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Title: The Odyssey of Homer

Author: Homer

Translator: S. H. Butcher
Andrew Lang

Release date: April 1, 1999 [eBook #1728]
Most recently updated: April 19, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1728

Credits: Jim Tinsley

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ODYSSEY
OF HOMER ***

The Odyssey

by Homer

DONE INTO ENGLISH PROSE

by
S. H. BUTCHER, M.A.
Fellow and Protector of University College, Oxford
Late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge

AND

A. LANG, M.A.
Late Fellow of Merton College, Oxford

Contents
PREFACE.
PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.

INTRODUCTION.

The Odyssey
BOOK I.
BOOK II.
BOOK III.
BOOK IV.
BOOK V.
BOOK VI.
BOOK VII.
BOOK VIII.
BOOK IX.
BOOK X.
BOOK XI.
BOOK XII.
BOOK XIII.
BOOK XIV.
BOOK XV.
BOOK XVI.
BOOK XVII.
BOOK XVIII.
BOOK XIX.
BOOK XX.
BOOK XXI.
BOOK XXII.
BOOK XXIII.
BOOK XXIV.

As one that for a weary space has lain
Lulled by the song of Circe and her wine
In gardens near the pale of Proserpine,
Where that Ææan isle forgets the main,
And only the low lutes of love complain,
And only shadows of wan lovers pine,
As such an one were glad to know the brine
Salt on his lips, and the large air again,
So gladly, from the songs of modern speech
Men turn, and see the stars, and feel the free
Shrill wind beyond the close of heavy flowers,
And through the music of the languid hours
They hear like Ocean on a western beach
The surge and thunder of the Odyssey.

A. L.

PREFACE.
There would have been less controversy about the proper method of
Homeric translation, if critics had recognised that the question is a purely
relative one, that of Homer there can be no final translation. The taste and
the literary habits of each age demand different qualities in poetry, and
therefore a different sort of rendering of Homer. To the men of the time of
Elizabeth, Homer would have appeared bald, it seems, and lacking in
ingenuity, if he had been presented in his antique simplicity. For the
Elizabethan age, Chapman supplied what was then necessary, and the
mannerisms that were then deemed of the essence of poetry, namely, daring
and luxurious conceits. Thus in Chapman’s verse Troy must “shed her
towers for tears of overthrow,” and when the winds toss Odysseus about,
their sport must be called “the horrid tennis.”
In the age of Anne, “dignity” and “correctness” had to be given to
Homer, and Pope gave them by aid of his dazzling rhetoric, his antitheses,
his netteté, his command of every conventional and favourite artifice.
Without Chapman’s conceits, Homer’s poems would hardly have been what
the Elizabethans took for poetry; without Pope’s smoothness, and Pope’s
points, the Iliad and Odyssey would have seemed rude, and harsh in the age
of Anne. These great translations must always live as English poems. As
transcripts of Homer they are like pictures drawn from a lost point of view.
Chaque siècle depuis le xvie a eu de ce côté son belvéder différent. Again,
when Europe woke to a sense, an almost exaggerated and certainly
uncritical sense, of the value of her songs of the people, of all the ballads
that Herder, Scott, Lonnrot, and the rest collected, it was commonly said
that Homer was a ballad-minstrel, that the translator must imitate the
simplicity, and even adopt the formulae of the ballad. Hence came the
renderings of Maginn, the experiments of Mr. Gladstone, and others. There
was some excuse for the error of critics who asked for a Homer in ballad
rhyme. The Epic poet, the poet of gods and heroes, did indeed inherit some
of the formulae of the earlier Volks-lied. Homer, like the author of The Song
of Roland, like the singers of the Kalevala, uses constantly recurring

epithets, and repeats, word for word, certain emphatic passages, messages,
and so on. That custom is essential in the ballad, it is an accident not the
essence of the epic. The epic is a poem of complete and elaborate art, but it
still bears some birthmarks, some signs of the early popular chant, out of
which it sprung, as the garden-rose springs from the wild stock, When this
is recognised the demand for ballad-like simplicity and “ballad-slang”
ceases to exist, and then all Homeric translations in the ballad manner cease
to represent our conception of Homer. After the belief in the ballad manner
follows the recognition of the romantic vein in Homer, and, as a result,
came Mr. Worsley’s admirable Odyssey. This masterly translation does all
that can be done for the Odyssey in the romantic style. The smoothness of
the verse, the wonderful closeness to the original, reproduce all of Homer,
in music and in meaning, that can be rendered in English verse. There still,
however, seems an aspect Homeric poems, and a demand in connection
with Homer to be recognised, and to be satisfied.
Sainte-Beuve says, with reference probably to M. Leconte de Lisle’s
prose version of the epics, that some people treat the epics too much as if
they were sagas. Now the Homeric epics are sagas, but then they are the
sagas of the divine heroic age of Greece, and thus are told with an art which
is not the art of the Northern poets. The epics are stories about the
adventures of men living in most respects like the men of our own race who
dwelt in Iceland, Norway, Denmark, and Sweden. The epics are, in a way,
and as far as manners and institutions are concerned, historical documents.
Whoever regards them in this way, must wish to read them exactly as they
have reached us, without modern ornament, with nothing added or omitted.
He must recognise, with Mr. Matthew Arnold, that what he now wants,
namely, the simple truth about the matter of the poem, can only be given in
prose, “for in a verse translation no original work is any longer
recognisable.” It is for this reason that we have attempted to tell once more,
in simple prose, the story of Odysseus. We have tried to transfer, not all the
truth about the poem, but the historical truth, into English. In this process
Homer must lose at least half his charm, his bright and equable speed, the
musical current of that narrative, which, like the river of Egypt, flows from
an indiscoverable source, and mirrors the temples and the palaces of
unforgotten gods and kings. Without this music of verse, only a half truth
about Homer can be told, but then it is that half of the truth which, at this
moment, it seems most necessary to tell. This is the half of the truth that the

translators who use verse cannot easily tell. They must be adding to Homer,
talking with Pope about “tracing the mazy lev’ret o’er the lawn,” or with
Mr. Worsley about the islands that are “stars of the blue Aegaean,” or with
Dr. Hawtrey about “the earth’s soft arms,” when Homer says nothing at all
about the “mazy lev’ret,” or the “stars of the blue Aegaean,” or the “soft
arms” of earth. It would be impertinent indeed to blame any of these
translations in their place. They give that which the romantic reader of
poetry, or the student of the age of Anne, looks for in verse; and without
tags of this sort, a translation of Homer in verse cannot well be made to
hold together.
There can be then, it appears, no final English translation of Homer. In
each there must be, in addition to what is Greek and eternal, the element of
what is modern, personal, and fleeting. Thus we trust that there may be
room for “the pale and far-off shadow of a prose translation,” of which the
aim is limited and humble. A prose translation cannot give the movement
and the fire of a successful translation in verse; it only gathers, as it were,
the crumbs which fall from the richer table, only tells the story, without the
song. Yet to a prose translation is permitted, perhaps, that close adherence
to the archaisms of the epic, which in verse become mere oddities. The
double epithets, the recurring epithets of Homer, if rendered into verse,
delay and puzzle the reader, as the Greek does not delay or puzzle him. In
prose he may endure them, or even care to study them as the survivals of a
stage of taste, which is to be found in its prime in the sagas. These double
and recurring epithets of Homer are a softer form of the quaint Northern
periphrases, which make the sea the “swan’s bath,” gold, the “dragon’s
hoard,” men, the “ring-givers,” and so on. We do not know whether it is
necessary to defend our choice of a somewhat antiquated prose. Homer has
no ideas which cannot be expressed in words that are “old and plain,” and
to words that are old and plain, and, as a rule, to such terms as, being used
by the Translators of the Bible, are still not unfamiliar, we have tried to
restrict ourselves. It may be objected, that the employment of language
which does not come spontaneously to the lips, is an affectation out of place
in a version of the Odyssey. To this we may answer that the Greek Epic
dialect, like the English of our Bible, was a thing of slow growth and
composite nature, that it was never a spoken language, nor, except for
certain poetical purposes, a written language. Thus the Biblical English

seems as nearly analogous to the Epic Greek, as anything that our tongue
has to offer.
The few foot-notes in this book are chiefly intended to make clear some
passages where there is a choice of reading. The notes at the end, which we
would like to have written in the form of essays, and in company with more
complete philological and archaeological studies, are chiefly meant to
elucidate the life of Homer’s men.
We have received much help from many friends, and especially from Mr.
R. W. Raper, Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford and Mr. Gerald Balfour,
Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, who have aided us with many
suggestions while the book was passing through the press.
In the interpretation of B. i. 411, ii. 191, v. 90, and 471, we have departed
from the received view, and followed Mr. Raper, who, however, has not
been able to read through the proof-sheets further than Book xii.
We have adopted La Roche’s text (Homeri Odyssea, J. La Roche,
Leipzig, 1867), except in a few cases where we mention our reading in a
foot-note.
The Arguments prefixed to the Books are taken, with very slight
alterations, from Hobbes’ Translation of the Odyssey.
It is hoped that the Introduction added to the second edition may
illustrate the growth of those national legends on which Homer worked, and
may elucidate the plot of the Odyssey.

PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.
We owe our thanks to the Rev. E. Warre, of Eton College, for certain
corrections on nautical points. In particular, he has convinced us that the
raft of Odysseus in B. v. is a raft strictly so called, and that it is not, under
the poet’s description, elaborated into a ship, as has been commonly
supposed. The translation of the passage (B. v. 246-261) is accordingly
altered.

INTRODUCTION.
COMPOSITION AND PLOT OF THE ODYSSEY.
The Odyssey is generally supposed to be somewhat the later in date of the
two most ancient Greek poems which are concerned with the events and
consequences of the Trojan war. As to the actual history of that war, it may
be said that nothing is known. We may conjecture that some contest
between peoples of more or less kindred stocks, who occupied the isles and
the eastern and western shores of the Aegean, left a strong impression on
the popular fancy. Round the memories of this contest would gather many
older legends, myths, and stories, not peculiarly Greek or even “Aryan,”
which previously floated unattached, or were connected with heroes whose
fame was swallowed up by that of a newer generation. It would be the work
of minstrels, priests, and poets, as the national spirit grew conscious of
itself, to shape all these materials into a definite body of tradition. This is
the rule of development—first scattered stories, then the union of these into
a national legend. The growth of later national legends, which we are able
to trace, historically, has generally come about in this fashion. To take the
best known example, we are able to compare the real history of
Charlemagne with the old epic poems on his life and exploits. In these
poems we find that facts are strangely exaggerated, and distorted; that
purely fanciful additions are made to the true records, that the more striking
events of earlier history are crowded into the legend of Charles, that mere
fairy tales, current among African as well as European peoples, are
transmuted into false history, and that the anonymous characters of fairy
tales are converted into historical personages. We can also watch the
process by which feigned genealogies were constructed, which connected
the princely houses of France with the imaginary heroes of the epics. The
conclusion is that the poetical history of Charlemagne has only the faintest
relations to the true history. And we are justified in supposing that, quite as
little of the real history of events can be extracted from the tale of Troy, as
from the Chansons de Geste.

By the time the Odyssey was composed, it is certain that a poet had
before him a well-arranged mass of legends and traditions from which he
might select his materials. The author of the Iliad has an extremely full and
curiously consistent knowledge of the local traditions of Greece, the
memories which were cherished by Thebans, Pylians, people of Mycenae,
of Argos, and so on. The Iliad and the Odyssey assume this knowledge in
the hearers of the poems, and take for granted some acquaintance with other
legends, as with the story of the Argonautic Expedition. Now that story
itself is a tissue of popular tales,—still current in many distant lands,—but
all woven by the Greek genius into the history of Iason.
The history of the return of Odysseus as told in the Odyssey, is in the
same way, a tissue of old märchen. These must have existed for an
unknown length of time before they gravitated into the cycle of the tale of
Troy.
The extraordinary artistic skill with which legends and myths, originally
unconnected with each other, are woven into the plot of the Odyssey, so that
the marvels of savage and barbaric fancy become indispensable parts of an
artistic whole, is one of the chief proofs of the unity of authorship of that
poem. We now go on to sketch the plot, which is a marvel of construction.
Odysseus was the King of Ithaca, a small and rugged island on the
western coast of Greece. When he was but lately married to Penelope, and
while his only son Telemachus was still an infant, the Trojan war began. It
is scarcely necessary to say that the object of this war, as conceived of by
the poets, was to win back Helen, the wife of Menelaus, from Paris, the son
of Priam, King of Troy. As Menelaus was the brother of Agamemnon, the
Emperor, so to speak, or recognised chief of the petty kingdoms of Greece,
the whole force of these kingdoms was at his disposal. No prince came to
the leaguer of Troy from a home more remote than that of Odysseus. When
Troy was taken, in the tenth year of the war, his homeward voyage was the
longest and most perilous.
The action of the Odyssey occupies but the last six weeks of the ten years
during which Odysseus was wandering. Two nights in these six weeks are
taken up, however, by his own narrative of his adventures (to the
Phaeacians, p. xx) in the previous ten years. With this explanatory narrative
we must begin, before coming to the regular action of the poem.

After the fall of Troy, Odysseus touched at Ismarus, the city of a Thracian
people, whom he attacked and plundered, but by whom he was at last
repulsed. The north wind then carried his ships to Malea, the extreme
southern point of Greece. Had he doubled Malea safely, he would probably
have reached Ithaca in a few days, would have found Penelope unvexed by
wooers, and Telemachus a boy of ten years old. But this was not to be.
The “ruinous winds” drove Odysseus and his ships for ten days, and on
the tenth they touched the land of the Lotus-Eaters, whose flowery food
causes sweet forgetfulness. Lotus-land was possibly in Western Libya, but it
is more probable that ten days’ voyage from the southern point of Greece,
brought Odysseus into an unexplored region of fairy-land. Egypt, of which
Homer had some knowledge, was but five days’ sail from Crete.
Lotus-land, therefore, being ten days’ sail from Malea, was well over the
limit of the discovered world. From this country Odysseus went on till he
reached the land of the lawless Cyclôpes, a pastoral people of giants. Later
Greece feigned that the Cyclôpes dwelt near Mount Etna, in Sicily. Homer
leaves their place of abode in the vague. Among the Cyclôpes, Odysseus
had the adventure on which his whole fortunes hinged. He destroyed the
eye of the cannibal giant, Polyphemus, a son of Poseidon, the God of the
Sea. To avenge this act, Poseidon drove Odysseus wandering for ten long
years, and only suffered him to land in Ithaca, “alone, in evil case, to find
troubles in his house.” This is a very remarkable point in the plot. The story
of the crafty adventurer and the blinding of the giant, with the punning
device by which the hero escaped, exists in the shape of a detached
märchen or fairy-tale among races who never heard of Homer. And when
we find the story among Oghuzians, Esthonians, Basques, and Celts, it
seems natural to suppose that these people did not break a fragment out of
the Odyssey, but that the author of the Odyssey took possession of a legend
out of the great traditional store of fiction. From the wide distribution of the
tale, there is reason to suppose that it is older than Homer, and that it was
not originally told of Odysseus, but was attached to his legend, as floating
jests of unknown authorship are attributed to eminent wits. It has been
remarked with truth that in this episode Odysseus acts out of character, that
he is foolhardy as well as cunning. Yet the author of the Odyssey, so far
from merely dove-tailing this story at random into his narrative, has made
his whole plot turn on the injury to the Cyclops. Had he not foolishly
exposed himself and his companions, by his visit to the Cyclops, Odysseus

would never have been driven wandering for ten weary years. The prayers
of the blinded Cyclops were heard and fulfilled by Poseidon.
From the land of the Cyclops, Odysseus and his company sailed to the
Isle of Aeolus, the king of the winds. This place too is undefined; we only
learn that, even with the most favourable gale, it was ten days’ sail from
Ithaca. In the Isle of Aeolus Odysseus abode for a month, and then received
from the king a bag in which all the winds were bound, except that which
was to waft the hero to his home. This sort of bag was probably not
unfamiliar to superstitious Greek sailors who had dealings with witches,
like the modern wise women of the Lapps. The companions of the hero
opened the bag when Ithaca was in sight, the winds rushed out, the ships
were borne back to the Aeolian Isle, and thence the hero was roughly
dismissed by Aeolus. Seven days’ sail brought him to Lamos, a city of the
cannibal Laestrygonians. Their country, too, is in No-man’s-land, and
nothing can be inferred from the fact that their fountain was called Artacia,
and that there was an Artacia in Cyzicus. In Lamos a very important
adventure befel Odysseus. The cannibals destroyed all his fleet, save one
ship, with which he made his escape to the Isle of Circé. Here the
enchantress turned part of the crew into swine, but Odysseus, by aid of the
god Hermes, redeemed them, and became the lover of Circé. This
adventure, like the story of the Cyclops, is a fairy tale of great antiquity. Dr.
Gerland, in his Alt Griechische Märchen in der Odyssee, has shown that the
story makes part of the collection of Somadeva, a store of Indian tales, of
which 1200 A.D. is the approximate date. Circé appears as a Yackshini, and
is conquered when an adventurer seizes her flute whose magic music turns
men into beasts. The Indian Circé had the habit of eating the animals into
which she transformed men.
We must suppose that the affairs with the Cicones, the Lotus-eaters, the
Cyclops, Aeolus, and the Laestrygonians, occupied most of the first year
after the fall of Troy. A year was then spent in the Isle of Circé, after which
the sailors were eager to make for home. Circé commanded them to go
down to Hades, to learn the homeward way from the ghost of the Theban
prophet Teiresias. The descent into hell, for some similar purpose, is
common in the epics of other races, such as the Finns, and the South-Sea
Islanders. The narrative of Odysseus’s visit to the dead (book xi) is one of
the most moving passages in the whole poem.

From Teiresias Odysseus learned that, if he would bring his companions
home, he must avoid injuring the sacred cattle of the Sun, which pastured in
the Isle of Thrinacia. If these were harmed, he would arrive in Ithaca alone,
or in the words of the Cyclops’s prayer, “in evil plight, with loss of all his
company, on board the ship of strangers, to find sorrow in his house.” On
returning to the Isle Aeaean, Odysseus was warned by Circé of the dangers
he would encounter. He and his friends set forth, escaped the Sirens (a sort
of mermaidens), evaded the Clashing Rocks, which close on ships (a fable
known to the Aztecs), passed Scylla (the pieuvre of antiquity) with loss of
some of the company, and reached Thrinacia, the Isle of the Sun. Here the
company of Odysseus, constrained by hunger, devoured the sacred kine of
the Sun, for which offence they were punished by a shipwreck, when all
were lost save Odysseus. He floated ten days on a raft, and then reached the
isle of the goddess Calypso, who kept him as her lover for eight years.
The first two years after the fall of Troy are now accounted for. They
were occupied, as we have seen, by adventures with the Cicones, the Lotus-
eaters, the Cyclops, Aeolus, the Laestrygonians, by a year’s residence with
Circé, by the descent into Hades, the encounters with the Sirens, and Scylla,
and the fatal sojourn in the isle of Thrinacia. We leave Odysseus alone, for
eight years, consuming his own heart, in the island paradise of Calypso.
In Ithaca, the hero’s home, things seem to have passed smoothly till
about the sixth year after the fall of Troy. Then the men of the younger
generation, the island chiefs, began to woo Penelope, and to vex her son
Telemachus. Laertes, the father of Odysseus, was too old to help, and
Penelope only gained time by her famous device of weaving and unweaving
the web. The wooers began to put compulsion on the Queen, quartering
themselves upon her, devouring her substance, and insulting her by their
relations with her handmaids. Thus Penelope pined at home, amidst her
wasting possessions. Telemachus fretted in vain, and Odysseus was
devoured by grief and home-sickness in the isle of Calypso. When he had
lain there for nigh eight years, the action of the Odyssey begins, and
occupies about six weeks.

DAY 1 (Book i).
The ordained time has now arrived, when by the counsels of the Gods,
Odysseus is to be brought home to free his house, to avenge himself on the

wooers, and recover his kingdom. The chief agent in his restoration is Pallas
Athene; the first book opens with her prayer to Zeus that Odysseus may be
delivered. For this purpose Hermes is to be sent to Calypso to bid her
release Odysseus, while Pallas Athene in the shape of Mentor, a friend of
Odysseus, visits Telemachus in Ithaca. She bids him call an assembly of the
people, dismiss the wooers to their homes, and his mother to her father’s
house, and go in quest of his own father, in Pylos, the city of Nestor, and
Sparta, the home of Menelaus. Telemachus recognises the Goddess, and the
first day closes.

DAY 2 (Book ii).
Telemachus assembles the people, but he has not the heart to carry out
Athene’s advice. He cannot send the wooers away, nor turn his mother out
of her house. He rather weakly appeals to the wooers’ consciences, and
announces his intention of going to seek his father. They answer with scorn,
but are warned of their fate, which is even at the doors, by Halitherses. His
prophecy (first made when Odysseus set out for Troy) tallies with the
prophecy of Teiresias, and the prayer of the Cyclops. The reader will
observe a series of portents, prophecies, and omens, which grow more
numerous and admonishing as their doom draws nearer to the wooers. Their
hearts, however, are hardened, and they mock at Telemachus, who, after an
interview with Athene, borrows a ship and secretly sets out for Pylos.
Athene accompanies him, and his friends man his galley.

DAY 3 (Book iii).
They reach Pylos, and are kindly received by the aged Nestor, who has
no news about Odysseus. After sacrifice, Athene disappears.

DAY 4 (Book iii).
The fourth day is occupied with sacrifice, and the talk of Nestor. In the
evening Telemachus (leaving his ship and friends at Pylos) drives his
chariot into Pherae, half way to Sparta; Peisistratus, the son of Nestor,
accompanies him.

DAY 5 (Book iv).

Telemachus and Peisistratus arrive at Sparta, where Menelaus and Helen
receive them kindly.

DAY 6 (Book iv).
Menelaus tells how he himself came home in the eighth year after the fall
of Troy. He had heard from Proteus, the Old Man of the Sea, that Odysseus
was alive, and a captive on an island of the deep. Menelaus invites
Telemachus to stay with him for eleven days or twelve, which Telemachus
declines to do. It will later appear that he made an even longer stay at
Sparta, though whether he changed his mind, or whether we have here an
inadvertence of the poet’s it is hard to determine. This blemish has been
used as an argument against the unity of authorship, but writers of all ages
have made graver mistakes.
On this same day (the sixth) the wooers in Ithaca learned that Telemachus
had really set out to “cruise after his father.” They sent some of their
number to lie in ambush for him, in a certain strait which he was likely to
pass on his return to Ithaca. Penelope also heard of her son’s departure, but
was consoled by a dream.

DAY 7 (Book v).
The seventh day finds us again in Olympus. Athene again urges the
release of Odysseus; and Hermes is sent to bid Calypso let the hero go.
Zeus prophecies that after twenty days sailing, Odysseus will reach Scheria,
and the hospitable Phaeacians, a people akin to the Gods, who will convey
him to Ithaca. Hermes accomplishes the message to Calypso.

DAYS 8-12-32 (Book v).
These days are occupied by Odysseus in making and launching a raft; on
the twelfth day from the beginning of the action he leaves Calypso’s isle.
He sails for eighteen days, and on the eighteenth day of his voyage (the
twenty-ninth from the beginning of the action), he sees Scheria. Poseidon
raises a storm against him, and it is not till the thirty-second day from that
in which Athene visited Telemachus, that he lands in Scheria, the country of
the Phaeacians. Here he is again in fairy land. A rough, but perfectly
recognisable form of the Phaeacian myth, is found in an Indian collection of
märchen (already referred to) of the twelfth century A.D. Here the

Phaeacians are the Vidyâdhâris, and their old enemies the Cyclôpes, are the
Rakshashas, a sort of giants. The Indian Odysseus, who seeks the city of
gold, passes by the home of an Indian Aeolus, Satyavrata. His later
adventures are confused, and the Greek version retains only the more
graceful fancies of the märchen.

DAY 33 (Book vi).
Odysseus meets Nausicaa, daughter of Alcinous, the Phaeacian King, and
by her aid, and that of Athene, is favourably received at the palace, and tells
how he came from Calypso’s island. His name is still unknown to his hosts.

DAY 34 (Books vii, viii, ix, x, xi, xii).
The Phaeacians and Odysseus display their skill in sports. Nausicaa bids
Odysseus farewell. Odysseus recounts to Alcinous, and Arete, the Queen,
those adventures in the two years between the fall of Troy and his captivity
in the island of Calypso, which we have already described (pp. xiii-xvii).

DAY 35 (Book xiii).
Odysseus is conveyed to Ithaca, in the evening, on one of the magical
barques of the Phaeacians.
DAY 36 (Books xiii, xiv, xv).
He wakens in Ithaca, which he does not at first recognise He learns from
Athene, for the first time, that the wooers beset his house. She disguises
him as an old man, and bids him go to the hut of the swineherd Eumaeus,
who is loyal to his absent lord. Athene then goes to Lacedaemon, to bring
back Telemachus, who has now resided there for a month. Odysseus won
the heart of Eumaeus, who of course did not recognise him, and slept in the
swineherd’s hut, while Athene was waking Telemachus, in Lacedaemon,
and bidding him “be mindful of his return.”
DAY 37 (Book xv).
Is spent by Odysseus in the swineherd’s hut. Telemachus reaches Pherae,
half-way to Pylos.

DAY 38 (Book xv).
Telemachus reaches Pylos, but does not visit Nestor. To save time he
goes at once on board ship, taking with him an unfortunate outlaw,
Theoclymenus, a second-sighted man, or the family of Melampus, in which
the gift of prophecy was hereditary. The ship passed the Elian coast at night,
and evaded the ambush of the wooers. Meanwhile Odysseus was sitting up
almost till dawn, listening to the history of Eumaeus, the swineherd.

DAY 39 (Books xv, xvi).
Telemachus reaches the Isle of Ithaca, sends his ship to the city, but
himself, by advice of Athene, makes for the hut of Eumaeus, where he
meets, but naturally does not recognise, his disguised father. He sends
Eumaeus to Penelope with news of his arrival, and then Athene reveals
Odysseus to Telemachus. The two plot the death of the wooers. Odysseus
bids Telemachus remove, on a favourable opportunity, the arms which were
disposed as trophies on the walls of the hall at home. (There is a slight
discrepancy between the words of this advice and the manner in which it is
afterwards executed.) During this interview, the ship of Telemachus, the
wooers who had been in ambush, and Eumaeus, all reached the town of
Ithaca. In the evening Eumaeus returned to his hut, where Athene had again
disguised Odysseus.

DAY 40 (Books xvii, xviii, xix, xx).
The story is now hastening to its close, and many events are crowded into
the fortieth day. Telemachus goes from the swineherd’s hut to the city, and
calls his guest, Theoclymenus, to the palace. The second-sighted man
prophesies of the near revenge of Odysseus. In the afternoon, Odysseus
(still disguised) and Eumaeus reach the city, the dog Argos recognises the
hero, and dies. Odysseus goes begging through his own hall, and is struck
by Antinous, the proudest of the wooers. Late in the day Eumaeus goes
home, and Odysseus fights with the braggart beggar Irus. Still later,
Penelope appears among the wooers, and receives presents from them.
When the wooers have withdrawn, Odysseus and Telemachus remove the
weapons from the hall to the armoury. Afterwards Odysseus has an
interview with Penelope (who does not recognise him), but he is recognised

by his old nurse Eurycleia. Penelope mentions her purpose to wed the man
who on the following day, the feast of the Archer-god Apollo, shall draw the
bow of Odysseus, and send an arrow through the holes in twelve axe-
blades, set up in a row. Thus the poet shows that Odysseus has arrived in
Ithaca not a day too soon. Odysseus is comforted by a vision of Athene, and
DAY 41 (Books xx, xxi, xxii, xxiii).
by the ominous prayer uttered by a weary woman grinding at the mill. The
swineherd and the disloyal Melanthius arrive at the palace. The wooers
defer the plot to kill Telemachus, as the day is holy to Apollo. Odysseus is
led up from his seat near the door to a place beside Telemachus at the
chief’s table. The wooers mock Telemachus, and the second-sighted
Theoclymenus sees the ominous shroud of death covering their bodies, and
the walls dripping with blood. He leaves the doomed company. In the trial
of the bow, none of the wooers can draw it; meanwhile Odysseus has
declared himself to the neatherd and the swineherd. The former bars and
fastens the outer gates of the court, the latter bids Eurycleia bar the doors of
the womens’ chambers which lead out of the hall. Odysseus now gets the
bow into his hands, strings it, sends the arrow through the axe-blades, and
then leaping on the threshold of stone, deals his shafts among the wooers.
Telemachus, the neatherd, and Eumaeus, aiding him, he slaughters all the
crew, despite the treachery of Melanthius. The paramours of the wooers are
hanged, and Odysseus, after some delay, is recognised by Penelope.

DAY 42 (Books xxiii, xxiv).
This day is occupied with the recognition of Odysseus by his aged father
Laertes, and with the futile attempt of the kinsfolk of the wooers to avenge
them on Odysseus. Athene reconciles the feud, and the toils of Odysseus are
accomplished.
The reader has now before him a chronologically arranged sketch of the
action of the Odyssey. It is, perhaps, apparent, even from this bare outline,
that the composition is elaborate and artistic, that the threads of the plot are
skilfully separated and combined. The germ of the whole epic is probably
the popular tale, known all over the world, of the warrior who, on his return
from a long expedition, has great difficulty in making his prudent wife
recognise him. The incident occurs as a detached story in China, and in

most European countries it is told of a crusader. “We may suppose it to be
older than the legend of Troy, and to have gravitated into the cycle of that
legend. The years of the hero’s absence are then filled up with adventures
(the Cyclops, Circé, the Phaeacians, the Sirens, the descent into hell) which
exist as scattered tales, or are woven into the more elaborate epics of Gaels,
Aztecs, Hindoos, Tartars, South-Sea Islanders, Finns, Russians,
Scandinavians, and Eskimo. The whole is surrounded with the atmosphere
of the kingly age of Greece, and the result is the Odyssey, with that unity of
plot and variety of character which must have been given by one masterly
constructive genius. The date at which the poet of the Odyssey lived may be
approximately determined by his consistent descriptions of a peculiar and
definite condition of society, which had ceased to exist in the ninth century
B.C., and of a stage of art in which Phoenician and Assyrian influences
predominated. (Die Kunst bei Homer. Brunn.) As to the mode of
composition, it would not be difficult to show that at least the a priori
Wolfian arguments against the early use of writing for literary purposes
have no longer the cogency which they were once thought to possess. But
this is matter for a separate investigation.

The Odyssey

BOOK I.

In a Council of the Gods, Poseidon absent, Pallas procureth
an order for the restitution of Odysseus; and appearing to his
son Telemachus, in human shape, adviseth him to complain
of the Wooers before the Council of the people, and then go
to Pylos and Sparta to inquire about his father.

