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that you drop anchor at the island an old man,
rich with all you’ve gotten on the way,
not expecting Ithaca to make you rich.
Ithaca gave you the beautiful journey;
without her you wouldn’t have set upon the road.
But now she has nothing left to give you.
And if you find her poor, Ithaca didn’t deceive you.
As wise as you will have become, with so much experience,
you will understand, by then, these Ithacas; what they mean.
[1910; 1911]
As Much As You Can
And even if you cannot make your life the way you want it,
this much, at least, try to do
as much as you can: don’t cheapen it
with too much intercourse with society,
with too much movement and conversation.
Don’t cheapen it by taking it about,
making the rounds with it, exposing it
to the everyday inanity
of relations and connections,
so it becomes like a stranger, burdensome.
[1905; 1913]
Trojans
Our efforts, those of the ill-fortuned;
our efforts are the efforts of the Trojans.
We will make a bit of progress; we will start
to pick ourselves up a bit; and we’ll begin
to be intrepid, and to have some hope.
But something always comes up, and stops us cold.
In the trench in front of us Achilles
emerges, and affrights us with his shouting.—
Our efforts are the efforts of the Trojans.
We imagine that with resolve and daring
we will reverse the animosity of fortune,
and so we take our stand outside, to fight.
But whenever the crucial moment comes,
our boldness and our daring disappear;
our spirit is shattered, comes unstrung;
and we scramble all around the walls
seeking in our flight to save ourselves.
And yet our fall is certain. Up above,
on the walls, already the lament has begun.
They mourn the memory, the sensibility, of our days.
Bitterly Priam and Hecuba mourn for us.
[1900; 1905]
King Demetrius
Not like a king, but like an actor, he exchanged his showy robe of state for a dark cloak, and in secret stole away.
—PLUTARCH, Life of Demetrius
When the Macedonians deserted him,
and made it clear that it was Pyrrhus they preferred
King Demetrius (who had a noble
soul) did not—so they said—
behave at all like a king. He went
and cast off his golden clothes,
and flung off his shoes
of richest purple. In simple clothes
he dressed himself quickly and left:
doing just as an actor does
who, when the performance is over,
changes his attire and departs.
[1900; 1906]
The Glory of the Ptolemies
I’m the Lagid, a king. The possessor absolute
(with my power and my riches) of pleasure.
There’s no Macedonian, no Eastern foreigner
who’s my equal, who even comes close. What
a joke, that Seleucid with his vulgar luxe.
But if there’s something more you seek, then simply look:
the City is our teacher, the acme of what is Greek,
of every discipline, of every art the peak.
[1896; 1911; 1911]
The Retinue of Dionysus
Damon the artisan (none as fine
as he in the Peloponnese) is
fashioning the Retinue of Dionysus
in Parian marble. The god in his divine
glory leads, with vigor in his stride.
Intemperance behind. Beside
Intemperance, Intoxication pours the Satyrs wine
from an amphora that they’ve garlanded with vines.
Near them delicate Sweetwine, his eyes
half-closed, mesmerizes.
And further down there come the singers,
Song and Melody, and Festival
who never allows the hallowed processional
torch that he holds to go out. Then, most modest, Ritual.—
That’s what Damon is making. Along with all
of that, from time to time he gets to pondering
the fee he’ll be receiving from the king
of Syracuse, three talents, quite a lot.
When that’s added to the money that he’s got,
he’ll be well-to-do, will lead a life of leisure,
can get involved in politics—what pleasure!—
he too in the Council, he too in the Agora.
[1903; 1907]
The Battle of Magnesia
He’s lost his former dash, his pluck.
His wearied body, very nearly sick,
will henceforth be his chief concern. The days
that he has left, he’ll spend without a care. Or so says
