without succumbing to it. Piles of rotting corpses lay at the feet of these counterfeit Muses--those poor fools who have succumbed to their enchantment.
After all, the Sirens tempt Odysseus with knowledge of everything that happened during the Trojan War by the will of the gods and further beckon with knowledge of everything that occurs/exists upon the nurturing earth.
Their song is customized for Odysseus, presumably, since he's initially addressed and flattered as great glory of the Greeks, rich in praise. He's told to postpone his sailing and once having taken great pleasure from their singing will return home knowing more. What do they offer to other poor fools who stumble upon them at sea? As knowledgeable as they are, the Sirens must anticipate what each ship's navigators and crews want above all else. What if they'd offered Odysseus an immediate transport home free of any further encumbrances? All the suitors done away with and Penelope, Telemachus, et al. waiting with open arms?
So irresistible, however, is their song that Odysseus struggles to escape his bonds but, as ordered, his crew bind him only more tightly to the mast, which holds up against this resistance, strong though he is.
The collocation didn't escape the notice of [the Sirens] (Greek ou lathen), which leads into the song, fits into a schema I mapped out in a research paper I did several years ago that would equate those words etymologically and semantically with the components of the Greek word alethe,literally "without forgetfulness," one Greek formulation for their word for truth, what seems to anticipate the truths the Sirens offer. Both expressions pair negation with a form of the root for forgetting.
Our man of many whiles is certainly curious and eager for knowledge but has been warned by Circe that he'll lose his homecoming and reunion with wife and family if he succumbs to the alluring proimion.
Having taken such pleasure in their song, these Muses prophesy, the listener returns knowing more. Odysseus takes pleasure? Certainly he writhes in his effort to escape from his bondage to the ship's mast.
Be that as it may, and despite my positing the truth seemingly anticipated in the lines bringing the Sirens into the action, what do they literally offer our hero? Everything that surpassed between the Argives and Trojans? Seemingly he knows that but is shown taking great pleasure in snippets of it sung by the bard Demodokos in Phaeacia, crying at one point, but what an ego boost to know for certain that his glory has spread far and wide, even to someplace so isolated and out of touch as Phaeacia. And the temptation to know everything that happens on the earth? That's something, but he's dwelt with two goddesses for extended periods of time and been offered immortality and I'd guess that if he'd accepted that tempting offer he'd have learned anything he wanted to, not only on Earth but at the level of the gods, who do see and hear everything that happens on Earth (though they do things secretly from each other in Homer). The sun god Helios has this attribution formulaically and is in fact the father of Circe.*
I may be stretching things if I surmise that the gods know everything, that is, all that there is to know, which scientists are struggling toward every day, snippet by snippet but still far from whatever is God.
But since literally Odysseus yearns for what I've construed as everything on the ground in my Masters thesis,** perhaps the Sirens offer and Helios/Circe/Calypos's attributes suffice as a temptation, but everything on the ground, as I posit, includes family and possessions and servants and kingdom. The Sirens are so seductive as to offer homecoming to wayfarers (but once he has taken his pleasure, he returns ) but the rotting corpses tell a truer story. Odysseus has to be bound hand and foot to avoid them. He's fallen into the arms of goddesses before--certainly was languishing during at least part of the time he lived on Calypso's island, as emphasized right after the proem of the Odyssey--and doesn't repine once he's passed by all of their allurements.
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Note: I refer to the song as priomion (prelude/prologue) because it presumably entices the beginning of everything they promise: a song that will grant what travelers long for.
*Actually, the sun god is attributed formulaically with seeing and hearing everything, on earth as he traverses its surface each day (Odyssey 11.109, 12, 323), but does he see farther? Does Homer conceive of knowing everything there is to know?
**I wrote a version of it for those who have read the Odyssey in English at Click Here .