Tell me, Muse, of that man, so ready at need, who wandered far and
wide, after he had sacked the sacred citadel of Troy, and many were the men
whose towns he saw and whose mind he learnt, yea, and many the woes he
suffered in his heart upon the deep, striving to win his own life and the
return of his company. Nay, but even so he saved not his company, though
he desired it sore. For through the blindness of their own hearts they
perished, fools, who devoured the oxen of Helios Hyperion: but the god
took from them their day of returning. Of these things, goddess, daughter of
Zeus, whencesoever thou hast heard thereof, declare thou even unto us.
Now all the rest, as many as fled from sheer destruction, were at home,
and had escaped both war and sea, but Odysseus only, craving for his wife
and for his homeward path, the lady nymph Calypso held, that fair goddess,
in her hollow caves, longing to have him for her lord. But when now the
year had come in the courses of the seasons, wherein the gods had ordained
that he should return home to Ithaca, not even there was he quit of labours,
not even among his own; but all the gods had pity on him save Poseidon,
who raged continually against godlike Odysseus, till he came to his own
country. Howbeit Poseidon had now departed for the distant Ethiopians, the
Ethiopians that are sundered in twain, the uttermost of men, abiding some
where Hyperion sinks and some where he rises. There he looked to receive
his hecatomb of bulls and rams, there he made merry sitting at the feast, but
the other gods were gathered in the halls of Olympian Zeus. Then among
them the father of gods and men began to speak, for he bethought him in his

heart of noble Aegisthus, whom the son of Agamemnon, far-famed Orestes,
slew. Thinking upon him he spake out among the Immortals:
“Lo you now, how vainly mortal men do blame the gods! For of us they
say comes evil, whereas they even of themselves, through the blindness of
their own hearts, have sorrows beyond that which is ordained. Even as of
late Aegisthus, beyond that which was ordained, took to him the wedded
wife of the son of Atreus, and killed her lord on his return, and that with
sheer doom before his eyes, since we had warned him by the embassy of
Hermes the keen-sighted, the slayer of Argos, that he should neither kill the
man, nor woo his wife. For the son of Atreus shall be avenged at the hand
of Orestes, so soon as he shall come to man’s estate and long for his own
country. So spake Hermes, yet he prevailed not on the heart of Aegisthus,
for all his good will; but now hath he paid one price for all.”
And the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, answered him, saying: “O father, our
father Cronides, throned in the highest; that man assuredly lies in a death
that is his due; so perish likewise all who work such deeds! But my heart is
rent for wise Odysseus, that hapless one, who far from his friends this long
while suffereth affliction in a seagirt isle, where is the navel of the sea, a
woodland isle, and therein a goddess hath her habitation, the daughter of the
wizard Atlas, who knows the depths of every sea, and himself upholds the
tall pillars which keep earth and sky asunder. His daughter it is that holds
the hapless man in sorrow: and ever with soft and guileful tales she is
wooing him to forgetfulness of Ithaca. But Odysseus yearning to see if it
were but the smoke leap upwards from his own land, hath a desire to die. As
for thee, thine heart regardeth it not at all, Olympian! What! did not
Odysseus by the ships of the Argives make thee free offering of sacrifice in
the wide Trojan land? Wherefore wast thou then so wroth with him, O
Zeus?”
And Zeus the cloud-gatherer answered her, and said, “My child, what
word hath escaped the door of thy lips? Yea, how should I forget divine
Odysseus, who in understanding is beyond mortals and beyond all men hath
done sacrifice to the deathless gods, who keep the wide heaven? Nay, but it
is Poseidon, the girdler of the earth, that hath been wroth continually with
quenchless anger for the Cyclops’ sake whom he blinded of his eye, even
godlike Polyphemus whose power is mightiest amongst all the Cyclôpes.
His mother was the nymph Thoösa, daughter of Phorcys, lord of the

unharvested sea, and in the hollow caves she lay with Poseidon. From that
day forth Poseidon the earth-shaker doth not indeed slay Odysseus, but
driveth him wandering from his own country. But come, let us here one and
all take good counsel as touching his returning, that he may be got home; so
shall Poseidon let go his displeasure, for he will in no wise be able to strive
alone against all, in despite of all the deathless gods.”
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, answered him, and said: “O father,
our father Cronides, throned in the highest, if indeed this thing is now well
pleasing to the blessed gods, that wise Odysseus should return to his own
home, let us then speed Hermes the Messenger, the slayer of Argos, to the
island of Ogygia. There with all speed let him declare to the lady of the
braided tresses our unerring counsel, even the return of the patient
Odysseus, that so he may come to his home. But as for me I will go to
Ithaca that I may rouse his son yet the more, planting might in his heart, to
call an assembly of the long-haired Achaeans and speak out to all the
wooers who slaughter continually the sheep of his thronging flocks, and his
kine with trailing feet and shambling gait. And I will guide him to Sparta
and to sandy Pylos to seek tidings of his dear father’s return, if peradventure
he may hear thereof and that so he may be had in good report among men.”
She spake and bound beneath her feet her lovely golden sandals that wax
not old, and bare her alike over the wet sea and over the limitless land, swift
as the breath of the wind. And she seized her doughty spear, shod with
sharp bronze, weighty and huge and strong, wherewith she quells the ranks
of heroes with whomsoever she is wroth, the daughter of the mighty sire.
Then from the heights of Olympus she came glancing down, and she stood
in the land of Ithaca, at the entry of the gate of Odysseus, on the threshold
of the courtyard, holding in her hand the spear of bronze, in the semblance
of a stranger, Mentes the captain of the Taphians. And there she found the
lordly wooers: now they were taking their pleasure at draughts in front of
the doors, sitting on hides of oxen, which themselves had slain. And of the
henchmen and the ready squires, some were mixing for them wine and
water in bowls, and some again were washing the tables with porous
sponges and were setting them forth, and others were carving flesh in
plenty.
And godlike Telemachus was far the first to descry her, for he was sitting
with a heavy heart among the wooers dreaming on his good father, if haply

he might come somewhence, and make a scattering of the wooers there
throughout the palace, and himself get honour and bear rule among his own
possessions. Thinking thereupon, as he sat among wooers, he saw Athene—
and he went straight to the outer porch, for he thought it blame in his heart
that a stranger should stand long at the gates: and halting nigh her he
clasped her right hand and took from her the spear of bronze, and uttered
his voice and spake unto her winged words:
“Hail, stranger, with us thou shalt be kindly entreated, and thereafter,
when thou hast tasted meat, thou shalt tell us that whereof thou hast need.”
Therewith he led the way, and Pallas Athene followed. And when they
were now within the lofty house, he set her spear that he bore against a tall
pillar, within the polished spear-stand, where stood many spears besides,
even those of Odysseus of the hardy heart; and he led the goddess and
seated her on a goodly carven chair, and spread a linen cloth thereunder,
and beneath was a footstool for the feet. For himself he placed an inlaid seat
hard by, apart from the company of the wooers, lest the stranger should be
disquieted by the noise and should have a loathing for the meal, being come
among overweening men, and also that he might ask him about his father
that was gone from his home.
Then a handmaid bare water for the washing of hands in a goodly golden
ewer, and poured it forth over a silver basin to wash withal, and drew to
their side a polished table. And a grave dame bare wheaten bread and set it
by them, and laid on the board many dainties, giving freely of such things
as she had by her. And a carver lifted and placed by them platters of divers
kinds of flesh, and nigh them he set golden bowls, and a henchman walked
to and fro pouring out to them the wine.
Then in came the lordly wooers; and they sat them down in rows on
chairs, and on high seats, and henchmen poured water on their hands, and
maidservants piled wheaten bread by them in baskets, and pages crowned
the bowls with drink; and they stretched forth their hands upon the good
cheer spread before them. Now when the wooers had put from them the
desire of meat and drink, they minded them of other things, even of the
song and dance: for these are the crown of the feast. And a henchman
placed a beauteous lyre in the hands of Phemius, who was minstrel to the
wooers despite his will. Yea and as he touched the lyre he lifted up his voice
in sweet songs.[1]

[1] Or, according to the ordinary interpretation of ἀνεβάλλετο: So he touched the
chords in prelude to his sweet singing.

But Telemachus spake unto grey-eyed Athene, holding his head close to
her that those others might not hear: “Dear stranger, wilt thou of a truth be
wroth at the word that I shall say? Yonder men verily care for such things as
these, the lyre and song, lightly, as they that devour the livelihood of
another without atonement, of that man whose white bones, it may be, lie
wasting in the rain upon the mainland, or the billow rolls them in the brine.
Were but these men to see him returned to Ithaca, they all would pray rather
for greater speed of foot than for gain of gold and raiment. But now he hath
perished, even so, an evil doom, and for us is no comfort, no, not though
any of earthly men should say that he will come again. Gone is the day of
his returning! But come declare me this, and tell me all plainly: Who art
thou of the sons of men, and whence? Where is thy city, where are they that
begat thee? Say, on what manner of ship didst thou come, and how did
sailors bring thee to Ithaca, and who did they avow themselves to be, for in
nowise do I deem that thou camest hither by land. And herein tell me true,
that I may know for a surety whether thou art a newcomer, or whether thou
art a guest of the house, seeing that many were the strangers that came to
our home, for that he too had voyaged much among men.”
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, answered him: “Yea now, I will
plainly tell thee all. I avow me to be Mentes, son of wise Anchialus, and I
bear rule among the Taphians, lovers of the oar. And now am I come to
shore, as thou seest, with ship and crew, sailing over the wine-dark sea, unto
men of strange speech, even to Temesa,[2] in quest of copper, and my cargo
is shining iron. And there my ship is lying toward the upland, away from
the city, in the harbour of Rheithron beneath wooded Neïon: and we declare
ourselves to be friends one of the other, and of houses friendly, from of old.
Nay, if thou wouldest be assured, go ask the old man, the hero Laertes, who
they say no more comes to the city, but far away toward the upland suffers
affliction, with an ancient woman for his handmaid, who sets by him meat
and drink, whensoever weariness takes hold of his limbs, as he creeps along
the knoll of his vineyard plot. And now am I come; for verily they said that
he, thy father, was among his people; but lo, the gods withhold him from
his way. For goodly Odysseus hath not yet perished on the earth; but still,
methinks, he lives and is kept on the wide deep in a seagirt isle, and hard
men constrain him, wild folk that hold him, it may be, sore against his will.

But now of a truth will I utter my word of prophecy, as the Immortals bring
it into my heart and as I deem it will be accomplished, though no soothsayer
am I, nor skilled in the signs of birds. Henceforth indeed for no long while
shall he be far from his own dear country, not though bonds of iron bind
him; he will advise him of a way to return, for he is a man of many devices.
But come, declare me this, and tell me all plainly, whether indeed, so tall as
thou art, thou art sprung from the loins of Odysseus. Thy head surely and
they beauteous eyes are wondrous like to his, since full many a time have
we held converse together ere he embarked for Troy, whither the others, aye
the bravest of the Argives, went in hollow ships. From that day forth neither
have I seen Odysseus, nor he me.”
[2] Tamasia, in the mountainous centre of Cyprus.

Then wise Telemachus answered her, and said: “Yea, sir, now will I
plainly tell thee all. My mother verily saith that I am his; for myself I know
not, for never man yet knew of himself his own descent. O that I had been
the son of some blessed man, whom old age overtook among his own
possessions! But now of him that is the most hapless of mortal men, his son
they say that I am, since thou dost question me hereof.”
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, spake unto him, and said: “Surely
no nameless lineage have the gods ordained for thee in days to come, since
Penelope bore thee so goodly a man. But come, declare me this, and tell it
all plainly. What feast, nay, what rout is this? What hast thou to do
therewith? Is it a clan drinking, or a wedding feast, for here we have no
banquet where each man brings his share? In such wise, flown with
insolence, do they seem to me to revel wantonly through the house: and
well might any man be wroth to see so many deeds of shame, whatso wise
man came among them.”
Then wise Telemachus answered her, and said: “Sir, forasmuch as thou
questionest me of these things and inquirest thereof, our house was once
like to have been rich and honourable, while yet that man was among his
people. But now the gods willed it otherwise, in evil purpose, who have
made him pass utterly out of sight as no man ever before. Truly I would not
even for his death make so great sorrow, had he fallen among his fellows in
the land of the Trojans, or in the arms of his friends when he had wound up
the clew of war. Then would the whole Achaean host have builded him a
barrow, and even for his son would he have won great glory in the after

days. But now the spirits of the storm have swept him away inglorious. He
is gone, lost to sight and hearsay, but for me hath he left anguish and
lamentation; nor henceforth is it for him alone that I mourn and weep, since
the gods have wrought for me other sore distress. For all the noblest that are
princes in the isles, in Dulichium and Same and wooded Zacynthus, and as
many as lord it in rocky Ithaca, all these woo my mother and waste my
house. But as for her she neither refuseth the hated bridal, nor hath the heart
to make an end: so they devour and minish my house, and ere long will they
make havoc likewise of myself.”
Then in heavy displeasure spake unto him Pallas Athene: “God help thee!
thou art surely sore in need of Odysseus that is afar, to stretch forth his
hands upon the shameless wooers. If he could but come now and stand at
the entering in of the gate, with helmet and shield and lances twain, as
mighty a man as when first I marked him in our house drinking and making
merry what time he came up out of Ephyra from Ilus son of Mermerus! For
even thither had Odysseus gone on his swift ship to seek a deadly drug, that
he might have wherewithal to smear his bronze-shod arrows: but Ilus would
in nowise give it to him, for he had in awe the everliving gods. But my
father gave it him, for he bare him wondrous love. O that Odysseus might
in such strength consort with the wooers: so should they all have swift fate
and bitter wedlock! Howbeit these things surely lie on the knees of the
gods, whether he shall return or not, and take vengeance in his halls. But I
charge thee to take counsel how thou mayest thrust forth the wooers from
the hall. Come now, mark and take heed unto my words. On the morrow
call the Achaean lords to the assembly, and declare thy saying to all, and
take the gods to witness. As for the wooers bid them scatter them each one
to his own, and for thy mother, if her heart is moved to marriage, let her go
back to the hall of that mighty man her father, and her kinsfolk will furnish
a wedding feast, and array the gifts of wooing exceeding many, all that
should go back with a daughter dearly beloved. And to thyself I will give a
word of wise counsel, if perchance thou wilt hearken. Fit out a ship, the best
thou hast, with twenty oarsmen, and go to inquire concerning thy father that
is long afar, if perchance any man shall tell thee aught, or if thou mayest
hear the voice from Zeus, which chiefly brings tidings to men. Get thee first
to Pylos and inquire of goodly Nestor, and from thence to Sparta to
Menelaus of the fair hair, for he came home the last of the mail-coated
Achaeans. If thou shalt hear news of the life and the returning of thy father,

then verily thou mayest endure the wasting for yet a year. But if thou shalt
hear that he is dead and gone, return then to thine own dear country and pile
his mound, and over it pay burial rites, full many as is due, and give thy
mother to a husband. But when thou hast done this and made an end,
thereafter take counsel in thy mind and heart, how thou mayest slay the
wooers in thy halls, whether by guile or openly; for thou shouldest not carry
childish thoughts, being no longer of years thereto. Or hast thou not heard
what renown the goodly Orestes gat him among all men in that he slew the
slayer of his father, guileful Aegisthus, who killed his famous sire? And
thou, too, my friend, for I see that thou art very comely and tall, be valiant,
that even men unborn may praise thee. But I will now go down to the swift
ship and to my men, who methinks chafe much at tarrying for me; and do
thou thyself take heed and give ear unto my words.”
Then wise Telemachus answered her, saying: “Sir, verily thou speakest
these things out of a friendly heart, as a father to his son, and never will I
forget them. But now I pray thee abide here, though eager to be gone, to the
end that after thou hast bathed and had all thy heart’s desire, thou mayest
wend to the ship joyful in spirit, with a costly gift and very goodly, to be an
heirloom of my giving, such as dear friends give to friends.”
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, answered him: “Hold me now no
longer, that am eager for the way. But whatsoever gift thine heart shall bid
thee give me, when I am on my way back let it be mine to carry home: bear
from thy stores a gift right goodly, and it shall bring thee the worth thereof
in return.”
So spake she and departed, the grey-eyed Athene, and like an eagle of the
sea she flew away, but in his spirit she planted might and courage, and put
him in mind of his father yet more than heretofore. And he marked the thing
and was amazed, for he deemed that it was a god; and anon he went among
the wooers, a godlike man.
Now the renowned minstrel was singing to the wooers, and they sat
listening in silence; and his song was of the pitiful return of the Achaeans,
that Pallas Athene laid on them as they came forth from Troy. And from her
upper chamber the daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, caught the glorious
strain, and she went down the high stairs from her chamber, not alone, for
two of her handmaids bare her company. Now when the fair lady had come
unto the wooers, she stood by the pillar of the well-builded roof holding up

her glistening tire before her face; and a faithful maiden stood on either side
her. Then she fell a weeping, and spake unto the divine minstrel:
“Phemius, since thou knowest many other charms for mortals, deeds of
men and gods, which bards rehearse, some one of these do thou sing as thou
sittest by them, and let them drink their wine in silence; but cease from this
pitiful strain, that ever wastes my heart within my breast, since to me above
all women hath come a sorrow comfortless. So dear a head do I long for in
constant memory, namely, that man whose fame is noised abroad from
Hellas to mid Argos.”
Then wise Telemachus answered her, and said: “O my mother, why then
dost thou grudge the sweet minstrel to gladden us as his spirit moves him?
It is not minstrels who are in fault, but Zeus, methinks, is in fault, who gives
to men, that live by bread, to each one as he will. As for him it is no blame
if he sings the ill-faring of the Danaans; for men always prize that song the
most, which rings newest in their ears. But let thy heart and mind endure to
listen, for not Odysseus only lost in Troy the day of his returning, but many
another likewise perished. Howbeit go to thy chamber and mind thine own
housewiferies, the loom and distaff, and bid thy handmaids ply their tasks.
But speech shall be for men, for all, but for me in chief; for mine is the
lordship in the house.”
Then in amaze she went back to her chamber, for she laid up the wise
saying of her son in her heart. She ascended to her upper chamber with the
women her handmaids, and then was bewailing Odysseus, her dear lord, till
grey-eyed Athene cast sweet sleep upon her eyelids.
Now the wooers clamoured throughout the shadowy halls, and each one
uttered a prayer to be her bedfellow. And wise Telemachus first spake
among them:
“Wooers of my mother, men despiteful out of measure, let us feast now
and make merry and let there be no brawling; for, lo, it is a good thing to
list to a minstrel such as him, like to the gods in voice. But in the morning
let us all go to the assembly and sit us down, that I may declare my saying
outright, to wit that ye leave these halls: and busy yourselves with other
feasts, eating your own substance, going in turn from house to house. But if
ye deem this a likelier and a better thing, that one man’s goods should
perish without atonement, then waste ye as ye will; and I will call upon the

everlasting gods, if haply Zeus may grant that acts of recompense be made:
so should ye hereafter perish within the halls without atonement.”
So spake he, and all that heard him bit their lips and marvelled at
Telemachus, in that he spake boldly.
Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, answered him: “Telemachus, in very
truth the gods themselves instruct thee to be proud of speech and boldly to
harangue. Never may Cronion make thee king in seagirt Ithaca, which thing
is of inheritance thy right!”
Then wise Telemachus answered him, and said: “Antinous, wilt thou
indeed be wroth at the word that I shall say? Yea, at the hand of Zeus would
I be fain to take even this thing upon me. Sayest thou that this is the worst
hap that can befal a man? Nay, verily, it is no ill thing to be a king: the
house of such an one quickly waxeth rich and himself is held in greater
honour. Howsoever there are many other kings of the Achaeans in seagirt
Ithaca, kings young and old; someone of them shall surely have this
kingship since goodly Odysseus is dead. But as for me, I will be lord of our
own house and thralls, that goodly Odysseus gat me with his spear.”
Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered him, saying: “Telemachus,
on the knees of the gods it surely lies, what man is to be king over the
Achaeans in seagirt Ithaca. But mayest thou keep thine own possessions
and be lord in thine own house! Never may that man come, who shall wrest
from thee thy substance violently in thine own despite while Ithaca yet
stands. But I would ask thee, friend, concerning the stranger—whence he is,
and of what land he avows him to be? Where are his kin and his native
fields? Doth he bear some tidings of thy father on his road, or cometh he
thus to speed some matter of his own? In such wise did he start up, and lo,
he was gone, nor tarried he that we should know him;—and yet he seemed
no mean man to look upon.”[3]
[3] The γὰρ explains the expression of surprise at the sudden departure of the
stranger.

Then wise Telemachus answered him, and said: “Eurymachus, surely the
day of my father’s returning hath gone by. Therefore no more do I put faith
in tidings, whencesoever they may come, neither have I regard unto any
divination, whereof my mother may inquire at the lips of a diviner, when
she hath bidden him to the hall. But as for that man, he is a friend of my

house from Taphos, and he avows him to be Mentes, son of wise Anchialus,
and he hath lordship among the Taphians, lovers of the oar.”
So spake Telemachus, but in his heart he knew the deathless goddess.
Now the wooers turned them to the dance and the delightsome song, and
made merry, and waited till evening should come on. And as they made
merry, dusk evening came upon them. Then they went each one to his own
house to lie down to rest.
But Telemachus, where his chamber was builded high up in the fair court,
in a place with wide prospect, thither betook him to his bed, pondering
many thoughts in his mind; and with him went trusty Eurycleia, and bare
for him torches burning. She was the daughter of Ops, son of Peisenor, and
Laertes bought her on a time with his wealth, while as yet she was in her
first youth, and gave for her the worth of twenty oxen. And he honoured her
even as he honoured his dear wife in the halls, but he never lay with her, for
he shunned the wrath of his lady. She went with Telemachus and bare for
him the burning torches: and of all the women of the household she loved
him most, and she had nursed him when a little one. Then he opened the
doors of the well-builded chamber and sat him on the bed and took off his
soft doublet, and put it in the wise old woman’s hands. So she folded the
doublet and smoothed it, and hung it on a pin by the jointed bedstead, and
went forth on her way from the room, and pulled to the door with the silver
handle, and drew home the bar with the thong. There, all night through,
wrapped in a fleece of wool, he meditated in his heart upon the journey that
Athene had showed him.

BOOK II.

Telemachus complains in vain, and borrowing a ship, goes
secretly to Pylos by night. And how he was there received.

Now so soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, the dear son
of Odysseus gat him up from his bed, and put on his raiment and cast his
sharp sword about his shoulder, and beneath his smooth feet he bound his
goodly sandals, and stept forth from his chamber in presence like a god.
And straightway he bade the clear-voiced heralds to call the long-haired
Achaeans to the assembly. And the heralds called the gathering, and the
Achaeans were assembled quickly. Now when they were gathered and come
together, he went on his way to the assembly holding in his hand a spear of
bronze,—not alone he went, for two swift hounds bare him company. Then
Athene shed on him a wondrous grace, and all the people marvelled at him
as he came. And he sat him in his father’s seat and the elders gave place to
him.
Then the lord Aegyptus spake among them first; bowed was he with age,
and skilled in things past number. Now for this reason he spake that his dear
son, the warrior Antiphus, had gone in the hollow ships to Ilios of the
goodly steeds; but the savage Cyclops slew him in his hollow cave, and
made of him then his latest meal. Three other sons Aegyptus had, and one
consorted with the wooers, namely Eurynomus, but two continued in their
father’s fields; yet even so forgat he not that son, still mourning and
sorrowing. So weeping for his sake he made harangue and spake among
them:
“Hearken now to me, ye men of Ithaca, to the word that I shall say. Never
hath our assembly or session been since the day that goodly Odysseus
departed in the hollow ships. And now who was minded thus to assemble
us? On what man hath such sore need come, of the young men or of the

elder born? Hath he heard some tidings of the host now returning, which he
might plainly declare to us, for that he first learned thereof, or doth he show
forth and tell some other matter of the common weal? Methinks he is a true
man—good luck be with him! Zeus vouchsafe him some good thing in his
turn, even all his heart’s desire!”
So spake he, and the dear son of Odysseus was glad at the omen of the
word; nor sat he now much longer, but he burned to speak, and he stood in
mid assembly; and the herald Peisenor, skilled in sage counsels, placed the
staff in his hands. Then he spake, accosting the old man first:
“Old man, he is not far off, and soon shalt thou know it for thyself, he
who called the folk together, even I: for sorrow hath come to me in chief.
Neither have I heard any tidings of the host now returning, which I may
plainly declare to you, for that I first learned thereof; neither do I show forth
or tell any other matter of the common weal, but mine own need, for that
evil hath befallen my house, a double woe. First, I have lost my noble sire,
who sometime was king among you here, and was gentle as a father; and
now is there an evil yet greater far, which surely shall soon make grievous
havoc of my whole house and ruin all my livelihood. My mother did certain
wooers beset sore against her will, even the sons of those men that here are
the noblest. They are too craven to go to the house of her father Icarius, that
he may himself set the bride-price for his daughter, and bestow her on
whom he will, even on him who finds favour in his sight. But they resorting
to our house day by day sacrifice oxen and sheep and fat goats, and keep
revel, and drink the dark wine recklessly, and lo, our great wealth is wasted,
for there is no man now alive such as Odysseus was, to keep ruin from the
house. As for me I am nowise strong like him to ward mine own; verily to
the end of my days[4] shall I be a weakling and all unskilled in prowess.
Truly I would defend me if but strength were mine; for deeds past
sufferance have now been wrought, and now my house is wasted utterly
beyond pretence of right. Resent it in your own hearts, and have regard to
your neighbours who dwell around, and tremble ye at the anger of the gods,
lest haply they turn upon you in wrath at your evil deeds.[5] I pray you by
Olympian Zeus and by Themis, who looseth and gathereth the meetings of
men, let be, my friends, and leave me alone to waste in bitter grief;—unless
it so be that my father, the good Odysseus, out of evil heart wrought harm
to the goodly-greaved Achaeans, in quittance whereof ye now work me
harm out of evil hearts, and spur on these men. Better for me that ye

yourselves should eat up my treasures and my flocks. Were ye so to devour
them, ere long would some recompense be made, for we would urge our
plea throughout the town, begging back our substance, until all should be
restored. But now without remedy are the pains that ye lay up in my heart.”
[4] Cf. B. xxi. 131. For the use of the 1st pers. pl. like our royal plural, cf. B. xvi.
44, Il. vii. 190.

[5] Or, lest they bring your evil deeds in wrath on your own heads.

So spake he in wrath, and dashed the staff to the ground, and brake forth
in tears; and pity fell on all the people. Then all the others held their peace,
and none had the heart to answer Telemachus with hard words, but
Antinous alone made answer, saying:
“Telemachus, proud of speech and unrestrained in fury, what is this thou
hast said to put us to shame, and wouldest fasten on us reproach? Behold
the fault is not in the Achaean wooers, but in thine own mother, for she is
the craftiest of women. For it is now the third year, and the fourth is fast
going by, since she began to deceive the minds of the Achaeans in their
breasts. She gives hope to all, and makes promises to every man, and sends
them messages, but her mind is set on other things. And she hath devised in
her heart this wile besides; she set up in her halls a mighty web, fine of
woof and very wide, whereat she would weave, and anon she spake among
us:
“‘Ye princely youths, my wooers, now that the goodly Odysseus is dead,
do ye abide patiently, how eager soever to speed on this marriage of mine,
till I finish the robe. I would not that the threads perish to no avail, even this
shroud for the hero Laertes, against the day when the ruinous doom shall
bring him low, of death that lays men at their length. So shall none of the
Achaean women in the land count it blame in me, as well might be, were he
to lie without a winding-sheet, a man that had gotten great possessions.’
“So spake she, and our high hearts consented thereto. So then in the day
time she would weave the mighty web, and in the night unravel the same,
when she had let place the torches by her. Thus for the space of three years
she hid the thing by craft and beguiled the minds of the Achaeans; but when
the fourth year arrived and the seasons came round, then at the last one of
her women who knew all declared it, and we found her unravelling the
splendid web. Thus she finished it perforce and sore against her will. But as

for thee, the wooers make thee answer thus, that thou mayest know it in
thine own heart, thou and all the Achaeans! Send away thy mother, and bid
her be married to whomsoever her father commands, and whoso is well
pleasing unto her. But if she will continue for long to vex the sons of the
Achaeans, pondering in her heart those things that Athene hath given her
beyond women, knowledge of all fair handiwork, yea, and cunning wit, and
wiles—so be it! Such wiles as hers we have never yet heard that any even
of the women of old did know, of those that aforetime were fair-tressed
Achaean ladies, Tyro, and Alcmene, and Mycene with the bright crown. Not
one of these in the imaginations of their hearts was like unto Penelope, yet
herein at least her imagining was not good. For in despite of her the wooers
will devour thy living and thy substance, so long as she is steadfast in such
purpose as the gods now put within her breast: great renown for herself she
winneth, but for thee regret for thy much livelihood. But we will neither go
to our own lands, nor otherwhere, till she marry that man whom she will of
the Achaeans.”
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “Antinous, I may in no
wise thrust forth from the house, against her will, the woman that bare me,
that reared me: while as for my father he is abroad on the earth, whether he
be alive or dead. Moreover it is hard for me to make heavy restitution to
Icarius, as needs I must, if of mine own will I send my mother away. For I
shall have evil at his hand, at the hand of her father, and some god will give
me more besides, for my mother will call down the dire Avengers as she
departs from the house, and I shall have blame of men; surely then I will
never speak this word. Nay, if your own heart, even yours, is indignant, quit
ye my halls, and busy yourselves with other feasts, eating your own
substance, and going in turn from house to house. But if ye deem this a
likelier and a better thing, that one man’s goods should perish without
atonement, then waste ye as ye will: and I will call upon the everlasting
gods, if haply Zeus may grant that acts of recompense be made: so should
ye hereafter perish in the halls without atonement.”
So spake Telemachus, and in answer to his prayer did Zeus, of the far
borne voice, send forth two eagles in flight, from on high, from the
mountain-crest. Awhile they flew as fleet as the blasts of the wind, side by
side, with straining of their pinions. But when they had now reached the
mid assembly, the place of many voices, there they wheeled about and
flapped their strong wings, and looked down upon the heads of all, and

destruction was in their gaze. Then tore they with their talons each the
other’s cheeks and neck on every side, and so sped to the right across the
dwellings and the city of the people. And the men marvelled at the birds
when they had sight of them, and pondered in their hearts the things that
should come to pass. Yea and the old man, the lord Halitherses son of
Mastor spake among them, for he excelled his peers in knowledge of birds,
and in uttering words of fate. With good will he made harangue and spake
among them:
“Hearken to me now, ye men of Ithaca, to the word that I shall say: and
mainly to the wooers do I show forth and tell these things, seeing that a
mighty woe is rolling upon them. For Odysseus shall not long be away from
his friends, nay, even now, it may be, he is near, and sowing the seeds of
death and fate for these men, every one; and he will be a bane to many
another likewise of us who dwell in clear-seen Ithaca. But long ere that falls
out let us advise us how we may make an end of their mischief; yea, let
them of their own selves make an end, for this is the better way for them, as
will soon be seen. For I prophesy not as one unproved, but with sure
knowledge; verily, I say, that for him all things now are come to pass, even
as I told him, what time the Argives embarked for Ilios, and with them went
the wise Odysseus. I said that after sore affliction, with the loss of all his
company, unknown to all, in the twentieth year he should come home. And
behold, all these things now have an end.”
And Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered him, saying: “Go now, old
man, get thee home and prophesy to thine own children, lest haply they
suffer harm hereafter: but herein am I a far better prophet than thou.
Howbeit there be many birds that fly to and fro under the sun’s rays, but all
are not birds of fate. Now as for Odysseus, he hath perished far away, as
would that thou too with him hadst been cut off: so wouldst thou not have
babbled thus much prophecy, nor wouldst thou hound on Telemachus that is
already angered, expecting a gift for thy house, if perchance he may
vouchsafe thee aught. But now will I speak out, and my word shall surely
be accomplished. If thou that knowest much lore from of old, shalt beguile
with words a younger man, and rouse him to indignation, first it shall be a
great grief to him:—and yet he can count on no aid from these who hear
him;—while upon thee, old man, we will lay a fine, that thou mayest pay it
and chafe at heart, and sore pain shall be thine. And I myself will give a
word of counsel to Telemachus in presence of you all. Let him command

his mother to return to her father’s house; and her kinsfolk will furnish a
wedding feast, and array the gifts of wooing, exceeding many, all that
should go back with a daughter dearly beloved. For ere that, I trow, we sons
of the Achaeans will not cease from our rough wooing, since, come what
may, we fear not any man, no, not Telemachus, full of words though he be,
nor soothsaying do we heed, whereof thou, old man, pratest idly, and art
hated yet the more. His substance too shall be woefully devoured, nor shall
recompense ever be made, so long as she shall put off the Achaeans in the
matter of her marriage; while we in expectation, from day to day, vie one
with another for the prize of her perfection, nor go we after other women
whom it were meet that we should each one wed.”
Then wise Telemachus answered him saying: “Eurymachus, and ye
others, that are lordly wooers, I entreat you no more concerning this nor
speak thereof, for the gods have knowledge of it now and all the Achaeans.
But come, give me a swift ship and twenty men, who shall accomplish for
me my voyage to and fro. For I will go to Sparta and to sandy Pylos to
inquire concerning the return of my father that is long afar, if perchance any
man shall tell me aught, or if I may hear the voice from Zeus, that chiefly
brings tidings to men. If I shall hear news of the life and the returning of my
father, then verily I may endure the wasting for yet a year; but if I shall hear
that he is dead and gone, let me then return to my own dear country, and
pile his mound, and over it pay burial rites full many as is due, and I will
give my mother to a husband.”
So with that word he sat him down; then in the midst uprose Mentor, the
companion of noble Odysseus. He it was to whom Odysseus, as he departed
in the fleet, had given the charge over all his house, that it should obey the
old man, and that he should keep all things safe. With good will he now
made harangue and spake among them:
“Hearken to me now, ye men of Ithaca, to the word that I shall say.
Henceforth let not any sceptred king be kind and gentle with all his heart,
nor minded to do righteously, but let him alway be a hard man and work
unrighteousness: for behold, there is none that remembereth divine
Odysseus of the people whose lord he was, and was gentle as a father.
Howsoever, it is not that I grudge the lordly wooers their deeds of violence
in the evil devices of their heart. For at the hazard of their own heads they
violently devour the household of Odysseus, and say of him that he will

