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The English Works of Thomas Hobbes of Malmesbury; Now First Collected and Edited by Sir William Molesworth, Bart., (London: Bohn, 1839-45). 11 vols. Vol. 10.

Author: Homer
Translator: Thomas Hobbes
Editor: Sir William Molesworth

Part of: The English Works of Thomas Hobbes, 11 vols.

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LIB. XI.

Ulysses’ descent into Hell, and discourses with the ghosts of the deceased heros.

When we were come unto the sea-side, where
Our ship lay, which we shov’d into the deep;
We rear our mast, pull up our sails, and bear
Aboard with us one male, one female sheep.
5And so for Hell we stood, with fears in mind,

And tears in eye. But the fair Circe sent,
To bear us company, a good fore-wind,
That kept our sails full all the way we went.
To winds and steerage we our way commend,
10And careless sit from morning till ’twas dark;

Then found ourselves at th’ Ocean’s farthest end,
Where up to land the wind had forc’d our bark.
Here dwell the Cimbers, hid in clouds and mist,
Whom thou, O Phœbus, with thy golden eye,
15Nor coming from the sky to earth e’er seest,

Nor when from earth thou mountest to the sky;
But live, poor men, under a horrid night.
Here seek we for the place of which the wise
Circe had told us, and soon on it light,

Ulysses’ descent into Hell.

20And thither fetch’d the sheep for sacrifice.

Then with my sword i’ th’ ground I digg’d a pit,
And round about it wine with honey pour;
And round again pure wine pour after it,
Then water pure. O’er all I sprinkle flour;
25And vowed, to those feeble folk, to kill,

As soon as I to Ithaca should come,
A barren heifer, and the altar fill
With many more good things I had at home.
And promis’d to Tiresias alone
30A fat black ewe, the best in all my cotes.

When I my vows and pray’rs had rightly done,
Of both the victims straight I cut the throats.
Their reeking blood streamed down into the pit;
Out come the ghosts; maids, youths, decrepid age,
35And tender virgins, they all scented it;

And warriors clad in gory arms, all rage,
And rushing out of Hell, with hideous cry,
About the blood bustling they go and turn,
Which not a little frighted me. Then I
40Bade flay the victims, and their bodies burn,

And say their pray’rs to Pluto and his queen.
With sword in hand I sat on the pit’s brink,
Resolv’d till I Tiresias had seen,
That not a ghost a drop of blood should drink.
45First came my soldier Elpenor’s spirit,

Which left the body just when we set sail,
So that we had no leisure to inter it;
His heavy fate I did with tears bewail.
How now, quoth I, Elpenor? art thou here
50Already? Couldst thou me so much outstrip?

I first came forth, and left thee in the rear,
Hast thou on foot outgone my good black ship?
Then said Elpenor: Issue of Jove, divine
Ulysses, I had come along with th’ bark,
55But that the Devil and excess of wine

Made me to fall, and break my neck i’ th’ dark.
I went to bed late by a ladder steep,
At top o’ th’ house the room was where I lay;
Wak’d at the noise of parting, half asleep,
60Headlong I hither came, the nearest way.

Now I adjure you by your father, and
Your wife, and son, and all his seed to come,
(For I assured am that you will land
Where Circe dwells before your going home),
65To see I have the rites due to the dead.

Fear th’ anger of the Gods above, and burn
My body with my arms, from foot to head,
And cast on earth to cover o’er my urn.
This done, for men hereafter sailing by,
70Raise me a little tomb of earth by th’ shore,

That they may eas’ly see where ’tis I lie.
Lastly, upon it upright plant my oar.
All this, quoth I, I’ll do upon my word.
Thus we discours’d amongst the shades. He stood
75While I continued with my naked sword

To keep the sprites from tasting of the blood.
Then came Anticlia my mother’s ghost.
Alive I left her, when to Troy I sail’d,
To fight against it in the Argive host.
80Now seeing her, exceedingly I wail’d;

And though I grieved were to keep away
My mother from the loved blood, yet still
In the same posture patiently I stay,
Till I might know Tiresias his will.
85Then came the soul of old Tiresias,

And of the gilded staff he had in’s hand.
Poor man, quoth he, perceiving what I was,
What brought thee hither to this ugly land?
Stand back awhile, and take your sword away,
90That I may drink, and the unerring word

Of Fate deliver to you. I obey,
Retire, and up I put my trusty sword.
Then said the good old prophet: You are come,
Honour’d Ulysses, to enquire of me,
95What the Gods say about your going home.

