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235
The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft
·
George Gissing
209
XV.
Nothing
in
all
Homer
pleases
me
more
than
the
bedstead
of
Odysseus.
I
have
tried
to
turn
the
passage
describing
it
into
English
verse,
thus:--
Here
in
my
garth
a
goodly
olive
grew;
Thick
was
the
noble
leafage
of
its
prime,
And
like
a
carven
column
rose
the
trunk.
This
tree
about
I
built
my
chamber
walls,
Laying
great
stone
on
stone,
and
roofed
them
well,
And
in
the
portal
set
a
comely
door,
Stout-hinged
and
tightly
closing.
Then
with
axe
I
lopped
the
leafy
olive's
branching
head,
And
hewed
the
bole
to
four-square
shapeliness,
And
smoothed
it,
craftsmanlike,
and
grooved
and
pierced,
Making
the
rooted
timber,
where
it
grew,
A
corner
of
my
couch.
Labouring
on,
I
fashioned
all
the
bed-frame;
which
complete,
The
wood
I
overlaid
with
shining
gear
Of
gold,
of
silver,
and
of
ivory.
And
last,
between
the
endlong
beams
I
stretched
Stout
thongs
of
ox-hide,
dipped
in
purple
dye.
Odyssey,
xxiii.
190-201.
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