come no more again. But I am indeed wroth with the rest of the people, to
see how ye all sit thus speechless, and do not cry shame upon the wooers,
and put them down, ye that are so many and they so few.”
And Leocritus, son of Euenor, answered him, saying: “Mentor infatuate,
with thy wandering wits, what word hast thou spoken, that callest upon
them to put us down? Nay, it is a hard thing to fight about a feast, and that
with men who are even more in number than you. Though Odysseus of
Ithaca himself should come and were eager of heart to drive forth from the
hall the lordly wooers that feast throughout his house, yet should his wife
have no joy of his coming, though she yearns for him;—but even there
should he meet foul doom, if he fought with those that outnumbered him; so
thou hast not spoken aright. But as for the people, come now, scatter
yourselves each one to his own lands, but Mentor and Halitherses will
speed this man’s voyage, for they are friends of his house from of old. Yet
after all, methinks, that long time he will abide and seek tidings in Ithaca,
and never accomplish this voyage.”
Thus he spake, and in haste they broke up the assembly. So they were
scattered each one to his own dwelling, while the wooers departed to the
house of divine Odysseus.
Then Telemachus, going far apart to the shore of the sea, laved his hands
in the grey sea water, and prayed unto Athene, saying: “Hear me, thou who
yesterday didst come in thy godhead to our house, and badest me go in a
ship across the misty seas, to seek tidings of the return of my father that is
long gone: but all this my purpose do the Achaeans delay, and mainly the
wooers in the naughtiness of their pride.”
So spake he in prayer, and Athene drew nigh him in the likeness of
Mentor, in fashion and in voice, and she spake and hailed him in winged
words:
“Telemachus, even hereafter thou shalt not be craven or witless, if indeed
thou hast a drop of thy father’s blood and a portion of his spirit; such an one
was he to fulfil both word and work. Nor, if this be so, shall thy voyage be
vain or unfulfilled. But if thou art not the very seed of him and of Penelope,
then have I no hope that thou wilt accomplish thy desire. For few children,
truly, are like their father; lo, the more part are worse, yet a few are better
than the sire. But since thou shalt not even hereafter be craven or witless,
nor hath the wisdom of Odysseus failed thee quite, so is there good hope of

thine accomplishing this work. Wherefore now take no heed of the counsel
or the purpose of the senseless wooers, for they are in no way wise or just:
neither know they aught of death and of black fate, which already is close
upon them, that they are all to perish in one day. But the voyage on which
thy heart is set shall not long be lacking to thee—so faithful a friend of thy
father am I, who will furnish thee a swift ship and myself be thy
companion. But go thou to the house, and consort with the wooers, and
make ready corn, and bestow all in vessels, the wine in jars and barley-
flour, the marrow of men, in well-sewn skins; and I will lightly gather in the
township a crew that offer themselves willingly. There are many ships, new
and old, in seagirt Ithaca; of these I will choose out the best for thee, and we
will quickly rig her and launch her on the broad deep.”
So spake Athene, daughter of Zeus, and Telemachus made no long
tarrying, when he had heard the voice of the goddess. He went on his way
towards the house, heavy at heart, and there he found the noble wooers in
the halls, flaying goats and singeing swine in the court. And Antinous
laughed out and went straight to Telemachus, and clasped his hand and
spake and hailed him:
“Telemachus, proud of speech and unrestrained in fury, let no evil word
any more be in thy heart, nor evil work, but let me see thee eat and drink as
of old. And the Achaeans will make thee ready all things without fail, a ship
and chosen oarsmen, that thou mayest come the quicker to fair Pylos, to
seek tidings of thy noble father.”
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying, “Antinous, in no wise in
your proud company can I sup in peace, and make merry with a quiet mind.
Is it a little thing, ye wooers, that in time past ye wasted many good things
of my getting, while as yet I was a child? But now that I am a man grown,
and learn the story from the lips of others, and my spirit waxeth within me,
I will seek to let loose upon you evil fates, as I may, going either to Pylos
for help, or abiding here in this township. Yea, I will go, nor vain shall the
voyage be whereof I speak; a passenger on another’s ship go I, for I am not
to have a ship nor oarsmen of mine own; so in your wisdom ye have
thought it for the better.”
He spake and snatched his hand from out the hand of Antinous, lightly,
and all the while the wooers were busy feasting through the house; and they

mocked him and sharply taunted him, and thus would some proud youth
speak:
“In very truth Telemachus planneth our destruction. He will bring a
rescue either from sandy Pylos, or even it may be from Sparta, so terribly is
he set on slaying us. Or else he will go to Ephyra, a fruitful land, to fetch a
poisonous drug that he may cast it into the bowl and make an end of all of
us.”
And again another proud youth would say: “Who knows but that he
himself if he goes hence on the hollow ship, may perish wandering far from
his friends, even as Odysseus? So should we have yet more ado, for then
must we divide among us all his substance, and moreover give the house to
his mother to possess it, and to him whosoever should wed her.”
So spake they; but he stepped down into the vaulted treasure-chamber of
his father, a spacious room, where gold and bronze lay piled, and raiment in
coffers, and fragrant olive oil in plenty. And there stood casks of sweet wine
and old, full of the unmixed drink divine, all orderly ranged by the wall,
ready if ever Odysseus should come home, albeit after travail and much
pain. And the close-fitted doors, the folding doors, were shut, and night and
day there abode within a dame in charge, who guarded all in the fulness of
her wisdom, Eurycleia, daughter of Ops son of Peisenor. Telemachus now
called her into the chamber and spake unto her, saying:
“Mother, come draw off for me sweet wine in jars, the choicest next to
that thou keepest mindful ever of that ill-fated one, Odysseus, of the seed of
Zeus, if perchance he may come I know not whence, having avoided death
and the fates. So fill twelve jars, and close each with his lid, and pour me
barley-meal into well-sewn skins, and let there be twenty measures of the
grain of bruised barley-meal. Let none know this but thyself! As for these
things let them all be got together; for in the evening I will take them with
me, at the time that my mother hath gone to her upper chamber and turned
her thoughts to sleep. Lo, to Sparta I go and to sandy Pylos to seek tidings
of my dear father’s return, if haply I may hear thereof.”
So spake he, and the good nurse Eurycleia wailed aloud, and making
lament spake to him winged words: “Ah, wherefore, dear child, hath such a
thought arisen in thine heart? How shouldst thou fare over wide lands, thou
that art an only child and well-beloved? As for him he hath perished,
Odysseus of the seed of Zeus, far from his own country in the land of

strangers. And yonder men, so soon as thou art gone, will devise mischief
against thee thereafter, that thou mayest perish by guile, and they will share
among them all this wealth of thine. Nay, abide here, settled on thine own
lands: thou hast no need upon the deep unharvested to suffer evil and go
wandering.”
Then wise Telemachus answered her, saying: “Take heart, nurse, for lo,
this my purpose came not but of a god. But swear to tell no word thereof to
my dear mother, till at least it shall be the eleventh or twelfth day from
hence, or till she miss me of herself, and hear of my departure, that so she
may not mar her fair face with her tears.”
Thus he spake, and the old woman sware a great oath by the gods not to
reveal it. But when she had sworn and done that oath, straightway she drew
off the wine for him in jars, and poured barley-meal into well-sewn skins,
and Telemachus departed to the house and consorted with the wooers.
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, turned to other thoughts. In the
likeness of Telemachus she went all through the city, and stood by each one
of the men and spake her saying, and bade them gather at even by the swift
ship. Furthermore, she craved a swift ship of Noëmon, famous son of
Phronius, and right gladly he promised it.
Now the sun sank and all the ways were darkened. Then at length she let
drag the swift ship to the sea and stored within it all such tackling as decked
ships carry. And she moored it at the far end of the harbour and the good
company was gathered together, and the goddess cheered on all.
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, turned to other thoughts. She went
on her way to the house of divine Odysseus; and there she shed sweet sleep
upon the wooers and made them distraught in their drinking, and cast the
cups from their hands. And they arose up to go to rest throughout the city,
nor sat they yet a long while, for slumber was falling on their eyelids. Now
grey-eyed Athene spake unto Telemachus, and called him from out the fair-
lying halls, taking the likeness of Mentor, both in fashion and in voice:
“Telemachus, thy goodly-greaved companions are sitting already at their
oars, it is thy despatch they are awaiting. Nay then, let us go, that we delay
them not long from the way.”
Therewith Pallas Athene led the way quickly, and he followed hard in the
steps of the goddess. Now when they had come down to the ship and to the

sea, they found the long-haired youths of the company on the shore; and the
mighty prince Telemachus spake among them:
“Come hither, friends, let us carry the corn on board, for all is now
together in the room, and my mother knows nought thereof, nor any of the
maidens of the house: one woman only heard my saying.”
Thus he spake and led the way, and they went with him. So they brought
all and stowed it in the decked ship, according to the word of the dear son
of Odysseus. Then Telemachus climbed the ship, and Athene went before
him, and behold, she sat her down in the stern, and near her sat Telemachus.
And the men loosed the hawsers and climbed on board themselves and sat
down upon the benches. And grey-eyed Athene sent them a favourable gale,
a fresh West Wind, singing over the wine-dark sea.
And Telemachus called unto his company and bade them lay hands on
the tackling, and they hearkened to his call. So they raised the mast of pine
tree and set it in the hole of the cross plank, and made it fast with forestays,
and hauled up the white sails with twisted ropes of oxhide. And the wind
filled the belly of the sail, and the dark wave seethed loudly round the stem
of the running ship, and she fleeted over the wave, accomplishing her path.
Then they made all fast in the swift black ship, and set mixing bowls
brimmed with wine, and poured drink offering to the deathless gods that are
from everlasting, and in chief to the grey-eyed daughter of Zeus. So all
night long and through the dawn the ship cleft her way.

BOOK III.

Nestor entertains Telemachus at Pylos and tells him how the
Greeks departed from Troy; and sends him for further
information to Sparta.

Now the sun arose and left the lovely mere, speeding to the brazen
heaven, to give light to the immortals and to mortal men on the earth, the
graingiver, and they reached Pylos, the stablished castle of Neleus. There
the people were doing sacrifice on the sea shore, slaying black bulls without
spot to the dark-haired god, the shaker of the earth. Nine companies there
were, and five hundred men sat in each, and in every company they held
nine bulls ready to hand. Just as they had tasted the inner parts, and were
burning the slices of the thighs on the altar to the god, the others were
bearing straight to land, and brailed up the sails of the gallant ship, and
moored her, and themselves came forth. And Telemachus too stept forth
from the ship, and Athene led the way. And the goddess, grey-eyed Athene,
spake first to him, saying:
“Telemachus, thou needst not now be abashed, no, not one whit. For to
this very end didst thou sail over the deep, that thou mightest hear tidings of
thy father, even where the earth closed over him, and what manner of death
he met. But come now, go straight to Nestor, tamer of horses: let us learn
what counsel he hath in the secret of his heart. And beseech him thyself that
he may give unerring answer; and he will not lie to thee, for he is very
wise.”
The wise Telemachus answered, saying: “Mentor, and how shall I go,
how shall I greet him, I, who am untried in words of wisdom? Moreover a
young man may well be abashed to question an elder.”
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, spake to him again: “Telemachus,
thou shalt bethink thee of somewhat in thine own breast, and somewhat the

god will give thee to say. For thou, methinks, of all men wert not born and
bred without the will of the gods.”
So spake Pallas Athene and led the way quickly; and he followed hard in
the steps of the goddess. And they came to the gathering and the session of
the men of Pylos. There was Nestor seated with his sons, and round him his
company making ready the feast, and roasting some of the flesh and spitting
other. Now when they saw the strangers, they went all together, and clasped
their hands in welcome, and would have them sit down. First Peisistratus,
son of Nestor, drew nigh, and took the hands of each, and made them to sit
down at the feast on soft fleeces upon the sea sand, beside his brother
Thrasymedes and his father. And he gave them messes of the inner meat,
and poured wine into a golden cup, and pledging her, he spake unto Pallas
Athene, daughter of Zeus, lord of the aegis:
“Pray now, my guest, to the lord Poseidon, even as it is his feast whereon
ye have chanced in coming hither. And when thou hast made drink offering
and prayed, as is due, give thy friend also the cup of honeyed wine to make
offering thereof, inasmuch as he too, methinks, prayeth to the deathless
gods, for all men stand in need of the gods. Howbeit he is younger and mine
own equal in years, therefore to thee first will I give the golden chalice.”
Therewith he placed in her hand the cup of sweet wine. And Athene
rejoiced in the wisdom and judgment of the man, in that he had given to her
first the chalice of gold. And straightway she prayed, and that instantly, to
the lord Poseidon:
“Hear me, Poseidon, girdler of the earth, and grudge not the fulfilment of
this labour in answer to our prayer. To Nestor first and to his sons vouchsafe
renown, and thereafter grant to all the people of Pylos a gracious
recompense for this splendid hecatomb. Grant moreover that Telemachus
and I may return, when we have accomplished that for which we came
hither with our swift black ship.”
Now as she prayed on this wise, herself the while was fulfilling the
prayer. And she gave Telemachus the fair two-handled cup; and in like
manner prayed the dear son of Odysseus. Then, when the others had roasted
the outer parts and drawn them off the spits, they divided the messes and
shared the glorious feast. But when they had put from them the desire of
meat and drink, Nestor of Gerenia, lord of chariots, first spake among them:

“Now is the better time to enquire and ask of the strangers who they are,
now that they have had their delight of food. Strangers, who are ye?
Whence sail ye over the wet ways? On some trading enterprise, or at
adventure do ye rove, even as sea-robbers, over the brine, for they wander
at hazard of their own lives bringing bale to alien men?”
Then wise Telemachus answered him and spake with courage, for Athene
herself had put boldness in his heart, that he might ask about his father who
was afar, and that he might be had in good report among men:
“Nestor, son of Neleus, great glory of the Achaeans, thou askest whence
we are, and I will surely tell thee all. We have come forth out of Ithaca that
is below Neïon; and this our quest whereof I speak is a matter of mine own,
and not of the common weal. I follow after the far-spread rumour of my
father, if haply I may hear thereof, even of the goodly steadfast Odysseus,
who upon a time, men say, fought by thy side and sacked the city of the
Trojans. For of all the others, as many as warred with the Trojans, we hear
tidings, and where each one fell by a pitiful death; but even the death of this
man Cronion hath left untold. For none can surely declare the place where
he hath perished, whether he was smitten by foemen on the mainland, or
lost upon the deep among the waves of Amphitrite. So now am I come
hither to thy knees, if perchance thou art willing to tell me of his pitiful
death, as one that saw it with thine own eyes, or heard the story from some
other wanderer,—for his mother bare him to exceeding sorrow. And speak
me no soft words in ruth or pity, but tell me plainly what sight thou didst get
of him. Ah! I pray thee, if ever at all my father, noble Odysseus, made
promise to thee of word or work, and fulfilled the same in the land of the
Trojans, where ye Achaeans suffered affliction; these things, I pray thee,
now remember and tell me truth.”
Then Nestor of Gerenia, lord of chariots, answered him: “My friend,
since thou hast brought sorrow back to mind, behold, this is the story of the
woe which we endured in that land, we sons of the Achaeans, unrestrained
in fury, and of all that we bore in wanderings after spoil, sailing with our
ships over the misty deep, wheresoever Achilles led; and of all our war
round the mighty burg of king Priam. Yea and there the best of us were
slain. There lies valiant Aias, and there Achilles, and there Patroclus, the
peer of the gods in counsel, and there my own dear son, strong and noble,
Antilochus, that excelled in speed of foot and in the fight. And many other

ills we suffered beside these; who of mortal men could tell the tale? Nay
none, though thou wert to abide here for five years, ay and for six, and ask
of all the ills which the goodly Achaeans then endured. Ere all was told thou
wouldst be weary and turn to thine own country. For nine whole years we
were busy about them, devising their ruin with all manner of craft; and
scarce did Cronion bring it to pass. There never a man durst match with him
in wisdom, for goodly Odysseus very far outdid the rest in all manner of
craft, Odysseus thy father, if indeed thou art his son,—amazement comes
upon me as I look at thee; for verily thy speech is like unto his; none would
say that a younger man would speak so like an elder. Now look you, all the
while that myself and goodly Odysseus were there, we never spake
diversely either in the assembly or in the council, but always were of one
mind, and advised the Argives with understanding and sound counsel, how
all might be for the very best. But after we had sacked the steep city of
Priam, and had departed in our ships, and a god had scattered the Achaeans,
even then did Zeus devise in his heart a pitiful returning for the Argives, for
in no wise were they all discreet or just. Wherefore many of them met with
an ill faring by reason of the deadly wrath of the grey-eyed goddess, the
daughter of the mighty sire, who set debate between the two sons of Atreus.
And they twain called to the gathering of the host all the Achaeans,
recklessly and out of order, against the going down of the sun; and lo, the
sons of the Achaeans came heavy with wine. And the Atreidae spake out
and told the reason wherefore they had assembled the host. Then verily
Menelaus charged all the Achaeans to bethink them of returning over the
broad back of the sea, but in no sort did he please Agamemnon, whose
desire was to keep back the host and to offer holy hecatombs, that so he
might appease that dread wrath of Athene. Fool! for he knew not this, that
she was never to be won; for the mind of the everlasting gods is not lightly
turned to repentance. So these twain stood bandying hard words; but the
goodly-greaved Achaeans sprang up with a wondrous din, and twofold
counsels found favour among them. So that one night we rested, thinking
hard things against each other, for Zeus was fashioning for us a ruinous
doom. But in the morning, we of the one part drew our ships to the fair salt
sea, and put aboard our wealth, and the low-girdled Trojan women. Now
one half the people abode steadfastly there with Agamemnon, son of Atreus,
shepherd of the host; and half of us embarked and drave to sea and swiftly
the ships sailed, for a god made smooth the sea with the depths thereof. And

when we came to Tenedos, we did sacrifice to the gods, being eager for the
homeward way; but Zeus did not yet purpose our returning, nay, hard was
he, that roused once more an evil strife among us. Then some turned back
their curved ships, and went their way, even the company of Odysseus, the
wise and manifold in counsel, once again showing a favour to Agamemnon,
son of Atreus. But I fled on with the squadron that followed me, for I knew
how now the god imagined mischief. And the warlike son of Tydeus fled
and roused his men thereto. And late in our track came Menelaus of the fair
hair, who found us in Lesbos, considering about the long voyage, whether
we should go sea-ward of craggy Chios, by the isle of Psyria, keeping the
isle upon our left, or inside Chios past windy Mimas. So we asked the god
to show us a sign, and a sign he declared to us, and bade us cleave a path
across the middle sea to Euboea, that we might flee the swiftest way from
sorrow. And a shrill wind arose and blew, and the ships ran most fleetly
over the teeming ways, and in the night they touched at Geraestus. So there
we sacrificed many thighs of bulls to Poseidon, for joy that we had
measured out so great a stretch of sea. It was the fourth day when the
company of Diomede son of Tydeus, tamer of horses, moored their gallant
ships at Argos; but I held on for Pylos, and the breeze was never quenched
from the hour that the god sent it forth to blow. Even so I came, dear child,
without tidings, nor know I aught of those others, which of the Achaeans
were saved and which were lost. But all that I hear tell of as I sit in our
halls, thou shalt learn as it is meet, and I will hide nothing from thee. Safely,
they say, came the Myrmidons the wild spearsmen, whom the famous son
of high-souled Achilles led; and safely Philoctetes, the glorious son of
Poias. And Idomeneus brought all his company to Crete, all that escaped the
war, and from him the sea gat none. And of the son of Atreus even
yourselves have heard, far apart though ye dwell, how he came, and how
Aegisthus devised his evil end; but verily he himself paid a terrible
reckoning. So good a thing it is that a son of the dead should still be left,
even as that son also took vengeance on the slayer of his father, guileful
Aegisthus, who slew his famous sire. And thou too, my friend, for I see thee
very comely and tall, be valiant, that even men unborn may praise thee.”
And wise Telemachus answered him, and said: “Nestor, son of Neleus,
great glory of the Achaeans, verily and indeed he avenged himself, and the
Achaeans shall noise his fame abroad, that even those may hear who are yet
for to be. Oh that the gods would clothe me with such strength as his, that I

might take vengeance on the wooers for their cruel transgression, who
wantonly devise against me infatuate deeds! But the gods have woven for
me the web of no such weal, for me or for my sire. But now I must in any
wise endure it.”
Then Nestor of Gerenia, lord of chariots, made answer: “Dear friend,
seeing thou dost call these things to my remembrance and speak thereof,
they tell me that many wooers for thy mother’s hand plan mischief within
the halls in thy despite. Say, dost thou willingly submit thee to oppression,
or do the people through the land hate thee, obedient to the voice of a god?
Who knows but that Odysseus may some day come and requite their
violence, either himself alone or all the host of the Achaeans with him? Ah,
if but grey-eyed Athene were inclined to love thee, as once she cared
exceedingly for the renowned Odysseus in the land of the Trojans, where
we Achaeans were sore afflicted, for never yet have I seen the gods show
forth such manifest love, as then did Pallas Athene standing manifest by
him,—if she would be pleased so to love thee and to care for thee, then
might certain of them clean forget their marriage.”
And wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “Old man, in no wise
methinks shall this word be accomplished. This is a hard saying of thine,
awe comes over me. Not for my hopes shall this thing come to pass, not
even if the gods so willed it.”
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, spake to him again: “Telemachus,
what word hath escaped the door of thy lips? Lightly might a god, if so he
would, bring a man safe home even from afar. Rather myself would I have
travail and much pain ere I came home and saw the day of my returning,
than come back and straightway perish on my own hearth-stone, even as
Agamemnon perished by guile at the hands of his own wife and of
Aegisthus. But lo you, death, which is common to all, the very gods cannot
avert even from the man they love, when the ruinous doom shall bring him
low of death that lays men at their length.”
And wise Telemachus answered her, saying: “Mentor, no longer let us tell
of these things, sorrowful though we be. There is none assurance any more
of his returning, but already have the deathless gods devised for him death
and black fate. But now I would question Nestor, and ask him of another
matter, as one who above all men knows judgments and wisdom: for thrice,
men say, he hath been king through the generations of men; yea, like an

immortal he seems to me to look upon. Nestor, son of Neleus, now tell me
true: how died the son of Atreus, Agamemnon of the wide domain? Where
was Menelaus? What death did crafty Aegisthus plan for him, in that he
killed a man more valiant far than he? Or was Menelaus not in Argos of
Achaia but wandering elsewhere among men, and that other took heart and
slew Agamemnon?”
Then Nestor of Gerenia, lord of chariots, answered him: “Yea now, my
child, I will tell thee the whole truth. Verily thou guessest aright even of
thyself how things would have fallen out, if Menelaus of the fair hair, the
son of Atreus, when he came back from Troy, had found Aegisthus yet alive
in the halls. Then even in his death would they not have heaped the piled
earth over him, but dogs and fowls of the air would have devoured him as
he lay on the plain far from the town.[6] Nor would any of the Achaean
women have bewailed him; so dread was the deed he contrived. Now we sat
in leaguer there, achieving many adventures; but he the while in peace in
the heart of Argos, the pastureland of horses, spake ofttimes, tempting her,
to the wife of Agamemnon. Verily at the first she would none of the foul
deed, the fair Clytemnestra, for she had a good understanding. Moreover
there was with her a minstrel, whom the son of Atreus straitly charged as he
went to Troy to have a care of his wife. But when at last the doom of the
gods bound her to her ruin, then did Aegisthus carry the minstrel to a lonely
isle, and left him there to be the prey and spoil of birds; while as for her, he
led her to his house, a willing lover with a willing lady. And he burnt many
thigh slices upon the holy altars of the gods, and hung up many offerings,
woven-work and gold, seeing that he had accomplished a great deed,
beyond all hope. Now we, I say, were sailing together on our way from
Troy, the son of Atreus and I, as loving friends. But when we had reached
holy Sunium, the headland of Athens, there Phoebus Apollo slew the pilot
of Menelaus with the visitation of his gentle shafts, as he held between his
hands the rudder of the running ship, even Phrontis, son of Onetor, who
excelled the tribes of men in piloting a ship, whenso the storm-winds were
hurrying by. Thus was Menelaus holden there, though eager for the way, till
he might bury his friend and pay the last rites over him. But when he in his
turn, faring over the wine-dark sea in hollow ships, reached in swift course
the steep mount of Malea, then it was that Zeus of the far-borne voice
devised a hateful path, and shed upon them the breath of the shrill winds,
and great swelling waves arose like unto mountains. There sundered he the

fleet in twain, and part thereof he brought nigh to Crete, where the
Cydonians dwelt about the streams of Iardanus. Now there is a certain cliff,
smooth and sheer towards the sea, on the border of Gortyn, in the misty
deep, where the South-West Wind drives a great wave against the left
headland, towards Phaestus, and a little rock keeps back the mighty water.
Thither came one part of the fleet, and the men scarce escaped destruction,
but the ships were broken by the waves against the rock; while those other
five dark-prowed ships the wind and the water bare and brought nigh to
Egypt. Thus Menelaus, gathering much livelihood and gold, was wandering
there with his ships among men of strange speech, and even then Aegisthus
planned that pitiful work at home. And for seven years he ruled over
Mycenae, rich in gold, after he slew the son of Atreus, and the people were
subdued unto him. But in the eighth year came upon him goodly Orestes
back from Athens to be his bane, and slew the slayer of his father, guileful
Aegisthus, who killed his famous sire. Now when he had slain him, he
made a funeral feast to the Argives over his hateful mother, and over the
craven Aegisthus. And on the selfsame day there came to him Menelaus of
the loud war-cry, bringing much treasure, even all the freight of his ships.
So thou, my friend, wander not long far away from home, leaving thy
substance behind thee and men in thy house so wanton, lest they divide and
utterly devour all thy wealth, and thou shalt have gone on a vain journey.
Rather I bid and command thee to go to Menelaus, for he hath lately come
from a strange country, from the land of men whence none would hope in
his heart to return, whom once the storms have driven wandering into so
wide a sea. Thence not even the birds can make their way in the space of
one year, so great a sea it is and terrible. But go now with thy ship and with
thy company, or if thou hast a mind to fare by land, I have a chariot and
horses at thy service, yea and my sons to do thy will, who will be thy guides
to goodly Lacedaemon, where is Menelaus of the fair hair. Do thou thyself
entreat him, that he may give thee unerring answer. He will not lie to thee,
for he is very wise.”
[6] Reading ἄστεος. v. 1. Ἄργεος, which must be wrong.

Thus he spake, and the sun went down and darkness came on. Then the
goddess, grey-eyed Athene, spake among them, saying: “Yea, old man, thou
hast told all this thy tale aright. But come, cut up the tongues of the victims
and mix the wine, that we may pour forth before Poseidon and the other

deathless gods, and so may bethink us of sleep, for it is the hour for sleep.
For already has the light gone beneath the west, and it is not seemly to sit
long at a banquet of the gods, but to be going home.”
So spake the daughter of Zeus, and they hearkened to her voice. And the
henchmen poured water over their hands, and pages crowned the mixing
bowls with drink, and served out the wine to all, after they had first poured
for libation into each cup in turn; and they cast the tongues upon the fire,
and stood up and poured the drink-offering thereon. But when they had
poured forth and had drunken to their heart’s content, Athene and godlike
Telemachus were both set on returning to the hollow ship; but Nestor would
have stayed them, and accosted them, saying: “Zeus forfend it, and all the
other deathless gods, that ye should depart from my house to the swift ship,
as from the dwelling of one that is utterly without raiment or a needy man,
who hath not rugs or blankets many in his house whereon to sleep softly, he
or his guests. Nay not so, I have rugs and fair blankets by me. Never,
methinks, shall the dear son of this man, even of Odysseus, lay him down
upon the ship’s deck, while as yet I am alive, and my children after me are
left in my hall to entertain strangers, whoso may chance to come to my
house.”
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, spake to him again: “Yea, herein
hast thou spoken aright, dear father: and Telemachus may well obey thee,
for before all things this is meet. Behold, he shall now depart with thee, that
he may sleep in thy halls; as for me I will go to the black ship, that I may
cheer my company and tell them all. For I avow me to be the one elder
among them; those others are but younger men, who follow for love of him,
all of them of like age with the high-souled Telemachus. There will I lay me
down by the black hollow ship this night; but in the morning I will go to the
Cauconians high of heart, where somewhat of mine is owing to me, no
small debt nor of yesterday. But do thou send this man upon his way with
thy chariot and thy son, since he hath come to thy house, and give him
horses the lightest of foot and chief in strength.”
Therewith grey-eyed Athene departed in the semblance of a sea-eagle;
and amazement fell on all that saw it, and the old man he marvelled when
his eyes beheld it. And he took the hand of Telemachus and spake and
hailed him:

“My friend, methinks that thou wilt in no sort be a coward and a
weakling, if indeed in thy youth the gods thus follow with thee to be thy
guides. For truly this is none other of those who keep the mansions of
Olympus, save only the daughter of Zeus, the driver of the spoil, the maiden
Trito-born, she that honoured thy good father too among the Argives. Nay
be gracious, queen, and vouchsafe a goodly fame to me, even to me and to
my sons and to my wife revered. And I in turn will sacrifice to thee a
yearling heifer, broad of brow, unbroken, which man never yet hath led
beneath the yoke. Such an one will I offer to thee, and gild her horns with
gold.”
Even so he spake in prayer, and Pallas Athene heard him. Then Nestor of
Gerenia, lord of chariots, led them, even his sons and the husbands of his
daughters, to his own fair house. But when they had reached this prince’s
famous halls, they sat down all orderly on seats and high chairs; and when
they were come, the old man mixed well for them a bowl of sweet wine,
which now in the eleventh year from the vintaging the housewife opened,
and unloosed the string that fastened the lid. The old man let mix a bowl
thereof, and prayed instantly to Athene as he poured forth before her, even
to the daughter of Zeus, lord of the aegis.
But after they had poured forth and had drunken to their heart’s content,
these went each one to his own house to lie down to rest. But Nestor of
Gerenia, lord of chariots, would needs have Telemachus, son of divine
Odysseus, to sleep there on a jointed bedstead beneath the echoing gallery,
and by him Peisistratus of the good ashen spear, leader of men, who alone
of his sons was yet unwed in his halls. As for him he slept within the inmost
chamber of the lofty house, and the lady his wife arrayed for him bedstead
and bedding.
So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, Nestor of Gerenia,
lord of chariots, gat him up from his bed, and he went forth and sat him
down upon the smooth stones, which were before his lofty doors, all
polished, white and glistening, whereon Neleus sat of old, in counsel the
peer of the gods. Howbeit, stricken by fate, he had ere now gone down to
the house of Hades, and to-day Nestor of Gerenia in his turn sat thereon,
warder of the Achaeans, with his staff in his hands. And about him his sons
were gathered and come together, issuing from their chambers, Echephron
and Stratius, and Perseus and Aretus and the godlike Thrasymedes. And

sixth and last came the hero Peisistratus. And they led godlike Telemachus
and set him by their side, and Nestor of Gerenia, lord of chariots, spake first
among them:
“Quickly, my dear children, accomplish my desire, that first of all the
gods I may propitiate Athene, who came to me in visible presence to the
rich feast of the god. Nay then, let one go to the plain for a heifer, that she
may come as soon as may be, and that the neat-herd may drive her: and let
another go to the black ship of high-souled Telemachus to bring all his
company, and let him leave two men only. And let one again bid Laerces the
goldsmith to come hither that he may gild the horns of the heifer. And ye
others, abide ye here together and speak to the handmaids within that they
make ready a banquet through our famous halls, and fetch seats and logs to
set about the altar, and bring clear water.”
Thus he spake and lo, they all hastened to the work. The heifer she came
from the field, and from the swift gallant ship came the company of great-
hearted Telemachus; the smith came holding in his hands his tools, the
instruments of his craft, anvil and hammer and well-made pincers,
wherewith he wrought the gold; Athene too came to receive her sacrifice.
And the old knight Nestor gave gold, and the other fashioned it skilfully,
and gilded therewith the horns of the heifer, that the goddess might be glad
at the sight of her fair offering. And Stratius and goodly Echephron led the
heifer by the horns. And Aretus came forth from the chamber bearing water
for the washing of hands in a basin of flowered work, and in the other hand
he held the barley-meal in a basket; and Thrasymedes, steadfast in the
battle, stood by holding in his hand a sharp axe, ready to smite the heifer.
And Perseus held the dish for the blood, and the old man Nestor, driver of
chariots, performed the first rite of the washing of hands and the sprinkling
of the meal, and he prayed instantly to Athene as he began the rite, casting
into the fire the lock from the head of the victim.
Now when they had prayed and tossed the sprinkled grain, straightway
the son of Nestor, gallant Thrasymedes, stood by and struck the blow; and
the axe severed the tendons of the neck and loosened the might of the
heifer; and the women raised their cry, the daughters and the sons’ wives
and the wife revered of Nestor, Eurydice, eldest of the daughters of
Clymenus. And now they lifted the victim’s head from the wide-wayed
earth, and held it so, while Peisistratus, leader of men, cut the throat. And

after the black blood had gushed forth and the life had left the bones,
quickly they broke up the body, and anon cut slices from the thighs all duly,
and wrapt the same in the fat, folding them double, and laid raw flesh
thereon. So that old man burnt them on the cleft wood, and poured over
them the red wine, and by his side the young men held in their hands the
five-pronged forks. Now after that the thighs were quite consumed and they
had tasted the inner parts, they cut the rest up small and spitted and roasted
it, holding the sharp spits in their hands.
Meanwhile she bathed Telemachus, even fair Polycaste, the youngest
daughter of Nestor, son of Neleus. And after she had bathed him and
anointed him with olive oil, and cast about him a goodly mantle and a
doublet, he came forth from the bath in fashion like the deathless gods. So
he went and sat him down by Nestor, shepherd of the people.
Now when they had roasted the outer flesh, and drawn it off the spits,
they sat down and fell to feasting, and honourable men waited on them,
pouring wine into the golden cups. But when they had put from them the
desire of meat and drink, Nestor of Gerenia, lord of chariots, first spake
among them:
“Lo now, my sons, yoke for Telemachus horses with flowing mane and
lead them beneath the car, that he may get forward on his way.”
Even so he spake, and they gave good heed and hearkened; and quickly
they yoked the swift horses beneath the chariot. And the dame that kept the
stores placed therein corn and wine and dainties, such as princes eat, the
fosterlings of Zeus. So Telemachus stept up into the goodly car, and with
him Peisistratus son of Nestor, leader of men, likewise climbed the car and
grasped the reins in his hands, and he touched the horses with the whip to
start them, and nothing loth the pair flew towards the plain, and left the
steep citadel of Pylos. So all day long they swayed the yoke they bore upon
their necks.
Now the sun sank and all the ways were darkened. And they came to
Pherae, to the house of Diocles, son of Orsilochus, the child begotten of
Alpheus. There they rested for the night, and by them he set the
entertainment of strangers.
Now so soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, they yoked
the horses and mounted the inlaid car. And forth they drave from the
gateway and the echoing gallery, and Peisistratus touched the horses with

the whip to start them, and the pair flew onward nothing loth. So they came
to the wheat-bearing plain, and thenceforth they pressed toward the end: in
such wise did the swift horses speed forward. Now the sun sank and all the
ways were darkened.