I tell you true, ’twill not be easily.
I think you’ll not escape at sea unseen
Of angry Neptune, who I do not doubt
Will do his worst, and make you feel his spleen,
100For Polyphemus’ eye which you put out.

Yet for all that, you may to Ithaca
Safely return, if you can but command
Your passion when in th’ isle Thrinacia,
An island lying in your way you land;
105There feed the kine of the all-seeing Sun,

And flocks of goodly sheep. Hurt none of these.
Then shall your ship her course with safety run
At length to Ithaca, though not with ease.
But if you touch them, I denounce a wreck
110To your good ship, and death to all your crew.

And though yourself may happen to come back
At last, and this unhappy fate eschew,
’Twill be alone, and in a ship not yours;
Besides that, when you are returned home
115You’ll fall into the danger of the wooers,

Who for your wife’s and meat’s sake thither come.
But you will be reveng’d of these; and when
You shall have made away these wooers, go
With oar on shoulder, to a land where men
120Inhabit that the briny sea not know,

Nor ever mingle salt with what they eat,
Nor ever saw the ship with crimson face,
Nor yet those wings which do the water beat,
Call’d oars, to make your good ship go apace.
125Now mark me well, when thou shalt meet a man

Just at the end of Neptune’s utmost bound,
Bearing upon his shoulder a corn-fan,
Stick down thy lusty oar upon the ground;
There sacrifice to the world’s admiral,
130For new admittance, a ram, boar, and bull;

Then home again, and offer unto all
The Gods by name an hundred oxen full.
Your death will not ungentle be, for which
Age shall prepare you, and your soul unglue
135Insensibly. Your people shall be rich

Which round about you dwell. All this is true.
Tiresias, quoth I, when he had done,
’Tis well. My mother yonder I espy
Amongst the shades; she knoweth not her son;
140What shall I do to make her know ’tis I?

That, quoth he, I can tell you easily.
What soul soever you admit to drink,
To what you ask will make a true reply;
Those you put back, back into Hell will slink.
145The prophet having thus my fate foretold,

Into the house of Pluto back retir’d.
I o’er the blood my former posture hold,
But let my mother drink as she desir’d.
She knew me then, and wept. My son, said she,
150How came you to this place of ours so dark?

Th’ ocean and so many gulphs there be
’Twixt you and us, that but with a good bark
No living man can pass. Come you but now
From Troy, and all this while have wand’ring been,
155You and your company? You have, I trow,

Your wife Penelope by this time seen.
Mother, said I, the cause I came this way
Was to ask counsel of Tiresias.
Since I with Agamemnon went to Troy,
160In Ithaca or Greece I never was.

But, mother, tell me, pray you, how came you
Unto this place? Was it by sickness long?
Or did Diana with a death undue
Send you down hither to this feeble throng?
165And tell me if my father and my son

Remain as formerly in their estate;
Or that some prince of Greece my wife have won,
Supposing me now cast away by fate?
Tell me besides, whether Penelope
170Remain at home together with my son,

Assisting him to rule my family;
Or whether she be married, and gone?
Your wife, said she, does still continue there;
For your long absence weepeth days and nights.
175Your son still holds his own, and makes good cheer;

Oft he invited is, and oft invites.
Your father from his vineyard never budges;
Rich coverlets and bedding he refuses;
Ne’er comes to the town; in winter with his drudges
180To lay him down, sleep by th’ fire he uses.

In vile array in summer-time he creeps,
Till vintage pass, about his fruit-trees round,
And visits them each one; at night he sleeps
On bed of heaped leaves upon the ground.
185Thus lies he griev’d and pining with the thought

Of your sad fate; afflicted too with age.
The like sad thoughts me also hither brought:
I neither died by Diana’s rage,
Nor any long-consuming malady;
190But very woe, thinking that you were dead,

My noble, dear Ulysses, made me die;
My soul thus hither from my body fled.
When she had spoken, I would very fain
Have ta’en her in my arms; three times I grasp’d
195At the beloved shadow, but in vain.

Mine arms I closed, but did nothing clasp.
Sore griev’d hereat, I said unto my mother,
I am your son, why do you fly me so?
Why may we not, embracing one another,
200Although in Hell, give ease unto our woe?

