Odyssey: A Daily Odyssey through Homer’s The Odyssey
Aug 6, 2026 · 12 min · 5 segments
The underworld yields its most painful truth: not prophecy, but home remembered through loss. In *The Odyssey*, Book 11, Odysseus speaks at last with the spirit of his mother, Anticleia, asking…
Landon SolanoHost
Even so she spake, and I answered her, and said: O my mother, necessity was on me to come down to the house of Hades, to seek to the spirit of Theban Tiresias.
But come, declare me this and plainly tell it all: What doom overcame thee of death that lays men at their length? Was it a slow disease, or did Artemis the archer slay thee with the visitation of her gentle shafts? And tell me of my father and my son, that I left behind me: Doth my honour yet abide with them, or hath another already taken it, while they say that I shall come home no more? And tell me of my wedded wife, of her counsel and her purpose: Doth she abide with her son and keep all secure, or hath she already wedded the best of the Achaeans? Even so I spake, and anon my lady mother answered me: Yea, verily, she abideth with steadfast spirit in thy halls, and warily for her the nights wane always, and the days in shedding of tears.
But the fair honour that is thine no man hath yet taken; but Telemachus sits at peace on his demesne, and feasts at equal banquets, whereof it is meet that a judge partake.
And thy father abides there in the field, and goes not down to the town, nor lies he on bedding or rugs or shining blankets, but all the winter he sleeps where sleep the thralls in the house, in the ashes by the fire, and is clad in sorry raiment.
But when the summer comes and the rich harvest-tide, his beds of fallen leaves are strewn lowly about the knoll of his vineyard plot.
There he lies sorrowing, and nurses his mighty grief for long desire of thy return; and old age withal comes heavy upon him.
It was not the archer goddess of the keen sight who slew me in my halls with the visitation of her gentle shafts, nor did any sickness come upon me, such as chiefly with a sad wasting draws the spirit from the limbs: nay, it was my sore longing for thee and thy counsels, great Odysseus, and for thy loving-kindness that reft me of sweet life.
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Even so she spake, and I answered her, and said: O my mother, necessity was on me to come down to the house of Hades, to seek to the spirit of Theban Tiresias.
But come, declare me this and plainly tell it all: What doom overcame thee of death that lays men at their length? Was it a slow disease, or did Artemis the archer slay thee with the visitation of her gentle shafts? And tell me of my father and my son, that I left behind me: Doth my honour yet abide with them, or hath another already taken it, while they say that I shall come home no more? And tell me of my wedded wife, of her counsel and her purpose: Doth she abide with her son and keep all secure, or hath she already wedded the best of the Achaeans? Even so I spake, and anon my lady mother answered me: Yea, verily, she abideth with steadfast spirit in thy halls, and warily for her the nights wane always, and the days in shedding of tears.
But the fair honour that is thine no man hath yet taken; but Telemachus sits at peace on his demesne, and feasts at equal banquets, whereof it is meet that a judge partake.
And thy father abides there in the field, and goes not down to the town, nor lies he on bedding or rugs or shining blankets, but all the winter he sleeps where sleep the thralls in the house, in the ashes by the fire, and is clad in sorry raiment.
But when the summer comes and the rich harvest-tide, his beds of fallen leaves are strewn lowly about the knoll of his vineyard plot.
There he lies sorrowing, and nurses his mighty grief for long desire of thy return; and old age withal comes heavy upon him.
It was not the archer goddess of the keen sight who slew me in my halls with the visitation of her gentle shafts, nor did any sickness come upon me, such as chiefly with a sad wasting draws the spirit from the limbs: nay, it was my sore longing for thee and thy counsels, great Odysseus, and for thy loving-kindness that reft me of sweet life.
