Odyssey 8.276 · Book 8, lines 276–281

The invisible net over the bed

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ δὴ τεῦξε δόλον κεχολωμένος Ἄρει, βῆ ῥʼ ἴμεν ἐς θάλαμον, ὅθι οἱ φίλα δέμνιʼ ἔκειτο, ἀμφὶ δʼ ἄρʼ ἑρμῖσιν χέε δέσματα κύκλῳ ἁπάντῃ· πολλὰ δὲ καὶ καθύπερθε μελαθρόφιν ἐξεκέχυντο, ἠύτʼ ἀράχνια λεπτά, τά γʼ οὔ κέ τις οὐδὲ ἴδοιτο, οὐδὲ θεῶν μακάρων· πέρι γὰρ δολόεντα τέτυκτο.

But when indeed he had wrought the snare, enraged at Ares, he set out to go to the chamber, where his dear bed lay, and around the bed-posts he poured the bonds in a circle everywhere; and many too were poured down from above, from the roof-beam, like fine spider-webs, which no one would even see — no, not even of the blessed gods: for surpassingly it was fashioned full of guile.

Word by word

αὐτὰρautàrButἐπεὶepeìwhenδὴdḕ(indeed)τεῦξεteûxehe had wroughtδόλονdólonthe snareκεχολωμένοςkechōloménosenragedἌρειÁreiat Ares,βῆbêhe set outῥʼrh’(then)ἴμενímento goἐςestoθάλαμονthálamonthe chamber,ὅθιhóthiwhereοἱhoihisφίλαphíladearδέμνιʼdémni’bedἔκειτοékeitolay,ἀμφὶamphìaroundδʼd’(and)ἄρʼár’(then)ἑρμῖσινhermîsinthe bed-postsχέεchéehe pouredδέσματαdésmatathe bondsκύκλῳkýklōiin a circleἁπάντῃhapántēieverywhere·πολλὰpollàmanyδὲdè(and)καὶkaìtooκαθύπερθεkathýperthefrom aboveμελαθρόφινmelathróphinfrom the roof-beamἐξεκέχυντοexekéchyntowere poured down,ἠύτʼēýt’likeἀράχνιαaráchniaspider-websλεπτάleptáfine,τάtáwhichγʼg’(indeed)οὔoúnotκέké(would)τιςtisanyoneοὐδὲoudèevenἴδοιτοídoitocould see,οὐδὲoudènot evenθεῶνtheônof the godsμακάρωνmakárōnthe blessed·πέριpérisurpassinglyγὰρgàrforδολόενταdolóentafull of guileτέτυκτοtétyktoit was fashioned.

The setting

Hephaestus has forged unbreakable bonds. Now he rigs them, in the bedchamber, over the bed he shares with Aphrodite — a trap fine enough that even a god could not see it.

A note on this passage

The trap is set as a scene of quiet, deliberate work. He drapes the bonds around the bed-posts and lets more of them hang from the rafters, and the poem lingers on how fine they are — like spider-web, so thin that not even the blessed gods could catch sight of them. Then he leaves.

The undercurrent is the image itself: divine craft made to look like a spider's web. Homer reaches past the workshop for the smallest, commonest snare in the house, the thing in every corner that catches without being seen. The greatest smith among the gods has built, in effect, the perfect cobweb — and the war-god and the love-goddess are the flies.

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Odyssey 8.276 — The Great Library Project interlinear edition · greatlibraryproject.com/book/odyssey/8.276/