Hath Proserpine, my sorrows to augment,
Sent me a phantom in my mother’s stead?
Oh no, quoth she, my son, she’d no intent
T’ abuse you. ’Tis the nature of the dead.
205We are no longer sinews, flesh, and bones,

We are substances incorporeal,
All that ’s consumed i’ th’ fun’ral fire; when once
That’s done, it in itself stands several;
Flies like a dream. No, go your ways to th’ light,
210And tell all I have told you to your wife,

That she may know in this perpetual night
The dead enjoy an everlasting life.
When we had thus discours’d, the ladies came,
Sent out by Proserpine to taste the blood;
215Daughters and wives to princes of great fame,

And round about me at the pit they stood.
But I to know each one that came to drink,
Studied awhile; then thought this counsel best,
With sword in hand t’ abide upon the brink,
220Whilst one was drinking to keep off the rest.

There was not one but I enquired her name
And pedigree. All told me who they were.
And first of all the well-born Tyro came,
Who said Salmoneus was her ancestor,
225And that of Cretheus she had been the wife,

And on Enipeus had enamour’d been
Once on a time whilst she remained in life;
On Enipeus, fair’st stream that e’er was seen,
Upon whose bank, Neptune, that chanc’d to spy her,
230On Enipeus’ sweet stream drew her aside,

And at the river’s mouth laid him down by her,
Between two waves rais’d high, their deed to hide.
When he love’s work had done, Thou shalt, said he,
Ere th’ year be ended, bring forth children twain,
235Who princes both of great renown shall be.

I Neptune am; the Gods ne’er work in vain.
See you that they be educated well,
Till they shall be at man’s estate arriv’d.
So go you home: my name you must not tell.
240This said, into the rolling sea he div’d.

Her time being come, she was delivered
Of two great boys, Neleus and Pelias,
Who for the service of high Jove were bred.
One king of Pyle, th’ other of Iolcas was.
245The noble lady Tyro, besides these,

Did many other goodly children bear:
Amatheon, and Æson, and Pheres,
But these her husband Cretheus’ children were.
Next came the daughter of Æsopus (who
250Through Theban fertile plains and meadows runs)

Antiope. Of Jove she boasteth too,
That by him she conceived had two sons;
Their names were Zethus and Amphion. They
The founders were of Thebes; with walls and towers,
255And sev’n strong gates they fenc’d it ev’ry way

Against invasion from all neighb’ring powers.
Amphitrion’s wife Alcmena there I saw,
That lov’d by Jove brought Hercules to life.
And the king Cretheus’ daughter Megara,
260That was the mighty Hercules his wife.

I saw there also the unfortunate
Mother of Œdipus, Jocasta bright,
That blindly did a horrid act, by fate,
Which the Gods’ pleasure was should come to light.
265Not knowing him, she married her own son;

Not knowing him, he his own father slew:
When they perceived both what they had done,
She hang’d herself; her Furies him pursue.
Chloris I saw, whom Neleus did wed
270For beauty, got by the son of Joseus,

And with great dower he gain’d her to his bed;
Her father Amphion rul’d Orchomenus.
She queen of Pyle, by Neleus had three boys;
Nestor, Chronius, Periclumenus;
275And one fair daughter to make full their joys,

Pero by name, for beauty wondrous.
The princes round about were suitors to her;
But Iphiclus had Neleus’ cattle ta’en,
And Neleus was resolved to bestow her
280On him that could his herds fetch back again.

There was a prophet undertook the task;
But ta’en by clowns, and into prison pent,
For answering Iphyclus t’ all he could ask
Was freed, and did the thing he underwent.
285I saw the wife too of Tyndareus there,

Fair Leda; she two twins unto him bare,
Pollux, good cuffer; Castor, cavalier:
Twins, and alive, though under ground they are,
And have obtained of their father Jove
290Both to be canonized Gods; but so,

As he that is to-day in heaven above,
Shall be to-morrow amongst men below.
Iphimedea, Alciæus’ wife,
I saw, that did two sons to Neptune bear,
295Otus and Ephialtes; of short life;

The greatest and the fairest that ever were
Except Orion; each at nine years old
Between the shoulders was nine cubits wide,
And was in length nine cubits four times told,
300And all the Gods in heaven terrified;

