I am puzzled by the classification of this question. So, and because I ignore all there is to know of English grammar, I ‘ll give it a try.
Odysseus is an odd character that has been interpreted in various ways by various authors, including Homer himself. A part from his shrewdness, the son of Laertes is not always compatible with the husband of Penelope. Odysseus shows more hubris defying Gods and semi-Gods on the battle fields of the Iliad than he does on the agitated waters of the Odyssey. The Odysseus of the Odyssey is confident. His hubris does not fight the Gods; it lives in his certainty that no Olympian power will ever stop him.
When Circe offers him immortality in exchange for his love, he turns her down; he wants home (in fact he wants home more than he wants Penelope) and Eternity will not change his mind.
When, sailing along the island of Capri, he is advised of the mortal danger of the mermaids’ call, however, his inextinguishable curiosity wins over his natural fear of death. Odysseus craves to hear their voluptuous songs. Hubris tells him to let his sailors fill their ears with wax. Tied to the mast with ropes and chains, he listens. He struggles to untie himself and plunge to their deadly embrace, but his mind wins over his strength and the fatal call of the sorceresses. He lives to tell, and hubris makes of the island an eternal myth.
Beyond the scope of the question, it is interesting to consider two more Ulysses: Joyce’s Leopold Bloom, to whom the very same events of his predecessor happen and overcome him with no need of hubris nor of his consent, and Dante’s Ulysses.
Within the verses of the Divine Comedy, Ulysses’ hubris has a capital H. Nothing will stop such champion, not knowledge of certain death, not Hell, not Hercules’ Columns. Bored of his life back in Ithaca, he takes to sea again and, this time never to return. Hubris won him over, but gave him the eternity that he had refused to Circe. He is still with us as an example of what the human mind can achieve.