by Todd Herges
From the Ninth Book of Homer’s Odyssey
(Lines 101-112, as translated by J. W. MACKAIL, c. 1905)
Then for a while, as long as morn was grey,
And through the increase of the sacred day,
Against them, though they far outnumbered us,
We held our ground and kept in our array.
But at the hour of the descending sun,
When from the plough the oxen are undone,
Back the Ciconians drove the Achaean host
And broke them, that escape we hardly won
From death and doom: but of my mail-clad host
Six from each ship lay dead upon the coast.
Thence we sailed on, escaping glad from death,
Yet heart-sore for the comrades we had lost.
Homer in the Ninth
Then for a while, as they in travel gray,
And through the weather of the autumn day,
Against them, though their fan base outsized ours,
We held our ground and kept
Long past the hour of the descending sun,
When from the beer the vendors are undone,
Back the Angelenos drove Manuel’s men
And broke them, that escape we hand’ly won
From season’s end: beat’n by the red-clad host
The Dodger team lay dead upon our coast.
Thence we moved on, escaping glad from death,
Yet thankful Ryan Howard gives his most.
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