And threat’ned them with war, and heav’n to storm
They Ossa set upon Olympus high,
And Pelius on Ossa, and so form
Against the sky a mighty battery;
305And surely they had storm’d it had they been

At man’s estate; their beards were not yet grown;
Apollo kill’d them with his arrows keen,
Ere on their cheeks appeared any down.
Phædra and Procris there I also saw,
310And Minos’ daughter Ariadne, whom

Theseus was bringing towards Attica
From Creta, but he could not bring her home;
Diana killed her in Dia isle
On Bacchus’ quarrel. There I did behold
315Mæra and Clymene, and th’ woman vile

Eryphile, that her own husband sold.
To name the ladies all I saw, would make
My tale to last all night. ’Tis bed-time now,
Here or aboard, though not till you think fit;
320Till you think fit, and give command to row.

This said, the company deep silence seiz’d,
Delighted with the things they heard him speak.
The queen herself, Arete, no less pleas’d,
At last resolv’d the silence thus to break.
325Princes, what think you of this man so rare,

His look, his stature, and his noble heart?
My guest he is, but you have all a share
In th’ honour of this visit. Ere he part
Make him a present to relieve his need.
330Be liberal, have no respect to thrift;

For you the Gods from fear of want have freed
With wealth abundant. Do not pinch your gift.
Old Echinous said: The queen says right;
We shall do well her counsel to obey.
335But since in king Alcinous lies the might,

’Tis better first to hear what he will say.
Then said Alcinous, It shall be so,
Unless I bear the name of king in vain;
Let not the stranger till to-morrow go;
340Till we prepare our gift he must remain.

As for his passage we will all provide,
And chiefly I that do the sceptre bear.
To whom the wise Ulysses thus replied:
Renown’d Alcinous, that reignest here,
345Though a whole year you should command my stay,

It will not trouble me. Nay, that I’d chuse,
Since you intend to send me rich away:
For I am sure I shall no honour lose
By coming richly home. Kings that have store
350Of wealth, are better commonly obey’d,

And by their subjects are respected more,
Than those whose treasuries and chests are void.
There be, the king said, many that can lie;
But there is form and sense in all you say;
355Both your own fate you tell with harmony,

And of the Greeks with whom you went to Troy.
I should be well content to sit up here
All the night long, so you would undertake
To tell me ev’ry thing that you saw there.
360To him Ulysses then did answer make:

Renowned king Alcinous, you know
There is a time for talk, a time for rest;
But since you long to hear, I’ll tell you now
Whom else I saw, and what fate them oppress’d.
365And first the saddest end of those that had

Escap’d the fury of the enemy,
And in their countries landed were and glad,
Were murder’d by a woman’s treachery.
The female ghosts scatter’d by Proserpine,
370Some one way, some another; thither came

Atrides’ soul, first of the masculine,
And others with him, whose fates were the same.
No sooner he the blood had tasted, but
He knew me, sorely wept, and would have cast
375His arms about my waist, but could not do’t,

For now, alas, his strength was gone and past.
I griev’d to see him, and thus to him said:
King Agamemnon, what fate brought you hither?
Were you by Neptune on the sea betray’d.
380And hither sent by fury of the weather?

Or landing to find booty, met with death?
Or else besieging of some town were slain?
Or for fair women were bereav’d of breath?
Then Agamemnon answer’d me again:
385Noble Ulysses, I lost not my life

By Neptune’s fury, nor in fight at land
For booty or for women; but my wife
Did basely kill me by Ægistus’ hand.
At my first landing he invited me,
390And slew me then when I at supper sate.

Just as a man would kill a cow, so he
Kill’d me. There’s no such woful death as that.
My friends were butcher’d like so many swine,
Which when within a mighty rich man’s hall
395Numbers of men invited are to dine

At wedding, or at feast, are made to fall.
You very many men have seen to die
In ranged battle, and in single fight,
But never felt such pity certainly
400As you had felt, had you but seen this sight,

How we ’mongst tables on the ground did lie,
That ran with blood. But my heart most did rue
To hear Cassandra, Priam’s daughter, cry,
Whom close beside me Clytemnestra slew.
405Then, though I were at the last gasp, I tried

If groping I might find my fallen sword;
But the curs’d woman push’d it from my side.
I died; to close mine eyes she’d not afford.
Nothing so cruel as a woman yet
410Did nature e’er produce; a thought so ill

In any other breast did never sit,
As her own loving husband’s blood to spill.
Yet this my wife, to the eternal shame
Of all the sex, (not only of the bad,
415But ev’n of those that have no evil fame),

Betray’d my life, and of my death was glad.
Jove meant to Atreus’ seed, said I, great spite
By womankind. By Helen first. At Troy,
For her sake, many lost their lives in fight,
320And Clytemnestra now did you betray.

