C O N T E N T S . NE MO Y E . I . M S N of The Making the Poet . ALL IOPE . II . C The Call of the Muse . U TE RPE . III . E of The Daughter Homer . AT IV . ER O . The Stranger of Northland . V . C LIo . f The Travels o Homer . E P I CH RE VI . T R S O . he Pe u i n T dagog e Ch a . E LPOME NE . VII . M f The Singer o Ascra . HAL IA . VIII . T The Songstress of Lesbos . LY IA IX PO HYMN . of The Psalmist Israel . R A IA . X . U N Th e Marriage . ’ A R G UM E N T . H OME R the oet h avin returned in old a e to , p , g g Ohios his birth- lace an is lan d n ot ar rom the coas t , p , f f o A s ia M inor tells th e s tor o his earl l e to his f , y f y if u il Tw s w u o p p s . o chief infl uen ce rought p n his child hood . The rs t was that o th e s m ith Chalcon who fi f , , — r was both artis an and artis t both vocations in early tim es were united in one m an — and who revealed to the bud n t h o t s The s ec n n di gpoe t e form s f h e God . o d i uen ce was that o his m other retheis nam e iven fl f , C ( g b H i erodotus V ta Hom . Sh e was the de os tor o y , i ) p y f able and olk-tore which s he told to h er bo in the s irit f f , y p o oet and which a re the chie m aterials o his two f a p , f f em s o Hom er reaches back to his earlies t great po . S rs b the a id o M n em os n e m emor who a ccord yea y f y ( y) , 9 1 5 w h m o er o h e ing to Hes iod (Th eogon . ) as t e th f t Nine M us es . Fair was the day wh en I first peeped into the o h of h w rks op C alcon , o h u n o i h Chalc n , t e smith , who wro ght lo g ag n t e city of Chios i n o i e e Now that day s the daw f my l f , which I y t can e e b r m m er , All my hours run b ack to its joy as my very b e ginning , And on e beautiful moment then let in the light e en of xist ce , Starting w ithin me the strain that thrills through my days to this minute ! Still the old flash I can see as I peeped at the of h door the works op , Memory whispers the tale of the rise of a world that I s aw there o of i h e i in Mem ry , muse the past , s w isp r ng fa tly the story . ( 7 ) t h co h - d in un- o n C al n t e smith , far fame the s b r i nd h sla of C ios , Stood like a giant and pounded the bronze in the i i h smoke of h s sm t y , Pounded the iron until it would sing in a tun e with the anvil , Sing in a tune with the tongs and the anvil and e hammer togeth r , Making the music of work that rang to the ends of the city . F u e u n ig res he forc d from his so l i to metal , most b f eauti ul figures , Forced them by fury of fire beneath cunning strokes of the hammer ; u e u o As he tho ght th m , he wro ght them t loveliest f v n orms of the li i g , ou h e of Wr ght t em to worshipful shap s the Gods , who dwell on Olympus . That w as when I was still but a child in the home of my mother , o m of i h e e S le dear ho e my l fe , the om of Creth is my mother I Only two doors from his shop with its soot sto o d r n i l e he clea l tt e cottag , Vainly Sh e strove to restrain her clean little boy from the smithy , l w But he would s ip out the house and a ay , as oon a a s s she w shed him , Off and away to the forge j ust where the s m utc h was the deepest . 9 THE MA! ING OF THE POE T. How I lo ved the great bellows puffing its breath on the charcoal ! And the storm of the sparkles that lit up the smithy with starlight ! And the hiss of the iron red-hot when thrust i nto water ! Greatest man in the world I deemed at that time h n to be C alco , And his smithy to me rose up a se cond O lym us p , Where the Gods and th e Heroes I saw move forth into being ; i o de e di in e ae u H m t o em d I v e , lik Heph st s , a God i n his workshop . As o h oun he thought , s he wroug t he p ded and rounded the metal Till it breathed and would move of itself to a n h e cor er and stand t er , i i in d in u T ll t spoke , and speak g woul po t p beyond to Immortals . Bare to the waist and shaggy the breast of the i -b n h n b g o ed C alco , As it heaved with an earthquake of joy in the shock of creation ; Thick were the thews of his arm and balled at i h u each blow t ll his s o lder , At the turn of his wrist great chords swelled out on i - h s fore arm , One huge hand clasped the grip of th e tongs in its b o b c e r ad ony knu kl s , 1 0 H O I CHIO MER N S . ’ Th other ' clutch ed hold of the sledge and whirled it around by the handle ; hu l d S tting his jaws like a ion , an grating his e t eth in his fury , Whirled he the ponderous sledge to hit in th e heat of the iron ; While the veins underneath would heave up the r on ehe d g ime his for a , Smote he the might of th e metal with all the grit of a Titan ; Working mid flashes of flame that leaped out the be l of d e l y arkn ss , Smote he and sang he a song in response to the ” song of his hammer . ed o u h d i So spake ag H mer s , t e bar , as he sat n h is e settl , he e e w den he e W r gr a gar of fruit , t fig and th e e p ar and th citron , Grapes suspended i n clusters and trees of the c lus ious pomegranate . He had returned to his home with a life full of light and of learning ; e ve h o h e e e c c n Wand ring o r t e w rld , kn w a h ou try and city , n h e h ad ' s een in h e e Ma the thoug t and th d ed , the Gods he had seen too '; H h o e h ome he had reac ed nce mor , t e violet of island Chios , d b lln d i in h d Blin , ah , but with s ght is soul an a sun in his spirit . H 1 1 THE MA! IN G OF T E POE T. Youths were standing around him and hearkened o t he el t wha was t ling , -e h who o to h n Bright yed yout s , had c me is k ees c of ell from ea h region H as , H e of o n omerids hop ful song , the s ns of the ge ius of Homer , of i i u By the new tale Troy nsp red , they so ght to a make me sures , Striving to learn of the master to wield the h e xameter mighty , As high Zeus th e thunderbolt wields in a flash h h h e e ve t roug t H a ns , Leaping from cloud unto cloud and leaving lon g of i e lines ts spl ndor , Rolling the earth in its garment of resonant reverberation . i o of h e b lit u Lum nous too was the l ok t oys , p b e e y th Mus s , E the ne e d be ager y tur d to the sag , an gged for the rest of his story ; Soon into musical words he began again spi nning his life-thread o i h a of od Chalc n , the sm t , was the m ker G s in the smoke of his smithy ! Ou of a o out of a t d rkness he wr ught them , ch os i v pr me al , Striking great blows that lit up the night with the sparks of creation 1 2 HOMER IN 0 3 1 0 s .