BOOK IV.

Telemachus’ entertainment at Sparta, where Menelaus tells
him what befell many of the Greeks on their return; that
Odysseus was with Calypso in the isle Ogygia, as he was
told by Proteus.

And they came to Lacedaemon lying low among the caverned hills, and
drave to the dwelling of renowned Menelaus. Him they found giving a feast
in his house to many friends of his kin, a feast for the wedding of his noble
son and daughter. His daughter he was sending to the son of Achilles,
cleaver of the ranks of men, for in Troy he first had promised and
covenanted to give her, and now the gods were bringing about their
marriage. So now he was speeding her on her way with chariot and horses,
to the famous city of the Myrmidons, among whom her lord bare rule. And
for his son he was bringing to his home the daughter of Alector out of
Sparta, for his well-beloved son, strong Megapenthes,[7] born of a slave
woman, for the gods no more showed promise of seed to Helen, from the
day that she bare a lovely child, Hermione, as fair as golden Aphrodite. So
they were feasting through the great vaulted hall, the neighbours and the
kinsmen of renowned Menelaus, making merry; and among them a divine
minstrel was singing to the lyre, and as he began the song two tumblers in
the company whirled through the midst of them.
[7] A son of sorrow: Tristram.

Meanwhile those twain, the hero Telemachus and the splendid son of
Nestor, made halt at the entry of the gate, they and their horses. And the
lord Eteoneus came forth and saw them, the ready squire of renowned
Menelaus; and he went through the palace to bear the tidings to the
shepherd of the people, and standing near spake to him winged words:

“Menelaus, fosterling of Zeus, here are two strangers, whosoever they be,
two men like to the lineage of great Zeus. Say, shall we loose their swift
horses from under the yoke, or send them onward to some other host who
shall receive them kindly?”
Then in sore displeasure spake to him Menelaus of the fair hair:
“Eteoneus son of Boethous, truly thou wert not a fool aforetime, but now
for this once, like a child thou talkest folly. Surely ourselves ate much
hospitable cheer of other men, ere we twain came hither, even if in time to
come Zeus haply give us rest from affliction. Nay go, unyoke the horses of
the strangers, and as for the men, lead them forward to the house to feast
with us.”
So spake he, and Eteoneus hasted from the hall, and called the other
ready squires to follow with him. So they loosed the sweating horses from
beneath the yoke, and fastened them at the stalls of the horses, and threw
beside them spelt, and therewith mixed white barley, and tilted the chariot
against the shining faces of the gateway, and led the men into the hall
divine. And they beheld and marvelled as they gazed throughout the palace
of the king, the fosterling of Zeus; for there was a gleam as it were of sun or
moon through the lofty palace of renowned Menelaus. But after they had
gazed their fill, they went to the polished baths and bathed them. Now when
the maidens had bathed them and anointed them with olive oil, and cast
about them thick cloaks and doublets, they sat on chairs by Menelaus, son
of Atreus. And a handmaid bare water for the hands in a goodly golden
ewer, and poured it forth over a silver basin to wash withal; and to their side
she drew a polished table, and a grave dame bare food and set it by them,
and laid upon the board many dainties, giving freely of such things as she
had by her, and a carver lifted and placed by them platters of divers kinds of
flesh, and nigh them he set golden bowls. So Menelaus of the fair hair
greeted the twain and spake:
“Taste ye food and be glad, and thereafter when ye have supped, we will
ask what men ye are; for the blood of your parents is not lost in you, but ye
are of the line of men that are sceptred kings, the fosterlings of Zeus; for no
churls could beget sons like you.”
So spake he, and took and set before them the fat ox-chine roasted, which
they had given him as his own mess by way of honour. And they stretched
forth their hands upon the good cheer set before them. Now when they had

put from them the desire of meat and drink Telemachus spake to the son of
Nestor, holding his head close to him, that those others might not hear:
“Son of Nestor, delight of my heart, mark the flashing of bronze through
the echoing halls, and the flashing of gold and of amber and of silver and of
ivory. Such like, methinks, is the court of Olympian Zeus within, for the
world of things that are here; wonder comes over me as I look thereon.”
And as he spake Menelaus of the fair hair was ware of him, and uttering
his voice spake to them winged words:
“Children dear, of a truth no one of mortal men may contend with Zeus,
for his mansions and his treasures are everlasting: but of men there may be
who will vie with me in treasure, or there may be none. Yea, for after many
a woe and wanderings manifold, I brought my wealth home in ships, and in
the eighth year came hither. I roamed over Cyprus and Phoenicia and
Egypt, and reached the Aethiopians and Sidonians and Erembi and Libya,
where lambs are horned from the birth. For there the ewes yean thrice
within the full circle of a year; there neither lord nor shepherd lacketh aught
of cheese or flesh or of sweet milk, but ever the flocks yield store of milk
continual. While I was yet roaming in those lands, gathering much
livelihood, meantime another slew my brother privily, at unawares, by the
guile of his accursed wife. Thus, look you, I have no joy of my lordship
among these my possessions: and ye are like to have heard hereof from
your fathers, whosoever they be, for I have suffered much and let a house
go to ruin that was stablished fair, and had in it much choice substance. I
would that I had but a third part of those my riches, and dwelt in my halls,
and that those men were yet safe, who perished of old in the wide land of
Troy, far from Argos, the pastureland of horses. Howbeit, though I bewail
them all and sorrow oftentimes as I sit in our halls,—awhile indeed I satisfy
my soul with lamentation, and then again I cease; for soon hath man enough
of chill lamentation—yet for them all I make no such dole, despite my grief,
as for one only, who causes me to loathe both sleep and meat, when I think
upon him. For no one of the Achaeans toiled so greatly as Odysseus toiled
and adventured himself: but to him it was to be but labour and trouble, and
to me grief ever comfortless for his sake, so long he is afar, nor know we
aught, whether he be alive or dead. Yea methinks they lament him, even that
old Laertes and the constant Penelope and Telemachus, whom he left a
child new-born in his house.”

So spake he, and in the heart of Telemachus he stirred a yearning to
lament his father; and at his father’s name he let a tear fall from his eyelids
to the ground, and held up his purple mantle with both his hands before his
eyes. And Menelaus marked him and mused in his mind and his heart
whether he should leave him to speak of his father, or first question him and
prove him in every word.
While yet he pondered these things in his mind and in his heart, Helen
came forth from her fragrant vaulted chamber, like Artemis of the golden
arrows; and with her came Adraste and set for her the well-wrought chair,
and Alcippe bare a rug of soft wool, and Phylo bare a silver basket which
Alcandre gave her, the wife of Polybus, who dwelt in Thebes of Egypt,
where is the chiefest store of wealth in the houses. He gave two silver baths
to Menelaus, and tripods twain, ad ten talents of gold. And besides all this,
his wife bestowed on Helen lovely gifts; a golden distaff did she give, and a
silver basket with wheels beneath, and the rims thereof were finished with
gold. This it was that the handmaid Phylo bare and set beside her, filled
with dressed yarn, and across it was laid a distaff charged with wool of
violet blue. So Helen sat her down in the chair, and beneath was a footstool
for the feet. And anon she spake to her lord and questioned him of each
thing:
“Menelaus, fosterling of Zeus, know we now who these men avow
themselves to be that have come under our roof? Shall I dissemble or shall I
speak the truth? Nay, I am minded to tell it. None, I say, have I ever yet
seen so like another, man or woman—wonder comes over me as I look on
him—as this man is like the son of great-hearted Odysseus, Telemachus,
whom he left a new born child in his house, when for the sake of me,
shameless woman that I was, ye Achaeans came up under Troy with bold
war in your hearts.”
And Menelaus of the fair hair answered her, saying: “Now I too, lady,
mark the likeness even as thou tracest it. For such as these were his feet,
such his hands, and the glances of his eyes, and his head, and his hair
withal. Yea, and even now I was speaking of Odysseus, as I remembered
him, of all his woeful travail for my sake; when, lo, he let fall a bitter tear
beneath his brows, and held his purple cloak up before his eyes.”
And Peisistratus, son of Nestor, answered him, saying: “Menelaus, son of
Atreus, fosterling of Zeus, leader of the host, assuredly this is the son of that

very man, even as thou sayest. But he is of a sober wit, and thinketh it
shame in his heart as on this his first coming to make show of
presumptuous words in the presence of thee, in whose voice we twain
delight as in the voice of a god. Now Nestor of Gerenia, lord of chariots,
sent me forth to be his guide on the way: for he desired to see thee that thou
mightest put into his heart some word or work. For a son hath many griefs
in his halls when his father is away, if perchance he hath none to stand by
him. Even so it is now with Telemachus; his father is away, nor hath he
others in the township to defend him from distress.”
And Menelaus of the fair hair answered him, and said: “Lo now, in good
truth there has come unto my house the son of a friend indeed, who for my
sake endured many adventures. And I thought to welcome him on his
coming more nobly than all the other Argives, if but Olympian Zeus, of the
far-borne voice, had vouchsafed us a return over the sea in our swift ships,
—that such a thing should be. And in Argos I would have given him a city
to dwell in, and stablished for him a house, and brought him forth from
Ithaca with his substance and his son and all his people, making one city
desolate of those that lie around, and are in mine own domain. Then
ofttimes would we have held converse here, and nought would have parted
us, the welcoming and the welcomed,[8] ere the black cloud of death
overshadowed us. Howsoever, the god himself, methinks, must have been
jealous hereof, who from that hapless man alone cut off his returning.”
[8] Mr. Evelyn Abbott of Balliol College has suggested to us that φιλέοντε and
τερπομένω are here correlatives, and denote respectively the parts of host and of
guest. This is sufficiently borne out by the usage of the words elsewhere.

So spake he, and in the hearts of all he stirred the desire of lamentation.
She wept, even Argive Helen the daughter of Zeus, and Telemachus wept,
and Menelaus the son of Atreus; nay, nor did the son of Nestor keep tearless
eyes. For he bethought him in his heart of noble Antilochus, whom the
glorious son of the bright Dawn had slain. Thinking upon him he spake
winged words:
“Son of Atreus, the ancient Nestor in his own halls was ever wont to say
that thou wert wise beyond man’s wisdom, whensoever we made mention
of thee and asked one another concerning thee. And now, if it be possible,
be persuaded by me, who for one have no pleasure in weeping at supper
time—the new-born day will right soon be upon us.[9] Not indeed that I

deem it blame at all to weep for any mortal who hath died and met his fate.
Lo, this is now the only due we pay to miserable men, to cut the hair and let
the tear fall from the cheek. For I too have a brother dead, nowise the
meanest of the Argives, and thou art like to have known him, for as for me I
never encountered him, never beheld him. But men say that Antilochus
outdid all, being excellent in speed of foot and in the fight.”
[9] Cf. B. xv. 50.

And Menelaus of the fair hair answered him, and said: “My friend, lo,
thou hast said all that a wise man might say or do, yea, and an elder than
thou;—for from such a sire too thou art sprung, wherefore thou dost even
speak wisely. Right easily known is that man’s seed, for whom Cronion
weaves the skein of luck at bridal and at birth: even as now hath he granted
prosperity to Nestor for ever for all his days, that he himself should grow
into a smooth old age in his halls, and his sons moreover should be wise
and the best of spearsmen. But we will cease now the weeping which was
erewhile made, and let us once more bethink us of our supper, and let them
pour water over our hands. And again in the morning there will be tales for
Telemachus and me to tell one to the other, even to the end.”
So spake he, and Asphalion poured water over their hands, the ready
squire of renowned Menelaus. And they put forth their hands upon the good
cheer spread before them.
Then Helen, daughter of Zeus, turned to new thoughts. Presently she cast
a drug into the wine whereof they drank, a drug to lull all pain and anger,
and bring forgetfulness of every sorrow. Whoso should drink a draught
thereof, when it is mingled in the bowl, on that day he would let no tear fall
down his cheeks, not though his mother and his father died, not though men
slew his brother or dear son with the sword before his face, and his own
eyes beheld it. Medicines of such virtue and so helpful had the daughter of
Zeus, which Polydamna, the wife of Thon, had given her, a woman of
Egypt, where earth the grain-giver yields herbs in greatest plenty, many that
are healing in the cup, and many baneful. There each man is a leech skilled
beyond all human kind; yea, for they are of the race of Paeeon. Now after
she had cast in the drug and bidden pour forth of the wine, she made answer
once again, and spake unto her lord:

“Son of Atreus, Menelaus, fosterling of Zeus, and lo, ye sons of noble
men, forasmuch as now to one and now to another Zeus gives good and
evil, for to him all things are possible,—now, verily, sit ye down and feast
in the halls, and take ye joy in the telling of tales, and I will tell you one that
fits the time. Now all of them I could not tell or number, so many as were
the adventures of Odysseus of the hardy heart; but, ah, what a deed was this
he wrought and dared in his hardiness in the land of the Trojans, where ye
Achaeans suffered affliction. He subdued his body with unseemly stripes,
and a sorry covering he cast about his shoulders, and in the fashion of a
servant he went down into the wide-wayed city of the foemen, and he hid
himself in the guise of another, a beggar, though in no wise such an one was
he at the ships of the Achaeans. In this semblance he passed into the city of
the Trojans, and they wist not who he was, and I alone knew him in that
guise, and I kept questioning him, but in his subtlety he avoided me. But
when at last I was about washing him and anointing him with olive oil, and
had put on him raiment, and sworn a great oath not to reveal Odysseus amid
the Trojans, ere he reached the swift ships and the huts, even then he told
me all the purpose of the Achaeans. And after slaying many of the Trojans
with the long sword, he returned to the Argives and brought back word
again of all. Then the other Trojan women wept aloud, but my soul was
glad, for already my heart was turned to go back again even to my home:
and now at the last I groaned for the blindness that Aphrodite gave me,
when she led me thither away from mine own country, forsaking my child
and my bridal chamber and my lord, that lacked not aught whether for
wisdom or yet for beauty.”
And Menelaus of the fair hair answered her, saying: “Verily all this tale,
lady, thou hast duly told. Ere now have I learned the counsel and the
thought of many heroes, and travelled over many a land, but never yet have
mine eyes beheld any such man of heart as was Odysseus; such another
deed as he wrought and dared in his hardiness even in the shapen horse,
wherein sat all we chiefs of the Argives, bearing to the Trojans death and
doom. Anon thou camest thither, and sure some god must have bidden thee,
who wished to bring glory to the Trojans. Yea and godlike Deiphobus went
with thee on thy way. Thrice thou didst go round about the hollow ambush
and handle it, calling aloud on the chiefs of the Argives by name, and
making thy voice like the voices of the wives of all the Argives. Now I and
the son of Tydeus and goodly Odysseus sat in the midst and heard thy call;

and verily we twain had a desire to start up and come forth or presently to
answer from within; but Odysseus stayed and held us there, despite our
eagerness. Then all the other sons of the Achaeans held their peace, but
Anticlus alone was still minded to answer thee. Howbeit Odysseus firmly
closed his mouth with strong hands, and so saved all the Achaeans, and held
him until such time as Pallas Athene led thee back.”
Then wise Telemachus answered him, and said: “Menelaus, son of
Atreus, fosterling of Zeus, leader of the host, all the more grievous it is! for
in no way did this courage ward from him pitiful destruction, not though his
heart within him had been very iron. But come, bid us to bed, that forthwith
we may take our joy of rest beneath the spell of sleep.”
So spake he, and Argive Helen bade her handmaids set out bedsteads
beneath the gallery, and fling on them fair purple blankets and spread
coverlets above, and thereon lay thick mantles to be a clothing over all. So
they went from the hall with torch in hand, and spread the beds, and the
henchman led forth the guests. Thus they slept there in the vestibule of the
house, the hero Telemachus and the splendid son of Nestor. But the son of
Atreus slept, as his custom was, in the inmost chamber of the lofty house,
and by him lay long-robed Helen, that fair lady.
Soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, Menelaus of the loud
war-shout gat him up from his bed and put on his raiment, and cast his
sharp sword about his shoulder, and beneath his smooth feet bound his
goodly sandals, and stept forth from his chamber, in presence like a god,
and sat by Telemachus, and spake and hailed him:
“To what end hath thy need brought thee hither, hero Telemachus, unto
fair Lacedaemon, over the broad back of the sea? Is it a matter of the
common weal or of thine own? Herein tell me the plain truth.”
Then wise Telemachus answered him, and said: “Menelaus, son of
Atreus, fosterling of Zeus, leader of the host, I have come if perchance thou
mayest tell me some tidings of my father. My dwelling is being devoured
and my fat lands are ruined, and of unfriendly men my house is full,—who
slaughter continually my thronging flocks, and my kine with trailing feet
and shambling gait,—none other than the wooers of my mother, despiteful
out of measure. So now am I come hither to thy knees, if haply thou art
willing to tell me of his pitiful death, as one that saw it perchance with thine
own eyes, or heard the story from some other wanderer; for his mother bare

him to exceeding sorrow. And speak me no soft words in ruth or pity, but
tell me plainly how thou didst get sight of him. Ah, I pray thee, if ever at all
my father, good Odysseus, made promise to thee of word or work and
fulfilled the same in the land of the Trojans, where ye Achaeans suffered
affliction, these things, I pray thee, now remember and tell me truth.”
Then in heavy displeasure spake to him Menelaus of the fair hair: “Out
upon them, for truly in the bed of a brave-hearted man were they minded to
lie, very cravens as they are! Even as when a hind hath couched her
newborn fawns unweaned in a strong lion’s lair, and searcheth out the
mountain knees and grassy hollows, seeking pasture, and afterward the lion
cometh back to his bed, and sendeth forth unsightly death upon that pair,
even so shall Odysseus send forth unsightly death upon the wooers. Would
to our father Zeus and Athene and Apollo, would that in such might as when
of old in stablished Lesbos he rose up and wrestled a match with
Philomeleides and threw him mightily, and all the Achaeans rejoiced; would
that in such strength Odysseus might consort with the wooers: then should
they all have swift fate, and bitter wedlock! But for that whereof thou askest
and entreatest me, be sure I will not swerve from the truth in aught that I
say, nor deceive thee; but of all that the ancient one of the sea, whose
speech is sooth, declared to me, not a word will I hide or keep from thee.
“In the river Aegyptus,[10] though eager I was to press onward home, the
gods they stayed me, for that I had not offered them the acceptable sacrifice
of hecatombs, and the gods ever desired that men should be mindful of their
commandments. Now there is an island in the wash of the waves over
against Aegyptus, and men call it Pharos, within one day’s voyage of a
hollow ship, when shrill winds blow fair in her wake. And therein is a good
haven, whence men launch the gallant ships into the deep when they have
drawn a store of deep black water. There the gods held me twenty days, nor
did the sea-winds ever show their breath, they that serve to waft ships over
the broad back of the sea. And now would all our corn have been spent, and
likewise the strength of the men, except some goddess had taken pity on me
and saved me, Eidothee, daughter of mighty Proteus, the ancient one of the
sea. For most of all I moved her heart, when she met me wandering alone
apart from my company, who were ever roaming round the isle, fishing
with bent hooks, for hunger was gnawing at their belly. So she stood by, and
spake and uttered her voice saying:

[10] The only name for the Nile in Homer. Cf. Wilkinson, Ancient Egyptians
(1878), vol. i., p. 7.

“‘Art thou so very foolish, stranger, and feeble-witted, or art thou
wilfully remiss, and hast pleasure in suffering? So long time art thou holden
in the isle and canst find no issue therefrom, while the heart of thy company
faileth within them?’
“Even so she spake, and I answered her saying: ‘I will speak forth, what
goddess soever thou art, and tell thee that in no wise am I holden here by
mine own will, but it needs must be that I have sinned against the deathless
gods, who keep the wide heaven. Howbeit, do thou tell me—for the gods
know all things—which of the immortals it is that binds me here and hath
hindered me from my way, and declare as touching my returning how I may
go over the teeming deep.’
“So I spake, and straightway the fair goddess made answer: ‘Yea now,
sir, I will plainly tell thee all. Hither resorteth that ancient one of the sea,
whose speech is sooth, the deathless Egyptian Proteus, who knows the
depths of every sea, and is the thrall of Poseidon, and who, they say, is my
father that begat me. If thou couldst but lay an ambush and catch him, he
will surely declare to thee the way and the measure of thy path, and will tell
thee of thy returning, how thou mayest go over the teeming deep. Yea, and
he will show thee, O fosterling of Zeus, if thou wilt, what good thing and
what evil hath been wrought in thy halls, whilst thou has been faring this
long and grievous way.’
“So she spake, but I answered and said unto her: ‘Devise now thyself the
ambush to take this ancient one divine, lest by any chance he see me first,
or know of my coming, and avoid me. For a god is hard for mortal man to
quell.’
“So spake I, and straightway the fair goddess made answer: ‘Yea now,
sir, I will plainly tell thee all. So often as the sun in his course stands high in
mid heaven, then forth from the brine comes the ancient one of the sea,
whose speech is sooth, before the breath of the West Wind he comes, and
the sea’s dark ripple covers him. And when he is got forth, he lies down to
sleep in the hollow of the caves. And around him the seals, the brood of the
fair daughter of the brine, sleep all in a flock, stolen forth from the grey sea
water, and bitter is the scent they breathe of the deeps of the salt sea. There
will I lead thee at the breaking of the day, and couch you all orderly; so do

thou choose diligently three of thy company, the best thou hast in thy
decked ships. And I will tell thee all the magic arts of that old man. First, he
will number the seals and go over them; but when he has told their tale and
beheld them, he will lay him down in the midst, as a shepherd mid the
sheep of his flock. So soon as ever ye shall see him couched, even then
mind you of your might and strength, and hold him there, despite his
eagerness and striving to be free. And he will make assay, and take all
manner of shapes of things that creep upon the earth, of water likewise, and
of fierce fire burning. But do ye grasp him steadfastly and press him yet the
more, and at length when he questions thee in his proper shape, as he was
when first ye saw him laid to rest, then, hero, hold thy strong hands, and let
the ancient one go free, and ask him which of the gods is hard upon thee,
and as touching thy returning, how thou mayest go over the teeming deep.’
“Therewith she dived beneath the heaving sea, but I betook me to the
ships where they stood in the sand, and my heart was darkly troubled as I
went. But after I had come down to the ship and to the sea, and we had
made ready our supper and immortal night had come on, then did we lay us
to rest upon the sea-beach. So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy
fingered, in that hour I walked by the shore of the wide-wayed sea, praying
instantly to the gods; and I took with me three of my company, in whom I
trusted most for every enterprise.
“Meanwhile, so it was that she had plunged into the broad bosom of the
sea, and had brought from the deep the skins of four sea-calves, and all
were newly flayed, for she was minded to lay a snare for her father. She
scooped lairs on the sea-sand, and sat awaiting us, and we drew very nigh
her, and she made us all lie down in order, and cast a skin over each. There
would our ambush have been most terrible, for the deadly stench of the sea
bred seals distressed us sore: nay, who would lay him down by a beast of
the sea? But herself she wrought deliverance, and devised a great comfort.
She took ambrosia of a very sweet savour, and set it beneath each man’s
nostril, and did away with the stench of the beast. So all the morning we
waited with steadfast heart, and the seals came forth in troops from the
brine, and then they couched them all orderly by the sea-beach. And at high
day the ancient one came forth from out of the brine, and found his fatted
seals, yea and he went along their line and told their tale; and first among
the sea-beasts he reckoned us, and guessed not that there was guile, and
afterward he too laid him down. Then we rushed upon him with a cry, and

cast our hands about him, nor did that ancient one forget his cunning. Now
behold, at the first he turned into a bearded lion, and thereafter into a snake,
and a pard, and a huge boar; then he took the shape of running water, and of
a tall and flowering tree. We the while held him close with steadfast heart.
But when now that ancient one of the magic arts was aweary, then at last he
questioned me and spake unto me, saying:
“‘Which of the gods was it, son of Atreus, that aided thee with his
counsel, that thou mightest waylay and take me perforce? What wouldest
thou thereby?’
“Even so he spake, but I answered him saying; ‘Old man, thou knowest
all, wherefore dost thou question me thereof with crooked words? For lo, I
am holden long time in this isle, neither can I find any issue therefrom, and
my heart faileth within me. Howbeit do thou tell me—for the gods know all
things—which of the immortals it is that bindeth me here, and hath
hindered me from my way; and declare as touching my returning, how I
may go over the teeming deep.’
“Even so I spake, and he straightway answered me, saying: ‘Nay, surely
thou shouldest have done goodly sacrifice to Zeus and the other gods ere
thine embarking, that with most speed thou mightst reach thy country,
sailing over the wine-dark deep. For it is not thy fate to see thy friends, and
come to thy stablished house and thine own country, till thou hast passed
yet again within the waters of Aegyptus, the heaven-fed stream, and offered
holy hecatombs to the deathless gods who keep the wide heaven. So shall
the gods grant thee the path which thou desirest.’
“So spake he, but my spirit within me was broken, for that he bade me
again to go to Aegyptus over the misty deep, a long and grievous way.
“Yet even so I answered him saying: ‘Old man, all this will I do,
according to thy word. But come, declare me this, and tell it all plainly. Did
all those Achaeans return safe with their ships, all whom Nestor and I left as
we went from Troy, or perished any by a shameful death aboard his own
ship, or in the arms of his friends, after he had wound up the clew of war?’
“So spake I, and anon he answered me, saying: ‘Son of Atreus, why dost
thou straitly question me hereof? Nay, it is not for thy good to know or
learn my thought; for I tell thee thou shalt not long be tearless, when thou
hast heard it all aright. For many of these were taken, and many were left;
but two only of the leaders of the mail-coated Achaeans perished in

returning; as for the battle, thou thyself wast there. And one methinks is yet
alive, and is holden on the wide deep. Aias in truth was smitten in the midst
of his ships of the long oars. Poseidon at first brought him nigh to Gyrae, to
the mighty rocks, and delivered him from the sea. And so he would have
fled his doom, albeit hated by Athene, had he not let a proud word fall in
the fatal darkening of his heart. He said that in the gods’ despite he had
escaped the great gulf of the sea; and Poseidon heard his loud boasting, and
presently caught up his trident into his strong hands, and smote the rock
Gyraean and cleft it in twain. And the one part abode in his place, but the
other fell into the sea, the broken piece whereon Aias sat at the first, when
his heart was darkened. And the rock bore him down into the vast and
heaving deep; so there he perished when he had drunk of the salt sea water.
But thy brother verily escaped the fates and avoided them in his hollow
ships, for queen Hera saved him. But now when he was like soon to reach
the steep mount of Malea, lo, the storm wind snatched him away and bore
him over the teeming deep, making great moan, to the border of the country
whereof old Thyestes dwelt, but now Aegisthus abode there, the son of
Thyestes. But when thence too there showed a good prospect of safe
returning, and the gods changed the wind to a fair gale, and they had
reached home, then verily did Agamemnon set foot with joy upon his
country’s soil, and as he touched his own land he kissed it, and many were
the hot tears he let fall, for he saw his land and was glad. And it was so that
the watchman spied him from his tower, the watchman whom crafty
Aegisthus had led and posted there, promising him for a reward two talents
of gold. Now he kept watch for the space of a year, lest Agamemnon should
pass by him when he looked not, and mind him of his wild prowess. So he
went to the house to bear the tidings to the shepherd of the people. And
straightway Aegisthus contrived a cunning treason. He chose out twenty of
the best men in the township, and set an ambush, and on the further side of
the hall he commanded to prepare a feast. Then with chariot and horses he
went to bid to the feast Agamemnon, shepherd of the people; but caitiff
thoughts were in his heart. He brought him up to his house, all unwitting of
his doom, and when he had feasted him slew him, as one slayeth an ox at
the stall. And none of the company of Atreides that were of his following
were left, nor any of the men of Aegisthus, but they were all killed in the
halls.’

“So spake he, and my spirit within me was broken, and I wept as I sat
upon the sand, nor was I minded any more to live and see the light of the
sun. But when I had taken my fill of weeping and grovelling on the ground,
then spake the ancient one of the sea, whose speech is sooth:
“‘No more, son of Atreus, hold this long weeping without cease, for we
shall find no help therein. Rather with all haste make essay that so thou
mayest come to thine own country. For either thou shalt find Aegisthus yet
alive, or it may be Orestes was beforehand with thee and slew him; so
mayest thou chance upon his funeral feast.’
“So he spake, and my heart and lordly soul again were comforted for all
my sorrow, and I uttered my voice and I spake to him winged words:
“‘Their fate I now know; but tell me of the third; who is it that is yet
living and holden on the wide deep, or perchance is dead? and fain would I
hear despite my sorrow.’
“So spake I, and straightway he answered, and said: ‘It is the son of
Laertes, whose dwelling is in Ithaca; and I saw him in an island shedding
big tears in the halls of the nymph Calypso, who holds him there perforce;
so he may not come to his own country, for he has by him no ships with
oars, and no companions to send him on his way over the broad back of the
sea. But thou, Menelaus, son of Zeus, art not ordained to die and meet thy
fate in Argos, the pasture-land of horses, but the deathless gods will convey
thee to the Elysian plain and the world’s end, where is Rhadamanthus of the
fair hair, where life is easiest for men. No snow is there, nor yet great storm,
nor any rain; but always ocean sendeth forth the breeze of the shrill West to
blow cool on men; yea, for thou hast Helen to wife, and thereby they deem
thee to be son of Zeus.’
“So spake he, and plunged into the heaving sea; but I betook me to the
ships with my godlike company, and my heart was darkly troubled as I
went. Now after I had come down to the ship and to the sea, and had made
ready our supper, and immortal night had come on, then did we lay us to
rest upon the sea-beach. So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-
fingered, first of all we drew down our ships to the fair salt sea and placed
the masts and the sails in the gallant ships, and the crew too climbed on
board, and sat upon the benches and smote the grey sea water with their
oars. Then back I went to the waters of Aegyptus, the heaven-fed stream,
and there I moored the ships and offered the acceptable sacrifice of

hecatombs. So when I had appeased the anger of the everlasting gods, I
piled a barrow to Agamemnon, that his fame might never be quenched. So
having fulfilled all, I set out for home, and the deathless gods gave me a fair
wind, and brought me swiftly to mine own dear country. But lo, now tarry
in my halls till it shall be the eleventh day hence or the twelfth. Then will I
send thee with all honour on thy way, and give thee splendid gifts, three
horses and a polished car; and moreover I will give thee a goodly chalice,
that thou mayest pour forth before the deathless gods, and be mindful of me
all the days of thy life.”
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “Son of Atreus, nay, hold
me not long time here. Yea even for a year would I be content to sit by thee,
and no desire for home or parents would come upon me; for I take
wondrous pleasure in thy tales and talk. But already my company wearieth
in fair Pylos, and yet thou art keeping me long time here. And whatsoever
gift thou wouldest give me, let it be a thing to treasure; but horses I will
take none to Ithaca, but leave them here to grace thine own house, for thou
art lord of a wide plain wherein is lotus great plenty, and therein is spear-
reed and wheat and rye, and white and spreading barley. In Ithaca there are
no wide courses, nor meadow land at all. It is a pasture-land of goats, and
more pleasant in my sight than one that pastureth horses; for of the isles that
lie and lean upon the sea, none are fit for the driving of horses, or rich in
meadow land, and least of all is Ithaca.”
So spake he, and Menelaus, of the loud war cry, smiled, and caressed him
with his hand, and spake and hailed him:
“Thou art of gentle blood, dear child, so gentle the words thou speakest.
Therefore I will make exchange of the presents, as I may. Of the gifts, such
as are treasures stored in my house, I will give thee the goodliest and
greatest of price. I will give thee a mixing bowl beautifully wrought; it is all
of silver, and the lips thereof are finished with gold, the work of
Hephaestus; and the hero Phaedimus, the king of the Sidonians, gave it me,
when his house sheltered me on my coming thither, and to thee now would
I give it.”
Even so they spake one to another, while the guests came to the palace of
the divine king. They drave their sheep, and brought wine that maketh glad
the heart of man: and their wives with fair tire sent them wheaten bread.
Thus were these men preparing the feast in the halls.