Therefore, said Agamemnon, never trust
A woman more, although she be your own.
Tell her not all you think: somewhat you must;
And somewhat keep t’ yourself to her unknown.
325But you, Ulysses, need not fear your wife,

Icareus’ daughter, fair Penelope;
She loves you better than to take your life:
A wife so wise will scorn disloyalty.
When we for Troy set forth together, then
430She gave suck to your son; but he is grown

A man by this time, and takes place with men;
Is rich, and one day shall his father own,
And he and you at home embrace each other.
But I was not allow’d my son to see,
435But was first murder’d by his wicked mother.

Now hear ye; if you will be rul’d by me,
Let no man know beforehand, when and where
You mean to land in Ithaca. Beware
Of suffering your bark in sight t’ appear.
440Remember still, women unfaithful are.

But tell me, have you nothing all this while
Heard of my son Orestes? Whether he
At Sparta with his uncle be, or Pyle?
For dead he is not, I know certainly.
445Alas, said I, Atrides, how should I,

That wand’ring was at sea, hear any news
Whether alive or dead he be? Or why
Should I with tales uncertain you abuse?
Discoursing thus, and weeping there we stood,
450When great Achilles’ soul appear’d to us;

And with him also the two spirits good
Of stout Patroclus and Antilochus.
The soul of Ajax, son of Telamon,
Was also there, who ’mongst those warriors tall
455The goodliest person was, except the son

Of Peleus, who did much excel them all.
Achilles drank, and presently me knew,
And said, Ulysses, what brought you to Hell?
What plot upon the dead you hither drew,
460Where none but shades of wretched mortals dwell?

Achilles, said I, I was forc’d to come
T’ inquire of th’ wizard, old Tiresias,
What the Fates say about my going home,
Whether or no, and how ’twill come to pass.
465For since I came from Troy I have not seen

Nor Ithaca, nor any Grecian shore;
For toss’d and cross’d at sea I still have been;
But you are now as well as heretofore.
Like any God we honour’d you at Troy,
470And here among the ghosts you are obeyed.

Death hath not chang’d your state; you still enjoy
A regal power. To this Achilles said:
Talk not to me of honour here in Hell;
I’d rather serve a clown on earth for bread,
475Than be, of all things incorporeal,

That are, or ever shall be, supreme head.
But tell me of my son, Neoptolemus;
Whether he came to Troy, and how he fought;
And of my aged father, Peleus,
480Whether he keep his place, or be put out.

For since much time his vigour hath decay’d,
Some foe, it may be, hath usurp’d his place
In Pthia, and in Hellas where he sway’d,
And put him, with his people, in disgrace.
485But were I now above, and strong as then,

When for the Greeks I fought at Ilium,
And slew so many of their bravest men,
And to my aged father’s house should come;
If there I were, ’twould not be very long
490Before I made some of their hearts to ache,

That go about to do my father wrong,
And would by force his honour from him take.
When he had done, I made him answer thus:
Concerning Peleus I can nothing say;
495But of your son, stout Neoptolemus,

I know enough: ’twas I brought him to Troy
From Scyros’ isle. In council, always he
First spake his mind, and never spake but well.
Nestor and I, sometimes, and only we,
500Th’ advice he gave were able to refel.

In fight, he sought no shelter in the throng,
But ever out he ran before the rest,
To show his courage and his strength among
Those foes that were in Troy esteem’d the best.
505The names of all he slew I cannot tell;

They are too many. But ’twas by his sword
That great Eurypylus in battle fell,
Of all the Trojan aids the goodli’st lord,
Excepting Memnon. After, when we were
510Within the wooden horse concealed, and I

The power had of ordering all things there,
I never saw your son to wipe his eye,
Or to wax pale, as many of us did.
He never longed to be set on land
515From out the hole in which we all lay hid;

And to his hilt he often put his hand,
And often to his spear. And when at last
We won, and rifled had the town of Troy,
He home into his country safely passed,
520His ship well-laden with his part o’ th’ prey.

