
The washing-pools
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ἔνθʼ ἦ τοι πλυνοὶ ἦσαν ἐπηετανοί, πολὺ δʼ ὕδωρ καλὸν ὑπεκπρόρεεν μάλα περ ῥυπόωντα καθῆραι, ἔνθʼ αἵ γʼ ἡμιόνους μὲν ὑπεκπροέλυσαν ἀπήνης. καὶ τὰς μὲν σεῦαν ποταμὸν πάρα δινήεντα τρώγειν ἄγρωστιν μελιηδέα· ταὶ δʼ ἀπʼ ἀπήνης
there were the washing-pools, ever-full, and abundant fair water welled up from beneath, enough to cleanse even the filthiest things. There they loosed the mules from the wagon, and drove them along the eddying river to graze on sweet clover; and the maids, from the wagon,
At the river the poem describes the washing-place, then the girls unyoke the mules and begin to unload — the sentence carries on into the next lines.
The destination is described with real attention: perennial washing-pools fed by clear water welling up, enough to clean the dirtiest linen. There the girls unyoke the mules and turn them loose along the eddying river to crop the sweet grass, and begin unloading — the sentence running on past the line's end.
The loving exactness is the undercurrent. Homer lingers over the plumbing of a laundry-spot — the ever-flowing basins, the good water — with the same care he gives to palaces and battle. This unhurried, sunlit ordinariness is the calm the poem builds on purpose, just before the shipwrecked hero breaks into it.
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