But the wooers meantime were before the palace of Odysseus, taking
their pleasure in casting of weights and spears, on a levelled place, as
heretofore, in their insolence. And Antinous and god-like Eurymachus were
seated there, the chief men of the wooers, who were far the most excellent
of all. And Noëmon, son of Phromius, drew nigh to them and spake unto
Antinous and questioned him, saying:
“Antinous, know we at all, or know we not, when Telemachus will return
from sandy Pylos? He hath departed with a ship of mine, and I have need
thereof, to cross over into spacious Elis, where I have twelve brood mares
with hardy mules unbroken at the teat; I would drive off one of these and
break him in.”
So spake he, and they were amazed, for they deemed not that Telemachus
had gone to Neleian Pylos, but that he was at home somewhere in the fields,
whether among the flocks, or with the swineherd.
Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, spake to him in turn: “Tell me the plain
truth; when did he go, and what noble youths went with him? Were they
chosen men of Ithaca or hirelings and thralls of his own? He was in case to
bring even that about. And tell me this in good sooth, that I may know for a
surety: did he take thy black ship from thee perforce against thy will? or
didst thou give it him of free will at his entreaty?
Then Noëmon, son of Phromius, answered him saying: “I gave it him
myself of free will. What can any man do, when such an one, so bestead
with care, begs a favour? it were hard to deny the gift. The youths who next
to us are noblest in the land, even these have gone with him; and I marked
their leader on board ship, Mentor, or a god who in all things resembled
Mentor. But one matter I marvel at: I saw the goodly Mentor here yesterday
toward dawn, though already he had embarked for Pylos.”
He spake and withal departed to his father’s house. And the proud spirits
of these twain were angered, and they made the wooers sit down together
and cease from their games. And among them spake Antinous, son of
Eupeithes, in displeasure; and his black heart was wholly filled with rage,
and his eyes were like flaming fire:
“Out on him, a proud deed hath Telemachus accomplished with a high
hand, even this journey, and we thought that he would never bring it to
pass! This lad hath clean gone without more ado, in spite of us all; his ship
he hath let haul to the sea, and chosen the noblest in the township. He will

begin to be our bane even more than heretofore; but may Zeus destroy his
might, not ours, ere he reach the measure of manhood! But come, give me a
swift ship and twenty men, that I may lie in watch and wait even for him on
his way home, in the strait between Ithaca and rugged Samos, that so he
may have a woeful end of his cruising in quest of his father.”
So spake he, and they all assented thereto, and bade him to the work. And
thereupon they arose and went to the house of Odysseus.
Now it was no long time before Penelope heard of the counsel that the
wooers had devised in the deep of their heart. For the henchman Medon
told her thereof, who stood without the court and heard their purposes,
while they were weaving their plot within. So he went on his way through
the halls to bring the news to Penelope; and as he stept down over the
threshold, Penelope spake unto him:
“Henchman, wherefore have the noble wooers sent thee forth? Was it to
tell the handmaids of divine Odysseus to cease from their work, and prepare
a banquet for them? Nay, after thus much wooing, never again may they
come together, but here this day sup for their last and latest time; all ye who
assemble so often, and waste much livelihood, the wealth of wise
Telemachus! Long ago when ye were children, ye marked not your fathers’
telling, what manner of man was Odysseus among them, one that wrought
no iniquity toward any man, nor spake aught unrighteous in the township,
as is the wont of divine kings. One man a king is like to hate, another he
might chance to love. But never did he do aught at all presumptuously to
any man. Nay, it is plain what spirit ye are of, and your unseemly deeds are
manifest to all, nor is there any gratitude left for kindness done.”
Then Medon, wise of heart, answered her: “Would, oh queen, that this
were the crowning evil! But the wooers devise another far greater and more
grievous, which I pray the son of Cronos may never fulfil! They are set on
slaying Telemachus with the edge of the sword on his homeward way; for
he is gone to fair Pylos and goodly Lacedaemon, to seek tidings of his
father.”
So spake he, but her knees were loosened where she stood, and her heart
melted within her, and long time was she speechless, and lo, her eyes were
filled with tears and the voice of her utterance was stayed. And at the last
she answered him and said:

“Henchman, wherefore I pray thee is my son departed? There is no need
that he should go abroad on swift ships, that serve men for horses on the
sea, and that cross the great wet waste. Is it that even his own name may no
more be left upon earth?”
Then Medon, wise of heart, answered her: “I know not whether some god
set him on or whether his own spirit stirred him to go to Pylos to seek
tidings of his father’s return, or to hear what end he met.”
He spake, and departed through the house of Odysseus, and on her fell a
cloud of consuming grief; so that she might no more endure to seat her on a
chair, whereof there were many in the house, but there she crouched on the
threshold of her well-builded chamber, wailing piteously, and her
handmaids round her made low moan, as many as were in the house with
her, young and old. And Penelope spake among them pouring forth her
lamentation:
“Hear me, my friends, for the Olympian sire hath given me pain
exceedingly beyond all women who were born and bred in my day. For
erewhile I lost my noble lord of the lion heart, adorned with all perfection
among the Danaans, my good lord, whose fame is noised abroad from
Hellas to mid Argos. And now again the storm-winds have snatched away
my well-beloved son without tidings from our halls, nor heard I of his
departure. Oh, women, hard of heart, that even ye did not each one let the
thought come into your minds, to rouse me from my couch when he went to
the black hollow ship, though ye knew full well thereof! For had I heard
that he was purposing this journey, verily he should have stayed here still,
though eager to be gone, or have left me dead in the halls. Howbeit let some
one make haste to call the ancient Dolius, my thrall, whom my father gave
me ere yet I had come hither, who keepeth my garden of trees. So shall he
go straightway and sit by Laertes, and tell him all, if perchance Laertes may
weave some counsel in his heart, and go forth and make his plaint to the
people, who are purposed to destroy his seed, and the seed of god-like
Odysseus.”
Then the good nurse Eurycleia answered her: “Dear lady, aye, slay me if
thou wilt with the pitiless sword or let me yet live on in the house,—yet will
I not hide my saying from thee. I knew all this, and gave him whatsoever he
commanded, bread and sweet wine. And he took a great oath of me not to
tell thee till at least the twelfth day should come, or thou thyself shouldst

miss him and hear of his departure, that thou mightest not mar thy fair flesh
with thy tears. But now, wash thee in water, and take to thee clean raiment
and ascend to thy upper chamber with the women thy handmaids, and pray
to Athene, daughter of Zeus, lord of the aegis. For so may she save him
even from death. And heap not troubles on an old man’s trouble; for the
seed of the son of Arceisius, is not, methinks, utterly hated by the blessed
gods, but someone will haply yet remain to possess these lofty halls, and the
fat fields far away.”
So spake she, and lulled her queen’s lamentation, and made her eyes to
cease from weeping. So she washed her in water, and took to her clean
raiment, and ascended to the upper chamber with the women her
handmaids, and placed the meal for sprinkling in a basket, and prayed unto
Athene:
“Hear me, child of Zeus, lord of the aegis, unwearied maiden! If ever
wise Odysseus in his halls burnt for thee fat slices of the thighs of heifer or
of sheep, these things, I pray thee, now remember, and save my dear son,
and ward from him the wooers in the naughtiness of their pride.”
Therewith she raised a cry, and the goddess heard her prayer. But the
wooers clamoured through the shadowy halls, and thus would some proud
youth say:
“Verily this queen of many wooers prepareth our marriage, nor knoweth
at all how that for her son death hath been ordained.”
Thus would certain of them speak, but they knew not how these things
were ordained. And Antinous made harangue and spake among them:
“Good sirs, my friends, shun all disdainful words alike, lest someone
hear and tell it even in the house. But come let us arise, and in silence
accomplish that whereof we spake, for the counsel pleased us every one.”
Therewith he chose twenty men that were the best, and they departed to
the swift ship and the sea-banks. So first of all they drew the ship down to
the deep water, and placed the mast and sails in the black ship, and fixed the
oars in leathern loops all orderly, and spread forth the white sails. And
squires, haughty of heart, bare for them their arms. And they moored her
high out in the shore water, and themselves disembarked. There they supped
and waited for evening to come on.

But the wise Penelope lay there in her upper chamber, fasting and tasting
neither meat nor drink, musing whether her noble son should escape death,
or even fall before the proud wooers. And as a lion broods all in fear among
the press of men, when they draw the crafty ring around him, so deeply was
she musing when deep sleep came over her. And she sank back in sleep and
all her joints were loosened.
Now the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, turned to other thoughts. She made
a phantom, and fashioned it after the likeness of a woman, Iphthime,
daughter of great-hearted Icarius, whom Eumelus wedded, whose dwelling
was in Pherae. And she sent it to the house of divine Odysseus to bid
Penelope, amid her sorrow and lamenting, to cease from her weeping and
tearful lamentation. So the phantom passed into the chamber by the thong
of the bolt, and stood above her head and spake unto her, saying:
“Sleepest thou, Penelope, stricken at heart? Nay, even the gods who live
at ease suffer thee not to wail or be afflicted, seeing that thy son is yet to
return; for no sinner is he in the eyes of the gods.”
Then wise Penelope made her answer as she slumbered very softly at the
gates of dreams:
“Wherefore, sister, hast thou come hither, that before wert not wont to
come, for thou hast thine habitation very far away? Biddest thou me indeed
to cease from the sorrows and pains, so many that disquiet my heart and
soul? Erewhile I lost my noble lord of the lion heart, adorned with all
perfection among the Danaans, my true lord, whose fame is noised abroad
from Hellas to mid Argos. And now, again, my well-beloved son is departed
on his hollow ship, poor child, not skilled in toils or in the gatherings of
men. For him I sorrow yet more than for my lord, and I tremble and fear for
him lest aught befal him, whether, it may be, amid that folk where he is
gone, or in the deep. For many foemen devise evil against him, and go
about to kill him, or ever he come to his own country.”
And the dim phantom answered her, and said: “Take courage, and be not
so sorely afraid. For lo, such a friend goes to guide him, as all men pray to
stand by them, for that she hath the power, even Pallas Athene. And she
pitieth thee in thy sorrow, and now hath sent me forth to speak these words
to thee.”
And wise Penelope answered her, saying: “If thou art indeed a god, and
hast heard the word of a god, come, I pray thee, and tell me tidings

concerning that ill-fated man, whether perchance he is yet alive and sees the
light of the sun, or hath already died, and is a dweller in the house of
Hades.”
And the dim phantom answered her and said: “Concerning him I will not
tell thee all the tale, whether he be alive or dead; it is ill to speak words
light as wind.”
Therewith the phantom slipped away by the bolt of the door and passed
into the breath of the wind. And the daughter of Icarius started up from
sleep; and her heart was cheered, so clear was the vision that sped toward
her in the dead of the night.
Meanwhile the wooers had taken ship and were sailing over the wet
ways, pondering in their hearts sheer death for Telemachus. Now there is a
rocky isle in the mid sea, midway between Ithaca and rugged Samos,
Asteris, a little isle; and there is a harbour therein with a double entrance,
where ships may ride. There the Achaeans abode lying in wait for
Telemachus.

BOOK V.

The Gods in council command Calypso by Hermes to send
away Odysseus on a raft of trees; and Poseidon, returning
from Ethiopia and seeing him on the coast of Phaeacia,
scattered his raft; and how by the help of Ino he was thrown
ashore, and slept on a heap of dry leaves till the next day.

Now the Dawn arose from her couch, from the side of the lordly
Tithonus, to bear light to the immortals and to mortal men. And lo, the gods
were gathering to session, and among them Zeus, that thunders on high,
whose might is above all. And Athene told them the tale of the many woes
of Odysseus, recalling them to mind; for near her heart was he that then
abode in the dwelling of the nymph:
“Father Zeus, and all ye other blessed gods that live for ever, henceforth
let not any sceptred king be kind and gentle with all his heart, nor minded to
do righteously, but let him alway be a hard man and work unrighteousness,
for behold, there is none that remembereth divine Odysseus of the people
whose lord he was, and was gentle as a father. Howbeit, as for him he lieth
in an island suffering strong pains, in the halls of the nymph Calypso, who
holdeth him perforce; so he may not reach his own country, for he hath no
ships by him with oars, and no companions to send him on his way over the
broad back of the sea. And now, again, they are set on slaying his beloved
son on his homeward way, for he is gone to fair Pylos and to goodly
Lacedaemon, to seek tidings of his father.”
And Zeus, gatherer of the clouds, answered and spake unto her: “My
child, what word hath escaped the door of thy lips? Nay, didst thou not
thyself plan this device, that Odysseus may assuredly take vengeance on
those men at his coming? As for Telemachus, do thou guide him by thine
art, as well as thou mayest, that so he may come to his own country all

unharmed, and the wooers may return in their ship with their labour all in
vain.”
Therewith he spake to Hermes, his dear son: “Hermes, forasmuch as even
in all else thou art our herald, tell unto the nymph of the braided tresses my
unerring counsel, even the return of the patient Odysseus, how he is to
come to his home, with no furtherance of gods or of mortal men. Nay, he
shall sail on a well-bound raft, in sore distress, and on the twentieth day
arrive at fertile Scheria, even at the land of the Phaeacians, who are near of
kin to the gods. And they shall give him all worship heartily as to a god, and
send him on his way in a ship to his own dear country, with gifts of bronze
and gold, and raiment in plenty, much store, such as never would Odysseus
have won for himself out of Troy, yea, though he had returned unhurt with
the share of the spoil that fell to him. On such wise is he fated to see his
friends, and come to his high-roofed home and his own country.”
So spake he, nor heedless was the messenger, the slayer of Argos.
Straightway he bound beneath his feet his lovely golden sandals, that wax
not old, that bare him alike over the wet sea and over the limitless land,
swift as the breath of the wind. And he took the wand wherewith he lulls the
eyes of whomso he will, while others again he even wakes from out of
sleep. With this rod in his hand flew the strong slayer of Argos. Above
Pieria he passed and leapt from the upper air into the deep. Then he sped
along the wave like the cormorant, that chaseth the fishes through the
perilous gulfs of the unharvested sea, and wetteth his thick plumage in the
brine. Such like did Hermes ride upon the press of the waves. But when he
had now reached that far-off isle, he went forth from the sea of violet blue
to get him up into the land, till he came to a great cave, wherein dwelt the
nymph of the braided tresses: and he found her within. And on the hearth
there was a great fire burning, and from afar through the isle was smelt the
fragrance of cleft cedar blazing, and of sandal wood. And the nymph within
was singing with a sweet voice as she fared to and fro before the loom, and
wove with a shuttle of gold. And round about the cave there was a wood
blossoming, alder and poplar and sweet-smelling cypress. And therein
roosted birds long of wing, owls and falcons and chattering sea-crows,
which have their business in the waters. And lo, there about the hollow cave
trailed a gadding garden vine, all rich with clusters. And fountains four set
orderly were running with clear water, hard by one another, turned each to
his own course. And all around soft meadows bloomed of violets and

parsley, yea, even a deathless god who came thither might wonder at the
sight and be glad at heart. There the messenger, the slayer of Argos, stood
and wondered. Now when he had gazed at all with wonder, anon he went
into the wide cave; nor did Calypso, that fair goddess, fail to know him,
when she saw him face to face; for the gods use not to be strange one to
another, the immortals, not though one have his habitation far away. But he
found not Odysseus, the greathearted, within the cave, who sat weeping on
the shore even as aforetime, straining his soul with tears and groans and
griefs, and as he wept he looked wistfully over the unharvested deep. And
Calypso, that fair goddess, questioned Hermes, when she had made him sit
on a bright shining seat:
“Wherefore, I pray thee, Hermes, of the golden wand, hast thou come
hither, worshipful and welcome, whereas as of old thou wert not wont to
visit me? Tell me all thy thought; my heart is set on fulfilling it, if fulfil it I
may, and if it hath been fulfilled in the counsel of fate. But now follow me
further, that I may set before thee the entertainment of strangers.”
Therewith the goddess spread a table with ambrosia and set it by him,
and mixed the ruddy nectar. So the messenger, the slayer of Argos, did eat
and drink. Now after he had supped and comforted his soul with food, at the
last he answered, and spake to her on this wise:
“Thou makest question of me on my coming, a goddess of a god, and I
will tell thee this my saying truly, at thy command. ’Twas Zeus that bade
me come hither, by no will of mine; nay, who of his free will would speed
over such a wondrous space of brine, whereby is no city of mortals that do
sacrifice to the gods, and offer choice hecatombs? But surely it is in no wise
possible for another god to go beyond or to make void the purpose of Zeus,
lord of the aegis. He saith that thou hast with thee a man most wretched
beyond his fellows, beyond those men that round the burg of Priam for nine
years fought, and in the tenth year sacked the city and departed homeward.
Yet on the way they sinned against Athene, and she raised upon them an
evil blast and long waves of the sea. Then all the rest of his good company
was lost, but it came to pass that the wind bare and the wave brought him
hither. And now Zeus biddeth thee send him hence with what speed thou
mayest, for it is not ordained that he die away from his friends, but rather it
is his fate to look on them even yet, and to come to his high-roofed home
and his own country.”

So spake he, and Calypso, that fair goddess, shuddered and uttered her
voice, and spake unto him winged words: “Hard are ye gods and jealous
exceeding, who ever grudge goddesses openly to mate with men, if any
make a mortal her dear bed-fellow. Even so when rosy-fingered Dawn took
Orion for her lover, ye gods that live at ease were jealous thereof, till chaste
Artemis, of the golden throne, slew him in Ortygia with the visitation of her
gentle shafts. So too when fair-tressed Demeter yielded to her love, and lay
with Iasion in the thrice-ploughed fallow-field, Zeus was not long without
tidings thereof, and cast at him with his white bolt and slew him. So again
ye gods now grudge that a mortal man should dwell with me. Him I saved
as he went all alone bestriding the keel of a bark, for that Zeus had
crushed[11] and cleft his swift ship with a white bolt in the midst of the
wine-dark deep. There all the rest of his good company was lost, but it came
to pass that the wind bare and the wave brought him hither. And him have I
loved and cherished, and I said that I would make him to know not death
and age for ever. Yet forasmuch as it is no wise possible for another god to
go beyond, or make void the purpose of Zeus, lord of the aegis, let him
away over the unharvested seas, if the summons and the bidding be of Zeus.
But I will give him no despatch, not I, for I have no ships by me with oars,
nor company to bear him on his way over the broad back of the sea. Yet will
I be forward to put this in his mind, and will hide nought, that all unharmed
he may come to his own country.”
[11] It seems very doubtful whether ἔλσας can bear this meaning. The reading
ἐλάσας, “smote,” preserved by the Schol. is highly probable.

Then the messenger, the slayer of Argos, answered her: “Yea, speed him
now upon his path and have regard unto the wrath of Zeus, lest haply he be
angered and bear hard on thee hereafter.”
Therewith the great slayer of Argos departed, but the lady nymph went
on her way to the great-hearted Odysseus, when she had heard the message
of Zeus. And there she found him sitting on the shore, and his eyes were
never dry of tears, and his sweet life was ebbing away as he mourned for
his return; for the nymph no more found favour in his sight. Howsoever by
night he would sleep by her, as needs he must, in the hollow caves,
unwilling lover by a willing lady. And in the day-time he would sit on the
rocks and on the beach, straining his soul with tears, and groans, and griefs,

and through his tears he would look wistfully over the unharvested deep. So
standing near him that fair goddess spake to him:
“Hapless man, sorrow no more I pray thee in this isle, nor let thy good
life waste away, for even now will I send thee hence with all my heart. Nay,
arise and cut long beams, and fashion a wide raft with the axe, and lay
deckings high thereupon, that it may bear thee over the misty deep. And I
will place therein bread and water, and red wine to thy heart’s desire, to
keep hunger far away. And I will put raiment upon thee, and send a fair gale
in thy wake, that so thou mayest come all unharmed to thine own country, if
indeed it be the good pleasure of the gods who hold wide heaven, who are
stronger than I am both to will and to do.”
So she spake, and the steadfast goodly Odysseus shuddered, and uttering
his voice spake to her winged words: “Herein, goddess, thou hast plainly
some other thought, and in no wise my furtherance, for that thou biddest me
to cross in a raft the great gulf of the sea so dread and difficult, which not
even the swift gallant ships pass over rejoicing in the breeze of Zeus. Nor
would I go aboard a raft to displeasure thee, unless thou wilt deign, O
goddess, to swear a great oath not to plan any hidden guile to mine own
hurt.”
So spake he, and Calypso, the fair goddess, smiled and caressed him with
her hand, and spake and hailed him:
“Knavish thou art, and no weakling[12] in wit, thou that hast conceived
and spoken such a word. Let earth be now witness hereto, and the wide
heaven above, and that falling water of the Styx, the greatest oath and the
most terrible to the blessed gods, that I will not plan any hidden guile to
thine own hurt. Nay, but my thoughts are such, and such will be my
counsel, as I would devise for myself, if ever so sore a need came over me.
For I too have a righteous mind, and my heart within me is not of iron, but
pitiful even as thine.”
[12] ἀποφώλιος, from root φυ, “ill-grown,” i. e. a weakling, in the literal sense as
B. xi. 249, xiv. 212, or metaphorical, as here and viii. 177.

Therewith the fair goddess led the way quickly, and he followed hard in
the steps of the goddess. And they reached the hollow cave, the goddess and
the man; so he sat him down upon the chair whence Hermes had arisen, and
the nymph placed by him all manner of food to eat and drink, such as is

meat for men. As for her she sat over against divine Odysseus, and the
handmaids placed by her ambrosia and nectar. So they put forth their hands
upon the good cheer set before them. But after they had taken their fill of
meat and drink, Calypso, the fair goddess, spake first and said:
“Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, so it is
indeed thy wish to get thee home to thine own dear country even in this
hour? Good fortune go with thee even so! Yet didst thou know in thine heart
what a measure of suffering thou art ordained to fulfil, or ever thou reach
thine own country, here, even here, thou wouldst abide with me and keep
this house, and wouldst never taste of death, though thou longest to see thy
wife, for whom thou hast ever a desire day by day. Not in sooth that I avow
me to be less noble than she in form or fashion, for it is in no wise meet that
mortal women should match them with immortals, in shape and
comeliness.”
And Odysseus of many counsels answered, and spake unto her: “Be not
wroth with me hereat, goddess and queen. Myself I know it well, how wise
Penelope is meaner to look upon than thou, in comeliness and stature. But
she is mortal and thou knowest not age nor death. Yet even so, I wish and
long day by day to fare homeward and see the day of my returning. Yea,
and if some god shall wreck me in the wine-dark deep, even so I will
endure, with a heart within me patient of affliction. For already have I
suffered full much, and much have I toiled in perils of waves and war; let
this be added to the tale of those.”
So spake he, and the sun sank and darkness came on. Then they twain
went into the chamber of the hollow rock, and had their delight of love,
abiding each by other.
So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, anon Odysseus put
on him a mantle and doublet, and the nymph clad her in a great shining
robe, light of woof and gracious, and about her waist she cast a fair golden
girdle, and a veil withal upon her head. Then she considered of the sending
of Odysseus, the great-hearted. She gave him a great axe, fitted to his grasp,
an axe of bronze double-edged, and with a goodly handle of olive wood
fastened well. Next she gave him a polished adze, and she led the way to
the border of the isle where tall trees grew, alder and poplar, and pine that
reacheth unto heaven, seasoned long since and sere, that might lightly float
for him. Now after she had shown him where the tall trees grew, Calypso,

the fair goddess, departed homeward. And he set to cutting timber, and his
work went busily. Twenty trees in all he felled, and then trimmed them with
the axe of bronze, and deftly smoothed them, and over them made straight
the line. Meanwhile Calypso, the fair goddess, brought him augers, so he
bored each piece and jointed them together, and then made all fast with
trenails and dowels. Wide as is the floor of a broad ship of burden, which
some man well skilled in carpentry may trace him out, of such beam did
Odysseus fashion his broad raft. And thereat he wrought, and set up the
deckings, fitting them to the close-set uprights, and finished them off with
long gunwales, and there he set a mast, and a yard-arm fitted thereto, and
moreover he made him a rudder to guide the craft. And he fenced it with
wattled osier withies from stem to stern, to be a bulwark against the wave,
and piled up wood to back them. Meanwhile Calypso, the fair goddess,
brought him web of cloth to make him sails; and these too he fashioned
very skilfully. And he made fast therein braces and halyards and sheets, and
at last he pushed the raft with levers down to the fair salt sea.
It was the fourth day when he had accomplished all. And, lo, on the fifth,
the fair Calypso sent him on his way from the island, when she had bathed
him and clad him in fragrant attire. Moreover, the goddess placed on board
the ship two skins, one of dark wine, and another, a great one, of water, and
corn too in a wallet, and she set therein a store of dainties to his heart’s
desire, and sent forth a warm and gentle wind to blow. And goodly
Odysseus rejoiced as he set his sails to the breeze. So he sate and cunningly
guided the craft with the helm, nor did sleep fall upon his eyelids, as he
viewed the Pleiads and Bootes, that setteth late, and the Bear, which they
likewise call the Wain, which turneth ever in one place, and keepeth watch
upon Orion, and alone hath no part in the baths of Ocean. This star,
Calypso, the fair goddess, bade him to keep ever on the left as he traversed
the deep. Ten days and seven he sailed traversing the deep, and on the
eighteenth day appeared the shadowy hills of the land of the Phaeacians, at
the point where it lay nearest to him; and it showed like a shield in the
misty deep.
Now the lord, the shaker of the earth, on his way from the Ethiopians
espied him afar off from the mountains of the Solymi: even thence he saw
Odysseus as he sailed over the deep; and he was mightily angered in spirit,
and shaking his head he communed with his own heart. “Lo now, it must be
that the gods at the last have changed their purpose concerning Odysseus,

while I was away among the Ethiopians. And now he is nigh to the
Phaeacian land, where it is ordained that he escape the great issues of the
woe which hath come upon him. But, methinks, that even yet I will drive
him far enough in the path of suffering.”
With that he gathered the clouds and troubled the waters of the deep,
grasping his trident in his hands; and he roused all storms of all manner of
winds, and shrouded in clouds the land and sea: and down sped night from
heaven. The East Wind and the South Wind clashed, and the stormy West,
and the North, that is born in the bright air, rolling onward a great wave.
Then were the knees of Odysseus loosened and his heart melted, and
heavily he spake to his own great spirit:
“Oh, wretched man that I am! what is to befal me at the last? I fear that
indeed the goddess spake all things truly, who said that I should fill up the
measure of sorrow on the deep, or ever I came to mine own country; and lo,
all these things have an end. In such wise doth Zeus crown the wide heaven
with clouds, and hath troubled the deep, and the blasts rush on of all the
winds; yea, now is utter doom assured me. Thrice blessed those Danaans,
yea, four times blessed, who perished on a time in wide Troy-land, doing a
pleasure to the sons of Atreus! Would to God that I too had died, and met
my fate on that day when the press of Trojans cast their bronze-shod spears
upon me, fighting for the body of the son of Peleus! So should I have gotten
my dues of burial, and the Achaeans would have spread my fame; but now
it is my fate to be overtaken by a pitiful death.”
Even as he spake, the great wave smote down upon him, driving on in
terrible wise, that the raft reeled again. And far therefrom he fell, and lost
the helm from his hand; and the fierce blast of the jostling winds came and
brake his mast in the midst, and sail and yard-arm fell afar into the deep.
Long time the water kept him under, nor could he speedily rise from
beneath the rush of the mighty wave: for the garments hung heavy which
fair Calypso gave him. But late and at length he came up, and spat forth
from his mouth the bitter salt water, which ran down in streams from his
head. Yet even so forgat he not his raft, for all his wretched plight, but made
a spring after it in the waves, and clutched it to him, and sat in the midst
thereof, avoiding the issues of death; and the great wave swept it hither and
thither along the stream. And as the North Wind in the harvest tide sweeps
the thistle-down along the plain, and close the tufts cling each to other, even

so the winds bare the raft hither and thither along the main. Now the South
would toss it to the North to carry, and now again the East would yield it to
the West to chase.
But the daughter of Cadmus marked him, Ino of the fair ankles,
Leucothea, who in time past was a maiden of mortal speech, but now in the
depths of the salt sea she had gotten her share of worship from the gods.
She took pity on Odysseus in his wandering and travail, and she rose, like a
sea-gull on the wing, from the depth of the mere, and sat upon the well-
bound raft and spake saying:
“Hapless one, wherefore was Poseidon, shaker of the earth, so wondrous
wroth with thee, seeing that he soweth for thee the seeds of many evils? Yet
shall he not make a full end of thee, for all his desire. But do even as I tell
thee, and methinks thou art not witless. Cast off these garments, and leave
the raft to drift before the winds, but do thou swim with thine hands and
strive to win a footing on the coast[13] of the Phaeacians, where it is
decreed that thou escape. Here, take this veil imperishable and wind it about
thy breast; so is there no fear that thou suffer aught or perish. But when thou
hast laid hold of the mainland with thy hands, loose it from off thee and cast
it into the wine-dark deep far from the land, and thyself turn away.”
[13] Lit. Strive after an arrival on the land, etc. νόστος originally meant going,
journeying, and had no idea of return. The earlier use survives here, and in Soph.
Philoct. 43, Eur. Iph. Aul. 1261. Similarly, perhaps, νοστεῖν in Odyssey iv. 619,
xv. 119, and νέεσθαι frequently.