And which is more, he came off safe and sound;
Though Mars each way threw deaths and wounds about
Amongst the crowd, he ne’er received wound,
Neither from them that shot, nor them that fought.
525This said, the swift Achilles’ soul retir’d,

Strutting into the mead of Asphodel,
Proud of his son, to hear what he desir’d.
Then other grieved souls their stories tell.
Only the soul of Ajax stood off mute
530And sullen, because I did from him bear

Achilles’ armour in that sad dispute,
Where Pallas and the Trojans judges were.
I would I had not had that victory,
Which cost the life of him that was the most
535Admir’d by all, for form and chivalry,

Except Achilles, in the Argive host.
I gently to him spake Ajax, said I,
Forget that cursed armour now at last;
And since you dead are, let your anger die:
540For why, the Gods determin’d had to cast

Those arms amongst us for a punishment,
Offended with us, what e’er was the matter,
And us’d them as an engine, with intent
Our greatest tower, which was yourself, to batter.
545For whom the Argives did lament no less

Than for Achilles, Thetis’ son. Come nigh,
And hear what I can answer, and suppress
Your mighty heart awhile. So ended I.
To this just nothing he replied, but went
550Int’ Erebus ’mongst other shadows dim;

Yet there, I think, he would have been content
To speak to me, if I to speak to him.
But I desired others’ souls to see.
Then Minos there, the son of Jove, I saw,
555With golden sceptre, dealing equity

To souls that stood and sat to hear the law.
Next after him, I saw the great Orion;
A mighty club he carried in his hand;
And hunted the wild boar, and bear, and lion,
560Which when he lived he had kill’d on land.

There also saw I Titius. He lay
Upon his back, stretch’d out full acres nine.
He the fair Leto had, upon the way
To Pytho, injur’d; Leto, Jove’s concubine.
565Two vultures on his breast, on each side one,

Sate dipping of their beaks into his liver.
He stirreth not, but lets them still alone;
And thus devouring it, they stay for ever.
And Tantalus I saw up to the chin
570In water clear, and longing sore to drink;

But as he bow’d himself to take it in,
Some devil always made the water sink.
Close o’er his head hung pleasant fruit, and ripe
Pears and pomegranates, olives, apples, figs,
575Which ever when he ready was to gripe,

A sudden wind still whisk’d away the twigs.
And Sisyphus I saw, who ’gainst the hill,
With hands and feet, a heavy stone doth roll;
But when unto the top he brings it, still
580The naughty stone falls back into the hole.

Then to ’t he goes afresh, with no less pain
He heaves and sweats, and dusty is all o’er;
And when ’tis up, he labour’d has in vain,
For still it serves him as it did before.
585Then Hercules I saw,—I mean his sprite,

For he is with th’ immortal Gods above,
And taken has to wife Hebe the bright,
Daughter of Juno, and of mighty Jove.
The dead about him made a fearful cry,
590Like frighted fowl. A golden belt he wore,

With wild beasts wrought, and slaughters cunningly,
The like shall never be, nor was before.
He saw, and knew me presently, and spake:
Renown’d Ulysses, why left you the light?
595Alas, were you constrain’d to undertake

This task as I was, by a meaner wight?
Who, though Jove’s son I was, did me constrain
Full many other labours t’undergo.
But he thought this would put me to most pain,
600Th’ infernal dog upon the earth to show.

I did it though, and dragg’d him up to th’ light,
By Mercury’s and by Athena’s aid.
Having thus said, he vanish’d out of sight
’Mongst other phantoms. But I still there stay’d,
605Hoping more heroes of th’ old time to see;

And more had surely seen of heavenly race,
Theseus, Pirythous, whom t’ had pleased me,
If longer I had dar’d to keep my place.
For then, from out of Hell, with hideous cry,
610Thousands of souls about me gathered,

And frighted me; but most afraid was I,
Lest Proserpine should send out Gorgon’s head.
Then went I to my ship and company,
And for a while our oars at sea we plied:
615But after we were on the main, then we

A fair gale had, and pass’d the ocean wide.

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LIB. XI. - Homer, The English Works, vol. X (Iliad and Odyssey) [1839]

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Part of: The English Works of Thomas Hobbes, 11 vols.

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LIB. XI.