ODYSSEUS TRAPPED: 7 Years as Calypso’s Prisoner on Ogygia Island
On the island of Ogygia, surrounded by the infinite sea, Odysseus spent his days gazing at the horizon.
Seven years had passed since the nymph Calypso rescued him from the waters after the shipwreck that followed his encounter with Scylla and Charybdis.
The island was beautiful—a paradise of perfumed caverns, lush forests, and crystalline streams. Calypso, beautiful and immortal, loved him with passion and had offered him an endless life at her side; but Odysseus only wished to return to Ithaca with his wife Penelope and his son Telemachus.
Every dawn, he walked to the shore to gaze at the sea, longing for his distant home.
His eyes, reddened by weeping, his beard unkempt, and his sad countenance revealed the suffering of one who, despite living in a paradise, felt the captivity in every fiber of his being.
Calypso tried to console him; she reminded him of the advantages of staying—immortality, eternal youth, and a life of pleasures together with her.
“If you knew how many sorrows await you before you reach your homeland,” she would tell him, “you would prefer to stay here with me.”
But the wily Odysseus preferred to face a thousand dangers in exchange for seeing, if only for an instant, the smoke rising from the homes of Ithaca.
Meanwhile, on Olympus, Athena was interceding for her protégé before Zeus. “It is not fair,” said the goddess, “that a man like Odysseus should suffer this fate while he languishes held by Calypso.
Suitors devour his estate and harass Penelope.” Zeus, moved by Athena’s words, summoned Hermes. “Go to the island of Ogygia,” commanded the father of the gods, “and inform Calypso that she must let Odysseus depart.”
When Hermes reached the island, he found Calypso singing while weaving with a golden shuttle.
“Calypso,” said Hermes as he entered the cave, “I bring a message from Zeus: you must free Odysseus to return to his homeland.
The gods have decided that it is time for him to return to Ithaca.” The nymph blanched at these words.
“The gods are unjust,” she replied bitterly, “when a goddess loves a mortal, they always interfere.
I saved him, and now I must let him go.” But she knew well that no one could oppose the will of Zeus.
Heartbroken, she sought out Odysseus. “The gods have commanded that I let you depart,” she told him.
“I will help you build a raft and provide you with provisions for the voyage.”
Joy lit up the hero’s face. For four days he worked tirelessly, felling trees, polishing timbers, and joining planks.
Calypso provided him with tools, cloth for sails, and sturdy ropes. She also filled wine skins with fresh water and others with dark wine, and prepared a sack with provisions that would last for many days.
On the fifth day, the raft was ready. Calypso bathed Odysseus, dressed him in perfumed clothes, and accompanied him to the beach.
There, with tears in her eyes, she gave him one last piece of advice: “Keep the constellation of the Pleiades to your left, sail seventeen days, and you will reach the land of the Phaeacians, who will help you return to Ithaca.”
Odysseus boarded the raft and set sail. A favorable wind sent by Calypso swelled the canvas, and the boat began to sail away from the island.
The nymph remained on the beach, watching as her beloved was lost in the distance.
For seventeen days Odysseus sailed quietly, guided by the stars and rationing his provisions. The hope of seeing Penelope and Telemachus again gave him strength.
But in the depths of the sea, Poseidon was returning from visiting the Ethiopians. When he looked up, he saw Odysseus sailing towards Ithaca, and fury seized him.
He had not forgotten the outrage committed by the hero when he blinded his son, the Cyclops Polyphemus.
“So the gods have decided to help you while I was absent?” Roared Poseidon. “Well then, you have not yet reached your home, Odysseus!”
The god waved his trident and summoned black clouds that darkened the sky. He unleashed fierce winds from the four corners of the world that crashed against each other, raising huge waves.
The storm raged with unusual violence. Odysseus’ raft was tossed about like a dry leaf; the ropes came loose, the timbers creaked, and soon there was nothing left but scattered fragments on the turbulent surface.
The waves, high as mountains, threatened to engulf him at any moment. “Woe is me!”
Cried Odysseus as a gigantic wave tossed him into the water. “Is this the end the gods have ordained for me—to die drowned far from my homeland and my own?”
For two days and two nights, Odysseus struggled against the waves, clinging to the timber of his destroyed vessel.
His arms ached, his body was lacerated by the salt, and his strength diminished with every hour.
Just when he thought all was lost, he spotted a sea goddess emerging from the waters.
It was Leucothea, the white goddess, who had once been mortal by the name of Ino.
Pitying Odysseus’ suffering, she flew up like a seagull over the raging waves. “Wretch,” she said to him, “why is Poseidon so angry with you?
But though he desires your death, he will not succeed in destroying you. Listen well to what I am going to tell you: take off those clothes you are wearing, leave the wood, and take this immortal veil.
Tie it under your breast and do not be afraid to sink into the sea.
When you come ashore, throw it back into the dark waters far from the shore, and do not look back.”