With that the goddess gave the veil, and for her part dived back into the
heaving deep, like a sea-gull: and the dark wave closed over her. But the
steadfast goodly Odysseus pondered, and heavily he spake to his own brave
spirit:
“Ah, woe is me! Can it be that some one of the immortals is weaving a
new snare for me, that she bids me quit my raft? Nay verily, I will not yet
obey, for I had sight of the shore yet a long way off, where she told me that
I might escape. I am resolved what I will do;—and methinks on this wise it
is best. So long as the timbers abide in the dowels, so long will I endure
steadfast in affliction, but so soon as the wave hath shattered my raft
asunder, I will swim, for meanwhile no better counsel may be.”
While yet he pondered these things in his heart and soul, Poseidon,
shaker of the earth, stirred against him a great wave, terrible and grievous,

and vaulted from the crest, and therewith smote him. And as when a great
tempestuous wind tosseth a heap of parched husks, and scatters them this
way and that, even so did the wave scatter the long beams of the raft. But
Odysseus bestrode a single beam, as one rideth on a courser, and stript him
of the garments which fair Calypso gave him. And presently he wound the
veil beneath his breast, and fell prone into the sea, outstretching his hands
as one eager to swim. And the lord, the shaker of the earth, saw him and
shook his head, and communed with his own soul. “Even so, after all thy
sufferings, go wandering over the deep, till thou shalt come among a
people, the fosterlings of Zeus. Yet for all that I deem not that thou shalt
think thyself too lightly afflicted.” Therewith he lashed his steeds of the
flowing manes, and came to Aegae, where is his lordly home.
But Athene, daughter of Zeus, turned to new thoughts. Behold, she bound
up the courses of the other winds, and charged them all to cease and be still;
but she roused the swift North and brake the waves before him, that so
Odysseus, of the seed of Zeus, might mingle with the Phaeacians, lovers of
the oar, avoiding death and the fates.
So for two nights and two days he was wandering in the swell of the sea,
and much his heart boded of death. But when at last the fair-tressed Dawn
brought the full light of the third day, thereafter the breeze fell, and lo, there
was a breathless calm, and with a quick glance ahead, (he being upborne on
a great wave,) he saw the land very near. And even as when most welcome
to his children is the sight of a father’s life, who lies in sickness and strong
pains long wasting away, some angry god assailing him; and to their delight
the gods have loosed him from his trouble; so welcome to Odysseus
showed land and wood; and he swam onward being eager to set foot on the
strand. But when he was within earshot of the shore, and heard now the
thunder of the sea against the reefs—for the great wave crashed against the
dry land belching in terrible wise, and all was covered with foam of the sea,
—for there were no harbours for ships nor shelters, but jutting headlands
and reefs and cliffs; then at last the knees of Odysseus were loosened and
his heart melted, and in heaviness he spake to his own brave spirit:
“Ah me! now that beyond all hope Zeus hath given me sight of land, and
withal I have cloven my way through this gulf of the sea, here there is no
place to land on from out of the grey water. For without are sharp crags, and
round them the wave roars surging, and sheer the smooth rock rises, and the

sea is deep thereby, so that in no wise may I find firm foothold and escape
my bane, for as I fain would go ashore, the great wave may haply snatch
and dash me on the jagged rock—and a wretched endeavour that would be.
But if I swim yet further along the coast to find, if I may, spits that take the
waves aslant and havens of the sea, I fear lest the storm-winds catch me
again and bear me over the teeming deep, making heavy moan; or else
some god may even send forth against me a monster from out of the shore
water; and many such pastureth the renowned Amphitrite. For I know how
wroth against me hath been the great Shaker of the Earth.”
Whilst yet he pondered these things in his heart and mind, a great wave
bore him to the rugged shore. There would he have been stript of his skin
and all his bones been broken, but that the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, put a
thought into his heart. He rushed in, and with both his hands clutched the
rock, whereto he clung till the great wave went by. So he escaped that peril,
but again with backward wash it leapt on him and smote him and cast him
forth into the deep. And as when the cuttlefish is dragged forth from his
chamber, the many pebbles clinging to his suckers, even so was the skin
stript from his strong hand against the rocks, and the great wave closed over
him. There of a truth would luckless Odysseus have perished beyond that
which was ordained, had not grey-eyed Athene given him sure counsel. He
rose from the line of the breakers that belch upon the shore, and swam
outside, ever looking landwards, to find, if he might, spits that take the
waves aslant, and havens of the sea. But when he came in his swimming
over against the mouth of a fair-flowing river, whereby the place seemed
best in his eyes, smooth of rocks, and withal there was a covert from the
wind, Odysseus felt the river running, and prayed to him in his heart:
“Hear me, O king, whosoever thou art; unto thee am I come, as to one to
whom prayer is made, while I flee the rebukes of Poseidon from the deep.
Yea, reverend even to the deathless gods is that man who comes as a
wanderer, even as I now have come to thy stream and to thy knees after
much travail. Nay pity me, O king; for I avow myself thy suppliant.”
So spake he, and the god straightway stayed his stream and withheld his
waves, and made the water smooth before him, and brought him safely to
the mouths of the river. And his knees bowed and his stout hands fell, for
his heart was broken by the brine. And his flesh was all swollen and a great
stream of sea water gushed up through his mouth and nostrils. So he lay

without breath or speech, swooning, such terrible weariness came upon
him. But when now his breath returned and his spirit came to him again, he
loosed from off him the veil of the goddess, and let it fall into the salt
flowing river. And the great wave bare it back down the stream, and lightly
Ino caught it in her hands. Then Odysseus turned from the river, and fell
back in the reeds, and kissed earth, the grain-giver, and heavily he spake
unto his own brave spirit:
“Ah, woe is me! What is to betide me? What shall happen unto me at the
last? If I watch the river bed all through the careful night, I fear that the
bitter frost and fresh dew may overcome me, as I breathe forth my life for
faintness, for the river breeze blows cold betimes in the morning. But if I
climb the hill-side up to the shady wood, and there take rest in the thickets,
though perchance the cold and weariness leave hold of me, and sweet sleep
may come over me, I fear lest of wild beasts I become the spoil and prey.”
So as he thought thereon this seemed to him the better way. He went up
to the wood, and found it nigh the water in a place of wide prospect. So he
crept beneath twin bushes that grew from one stem, both olive trees, one of
them wild olive. Through these the force of the wet winds blew never,
neither did the bright sun light on it with his rays, nor could the rain pierce
through, so close were they twined either to other; and thereunder crept
Odysseus and anon he heaped together with his hands a broad couch; for of
fallen leaves there was great plenty, enough to cover two or three men in
winter time, however hard the weather. And the steadfast goodly Odysseus
beheld it and rejoiced, and he laid him in the midst thereof and flung over
him the fallen leaves. And as when a man hath hidden away a brand in the
black embers at an upland farm, one that hath no neighbours nigh, and so
saveth the seed of fire, that he may not have to seek a light otherwhere,
even so did Odysseus cover him with the leaves. And Athene shed sleep
upon his eyes, that so it might soon release him from his weary travail,
overshadowing his eyelids.

BOOK VI.

Nausicaa, going to a river near that place to wash the clothes
of her father, mother, and brethren, while the clothes were
drying played with her maids at ball; and Odysseus coming
forth is fed and clothed, and led on his way to the house of
her father, King Alcinous.

So there he lay asleep, the steadfast goodly Odysseus, fordone with toil
and drowsiness. Meanwhile Athene went to the land and the city of the
Phaeacians, who of old, upon a time, dwelt in spacious Hypereia; near the
Cyclôpes they dwelt, men exceeding proud, who harried them continually,
being mightier than they. Thence the godlike Nausithous made them depart,
and he carried them away, and planted them in Scheria, far off from men
that live by bread. And he drew a wall around the town, and builded houses
and made temples for the gods and meted out the fields. Howbeit ere this
had he been stricken by fate, and had gone down to the house of Hades, and
now Alcinous was reigning, with wisdom granted by the gods. To his house
went the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, devising a return for the great-hearted
Odysseus. She betook her to the rich-wrought bower, wherein was sleeping
a maiden like to the gods in form and comeliness, Nausicaa, the daughter of
Alcinous, high of heart. Beside her on either hand of the pillars of the door
were two handmaids, dowered with beauty from the Graces, and the shining
doors were shut.
But the goddess, fleet as the breath of the wind, swept towards the couch
of the maiden, and stood above her head, and spake to her in the semblance
of the daughter of a famous seafarer, Dymas, a girl of like age with
Nausicaa, who had found grace in her sight. In her shape the grey-eyed
Athene spake to the princess, saying:

“Nausicaa, how hath thy mother so heedless a maiden to her daughter?
Lo, thou hast shining raiment that lies by thee uncared for, and thy marriage
day is near at hand, when thou thyself must needs go beautifully clad, and
have garments to give to them who shall lead thee to the house of the
bridegroom! And, behold, these are the things whence a good report goes
abroad among men, wherein a father and lady mother take delight. But
come, let us arise and go a-washing with the breaking of the day, and I will
follow with thee to be thy mate in the toil, that without delay thou mayst get
thee ready, since truly thou art not long to be a maiden. Lo, already they are
wooing thee, the noblest youths of all the Phaeacians, among that people
whence thou thyself dost draw thy lineage. So come, beseech thy noble
father betimes in the morning to furnish thee with mules and a wain to carry
the men’s raiment, and the robes, and the shining coverlets. Yea and for
thyself it is seemlier far to go thus than on foot, for the places where we
must wash are a great way off the town.”
So spake the grey-eyed Athene, and departed to Olympus, where, as they
say, is the seat of the gods that standeth fast for ever. Not by winds is it
shaken, nor ever wet with rain, nor doth the snow come nigh thereto, but
most clear air is spread about it cloudless, and the white light floats over it.
Therein the blessed gods are glad for all their days, and thither Athene went
when she had shown forth all to the maiden.
Anon came the throned Dawn, and awakened Nausicaa of the fair robes,
who straightway marvelled on the dream, and went through the halls to tell
her parents, her father dear and her mother. And she found them within, her
mother sitting by the hearth with the women her handmaids, spinning yarn
of sea-purple stain, but her father she met as he was going forth to the
renowned kings in their council, whither the noble Phaeacians called him.
Standing close by her dear father she spake, saying: “Father, dear, couldst
thou not lend me a high waggon with strong wheels, that I may take the
goodly raiment to the river to wash, so much as I have lying soiled? Yea and
it is seemly that thou thyself, when thou art with the princes in council,
shouldest have fresh raiment to wear. Also, there are five dear sons of thine
in the halls, two married, but three are lusty bachelors, and these are always
eager for new-washen garments wherein to go to the dances; for all these
things have I taken thought.”

This she said, because she was ashamed to speak of glad marriage to her
father; but he saw all and answered, saying:
“Neither the mules nor aught else do I grudge thee, my child. Go thy
ways, and the thralls shall get thee ready a high waggon with good wheels,
and fitted with an upper frame.”
Therewith he called to his men, and they gave ear, and without the palace
they made ready the smooth-running mule-wain, and led the mules beneath
the yoke, and harnessed them under the car, while the maiden brought forth
from her bower the shining raiment. This she stored in the polished car, and
her mother filled a basket with all manner of food to the heart’s desire,
dainties too she set therein, and she poured wine into a goat-skin bottle,
while Nausicaa climbed into the wain. And her mother gave her soft olive
oil also in a golden cruse, that she and her maidens might anoint themselves
after the bath. Then Nausicaa took the whip and the shining reins, and
touched the mules to start them; then there was a clatter of hoofs, and on
they strained without flagging, with their load of the raiment and the
maiden. Not alone did she go, for her attendants followed with her.
Now when they were come to the beautiful stream of the river, where
truly were the unfailing cisterns, and bright water welled up free from
beneath, and flowed past, enough to wash the foulest garments clean, there
the girls unharnessed the mules from under the chariot, and turning them
loose they drove them along the banks of the eddying river to graze on the
honey-sweet clover. Then they took the garments from the wain, in their
hands, and bore them to the black water, and briskly trod them down in the
trenches, in busy rivalry. Now when they had washed and cleansed all the
stains, they spread all out in order along the shore of the deep, even where
the sea, in beating on the coast, washed the pebbles clean. Then having
bathed and anointed them well with olive oil, they took their mid-day meal
on the river’s banks, waiting till the clothes should dry in the brightness of
the sun. Anon, when they were satisfied with food, the maidens and the
princess, they fell to playing at ball, casting away their tires, and among
them Nausicaa of the white arms began the song. And even as Artemis, the
archer, moveth down the mountain, either along the ridges of lofty Taygetus
or Erymanthus, taking her pastime in the chase of boars and swift deer, and
with her the wild wood-nymphs disport them, the daughters of Zeus, lord of
the aegis, and Leto is glad at heart, while high over all she rears her head

and brows, and easily may she be known,—but all are fair; even so the girl
unwed outshone her maiden company.
But when now she was about going homewards, after yoking the mules
and folding up the goodly raiment, then grey-eyed Athene turned to other
thoughts, that so Odysseus might awake, and see the lovely maiden, who
should be his guide to the city of the Phaeacian men. So then the princess
threw the ball at one of her company; she missed the girl, and cast the ball
into the deep eddying current, whereat they all raised a piercing cry. Then
the goodly Odysseus awoke and sat up, pondering in his heart and spirit:
“Woe is me! to what men’s land am I come now? say, are they froward,
and wild, and unjust, or are they hospitable, and of God-fearing mind? How
shrill a cry of maidens rings round me, of the nymphs that hold the steep
hill-tops, and the river-springs, and the grassy water meadows! It must be,
methinks, that I am near men of human speech. Go to, I myself will make
trial and see.”
Therewith the goodly Odysseus crept out from under the coppice, having
broken with his strong hand a leafy bough from the thick wood, to hold
athwart his body, that it might hide his nakedness withal. And forth he
sallied like a lion mountain-bred, trusting in his strength, who fares out
blown and rained upon, with flaming eyes; amid the kine he goes or amid
the sheep or in the track of the wild deer; yea, his belly bids him go even to
the good homestead to make assay upon the flocks. Even so Odysseus was
fain to draw nigh to the fair-tressed maidens, all naked as he was, such need
had come upon him. But he was terrible in their eyes, being marred with the
salt sea foam, and they fled cowering here and there about the jutting spits
of shore. And the daughter of Alcinous alone stood firm, for Athene gave
her courage of heart, and took all trembling from her limbs. So she halted
and stood over against him, and Odysseus considered whether he should
clasp the knees of the lovely maiden, and so make his prayer, or should
stand as he was, apart, and beseech her with smooth words, if haply she
might show him the town, and give him raiment. And as he thought within
himself, it seemed better to stand apart, and beseech her with smooth words,
lest the maiden should be angered with him if he touched her knees: so
straightway he spake a sweet and cunning word:
“I supplicate thee, O queen, whether thou art a goddess or a mortal! If
indeed thou art a goddess of them that keep the wide heaven; to Artemis,

then, the daughter of great Zeus, I mainly liken thee, for beauty and stature
and shapeliness. But if thou art one of the daughters of men who dwell on
earth, thrice blessed are thy father and thy lady mother, and thrice blessed
thy brethren. Surely their souls ever glow with gladness for thy sake, each
time they see thee entering the dance, so fair a flower of maidens. But he is
of heart the most blessed beyond all other who shall prevail with gifts of
wooing, and lead thee to his home. Never have mine eyes beheld such an
one among mortals, neither man nor woman; great awe comes upon me as I
look on thee. Yet in Delos once I saw as goodly a thing: a young sapling of
a palm tree springing by the altar of Apollo. For thither too I went, and
much people with me, on that path where my sore troubles were to be. Yea,
and when I looked thereupon, long time I marvelled in spirit,—for never
grew there yet so goodly a shoot from ground,—even in such wise as I
wonder at thee, lady, and am astonied and do greatly fear to touch thy
knees, though grievous sorrow is upon me. Yesterday, on the twentieth day,
I escaped from the wine-dark deep, but all that time continually the wave
bare me, and the vehement winds drave, from the isle Ogygia. And now
some god has cast me on this shore, that here too, methinks, some evil may
betide me; for I trow not that trouble will cease; the gods ere that time will
yet bring many a thing to pass. But, queen, have pity on me, for after many
trials and sore to thee first of all am I come, and of the other folk, who hold
this city and land, I know no man. Nay show me the town, give me an old
garment to cast about me, if thou hadst, when thou camest here, any wrap
for the linen. And may the gods grant thee all thy heart’s desire: a husband
and a home, and a mind at one with his may they give—a good gift, for
there is nothing mightier and nobler than when man and wife are of one
heart and mind in a house, a grief to their foes, and to their friends great joy,
but their own hearts know it best.”
Then Nausicaa of the white arms answered him, and said: “Stranger,
forasmuch as thou seemest no evil man nor foolish—and it is Olympian
Zeus himself that giveth weal to men, to the good and to the evil, to each
one as he will, and this thy lot doubtless is of him, and so thou must in
anywise endure it:—and now, since thou hast come to our city and our land,
thou shalt not lack raiment, nor aught else that is the due of a hapless
suppliant, when he has met them who can befriend him. And I will show
thee the town, and name the name of the people. The Phaeacians hold this

city and land, and I am the daughter of Alcinous, great of heart, on whom
all the might and force of the Phaeacians depend.”
Thus she spake, and called to her maidens of the fair tresses: “Halt, my
maidens, whither flee ye at the sight of a man? Ye surely do not take him
for an enemy? That mortal breathes not, and never will be born, who shall
come with war to the land of the Phaeacians, for they are very dear to the
gods. Far apart we live in the wash of the waves, the outermost of men, and
no other mortals are conversant with us. Nay, but this man is some helpless
one come hither in his wanderings, whom now we must kindly entreat, for
all strangers and beggars are from Zeus, and a little gift is dear. So, my
maidens, give the stranger meat and drink, and bathe him in the river, where
withal is a shelter from the winds.”
So she spake, but they had halted and called each to the other, and they
brought Odysseus to the sheltered place, and made him sit down, as
Nausicaa bade them, the daughter of Alcinous, high of heart. Beside him
they laid a mantle, and a doublet for raiment, and gave him soft olive oil in
the golden cruse, and bade him wash in the streams of the river. Then
goodly Odysseus spake among the maidens, saying: “I pray you stand thus
apart, while I myself wash the brine from my shoulders, and anoint me with
olive oil, for truly oil is long a stranger to my skin. But in your sight I will
not bathe, for I am ashamed to make me naked in the company of fair-
tressed maidens.”
Then they went apart and told all to their lady. But with the river water
the goodly Odysseus washed from his skin the salt scurf that covered his
back and broad shoulders, and from his head he wiped the crusted brine of
the barren sea. But when he had washed his whole body, and anointed him
with olive oil, and had clad himself in the raiment that the unwedded
maiden gave him, then Athene, the daughter of Zeus, made him greater and
more mighty to behold, and from his head caused deep curling locks to
flow, like the hyacinth flower. And as when some skilful man overlays gold
upon silver—one that Hephaestus and Pallas Athene have taught all manner
of craft, and full of grace is his handiwork—even so did Athene shed grace
about his head and shoulders.
Then to the shore of the sea went Odysseus apart, and sat down, glowing
in beauty and grace, and the princess marvelled at him, and spake among
her fair-tressed maidens, saying:

“Listen, my white-armed maidens, and I will say somewhat. Not without
the will of all the gods who hold Olympus hath this man come among the
godlike Phaeacians. Erewhile he seemed to me uncomely, but now he is like
the gods that keep the wide heaven. Would that such an one might be called
my husband, dwelling here, and that it might please him here to abide! But
come, my maidens, give the stranger meat and drink.”
Thus she spake, and they gave ready ear and hearkened, and set beside
Odysseus meat and drink, and the steadfast goodly Odysseus did eat and
drink eagerly, for it was long since he had tasted food.
Now Nausicaa of the white arms had another thought. She folded the
raiment and stored it in the goodly wain, and yoked the mules strong of
hoof, and herself climbed into the car. Then she called on Odysseus, and
spake and hailed him: “Up now, stranger, and rouse thee to go to the city,
that I may convey thee to the house of my wise father, where, I promise
thee, thou shalt get knowledge of all the noblest of the Phaeacians. But do
thou even as I tell thee, and thou seemest a discreet man enough. So long as
we are passing along the fields and farms of men, do thou fare quickly with
the maidens behind the mules and the chariot, and I will lead the way. But
when we set foot within the city,—whereby goes a high wall with towers,
and there is a fair haven on either side of the town, and narrow is the
entrance, and curved ships are drawn up on either hand of the mole, for all
the folk have stations for their vessels, each man one for himself. And there
is the place of assembly about the goodly temple of Poseidon, furnished
with heavy stones, deep bedded in the earth. There men look to the gear of
the black ships, hawsers and sails, and there they fine down the oars. For
the Phaeacians care not for bow nor quiver, but for masts, and oars of ships,
and gallant barques, wherein rejoicing they cross the grey sea. Their
ungracious speech it is that I would avoid, lest some man afterward rebuke
me, and there are but too many insolent folk among the people. And some
one of the baser sort might meet me and say: ‘Who is this that goes with
Nausicaa, this tall and goodly stranger? Where found she him? Her husband
he will be, her very own. Either she has taken in some shipwrecked
wanderer of strange men,—for no men dwell near us; or some god has
come in answer to her instant prayer; from heaven has he descended, and
will have her to wife for evermore. Better so, if herself she has ranged
abroad and found a lord from a strange land, for verily she holds in no
regard the Phaeacians here in this country, the many men and noble who are

her wooers.’ So will they speak, and this would turn to my reproach. Yea,
and I myself would think it blame of another maiden who did such things in
despite of her friends, her father and mother being still alive, and was
conversant with men before the day of open wedlock. But, stranger, heed
well what I say, that as soon as may be thou mayest gain at my father’s
hands an escort and a safe return. Thou shalt find a fair grove of Athene, a
poplar grove near the road, and a spring wells forth therein, and a meadow
lies all around. There is my father’s demesne, and his fruitful close, within
the sound of a man’s shout from the city. Sit thee down there and wait until
such time as we may have come into the city, and reached the house of my
father. But when thou deemest that we are got to the palace, then go up to
the city of the Phaeacians, and ask for the house of my father Alcinous, high
of heart. It is easily known, and a young child could be thy guide, for
nowise like it are builded the houses of the Phaeacians, so goodly is the
palace of the hero Alcinous. But when thou art within the shadow of the
halls and the court, pass quickly through the great chamber, till thou comest
to my mother, who sits at the hearth in the light of the fire, weaving yarn of
sea-purple stain, a wonder to behold. Her chair is leaned against a pillar,
and her maidens sit behind her. And there my father’s throne leans close to
hers, wherein he sits and drinks his wine, like an immortal. Pass thou by
him, and cast thy hands about my mother’s knees, that thou mayest see
quickly and with joy the day of thy returning, even if thou art from a very
far country. If but her heart be kindly disposed toward thee, then is there
hope that thou shalt see thy friends, and come to thy well-builded house,
and to thine own country.”
She spake, and smote the mules with the shining whip, and quickly they
left behind them the streams of the river. And well they trotted and well
they paced, and she took heed to drive in such wise that the maidens and
Odysseus might follow on foot, and cunningly she plied the lash. Then the
sun set, and they came to the famous grove, the sacred place of Athene; so
there the goodly Odysseus sat him down. Then straightway he prayed to the
daughter of mighty Zeus: “Listen to me, child of Zeus, lord of the aegis,
unwearied maiden; hear me even now, since before thou heardest not when
I was smitten on the sea, when the renowned Earth-shaker smote me. Grant
me to come to the Phaeacians as one dear, and worthy of pity.”
So he spake in prayer, and Pallas Athene heard him; but she did not yet
appear to him face to face, for she had regard unto her father’s brother, who

furiously raged against the godlike Odysseus, till he should come to his own
country.

BOOK VII.

Odysseus being received at the house of the king Alcinous,
the queen after supper, taking notice of his garments, gives
him occasion to relate his passage thither on the raft.
Alcinous promises him a convoy for the morrow.

So he prayed there, the steadfast goodly Odysseus, while the two strong
mules bare the princess to the town. And when she had now come to the
famous palace of her father, she halted at the gateway, and round her
gathered her brothers, men like to the immortals, and they loosed the mules
from under the car, and carried the raiment within. But the maiden betook
her to her chamber; and an aged dame from Aperaea kindled the fire for her,
Eurymedusa, the handmaid of the chamber, whom the curved ships upon a
time had brought from Aperaea; and men chose her as a prize for Alcinous,
seeing that he bare rule over all the Phaeacians, and the people hearkened to
him as to a god. She waited on the white-armed Nausicaa in the palace
halls; she was wont to kindle the fire and prepare the supper in the inner
chamber.
At that same hour Odysseus roused him to go to the city, and Athene shed
a deep mist about Odysseus for the favour that she bare him, lest any of the
Phaeacians, high of heart, should meet him and mock him in sharp speech,
and ask him who he was. But when he was now about to enter the pleasant
city, then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, met him, in the fashion of a young
maiden carrying a pitcher, and she stood over against him, and goodly
Odysseus inquired of her:
“My child, couldst thou not lead me to the palace of the lord Alcinous,
who bears sway among this people? Lo, I am come here, a stranger travel-
worn from afar, from a distant land; wherefore of the folk who possess this
city and country I know not any man.”

Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, answered him saying: “Yea now,
father and stranger, I will show thee the house that thou bidst me declare,
for it lies near the palace of my noble father; behold, be silent as thou goest,
and I will lead the way. And look on no man, nor question any. For these
men do not gladly suffer strangers, nor lovingly entreat whoso cometh from
a strange land. They trust to the speed of their swift ships, wherewith they
cross the great gulf, for the Earth-shaker hath vouchsafed them this power.
Their ships are swift as the flight of a bird, or as a thought.”
Therewith Pallas Athene led the way swiftly, and he followed hard in the
footsteps of the goddess. And it came to pass that the Phaeacians, mariners
renowned, marked him not as he went down the city through their midst, for
the fair tressed Athene suffered it not, that awful goddess, who shed a
wondrous mist about him, for the favour that she bare him in her heart. And
Odysseus marvelled at the havens and the gallant ships, yea and the places
of assembly of the heroes, and the long high walls crowned with palisades,
a marvel to behold. But when they had now come to the famous palace of
the king, the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, spake first and said:
“Lo, here, father and stranger, is the house that thou wouldst have me
show thee: and thou shalt find kings at the feast, the fosterlings of Zeus;
enter then, and fear not in thine heart, for the dauntless man is the best in
every adventure, even though he come from a strange land. Thou shalt find
the queen first in the halls; Arete is the name whereby men call her, and she
came even of those that begat the king Alcinous. First Nausithous was son
of Poseidon, the Earth-shaker, and of Periboea, the comeliest of women,
youngest daughter of great-hearted Eurymedon, who once was king among
the haughty Giants. Howbeit, he destroyed his infatuate people, and was
himself destroyed; but Poseidon lay with Periboea and begat a son, proud
Nausithous, who sometime was prince among the Phaeacians; and
Nausithous begat Rhexenor and Alcinous. While Rhexenor had as yet no
son, Apollo of the silver bow smote him, a groom new wed, leaving in his
halls one only child Arete; and Alcinous took her to wife, and honoured her
as no other woman in the world is honoured, of all that now-a-days keep
house under the hand of their lords. Thus she hath, and hath ever had, all
worship heartily from her dear children and from her lord Alcinous and
from all the folk, who look on her as on a goddess, and greet her with
reverend speech, when she goes about the town. Yea, for she too hath no
lack of understanding. To whomso she shows favour, even if they be men,

she ends their feuds.[14] If but her heart be kindly disposed to thee, then is
there good hope that thou mayest see thy friends, and come to thy high-
roofed home and thine own country.”
[14] v. l. ᾗσιν. And for the women she favours, she ends the feuds of their lords
also.

Therewith grey-eyed Athene departed over the unharvested seas, and left
pleasant Scheria, and came to Marathon and wide-wayed Athens, and
entered the good house of Erechtheus. Meanwhile Odysseus went to the
famous palace of Alcinous, and his heart was full of many thoughts as he
stood there or ever he had reached the threshold of bronze. For there was a
gleam as it were of sun or moon through the high-roofed hall of great-
hearted Alcinous. Brazen were the walls which ran this way and that from
the threshold to the inmost chamber, and round them was a frieze of blue,
and golden were the doors that closed in the good house. Silver were the
door-posts that were set on the brazen threshold, and silver the lintel
thereupon, and the hook of the door was of gold. And on either side stood
golden hounds and silver, which Hephaestus wrought by his cunning, to
guard the palace of great-hearted Alcinous, being free from death and age
all their days. And within were seats arrayed against the wall this way and
that, from the threshold even to the inmost chamber, and thereon were
spread light coverings finely woven, the handiwork of women. There the
Phaeacian chieftains were wont to sit eating and drinking, for they had
continual store. Yea, and there were youths fashioned in gold, standing on
firm-set bases, with flaming torches in their hands, giving light through the
night to the feasters in the palace. And he had fifty handmaids in the house,
and some grind the yellow grain on the millstone, and others weave webs
and turn the yarn as they sit, restless as the leaves of the tall poplar tree: and
the soft olive oil drops off that linen, so closely is it woven. For as the
Phaeacian men are skilled beyond all others in driving a swift ship upon the
deep, even so are the women the most cunning at the loom, for Athene hath
given them notable wisdom in all fair handiwork and cunning wit. And
without the courtyard hard by the door is a great garden, off our
ploughgates, and a hedge runs round on either side. And there grow tall
trees blossoming, pear-trees and pomegranates, and apple-trees with bright
fruit, and sweet figs, and olives in their bloom. The fruit of these trees never
perisheth neither faileth, winter nor summer, enduring through all the year.

Evermore the West Wind blowing brings some fruits to birth and ripens
others. Pear upon pear waxes old, and apple on apple, yea and cluster ripens
upon cluster of the grape, and fig upon fig. There too hath he a fruitful
vineyard planted, whereof the one part is being dried by the heat, a sunny
plot on level ground, while other grapes men are gathering, and yet others
they are treading in the wine-press. In the foremost row are unripe grapes
that cast the blossom, and others there be that are growing black to
vintaging. There too, skirting the furthest line, are all manner of garden
beds, planted trimly, that are perpetually fresh, and therein are two
fountains of water, whereof one scatters his streams all about the garden,
and the other runs over against it beneath the threshold of the courtyard, and
issues by the lofty house, and thence did the townsfolk draw water. These
were the splendid gifts of the gods in the palace of Alcinous.
There the steadfast goodly Odysseus stood and gazed. But when he had
gazed at all and wondered, he passed quickly over the threshold within the
house. And he found the captains and the counsellors of the Phaeacians
pouring forth wine to the keen-sighted god, the slayer of Argos; for to him
they poured the last cup when they were minded to take rest. Now the
steadfast goodly Odysseus went through the hall, clad in a thick mist, which
Athene shed around him, till he came to Arete and the king Alcinous. And
Odysseus cast his hands about the knees of Arete, and then it was that the
wondrous mist melted from off him, and a silence fell on them that were
within the house at the sight of him, and they marvelled as they beheld him.
Then Odysseus began his prayer:
“Arete, daughter of god-like Rhexenor, after many toils am I come to thy
husband and to thy knees and to these guests, and may the gods vouchsafe
them a happy life, and may each one leave to his children after him his
substance in his halls and whatever dues of honour the people have
rendered unto him. But speed, I pray you, my parting, that I may come the
more quickly to mine own country, for already too long do I suffer affliction
far from my friends.”
Therewith he sat him down by the hearth in the ashes at the fire, and
behold, a dead silence fell on all. And at the last the ancient lord Echeneus
spake among them, an elder of the Phaeacians, excellent in speech and
skilled in much wisdom of old time. With good will he made harangue and
spake among them:

