
Two days on the shore
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ἔνθα δʼ ἐπʼ ἀκτῆς νηὶ κατηγαγόμεσθα σιωπῇ ναύλοχον ἐς λιμένα, καί τις θεὸς ἡγεμόνευεν. ἔνθα τότʼ ἐκβάντες δύο τʼ ἤματα καὶ δύο νύκτας κείμεθʼ ὁμοῦ καμάτῳ τε καὶ ἄλγεσι θυμὸν ἔδοντες.
There, onto the shore, we put in with our ship in silence, into the ship-sheltering harbor, and some god was guiding us in. There then we disembarked, and for two days and two nights we lay together, eating our hearts with weariness and pains.
The ship slips into the sheltered harbor of Aeaea. The survivors, wrung out, collapse on the beach.
A quiet landfall after the horror. They ease the ship into a natural harbor without a word, and Homer gives the credit to "some god" rather than to seamanship. Ashore, the men do nothing for two days and two nights but lie where they fell, spent with exhaustion and grief.
The undercurrent runs in two small phrases. σιωπῇ, "in silence," is the wariness of men who have learned what strange coasts cost — no shouting, no bold landing party like the one that woke the Cyclops. And θυμὸν ἔδοντες, "eating their hearts," sets grief as a thing that consumes from inside, held against the cannibal feast they have just escaped: nearly eaten, they now eat themselves with sorrow. The poem lets the survivors simply stop, and grieve, before the next danger begins.
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Odyssey 10.140 — The Great Library Project interlinear edition · greatlibraryproject.com/book/odyssey/10.140/