She handed him a shimmering veil and disappeared beneath the waves. Odysseus hesitated at first, fearing it was a trap of some malicious god, but when a huge wave shattered the timber to which he clung, he had no choice but to follow the advice.
He stripped off his sodden clothes, tied the veil under his breast, and swam away.
For two more days he struggled against the swell until, on the third, the wind died down.
From the top of a wave, Odysseus caught a glimpse of land. He swam hard towards the shore, but as he got closer, he realized that the waves were crashing against cliffs.
There was no beach where he could land, only sharp rocks where the sea crashed violently.
As he searched for a place to reach land, a wave swept him onto the rocks.
He would have been dashed to pieces had he not managed to cling to a ledge in time.
His fingernails broke and the skin on his hands tore, but he managed to stay out of reach of the swell until the danger passed.
He swam along the shore, looking for the mouth of a river where the waters were calm.
When at last he found it, he raised a prayer to the river god: “Hear me, Lord of the river, whoever you are.
I come to you as a suppliant, fleeing from the sea and the wrath of Poseidon.
Pity me, Lord, for I declare myself your suppliant.” The god heard him and stopped his current, opening a smooth path for Odysseus to reach the shore.
Exhausted, he kissed the earth and sought shelter among some nearby bushes. He formed a bed with fallen leaves and fell into a deep sleep.
When he awoke, he heard female laughter. He crawled through the bushes and saw a group of maidens playing with a ball on the beach while the clothes they had washed were drying in the sun.
Among them, one stood out for her beauty and bearing: she was Nausicaa, daughter of King Alcinous, ruler of the Phaeacians.
Odysseus hesitated about how to present himself; he was naked, covered with salt and seaweed, with the terrible aspect of a castaway.
He decided to remain hidden among the foliage and speak from there in a soft voice: “I beseech you, princess, for you must be one because of your noble appearance.
If you are a goddess, I compare you to Artemis for your beauty; if you are mortal, blessed are your parents and blessed more than all will be the man who takes you home as his wife.
I came after suffering many misfortunes, shipwrecked in a storm that lasted twenty days. Pity me, madam, for you are the first person I have met on this earth.
Show me the city and give me something to cover myself.” Nausicaa, far from being frightened, made her maidservants stop in their flight and replied: “Stranger, you do not look like a villainous or foolish man.
Zeus himself apportions fortune among men, good or bad, according to his will. It has fallen to thee to suffer, but now that thou hast come to our land, thou shalt lack neither clothing nor anything that befits a wretched supplicant.
I will show thee the city and tell thee the name of our people. We Phaeacians inhabit this land, and I am the daughter of the magnanimous Alcinous who reigns over them.”
On the advice of Nausicaa, Odysseus went to the city. Arriving at the palace, he embraced the knees of Queen Arete as a supplicant, asking for help to return to his homeland but keeping silent about his name and origin.
The king, impressed, offered him hospitality and promised to help him return, not yet knowing who the mysterious castaway was.
In the sumptuous palace of Alcinous, a foreigner had been received with the hospitality that the gods demand for travelers.
No one knew his name or his story, but his bearing and his scars spoke of a man who had seen and suffered much.
The Phaeacians, lovers of the sea and blessed with ships swift as thought, held a banquet in honor of the mysterious guest.
The tables bent under the weight of the food and the wine flowed generously in golden cups.
King Alcinous, wishing to honor his guest even more, summoned Demodocus, the blind aoidos to whom the Muses had bestowed the gift of sweet song.
“Sing to us of the Trojan War,” requested the king, “of the exploits of the Achaeans and Trojans.”
The aoidos plucked his lyre and his voice rose clear as spring water. He sang of the quarrel between Achilles and Odysseus; then he went on to relate the ruse of the wooden horse—the idea of the wily Odysseus—which led to the fall of the city of Priam.
The stranger, hearing these stories which he knew so well, could not hold back his tears.
As a father weeps for a lost son or a wife for her husband fallen in battle, so wept the stranger.
He hid his face with a purple cloak, but his sobs reached the ears of King Alcinous.
The king, respecting the grief of his guest, ordered the aoidos to be silent. “Our singing does not equally gladden all,” he said wisely.
“Since Demodocus began, our guest has not ceased to weep.” He then turned to the stranger: “Tell us who you are and whence you come.
No man is without a name, whether noble or of humble birth. Why do you weep at the sound of the song about Troy?
What hero did you lose there?” The stranger uncovered his face, wiped away his tears, and took the cup of wine offered to him.
He drank and then spoke: “King Alcinous, hear my answer. I am Odysseus, son of Laertes, known among men for my cunning.
My home is in Ithaca, a clear island beneath Mount Neritus. I have seen many cities and known the customs of many people.
I weep because these songs remind me of my sorrows and sufferings. What shall I tell you first?
What shall I leave for last? Many misfortunes have the gods of Olympus sent me, but now I will tell my name that you may know it.
When I departed from Troy, the wind carried me to Ismarus, city of the Ciconians…”