“Alcinous, this truly is not the more seemly way, nor is it fitting that the
stranger should sit upon the ground in the ashes by the hearth, while these
men refrain them, waiting thy word. Nay come, bid the stranger arise, and
set him on a chair inlaid with silver, and command the henchmen to mix the
wine, that we may pour forth likewise before Zeus, whose joy is in the
thunder, who attendeth upon reverend suppliants. And let the housewife
give supper to the stranger out of such stores as be within.”
Now when the mighty king Alcinous heard this saying, he took
Odysseus, the wise and crafty, by the hand, and raised him from the hearth,
and set him on a shining chair, whence he bade his son give place, valiant
Laodamas, who sat next him and was his dearest. And a handmaid bare
water for the hands in a goodly golden ewer, and poured it forth over a
silver basin to wash withal, and drew to his side a polished table. And a
grave dame bare wheaten bread and set it by him and laid upon the board
many dainties, giving freely of such things as she had by her. So the
steadfast goodly Odysseus did eat and drink: and then the mighty Alcinous
spake unto the henchman:
“Pontonous, mix the bowl and serve out the wine to all in the hall, that
we may pour forth likewise before Zeus, whose joy is in the thunder, who
attendeth upon reverend suppliants.”
So spake he, and Pontonous mixed the honey-hearted wine, and served it
out to all, when he had poured for libation into each cup in turn. But when
they had poured forth and had drunken to their heart’s content, Alcinous
made harangue and spake among them:
“Hear me, ye captains and counsellors of the Phaeacians, that I may
speak as my spirit bids me. Now that the feast is over, go ye home and lie
down to rest; and in the morning we will call yet more elders together, and
entertain the stranger in the halls and do fair sacrifice to the gods, and
thereafter we will likewise bethink us of the convoy, that so without pain or
grief yonder stranger may by our convoy reach his own country speedily
and with joy, even though he be from very far away. So shall he suffer no
hurt or harm in mid passage, ere he set foot on his own land; but thereafter
he shall endure such things as Fate and the stern spinning women drew off
the spindles for him at his birth when his mother bare him. But if he is some
deathless god come down from heaven, then do the gods herein imagine
some new device against us. For always heretofore the gods appear

manifest amongst us, whensoever we offer glorious hecatombs, and they
feast by our side, sitting at the same board; yea, and even if a wayfarer
going all alone has met with them, they use no disguise, since we are near
of kin to them, even as are the Cyclôpes and the wild tribes of the Giants.”
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him, saying: “Alcinous, that
thought be far from thee! for I bear no likeness either in form or fashion to
the deathless gods, who keep wide heaven, but to men that die.
Whomsoever ye know of human kind the heaviest laden with sorrow, to
them might I liken myself in my griefs. Yea, and I might tell of yet other
woes, even the long tale of toil that by the gods’ will I endured. But as for
me, suffer me to sup, afflicted as I am; for nought is there more shameless
than a ravening belly, which biddeth a man perforce be mindful of him,
though one be worn and sorrowful in spirit, even as I have sorrow of heart;
yet evermore he biddeth me eat and drink and maketh me utterly to forget
all my sufferings, and commandeth me to take my fill. But do ye bestir you
at the breaking of the day, that so ye may set me, hapless as I am, upon my
country’s soil, albeit after much suffering. Ah, and may life leave me when I
have had sight of mine own possessions, my thralls, and my dwelling that is
great and high!”
So spake he, and they all assented thereto, and bade send the stranger on
his way, for that he had spoken aright. Now when they had poured forth and
had drunken to their hearts’ content, they went each one to his house to lay
them to rest. But goodly Odysseus was left behind in the hall, and by him
sat Arete and godlike Alcinous; and the maids cleared away the furniture of
the feast; and white-armed Arete first spake among them. For she knew the
mantle and the doublet, when she saw the goodly raiment that she herself
had wrought with the women her handmaids. So she uttered her voice and
spake to him winged words:
“Sir, I am bold to ask thee first of this. Who art thou of the sons of men,
and whence? Who gave thee this raiment? Didst thou not say indeed that
thou camest hither wandering over the deep?”
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered her, and said: “’Tis hard, O
queen, to tell my griefs from end to end, for that the gods of heaven have
given me griefs in plenty. But this will I declare to thee, whereof thou dost
question and inquire. There is an isle, Ogygia, that lies far off in the sea;
there dwells the daughter of Atlas, crafty Calypso, of the braided tresses, an

awful goddess, nor is any either of gods or mortals conversant with her.
Howbeit, some god brought me to her hearth, wretched man that I am, all
alone, for that Zeus with white bolt crushed my swift ship and cleft it in the
midst of the wine-dark deep. There all the rest of my good company was
lost, but I clung with fast embrace about the keel of the curved ship, and so
was I borne for nine whole days. And on the tenth dark night the gods
brought me nigh the isle Ogygia, where Calypso of the braided tresses
dwells, an awful goddess. She took me in, and with all care she cherished
me and gave me sustenance, and said that she would make me to know not
death nor age for all my days; but never did she win my heart within me.
There I abode for seven years continually, and watered with my tears the
imperishable raiment that Calypso gave me. But when the eighth year came
round in his course, then at last she urged and bade me to be gone, by
reason of a message from Zeus, or it may be that her own mind was turned.
So she sent me forth on a well-bound raft, and gave me plenteous store,
bread and sweet wine, and she clad me in imperishable raiment, and sent
forth a warm and gentle wind to blow. For ten days and seven I sailed,
traversing the deep, and on the eighteenth day the shadowy hills of your
land showed in sight, and my heart was glad,—wretched that I was—for
surely I was still to be the mate of much sorrow. For Poseidon, shaker of the
earth, stirred up the same, who roused against me the winds and stopped my
way, and made a wondrous sea to swell, nor did the wave suffer me to be
borne upon my raft, as I made ceaseless moan. Thus the storm winds
shattered the raft, but as for me I cleft my way through the gulf yonder, till
the wind bare and the water brought me nigh your coast. Then as I strove to
land upon the shore, the wave had overwhelmed me, dashing me against the
great rocks and a desolate place, but at length I gave way and swam back,
till I came to the river, where the place seemed best in mine eyes, smooth of
rocks, and withal there was a shelter from the wind. And as I came out I
sank down, gathering to me my spirit, and immortal night came on. Then I
gat me forth and away from the heaven-fed river, and laid me to sleep in the
bushes and strewed leaves about me, and the god shed over me infinite
sleep. There among the leaves I slept, stricken at heart, all the night long,
even till the morning and mid-day. And the sun sank when sweet sleep let
me free. And I was aware of the company of thy daughter disporting them
upon the sand, and there was she in the midst of them like unto the
goddesses. To her I made my supplication, and she showed no lack of a

good understanding, behaving so as thou couldst not hope for in chancing
upon one so young; for the younger folk lack wisdom always. She gave me
bread enough and red wine, and let wash me in the river and bestowed on
me these garments. Herein, albeit in sore distress, have I told thee all the
truth.”
And Alcinous answered again, and spake saying: “Sir, surely this was no
right thought of my daughter, in that she brought thee not to our house with
the women her handmaids, though thou didst first entreat her grace.”
And Odysseus of many counsels answered, and said unto him: “My lord,
chide not, I pray thee, for this the blameless maiden. For indeed she bade
me follow with her company, but I would not for fear and very shame, lest
perchance thine heart might be clouded at the sight; for a jealous race upon
the earth are we, the tribes of men.”
And Alcinous answered yet again, and spake saying: “Sir, my heart
within me is not of such temper as to have been wroth without a cause: due
measure in all things is best. Would to father Zeus, and Athene, and Apollo,
would that so goodly a man as thou art, and like-minded with me, thou
wouldst wed my daughter, and be called my son, here abiding: so would I
give thee house and wealth, if thou wouldst stay of thine own will: but
against thy will shall none of the Phaeacians keep thee: never be this well-
pleasing in the eyes of father Zeus! And now I ordain an escort for thee on a
certain day, that thou mayst surely know, and that day the morrow. Then
shalt thou lay thee down overcome by sleep, and they the while shall smite
the calm waters, till thou come to thy country and thy house, and
whatsoever place is dear to thee, even though it be much farther than
Euboea, which certain of our men say is the farthest of lands, they who saw
it, when they carried Rhadamanthus, of the fair hair, to visit Tityos, son of
Gaia. Even thither they went, and accomplished the journey on the self-
same day and won home again, and were not weary. And now shalt thou
know for thyself how far my ships are the best, and how my young men
excel at tossing the salt water with the oar-blade.”
So spake he, and the steadfast goodly Odysseus rejoiced; and then he
uttered a word in prayer, and called aloud to Zeus: “Father Zeus, oh that
Alcinous may fulfil all that he hath said, so may his fame never be
quenched upon the earth, the grain-giver, and I should come to mine own
land!”

Thus they spake one to the other. And white-armed Arete bade her
handmaids set out bedsteads beneath the gallery, and cast fair purple
blankets over them, and spread coverlets above, and thereon lay thick
mantles to be a clothing over all. So they went from the hall with torch in
hand. But when they had busied them and spread the good bedstead, they
stood by Odysseus and called unto him, saying:
“Up now, stranger, and get thee to sleep, thy bed is made.”
So spake they, and it seemed to him that rest was wondrous good. So he
slept there, the steadfast goodly Odysseus, on the jointed bedstead, beneath
the echoing gallery. But Alcinous laid him down in the innermost chamber
of the high house, and by him the lady his wife arrayed bedstead and
bedding.

BOOK VIII.

The next day’s entertainment of Odysseus, where he sees
them contend in wrestling and other exercises, and upon
provocation took up a greater stone than that which they
were throwing, and overthrew them all. Alcinous and the
lords give him presents. And how the king asked his name,
his country, and his adventures.

Now when early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, then the mighty
king Alcinous gat him up from his bed; and Odysseus, of the seed of Zeus,
likewise uprose, the waster of cities. And the mighty king Alcinous led the
way to the assembly place of the Phaeacians, which they had established
hard by the ships. So when they had come thither, and sat them down on the
polished stones close by each other, Pallas Athene went on her way through
the town, in the semblance of the herald of wise Alcinous, devising a return
for the great-hearted Odysseus. Then standing by each man she spake,
saying:
“Hither now get ye to the assembly, ye captains and counsellors of the
Phaeacians, that ye may learn concerning the stranger, who hath lately come
to the palace of wise Alcinous, in his wanderings over the deep, and his
form is like the deathless gods.”
Therewith she aroused the spirit and desire of each one, and speedily the
meeting-places and seats were filled with men that came to the gathering:
yea, and many an one marvelled at the sight of the wise son of Laertes, for
wondrous was the grace Athene poured upon his head and shoulders, and
she made him greater and more mighty to behold, that he might win love
and worship and honour among all the Phaeacians, and that he might
accomplish many feats, wherein the Phaeacians made trial of Odysseus.

Now when they were gathered and come together, Alcinous made harangue
and spake among them:
“Harken, ye captains and counsellors of the Phaeacians, and I will say
that which my spirit within me bids me utter. This stranger, I know not who
he is, hath come to my house in his wandering, whether from the men of the
dawning or the westward, and he presses for a convoy, and prays that it be
assured to him. So let us, as in time past, speed on the convoy. For never,
nay never, doth any man who cometh to my house, abide here long in
sorrow for want of help upon his way. Nay, come let us draw down a black
ship to the fair salt sea, for her first voyage, and let them choose fifty and
two noble youths throughout the township, who have been proved
heretofore the best. And when ye have made fast the oars upon the benches,
step all a shore, and thereafter come to our house, and quickly fall to
feasting; and I will make good provision for all. To the noble youths I give
this commandment; but ye others, sceptred kings, come to my fair dwelling,
that we may entertain the stranger in the halls, and let no man make excuse.
Moreover, bid hither the divine minstrel, Demodocus, for the god hath
given minstrelsy to him as to none other, to make men glad in what way
soever his spirit stirs him to sing.”
He spake and led the way, and the sceptred kings accompanied him,
while the henchmen went for the divine minstrel. And chosen youths, fifty
and two, departed at his command, to the shore of the unharvested sea. But
after they had gone down to the ship and to the sea, first of all they drew the
ship down to the deep water, and placed the mast and sails in the black ship,
and fixed the oars in leathern loops, all orderly, and spread forth the white
sails. And they moored her high out in the shore water, and thereafter went
on their way to the great palace of the wise Alcinous. Now the galleries and
the courts and the rooms were thronged with men that came to the
gathering, for there were many, young and old. Then Alcinous sacrificed
twelve sheep among them, and eight boars with flashing tusks, and two
oxen with trailing feet. These they flayed and made ready, and dressed a
goodly feast.
Then the henchman drew near, leading with him the beloved minstrel,
whom the muse loved dearly, and she gave him both good and evil; of his
sight she reft him, but granted him sweet song. Then Pontonous, the
henchman, set for him a high chair inlaid with silver, in the midst of the

guests, leaning it against the tall pillar, and he hung the loud lyre on a pin,
close above his head, and showed him how to lay his hands on it. And close
by him he placed a basket, and a fair table, and a goblet of wine by his side,
to drink when his spirit bade him. So they stretched forth their hands upon
the good cheer spread before them. But after they had put from them the
desire of meat and drink, the Muse stirred the minstrel to sing the songs of
famous men, even that lay whereof the fame had then reached the wide
heaven, namely, the quarrel between Odysseus and Achilles, son of Peleus;
how once on a time they contended in fierce words at a rich festival of the
gods, but Agamemnon, king of men, was inly glad when the noblest of the
Achaeans fell at variance. For so Phoebus Apollo in his soothsaying had
told him that it must be, in goodly Pytho, what time he crossed the
threshold of stone, to seek to the oracle. For in those days the first wave of
woe was rolling on Trojans and Danaans through the counsel of great Zeus.
This song it was that the famous minstrel sang; but Odysseus caught his
great purple cloak with his stalwart hands, and drew it down over his head,
and hid his comely face, for he was ashamed to shed tears beneath his
brows in presence of the Phaeacians. Yea, and oft as the divine minstrel
paused in his song, Odysseus would wipe away the tears, and draw the
cloak from off his head, and take the two-handled goblet and pour forth
before the gods. But whensoever he began again, and the chiefs of the
Phaeacians stirred him to sing, in delight at the lay, again would Odysseus
cover up his head and make moan. Now none of all the company marked
him weeping, but Alcinous alone noted it and was ware thereof as he sat by
him and heard him groaning heavily. And presently he spake among the
Phaeacians, masters of the oar:
“Hearken, ye captains and counsellors of the Phaeacians, now have our
souls been satisfied with the good feast, and with the lyre, which is the mate
of the rich banquet. Let us go forth anon, and make trial of divers games,
that the stranger may tell his friends, when home he returneth, how greatly
we excel all men in boxing, and wrestling, and leaping, and speed of foot.”
He spake, and led the way, and they went with him. And the henchman
hung the loud lyre on the pin, and took the hand of Demodocus, and let him
forth from the hall, and guided him by the same way, whereby those others,
the chiefs of the Phaeacians, had gone to gaze upon the games. So they
went on their way to the place of assembly, and with them a great company

innumerable; and many a noble youth stood up to play. There rose
Acroneus, and Ocyalus, and Elatreus, and Nauteus, and Prymneus, and
Anchialus, and Eretmeus, and Ponteus, and Proreus, Thoon, and
Anabesineus, and Amphialus, son of Polyneus, son of Tekton, and likewise
Euryalus, the peer of murderous Ares, the son of Naubolus, who in face and
form was goodliest of all the Phaeacians next to noble Laodamas. And there
stood up the three sons of noble Alcinous, Laodamas, and Halius, and god-
like Clytoneus. And behold, these all first tried the issue in the foot race.
From the very start they strained at utmost speed: and all together they flew
forward swiftly, raising the dust along the plain. And noble Clytoneus was
far the swiftest of them all in running, and by the length of the furrow that
mules cleave in a fallow field,[15] so far did he shoot to the front, and came
to the crowd by the lists, while those others were left behind. Then they
made trial of strong wrestling, and here in turn Euryalus excelled all the
best. And in leaping Amphialus was far the foremost, and Elatreus in
weight-throwing, and in boxing Laodamas, the good son of Alcinous. Now
when they had all taken their pleasure in the games, Laodamas, son of
Alcinous, spake among them:
[15] The distance here indicated seems to be that which the mule goes in
ploughing, without pausing to take breath.

“Come, my friends, let us ask the stranger whether he is skilled or
practised in any sport. Ill fashioned, at least, he is not in his thighs and
sinewy legs and hands withal, and his stalwart neck and mighty strength:
yea and he lacks not youth, but is crushed by many troubles. For I tell thee
there is nought else worse than the sea to confound a man, how hardy
soever he may be.”
And Euryalus in turn made answer, and said: “Laodamas, verily thou hast
spoken this word in season. Go now thyself and challenge him, and declare
thy saying.”
Now when the good son of Alcinous heard this, he went and stood in the
midst, and spake unto Odysseus: “Come, do thou too, father and stranger,
try thy skill in the sports, if haply thou art practised in any; and thou art like
to have knowledge of games, for there is no greater glory for a man while
yet he lives, than that which he achieves by hand and foot. Come, then,
make essay, and cast away care from thy soul: thy journey shall not now be

long delayed; lo, thy ship is even now drawn down to the sea, and the men
of thy company are ready.”
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him, saying; “Laodamas,
wherefore do ye mock me, requiring this thing of me? Sorrow is far nearer
my heart than sports, for much have I endured and laboured sorely in time
past, and now I sit in this your gathering, craving my return, and making my
prayer to the king and all the people.”
And Euryalus answered, and rebuked him to his face: “No truly, stranger,
nor do I think thee at all like one that is skilled in games, whereof there are
many among men, rather art thou such an one as comes and goes in a
benched ship, a master of sailors that are merchantmen, one with a memory
for his freight, or that hath the charge of a cargo homeward bound, and of
greedily gotten gains; thou seemest not a man of thy hands.”
Then Odysseus of many counsels looked fiercely on him and said:
“Stranger, thou hast not spoken well; thou art like a man presumptuous. So
true it is that the gods do not give every gracious gift to all, neither
shapeliness, nor wisdom, nor skilled speech. For one man is feebler than
another in presence, yet the god crowns his words with beauty, and men
behold him and rejoice, and his speech runs surely on his way with a sweet
modesty, and he shines forth among the gathering of his people, and as he
passes through the town men gaze on him as a god. Another again is like
the deathless gods for beauty, but his words have no crown of grace about
them; even as thou art in comeliness pre-eminent, nor could a god himself
fashion thee for the better, but in wit thou art a weakling. Yea, thou hast
stirred my spirit in my breast by speaking thus amiss. I am not all unversed
in sports, as thy words go, but methinks I was among the foremost while as
yet I trusted in my youth and my hands, but now am I holden in misery and
pains: for I have endured much in passing through the wars of men and the
grievous waves of the sea. Yet even so, for all my affliction, I will essay the
games, for thy word hath bitten to the quick, and thou hast roused me with
thy saying.”
He spake, and clad even as he was in his mantle leaped to his feet, and
caught up a weight larger than the rest, a huge weight heavier far than those
wherewith the Phaeacians contended in casting. With one whirl he sent it
from his stout hand, and the stone flew hurtling: and the Phaeacians, of the
long oars, those mariners renowned, crouched to earth beneath the rushing

of the stone. Beyond all the marks it flew, so lightly it sped from his hand,
and Athene in the fashion of a man marked the place, and spake and hailed
him:
“Yea, even a blind man, stranger, might discern that token if he groped
for it, for it is in no wise lost among the throng of the others, but is far the
first; for this bout then take heart: not one of the Phaeacians shall attain
thereunto or overpass it.”
So spake she; and the steadfast goodly Odysseus rejoiced and was glad,
for that he saw a true friend in the lists. Then with a lighter heart he spake
amid the Phaeacians:
“Now reach ye this throw, young men, if ye may; and soon, methinks,
will I cast another after it, as far or yet further. And whomsoever of the rest
his heart and spirit stir thereto, hither let him come and try the issue with
me, in boxing or in wrestling or even in the foot race, I care not which, for
ye have greatly angered me: let any of all the Phaeacians come save
Laodamas alone, for he is mine host: who would strive with one that
entreated him kindly? Witless and worthless is the man, whoso challengeth
his host that receiveth him in a strange land, he doth but maim his own
estate. But for the rest, I refuse none and hold none lightly, but I fain would
know and prove them face to face. For I am no weakling in all sports, even
in the feats of men. I know well how to handle the polished bow, and ever
the first would I be to shoot and smite my man in the press of foes, even
though many of my company stood by, and were aiming at the enemy.
Alone Philoctetes in the Trojan land surpassed me with the bow in our
Achaean archery. But I avow myself far more excellent than all besides, of
the mortals that are now upon the earth and live by bread. Yet with the men
of old time I would not match me, neither with Heracles nor with Eurytus of
Oechalia, who contended even with the deathless gods for the prize of
archery. Wherefore the great Eurytus perished all too soon, nor did old age
come on him in his halls, for Apollo slew him in his wrath, seeing that he
challenged him to shoot a match. And with the spear I can throw further
than any other man can shoot an arrow. Only I doubt that in the foot race
some of the Phaeacians may outstrip me, for I have been shamefully broken
in many waters, seeing that there was no continual sustenance on board;
wherefore my knees are loosened.”

So spake he and all kept silence; and Alcinous alone answered him,
saying:
“Stranger, forasmuch as these thy words are not ill-taken in our
gathering, but thou wouldest fain show forth the valour which keeps thee
company, being angry that yonder man stood by thee in the lists, and
taunted thee, in such sort as no mortal would speak lightly of thine
excellence, who had knowledge of sound words; nay now, mark my speech;
so shalt thou have somewhat to tell another hero, when with thy wife and
children thou suppest in thy halls, and recallest our prowess, what deeds
Zeus bestoweth even upon us from our fathers’ days even until now. For we
are no perfect boxers, nor wrestlers, but speedy runners, and the best of
seamen; and dear to us ever is the banquet, and the harp, and the dance, and
changes of raiment, and the warm bath, and love, and sleep. Lo, now arise,
ye dancers of the Phaeacians, the best in the land, and make sport, that so
the stranger may tell his friends, when he returneth home, how far we
surpass all men besides in seamanship, and speed of foot, and in the dance
and song. And let one go quickly, and fetch for Demodocus the loud lyre
which is lying somewhere in our halls.”
So spake Alcinous the godlike, and the henchman rose to bear the hollow
lyre from the king’s palace. Then stood up nine chosen men in all, the
judges of the people, who were wont to order all things in the lists aright.
So they levelled the place for the dance, and made a fair ring and a wide.
And the henchman drew near bearing the loud lyre to Demodocus, who gat
him into the midst, and round him stood boys in their first bloom, skilled in
the dance, and they smote the good floor with their feet. And Odysseus
gazed at the twinklings of the feet, and marvelled in spirit.
Now as the minstrel touched the lyre, he lifted up his voice in sweet
song, and he sang of the love of Ares and Aphrodite, of the fair crown, how
at the first they lay together in the house of Hephaestus privily; and Ares
gave her many gifts, and dishonoured the marriage bed of the lord
Hephaestus. And anon there came to him one to report the thing, even
Helios, that had seen them at their pastime. Now when Hephaestus heard
the bitter tidings, he went his way to the forge, devising evil in the deep of
his heart, and set the great anvil on the stithy, and wrought fetters that none
might snap or loosen, that the lovers might there unmoveably remain. Now
when he had forged the crafty net in his anger against Ares, he went on his

way to the chamber where his marriage bed was set out, and strewed his
snares all about the posts of the bed, and many too were hung aloft from the
main beam, subtle as spiders’ webs, so that none might see them, even of
the blessed gods: so cunningly were they forged. Now after he had done
winding the snare about the bed, he made as though he would go to
Lemnos, that stablished castle, and this was far the dearest of all lands in his
sight. But Ares of the golden rein kept no blind watch, what time he saw
Hephaestus, the famed craftsman, depart afar. So he went on his way to the
house of renowned Hephaestus, eager for the love of crowned Cytherea.
Now she was but newly come from her sire, the mighty Cronion, and as it
chanced had sat her down; and Ares entered the house, and clasped her
hand, and spake, and hailed her:
“Come, my beloved, let us to bed, and take our pleasure of love, for
Hephaestus is no longer among his own people; methinks he is already
gone to Lemnos, to the Sintians, men of savage speech.”
So spake he, and a glad thing it seemed to her to lie with him. So they
twain went to the couch, and laid them to sleep, and around them clung the
cunning bonds of skilled Hephaestus, so that they could not move nor raise
a limb. Then at the last they knew it, when there was no way to flee. Now
the famous god of the strong arms drew near to them, having turned him
back ere he reached the land of Lemnos. For Helios had kept watch, and
told him all. So heavy at heart he went his way to his house, and stood at
the entering in of the gate, and wild rage gat hold of him, and he cried
terribly, and shouted to all the gods:
“Father Zeus, and ye other blessed gods, that live for ever, come hither,
that ye may see a mirthful thing and a cruel, for that Aphrodite, daughter of
Zeus, ever dishonours me by reason of my lameness, and sets her heart on
Ares the destroyer, because he is fair and straight of limb, but as for me,
feeble was I born. Howbeit, there is none to blame but my father and
mother,—would they had never begotten me! But now shall ye see where
these have gone up into my bed, and sleep together in love; and I am
troubled at the sight. Yet, methinks, they will not care to lie thus even for a
little while longer, despite their great love. Soon will they have no desire to
sleep together, but the snare and the bond shall hold them, till her sire give
back to me the gifts of wooing, one and all, those that I bestowed upon him

for the hand of his shameless girl; for that his daughter is fair, but without
discretion.”
So spake he; and lo, the gods gathered together to the house of the brazen
floor. Poseidon came, the girdler of the earth, and Hermes came, the bringer
of luck, and prince Apollo came, the archer. But the lady goddesses abode
each within her house for shame. So the gods, the givers of good things,
stood in the porch: and laughter unquenchable arose among the blessed
gods, as they beheld the sleight of cunning Hephaestus. And thus would one
speak, looking to his neighbour:
“Ill deed, ill speed! The slow catcheth the swift! Lo, how Hephaestus,
slow as he is, hath overtaken Ares, albeit he is the swiftest of the gods that
hold Olympus, by his craft hath he taken him despite his lameness;
wherefore surely Ares oweth the fine of the adulterer.” Thus they spake one
to the other. But the lord Apollo, son of Zeus, spake to Hermes:
“Hermes, son of Zeus, messenger and giver of good things, wouldst thou
be fain, aye, pressed by strong bonds though it might be, to lie on the couch
by golden Aphrodite?”
Then the messenger, the slayer of Argos, answered him: “I would that
this might be, Apollo, my prince of archery! So might thrice as many bonds
innumerable encompass me about, and all ye gods be looking on and all the
goddesses, yet would I lie by golden Aphrodite.”
So spake he, and laughter rose among the deathless gods. Howbeit,
Poseidon laughed not, but was instant with Hephaestus, the renowned
artificer, to loose the bonds of Ares: and he uttered his voice, and spake to
him winged words:
“Loose him, I pray thee, and I promise even as thou biddest me, that he
shall himself pay all fair forfeit in the presence of the deathless gods.”
Then the famous god of the strong arms answered him: “Require not this
of me, Poseidon, girdler of the earth. Evil are evil folk’s pledges to hold.
How could I keep thee bound among the deathless gods, if Ares were to
depart, avoiding the debt and the bond?”
Then Poseidon answered him, shaker of the earth: “Hephaestus, even if
Ares avoid the debt and flee away, I myself will pay thee all.”
Then the famous god of the strong arms answered him: “It may not be
that I should say thee nay, neither is it meet.”

Therewith the mighty Hephaestus loosed the bonds, and the twain, when
they were freed from that strong bond, sprang up straightway, and departed,
he to Thrace, but laughter-loving Aphrodite went to Paphos of Cyprus,
where is her precinct and fragrant altar. There the Graces bathed and
anointed her with oil imperishable, such as is laid upon the everlasting
gods. And they clad her in lovely raiment, a wonder to see.
This was the song the famous minstrel sang; and Odysseus listened and
was glad at heart, and likewise did the Phaeacians, of the long oars, those
mariners renowned.
Then Alcinous bade Halius and Laodamas dance alone, for none ever
contended with them. So when they had taken in their hands the goodly ball
of purple hue, that cunning Polybus had wrought for them, the one would
bend backwards, and throw it towards the shadowy clouds; and the other
would leap upward from the earth, and catch it lightly in his turn, before his
feet touched the ground. Now after they had made trial of throwing the ball
straight up, the twain set to dance upon the bounteous earth, tossing the ball
from hand to hand, and the other youths stood by the lists and beat time,
and a great din uprose.
Then it was that goodly Odysseus spake unto Alcinous: “My lord
Alcinous, most notable among all the people, thou didst boast thy dancers
to be the best in the world, and lo, thy words are fulfilled; I wonder as I
look on them.”
So spake he, and the mighty king Alcinous rejoiced and spake at once
among the Phaeacians, masters of the oar:
“Hearken ye, captains and counsellors of the Phaeacians, this stranger
seems to me a wise man enough. Come then, let us give him a stranger’s
gift, as is meet. Behold, there are twelve glorious princes who rule among
this people and bear sway, and I myself am the thirteenth. Now each man
among you bring a fresh robe and a doublet, and a talent of fine gold, and
let us speedily carry all these gifts together, that the stranger may take them
in his hands, and go to supper with a glad heart. As for Euryalus, let him
yield amends to the man himself, with soft speech and with a gift, for his
was no gentle saying.”
So spake he, and they all assented thereto, and would have it so. And
each one sent forth his henchman to fetch his gift, and Euryalus answered
the king and spake, saying:

“My lord Alcinous, most notable among all the people, I will make
atonement to thy guest according to thy word. I will give him a hanger all
of bronze, with a silver hilt thereto, and a sheath of fresh-sawn ivory covers
it about, and it shall be to him a thing of price.”
Therewith he puts into his hands the hanger dight with silver, and
uttering his voice spake to him winged words: “Hail, stranger and father;
and if aught grievous hath been spoken, may the storm-winds soon snatch
and bear it away. But may the gods grant thee to see thy wife and to come
to thine own country, for all too long has thou endured affliction away from
thy friends.”
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: “Thou too, my
friend, all hail; and may the gods vouchsafe thee happiness, and mayst thou
never miss this sword which thou hast given me, thou that with soft speech
hast yielded me amends.”
He spake and hung about his shoulders the silver-studded sword. And the
sun sank, and the noble gifts were brought him. Then the proud henchmen
bare them to the palace of Alcinous, and the sons of noble Alcinous took the
fair gifts, and set them by their reverend mother. And the mighty king
Alcinous led the way, and they came in and sat them down on the high
seats. And the mighty Alcinous spake unto Arete:
“Bring me hither, my lady, a choice coffer, the best thou hast, and thyself
place therein a fresh robe and a doublet, and heat for our guest a cauldron
on the fire, and warm water, that after the bath the stranger may see all the
gifts duly arrayed which the noble Phaeacians bare hither, and that he may
have joy in the feast, and in hearing the song of the minstrelsy. Also I will
give him a beautiful golden chalice of mine own, that he may be mindful of
me all the days of his life when he poureth the drink-offering to Zeus and to
the other gods.”
So spake he, and Arete bade her handmaids to set a great cauldron on the
fire with what speed they might. And they set the cauldron for the filling of
the bath on the blazing fire, and poured water therein, and took faggots and
kindled them beneath. So the fire began to circle round the belly of the
cauldron, and the water waxed hot. Meanwhile Arete brought forth for her
guest the beautiful coffer from the treasure chamber, and bestowed fair gifts
therein, raiment and gold, which the Phaeacians gave him. And with her

own hands she placed therein a robe and goodly doublet, and uttering her
voice spake to him winged words:
“Do thou now look to the lid, and quickly tie the knot, lest any man spoil
thy goods by the way, when presently thou fallest on sweet sleep travelling
in thy black ship.”
Now when the steadfast goodly Odysseus heard this saying, forthwith he
fixed on the lid, and quickly tied the curious knot, which the lady Circe on a
time had taught him. Then straightway the housewife bade him go to the
bath and bathe him; and he saw the warm water and was glad, for he was
not wont to be so cared for, from the day that he left the house of fair-
tressed Calypso, but all that while he had comfort continually as a god.
Now after the maids had bathed him and anointed him with olive oil, and
had cast a fair mantle and a doublet upon him, he stept forth from the bath,
and went to be with the chiefs at their wine. And Nausicaa, dowered with
beauty by the gods, stood by the pillar of the well-builded roof, and
marvelled at Odysseus, beholding him before her eyes, and she uttered her
voice and spake to him winged words:
“Farewell, stranger, and even in thine own country bethink thee of me
upon a time, for that to me first thou owest the ransom of life.”
And Odysseus of many counsels answered her saying: “Nausicaa,
daughter of great-hearted Alcinous, yea, may Zeus, the thunderer, the lord
of Here, grant me to reach my home and see the day of my returning; so
would I, even there, do thee worship as to a god, all my days for evermore,
for thou, lady, hast given me my life.”
He spake and sat him in the high seat by king Alcinous. And now they
were serving out the portions and mixing the wine. Then the henchmen
drew nigh leading the sweet minstrel, Demodocus, that was had in honour
of the people. So he set him in the midst of the feasters, and made him lean
against a tall column. Then to the henchman spake Odysseus of many
counsels, for he had cut off a portion of the chine of a white-toothed boar,
whereon yet more was left, with rich fat on either side:
“Lo, henchman, take this mess, and hand it to Demodocus, that he may
eat, and I will bid him hail, despite my sorrow. For minstrels from all men
on earth get their meed of honour and worship; inasmuch as the Muse
teacheth them the paths of song, and loveth the tribe of minstrels.”

