θ.333-342
ὣς οἱ μὲν τοιαῦτα πρὸς ἀλλήλους ἀγόρευον.
Ἑρμῆν δὲ προσέειπεν ἄναξ Διὸς υἱὸς Ἀπόλλων·
“Ἑρμεία, Διὸ υἱέ, διάκτορε, δῶτορ ἐάων,
ἦ ῥά κεν ἐν δεσμοῖς ἐθέλοις κρατεροῖσι πιεσθείς
εὕδειν ἐν λέκτροισι παρὰ χρυσῆι Ἀφροδίτηι;”
τὸν δ᾽ἠμείβετ᾽ ἔπειτα διάκτορος Ἀργειφόντης·
“αἲ γὰρ τοῦτο γένοιτο, ἄναξ ἑκατηβόλ᾽ Ἄπολλον·
δεσμοὶ μὲν τρὶς τόσσοι ἀπείρονες ἀμφὶς ἔχοιεν,
ὑμεῖς δ᾽ εἰσορόωιτε θεοὶ πᾶσαί τε θέαιναι,
αὐτὰρ ἐγὼν εὕδοιμι παρὰ χρυσῆι Ἀφροδίτηι.”
M.L. West notes the following for 333-342 (it must be a quote from the scholia, though he doesn’t say): ἐν ἐνίοις ἀντιγράφοις οἱ δέκα στίχοι οὐ φέρονται διὰ τὸ ἀπρέπειαν ἐμφαίνειν· νεωτερικὸν γὰρ τὸ φρόνημα
These were jarring to come across. The lines are a cynical commentary on an older story, which is a strange attitude in Homer. Without them, the song of the aoidos fits into the surrounding story, a perfect anthem for the Phaiekes, technology and the sea subduing love and war. Tonally, Poseidon’s speech fits surprisingly well as a reply to Hephaistos earlier. There is the normal Homeric awe of the gods mixed in with Hephaistos’ pathetic act. With lines 333-342 included, the characters of the gods feel inept and juvenile, and the point of the whole story becomes this witty joke.
Regardless, I lost immersion as I read them, and wondered if Homer had forgotten that he was telling a story within a story. Then looking down at West’s note, I felt prompted to make this post. Whether some Lucian of a scribe added these lines, or whether Homer put them in with a bawdy blind wink and Homeric nod in his original performance, I side with the anonymous prudes of antiquity that removed them.