Thus he spake, and the henchman bare the mess, and set it upon the
knees of the lord Demodocus, and he took it, and was glad at heart. Then
they stretched forth their hands upon the good cheer set before them. Now
after they had put from them the desire of meat and drink, then Odysseus of
many counsels spake to Demodocus, saying:
“Demodocus, I praise thee far above all mortal men, whether it be the
Muse, the daughter of Zeus, that taught thee, or even Apollo, for right duly
dost thou chant the faring of the Achaeans, even all that they wrought and
suffered, and all their travail, as if, methinks, thou hadst been present, or
heard the tale from another. Come now, change thy strain, and sing of the
fashioning of the horse of wood, which Epeius made by the aid of Athene,
even the guileful thing, that goodly Odysseus led up into the citadel, when
he had laden it with the men who wasted Ilios. If thou wilt indeed rehearse
me this aright, so will I be thy witness among all men, how the god of his
grace hath given thee the gift of wondrous song.”
So spake he, and the minstrel, being stirred by the god, began and
showed forth his minstrelsy. He took up the tale where it tells how the
Argives of the one part set fire to their huts, and went aboard their decked
ships and sailed away, while those others, the fellowship of renowned
Odysseus, were now seated in the assembly-place of the Trojans, all hidden
in the horse, for the Trojans themselves had dragged him to the citadel. So
the horse stood there, while seated all around him the people spake many
things confusedly and three ways their counsel looked; either to cleave the
hollow timber with the pitiless spear, or to drag it to the brow of the hill,
and hurl it from the rocks, or to leave it as a mighty offering to appease the
gods. And on this wise it was to be at the last. For the doom was on them to
perish when their city should have closed upon the great horse of wood,
wherein sat all the bravest of the Argives, bearing to the Trojans death and
destiny. And he sang how the sons of the Achaeans poured forth from the
horse, and left the hollow lair, and sacked the burg. And he sang how and
where each man wasted the town, and of Odysseus, how he went like Ares
to the house of Deiphobus with godlike Menelaus. It was there, he said, that
Odysseus adventured the most grievous battle, and in the end prevailed, by
grace of great-hearted Athene.
This was the song that the famous minstrel sang. But the heart of
Odysseus melted, and the tear wet his cheeks beneath the eyelids. And as a

woman throws herself wailing about her dear lord, who hath fallen before
his city and the host, warding from his town and his children the pitiless
day; and she beholds him dying and drawing difficult breath, and embracing
his body wails aloud, while the foemen behind smite her with spears on
back and shoulders and lead her up into bondage, to bear labour and
trouble, and with the most pitiful grief her cheeks are wasted; even so
pitifully fell the tears beneath the brows of Odysseus. Now none of all the
company marked him weeping; but Alcinous alone noted it, and was ware
thereof, as he sat nigh him and heard him groaning heavily. And presently
he spake among the Phaeacians, masters of the oar:
“Hearken, ye captains and counsellors of the Phaeacians, and now let
Demodocus hold his hand from the loud lyre, for this song of his is nowise
pleasing alike to all. From the time that we began to sup, and that the divine
minstrel was moved to sing, ever since hath yonder stranger never ceased
from woeful lamentation: sore grief, methinks, hath encompassed his heart.
Nay, but let the minstrel cease, that we may all alike make merry, hosts and
guest, since it is far meeter so. For all these things are ready for the sake of
the honourable stranger, even the convoy and the loving gifts which we give
him out of our love. In a brother’s place stand the stranger and the
suppliant, to him whose wits have even a little range, wherefore do thou too
hide not now with crafty purpose aught whereof I ask thee; it were more
meet for thee to tell it out. Say, what is the name whereby they called thee
at home, even thy father and thy mother, and others thy townsmen and the
dwellers round about? For there is none of all mankind nameless, neither
the mean man nor yet the noble, from the first hour of his birth, but parents
bestow a name on every man so soon as he is born. Tell me too of thy land,
thy township, and thy city, that our ships may conceive of their course to
bring thee thither. For the Phaeacians have no pilots nor any rudders after
the manner of other ships, but their barques themselves understand the
thoughts and intents of men; they know the cities and fat fields of every
people, and most swiftly they traverse the gulf of the salt sea, shrouded in
mist and cloud, and never do they go in fear of wreck or ruin. Howbeit I
heard upon a time this word thus spoken by my father Nausithous, who was
wont to say that Poseidon was jealous of us for that we give safe escort to
all men. He said that the god would some day smite a well-wrought ship of
the Phaeacians as she came home from a convoy over the misty deep, and
would overshadow our city with a great mountain. Thus that ancient one

would speak, and thus the god may bring it about, or leave it undone,
according to the good pleasure of his will. But come now, declare me this
and plainly tell it all; whither wast thou borne wandering, and to what
shores of men thou camest; tell me of the people and of their fair-lying
cities, of those whoso are hard and wild and unjust, and of those likewise
who are hospitable and of a god-fearing mind. Declare, too, wherefore thou
dost weep and mourn in spirit at the tale of the faring of the Argive Danaans
and the lay of Ilios. All this the gods have fashioned, and have woven the
skein of death for men, that there might be a song in the ears even of the
folk of aftertime. Hadst thou even a kinsman by marriage that fell before
Ilios, a true man, a daughter’s husband or wife’s father, such as are nearest
us after those of our own stock and blood? Or else, may be, some loving
friend, a good man and true; for a friend with an understanding heart is no
whit worse than a brother.”

BOOK IX.

Odysseus relates, first, what befell him amongst the Cicones
at Ismarus; secondly, amongst the Lotophagi; thirdly, how he
was used by the Cyclops Polyphemus.

And Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: “King Alcinous,
most notable of all the people, verily it is a good thing to list to a minstrel
such as this one, like to the gods in voice. Nay, as for me, I say that there is
no more gracious or perfect delight than when a whole people makes merry,
and the men sit orderly at feast in the halls and listen to the singer, and the
tables by them are laden with bread and flesh, and a wine-bearer drawing
the wine serves it round and pours it into the cups. This seems to me well-
nigh the fairest thing in the world. But now thy heart was inclined to ask of
my grievous troubles, that I may mourn for more exceeding sorrow. What
then shall I tell of first, what last, for the gods of heaven have given me
woes in plenty? Now, first, will I tell my name, that ye too may know it,
and that I, when I have escaped the pitiless day, may yet be your host,
though my home is in a far country. I am ODYSSEUS, SON OF LAERTES, who
am in men’s minds for all manner of wiles, and my fame reaches unto
heaven. And I dwell in clear-seen Ithaca, wherein is a mountain Neriton,
with trembling forest leaves, standing manifest to view, and many islands
lie around, very near one to the other, Dulichium and Same, and wooded
Zacynthus. Now Ithaca lies low, furthest up the sea-line toward the
darkness, but those others face the dawning and the sun: a rugged isle, but a
good nurse of noble youths; and for myself I can see nought beside sweeter
than a man’s own country. Verily Calypso, the fair goddess, would fain have
kept me with her in her hollow caves, longing to have me for her lord; and
likewise too, guileful Circe of Aia, would have stayed me in her halls,
longing to have me for her lord. But never did they prevail upon my heart

within my breast. So surely is there nought sweeter than a man’s own
country and his parents, even though he dwell far off in a rich home, in a
strange land, away from them that begat him. But come, let me tell thee too
of the troubles of my journeying, which Zeus laid on me as I came from
Troy.
“The wind that bare me from Ilios brought me nigh to the Cicones, even
to Ismarus, whereupon I sacked their city and slew the people. And from
out the city we took their wives and much substance, and divided them
amongst us, that none through me might go lacking his proper share.
Howbeit, thereafter I commanded that we should flee with a swift foot, but
my men in their great folly hearkened not. There was much wine still a
drinking, and still they slew many flocks of sheep by the seashore and kine
with trailing feet and shambling gait. Meanwhile the Cicones went and
raised a cry to other Cicones their neighbours, dwelling inland, who were
more in number than they and braver withal: skilled they were to fight with
men from chariots, and when need was on foot. So they gathered in the
early morning as thick as leaves and flowers that spring in their season—
yea and in that hour an evil doom of Zeus stood by us, ill-fated men, that so
we might be sore afflicted. They set their battle in array by the swift ships,
and the hosts cast at one another with their bronze-shod spears. So long as it
was morn and the sacred day waxed stronger, so long we abode their assault
and beat them off, albeit they outnumbered us. But when the sun was
wending to the time of the loosing of cattle, then at last the Cicones drave in
the Achaeans and overcame them, and six of my goodly-greaved company
perished from each ship: but the remnant of us escaped death and destiny.
“Thence we sailed onward stricken at heart, yet glad as men saved from
death, albeit we had lost our dear companions. Nor did my curved ships
move onward ere we had called thrice on each of those our hapless fellows,
who died at the hands of the Cicones on the plain. Now Zeus, gatherer of
the clouds, aroused the North Wind against our ships with a terrible
tempest, and covered land and sea alike with clouds, and down sped night
from heaven. Thus the ships were driven headlong, and their sails were torn
to shreds by the might of the wind. So we lowered the sails into the hold, in
fear of death, but rowed the ships landward apace. There for two nights and
two days we lay continually, consuming our hearts with weariness and
sorrow. But when the fair-tressed Dawn had at last brought the full light of
the third day, we set up the masts and hoisted the white sails and sat us

down, while the wind and the helmsman guided the ships. And now I
should have come to mine own country all unhurt, but the wave and the
stream of the sea and the North Wind swept me from my course as I was
doubling Malea, and drave me wandering past Cythera.
“Thence for nine whole days was I borne by ruinous winds over the
teeming deep; but on the tenth day we set foot on the land of the lotus-
eaters, who eat a flowery food. So we stepped ashore and drew water, and
straightway my company took their midday meal by the swift ships. Now
when we had tasted meat and drink I sent forth certain of my company to go
and make search what manner of men they were who here live upon the
earth by bread, and I chose out two of my fellows, and sent a third with
them as herald. Then straightway they went and mixed with the men of the
lotus-eaters, and so it was that the lotus-eaters devised not death for our
fellows, but gave them of the lotus to taste. Now whosoever of them did eat
the honey-sweet fruit of the lotus, had no more wish to bring tidings nor to
come back, but there he chose to abide with the lotus-eating men, ever
feeding on the lotus, and forgetful of his homeward way. Therefore I led
them back to the ships weeping, and sore against their will, and dragged
them beneath the benches, and bound them in the hollow barques. But I
commanded the rest of my well-loved company to make speed and go on
board the swift ships, lest haply any should eat of the lotus and be forgetful
of returning. Right soon they embarked, and sat upon the benches, and
sitting orderly they smote the grey sea water with their oars.
“Thence we sailed onward stricken at heart. And we came to the land of
the Cyclôpes, a froward and a lawless folk, who trusting to the deathless
gods plant not aught with their hands, neither plough: but, behold, all these
things spring for them in plenty, unsown and untilled, wheat, and barley,
and vines, which bear great clusters of the juice of the grape, and the rain of
Zeus gives them increase. These have neither gatherings for council nor
oracles of law, but they dwell in hollow caves on the crests of the high hills,
and each one utters the law to his children and his wives, and they reck not
one of another.
“Now there is a waste isle stretching without the harbour of the land of
the Cyclôpes, neither nigh at hand nor yet afar off, a woodland isle, wherein
are wild goats unnumbered, for no path of men scares them, nor do hunters
resort thither who suffer hardships in the wood, as they range the mountain

crests. Moreover it is possessed neither by flocks nor by ploughed lands,
but the soil lies unsown evermore and untilled, desolate of men, and feeds
the bleating goats. For the Cyclôpes have by them no ships with vermilion
cheek, not yet are there shipwrights in the island, who might fashion decked
barques, which should accomplish all their desire, voyaging to the towns of
men (as ofttimes men cross the sea to one another in ships), who might
likewise have made of their isle a goodly settlement. Yea, it is in no wise a
sorry land, but would bear all things in their season; for therein are soft
water meadows by the shores of the grey salt sea, and there the vines know
no decay, and the land is level to plough; thence might they reap a crop
exceeding deep in due season, for verily there is fatness beneath the soil.
Also there is a fair haven, where is no need of moorings, either to cast
anchor or to fasten hawsers, but men may run the ship on the beach, and
tarry until such time as the sailors are minded to be gone, and favourable
breezes blow. Now at the head of the harbour is a well of bright water
issuing from a cave, and round it are poplars growing. Thither we sailed,
and some god guided us through the night, for it was dark and there was no
light to see, a mist lying deep about the ships, nor did the moon show her
light from heaven, but was shut in with clouds. No man then beheld that
island, neither saw we the long waves rolling to the beach, till we had run
our decked ships ashore. And when our ships were beached, we took down
all their sails, and ourselves too stept forth upon the strand of the sea, and
there we fell into sound sleep and waited for the bright Dawn.
“So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, in wonder at the
island we roamed over the length thereof: and the Nymphs, the daughters of
Zeus, lord of the aegis, started the wild goats of the hills, that my company
might have wherewith to sup. Anon we took to us our curved bows from out
the ships and long spears, and arrayed in three bands we began shooting at
the goats; and the god soon gave us game in plenty. Now twelve ships bare
me company, and to each ship fell nine goats for a portion, but for me alone
they set ten apart.
“Thus we sat there the livelong day until the going down of the sun,
feasting on abundant flesh and on sweet wine. For the red wine was not yet
spent from out the ships, but somewhat was yet therein, for we had each
one drawn off large store thereof in jars, when we took the sacred citadel of
the Cicones. And we looked across to the land of the Cyclôpes, who dwell
nigh, and to the smoke, and to the voice of the men, and of the sheep and of

the goats. And when the sun had sunk and darkness had come on, then we
laid us to rest upon the sea-beach. So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the
rosy-fingered, then I called a gathering of my men, and spake among them
all:
“‘Abide here all the rest of you, my dear companions; but I will go with
mine own ship and my ship’s company, and make proof of these men, what
manner of folk they are, whether froward, and wild, and unjust, or
hospitable and of god-fearing mind.’
“So I spake, and I climbed the ship’s side, and bade my company
themselves to mount, and to loose the hawsers. So they soon embarked and
sat upon the benches, and sitting orderly smote the grey sea water with their
oars. Now when we had come to the land that lies hard by, we saw a cave
on the border near to the sea, lofty and roofed over with laurels, and there
many flocks of sheep and goats were used to rest. And about it a high outer
court was built with stones, deep bedded, and with tall pines and oaks with
their high crown of leaves. And a man was wont to sleep therein, of
monstrous size, who shepherded his flocks alone and afar, and was not
conversant with others, but dwelt apart in lawlessness of mind. Yea, for he
was a monstrous thing and fashioned marvellously, nor was he like to any
man that lives by bread, but like a wooded peak of the towering hills, which
stands out apart and alone from others.
“Then I commanded the rest of my well-loved company to tarry there by
the ship, and to guard the ship, but I chose out twelve men, the best of my
company, and sallied forth. Now I had with me a goat-skin of the dark wine
and sweet which Maron, son of Euanthes, had given me, the priest of
Apollo, the god that watched over Ismarus. And he gave it, for that we had
protected him with his wife and child reverently; for he dwelt in a thick
grove of Phoebus Apollo. And he made me splendid gifts; he gave me seven
talents of gold well wrought, and he gave me a mixing bowl of pure silver,
and furthermore wine which he drew off in twelve jars in all, sweet wine
unmingled, a draught divine; nor did any of his servants or of his
handmaids in the house know thereof, but himself and his dear wife and one
housedame only. And as often as they drank that red wine honey sweet, he
would fill one cup and pour it into twenty measures of water, and a
marvellous sweet smell went up from the mixing bowl: then truly it was no
pleasure to refrain.

“With this wine I filled a great skin, and bare it with me, and corn too I
put in a wallet, for my lordly spirit straightway had a boding that a man
would come to me, a strange man, clothed in mighty strength, one that
knew not judgment and justice.[16]
[16] Literally, knowing neither dooms, nor ordinances of law.

“Soon we came to the cave, but we found him not within; he was
shepherding his fat flocks in the pastures. So we went into the cave, and
gazed on all that was therein. The baskets were well laden with cheeses, and
the folds were thronged with lambs and kids; each kind was penned by
itself, the firstlings apart, and the summer lambs apart, apart too the
younglings of the flock. Now all the vessels swam with whey, the milk-
pails and the bowls, the well-wrought vessels whereinto he milked. My
company then spake and besought me first of all to take of the cheeses and
to return, and afterwards to make haste and drive off the kids and lambs to
the swift ships from out the pens, and to sail over the salt sea water.
Howbeit I hearkened not (and far better would it have been), but waited to
see the giant himself, and whether he would give me gifts as a stranger’s
due. Yet was not his coming to be with joy to my company.
“Then we kindled a fire, and made burnt-offering, and ourselves likewise
took of the cheeses, and did eat, and sat waiting for him within till he came
back, shepherding his flocks. And he bore a grievous weight of dry wood,
against supper time. This log he cast down with a din inside the cave, and in
fear we fled to the secret place of the rock. As for him, he drave his fat
flocks into the wide cavern, even all that he was wont to milk; but the males
both of the sheep and of the goats he left without in the deep yard.
Thereafter he lifted a huge doorstone and weighty, and set it in the mouth of
the cave, such an one as two and twenty good four-wheeled wains could not
raise from the ground, so mighty a sheer rock did he set against the
doorway. Then he sat down and milked the ewes and bleating goats, all
orderly, and beneath each ewe he placed her young. And anon he curdled
one half of the white milk, and massed it together, and stored it in wicker-
baskets, and the other half he let stand in pails, that he might have it to take
and drink against supper time. Now when he had done all his work busily,
then he kindled the fire anew, and espied us, and made question:
“‘Strangers, who are ye? Whence sail ye over the wet ways? On some
trading enterprise or at adventure do ye rove, even as sea-robbers over the

brine, for at hazard of their own lives they wander, bringing bale to alien
men.’
“So spake he, but as for us our heart within us was broken for terror of
the deep voice and his own monstrous shape; yet despite all I answered and
spake unto him, saying:
“‘Lo, we are Achaeans, driven wandering from Troy, by all manner of
winds over the great gulf of the sea; seeking our homes we fare, but another
path have we come, by other ways: even such, methinks, was the will and
the counsel of Zeus. And we avow us to be the men of Agamemnon, son of
Atreus, whose fame is even now the mightiest under heaven, so great a city
did he sack, and destroyed many people; but as for us we have lighted here,
and come to these thy knees, if perchance thou wilt give us a stranger’s gift,
or make any present, as is the due of strangers. Nay, lord, have regard to the
gods, for we are thy suppliants; and Zeus is the avenger of suppliants and
sojourners, Zeus, the god of the stranger, who fareth in the company of
reverend strangers.’
“So I spake, and anon he answered out of his pitiless heart: ‘Thou art
witless, my stranger, or thou hast come from afar, who biddest me either to
fear or shun the gods. For the Cyclôpes pay no heed to Zeus, lord of the
aegis, nor to the blessed gods, for verily we are better men than they. Nor
would I, to shun the enmity of Zeus, spare either thee or thy company,
unless my spirit bade me. But tell me where thou didst stay thy well-
wrought ship on thy coming? Was it perchance at the far end of the island,
or hard by, that I may know?’
“So he spake tempting me, but he cheated me not, who knew full much,
and I answered him again with words of guile:
“‘As for my ship, Poseidon, the shaker of the earth, brake it to pieces, for
he cast it upon the rocks at the border of your country, and brought it nigh
the headland, and a wind bare it thither from the sea. But I with these my
men escaped from utter doom.’
“So I spake, and out of his pitiless heart he answered me not a word, but
sprang up, and laid his hands upon my fellows, and clutching two together
dashed them, as they had been whelps, to the earth, and the brain flowed
forth upon the ground, and the earth was wet. Then cut he them up
piecemeal, and made ready his supper. So he ate even as a mountain-bred
lion, and ceased not, devouring entrails and flesh and bones with their

marrow. And we wept and raised our hands to Zeus, beholding the cruel
deeds; and we were at our wits’ end. And after the Cyclops had filled his
huge maw with human flesh and the milk he drank thereafter, he lay within
the cave, stretched out among his sheep.
“So I took counsel in my great heart, whether I should draw near, and
pluck my sharp sword from my thigh, and stab him in the breast, where the
midriff holds the liver, feeling for the place with my hand. But my second
thought withheld me, for so should we too have perished even there with
utter doom. For we should not have prevailed to roll away with our hands
from the lofty door the heavy stone which he set there. So for that time we
made moan, awaiting the bright Dawn.
“Now when early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, again he kindled
the fire and milked his goodly flocks all orderly, and beneath each ewe set
her lamb. Anon when he had done all his work busily, again he seized yet
other two men and made ready his mid-day meal. And after the meal,
lightly he moved away the great door-stone, and drave his fat flocks forth
from the cave, and afterwards he set it in his place again, as one might set
the lid on a quiver. Then with a loud whoop, the Cyclops turned his fat
flocks towards the hills; but I was left devising evil in the deep of my heart,
if in any wise I might avenge me, and Athene grant me renown.
“And this was the counsel that showed best in my sight. There lay by a
sheep-fold a great club of the Cyclops, a club of olive wood, yet green,
which he had cut to carry with him when it should be seasoned. Now when
we saw it we likened it in size to the mast of a black ship of twenty oars, a
wide merchant vessel that traverses the great sea gulf, so huge it was to
view in bulk and length. I stood thereby and cut off from it a portion as it
were a fathom’s length, and set it by my fellows, and bade them fine it
down, and they made it even, while I stood by and sharpened it to a point,
and straightway I took it and hardened it in the bright fire. Then I laid it
well away, and hid it beneath the dung, which was scattered in great heaps
in the depths of the cave. And I bade my company cast lots among them,
which of them should risk the adventure with me, and lift the bar and turn it
about in his eye, when sweet sleep came upon him. And the lot fell upon
those four whom I myself would have been fain to choose, and I appointed
myself to be the fifth among them. In the evening he came shepherding his
flocks of goodly fleece, and presently he drave his fat flocks into the cave

each and all, nor left he any without in the deep court-yard, whether through
some foreboding, or perchance that the god so bade him do. Thereafter he
lifted the huge door-stone and set it in the mouth of the cave, and sitting
down he milked the ewes and bleating goats, all orderly, and beneath each
ewe he placed her young. Now when he had done all his work busily, again
he seized yet other two and made ready his supper. Then I stood by the
Cyclops and spake to him, holding in my hands an ivy bowl of the dark
wine:
“‘Cyclops, take and drink wine after thy feast of man’s meat, that thou
mayest know what manner of drink this was that our ship held. And lo, I
was bringing it thee as a drink offering, if haply thou mayest take pity and
send me on my way home, but thy mad rage is past all sufferance. O hard of
heart, how may another of the many men there be come ever to thee again,
seeing that thy deeds have been lawless?’
“So I spake, and he took the cup and drank it off, and found great delight
in drinking the sweet draught, and asked me for it yet a second time:
“‘Give it me again of thy grace, and tell me thy name straightway, that I
may give thee a stranger’s gift, wherein thou mayest be glad. Yea for the
earth, the grain-giver, bears for the Cyclôpes the mighty clusters of the juice
of the grape, and the rain of Zeus gives them increase, but this is a rill of
very nectar and ambrosia.’
“So he spake, and again I handed him the dark wine. Thrice I bare and
gave it him, and thrice in his folly he drank it to the lees. Now when the
wine had got about the wits of the Cyclops, then did I speak to him with
soft words:
“‘Cyclops, thou askest me my renowned name, and I will declare it unto
thee, and do thou grant me a stranger’s gift, as thou didst promise. Noman
is my name, and Noman they call me, my father and my mother and all my
fellows.’
“So I spake, and straightway he answered me out of his pitiless heart:
“‘Noman will I eat last in the number of his fellows, and the others
before him: that shall be thy gift.’
“Therewith he sank backwards and fell with face upturned, and there he
lay with his great neck bent round, and sleep, that conquers all men,
overcame him. And the wine and the fragments of men’s flesh issued forth

from his mouth, and he vomited, being heavy with wine. Then I thrust in
that stake under the deep ashes, until it should grow hot, and I spake to my
companions comfortable words, lest any should hang back from me in fear.
But when that bar of olive wood was just about to catch fire in the flame,
green though it was, and began to glow terribly, even then I came nigh, and
drew it from the coals, and my fellows gathered about me, and some god
breathed great courage into us. For their part they seized the bar of olive
wood, that was sharpened at the point, and thrust it into his eye, while I
from my place aloft turned it about, as when a man bores a ship’s beam
with a drill while his fellows below spin it with a strap, which they hold at
either end, and the auger runs round continually. Even so did we seize the
fiery-pointed brand and whirled it round in his eye, and the blood flowed
about the heated bar. And the breath of the flame singed his eyelids and
brows all about, as the ball of the eye burnt away, and the roots thereof
crackled in the flame. And as when a smith dips an axe or adze in chill
water with a great hissing, when he would temper it—for hereby anon
comes the strength of iron—even so did his eye hiss round the stake of
olive. And he raised a great and terrible cry, that the rock rang around, and
we fled away in fear, while he plucked forth from his eye the brand
bedabbled in much blood. Then maddened with pain he cast it from him
with his hands, and called with a loud voice on the Cyclôpes, who dwelt
about him in the caves along the windy heights. And they heard the cry and
flocked together from every side, and gathering round the cave asked him
what ailed him:
“‘What hath so distressed thee, Polyphemus, that thou criest thus aloud
through the immortal night, and makest us sleepless? Surely no mortal
driveth off thy flocks against thy will: surely none slayeth thyself by force
or craft?’
“And the strong Polyphemus spake to them again from out the cave: ‘My
friends, Noman is slaying me by guile, nor at all by force.’
“And they answered and spake winged words: ‘If then no man is
violently handling thee in thy solitude, it can in no wise be that thou
shouldest escape the sickness sent by mighty Zeus. Nay, pray thou to thy
father, the lord Poseidon.’
“On this wise they spake and departed; and my heart within me laughed
to see how my name and cunning counsel had beguiled them. But the

Cyclops, groaning and travailing in pain, groped with his hands, and lifted
away the stone from the door of the cave, and himself sat in the entry, with
arms outstretched to catch, if he might, any one that was going forth with
his sheep, so witless, methinks, did he hope to find me. But I advised me
how all might be for the very best, if perchance I might find a way of
escape from death for my companions and myself, and I wove all manner of
craft and counsel, as a man will for his life, seeing that great mischief was
nigh. And this was the counsel that showed best in my sight. The rams of
the flock were well nurtured and thick of fleece, great and goodly, with
wool dark as the violet. Quietly I lashed them together with twisted withies,
whereon the Cyclops slept, that lawless monster. Three together I took: now
the middle one of the three would bear each a man, but the other twain went
on either side, saving my fellows. Thus every three sheep bare their man.
But as for me I laid hold of the back of a young ram who was far the best
and the goodliest of all the flock, and curled beneath his shaggy belly there
I lay, and so clung face upward, grasping the wondrous fleece with a
steadfast heart. So for that time making moan we awaited the bright Dawn.
“So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, then did the rams
of the flock hasten forth to pasture, but the ewes bleated unmilked about the
pens, for their udders were swollen to bursting. Then their lord, sore
stricken with pain, felt along the backs of all the sheep as they stood up
before him, and guessed not in his folly how that my men were bound
beneath the breasts of his thick-fleeced flocks. Last of all the sheep came
forth the ram, cumbered with his wool, and the weight of me and my
cunning. And the strong Polyphemus laid his hands on him and spake to
him saying:
“‘Dear ram, wherefore, I pray thee, art thou the last of all the flocks to go
forth from the cave, who of old wast not wont to lag behind the sheep, but
wert ever the foremost to pluck the tender blossom of the pasture, faring
with long strides, and wert still the first to come to the streams of the rivers,
and first did long to return to the homestead in the evening? But now art
thou the very last. Surely thou art sorrowing for the eye of thy lord, which
an evil man blinded, with his accursed fellows, when he had subdued my
wits with wine, even Noman, whom I say hath not yet escaped destruction.
Ah, if thou couldst feel as I, and be endued with speech, to tell me where he
shifts about to shun my wrath; then should he be smitten, and his brains be

dashed against the floor here and there about the cave, and my heart be
lightened of the sorrows which Noman, nothing worth, hath brought me!’
“Therewith he sent the ram forth from him, and when we had gone but a
little way from the cave and from the yard, first I loosed myself from under
the ram and then I set my fellows free. And swiftly we drave on those stiff-
shanked sheep, so rich in fat, and often turned to look about, till we came to
the ship. And a glad sight to our fellows were we that had fled from death,
but the others they would have bemoaned with tears; howbeit I suffered it
not, but with frowning brows forbade each man to weep. Rather I bade
them to cast on board the many sheep with goodly fleece, and to sail over
the salt sea water. So they embarked forthwith, and sate upon the benches,
and sitting orderly smote the grey sea water with their oars. But when I had
not gone so far, but that a man’s shout might be heard, then I spoke unto the
Cyclops taunting him:
“‘Cyclops, so thou wert not to eat the company of a weakling by main
might in thy hollow cave! Thine evil deeds were very sure to find thee out,
thou cruel man, who hadst no shame to eat thy guests within thy gates,
wherefore Zeus hath requited thee, and the other gods.’
“So I spake, and he was mightily angered at heart, and he brake off the
peak of a great hill and threw it at us, and it fell in front of the dark-prowed
ship.[17] And the sea heaved beneath the fall of the rock, and the backward
flow of the wave bare the ship quickly to the dry land, with the wash from
the deep sea, and drave it to the shore. Then I caught up a long pole in my
hands, and thrust the ship from off the land, and roused my company, and
with a motion of the head bade them dash in with their oars, that so we
might escape our evil plight. So they bent to their oars and rowed on. But
when we had now made twice the distance over the brine, I would fain have
spoken to the Cyclops, but my company stayed me on every side with soft
words, saying:
[17] We have omitted line 483, as required by the sense. It is introduced here
from line 540.

“‘Foolhardy that thou art, why wouldst thou rouse a wild man to wrath,
who even now hath cast so mighty a throw towards the deep and brought
our ship back to land, yea and we thought that we had perished[18] even
there? If he had heard any of us utter sound or speech he would have

crushed our heads and our ship timbers with a cast of a rugged stone, so
mightily he hurls.’
[18] Neither in this passage nor in B ii. 171 nor in B xx. 121 do we think that the
aorist infinitive after a verb of saying can bear a future sense. The aorist
infinitive after ἐλπωρή (ii. 280, vii. 76) is hardly an argument in its favour; the
infinitive there is in fact a noun in the genitive case.

“So spake they, but they prevailed not on my lordly spirit, and I answered
him again from out an angry heart:
“‘Cyclops, if any one of mortal men shall ask thee of the unsightly
blinding of thine eye, say that it was Odysseus that blinded it, the waster of
cities, son of Laertes, whose dwelling is in Ithaca.’
“So I spake, and with a moan he answered me, saying:
“‘Lo now, in very truth the ancient oracles have come upon me. There
lived here a soothsayer, a noble man and a mighty, Telemus, son of
Eurymus, who surpassed all men in soothsaying, and waxed old as a seer
among the Cyclôpes. He told me that all these things should come to pass in
the aftertime, even that I should lose my eyesight at the hand of Odysseus.
But I ever looked for some tall and goodly man to come hither, clad in great
might, but behold now one that is a dwarf, a man of no worth and a
weakling, hath blinded me of my eye after subduing me with wine. Nay
come hither, Odysseus, that I may set by thee a stranger’s cheer, and speed
thy parting hence, that so the Earth-shaker may vouchsafe it thee, for his
son am I, and he avows him for my father. And he himself will heal me, if it
be his will; and none other of the blessed gods or of mortal men.’
“Even so he spake, but I answered him, and said: ‘Would god that I were
as sure to rob thee of soul and life, and send thee within the house of Hades,
as I am that not even the Earth-shaker will heal thine eye!’
“So I spake, and then he prayed to the lord Poseidon stretching forth his
hands to the starry heaven: ‘Hear me, Poseidon, girdler of the earth, god of
the dark hair, if indeed I be thine, and thou avowest thee my sire,—grant
that he may never come to his home, even Odysseus, waster of cities, the
son of Laertes, whose dwelling is in Ithaca; yet if he is ordained to see his
friends and come unto his well-builded house, and his own country, late
may he come in evil case, with the loss of all his company, in the ship of
strangers, and find sorrows in his house.’

“So he spake in prayer, and the god of the dark locks heard him. And
once again he lifted a stone, far greater than the first, and with one swing he
hurled it, and he put forth a measureless strength, and cast it but a little
space behind the dark-prowed ship, and all but struck the end of the rudder.
And the sea heaved beneath the fall of the rock, but the wave bare on the
ship and drave it to the further shore.
“But when he had now reached that island, where all our other decked
ships abode together, and our company were gathered sorrowing, expecting
us evermore, on our coming thither we ran our ship ashore upon the sand,
and ourselves too stept forth upon the sea beach. Next we took forth the
sheep of the Cyclops from out the hollow ship, and divided them, that none
through me might go lacking his proper share. But the ram for me alone my
goodly-greaved company chose out, in the dividing of the sheep, and on the
shore I offered him up to Zeus, even to the son of Cronos, who dwells in the
dark clouds, and is lord of all, and I burnt the slices of the thighs. But he
heeded not the sacrifice, but was devising how my decked ships and my
dear company might perish utterly. Thus for that time we sat the livelong
day, until the going down of the sun, feasting on abundant flesh and sweet
wine. And when the sun had sunk and darkness had come on, then we laid
us to rest upon the sea beach. So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-
fingered, I called to my company, and commanded them that they should
themselves climb the ship and loose the hawsers. So they soon embarked
and sat upon the benches, and sitting orderly smote the grey sea water with
their oars.
“Thence we sailed onward stricken at heart, yet glad as men saved from
death, albeit we had lost our dear companions.

BOOK X.

Odysseus, his entertainment by Aeolus, of whom he
received a fair wind for the present, and all the rest of the
winds tied up in a bag; which his men untying, flew out, and
carried him back to Aeolus, who refused to receive him. His
adventure at Laestrygonia with Antiphates, where of twelve
ships he lost eleven, men and all. How he went thence to the
Isle of Aea, where half of his men were turned by Circe into
swine, and how he went himself, and by the help of Hermes
recovered them and stayed with Circe a year.

“Then we came to the isle Aeolian, where dwelt Aeolus, son of Hippotas,
dear too the deathless gods, in a floating island, and all about it is a wall of
bronze unbroken, and the cliff runs up sheer from the sea. His twelve
children to abide there in his halls, six daughters and six lusty sons; and,
behold, he gave his daughters to his sons to wife. And they feast evermore
by their dear father and their kind mother, and dainties innumerable lie
ready to their hands. And the house is full of the savour of feasting, and the
noise thereof rings round, yea in the courtyard, by day, and in the night they
sleep each one by his chaste wife in coverlets and on jointed bedsteads. So
then we came to their city and their goodly dwelling, and the king entreated
me kindly for a whole month, and sought out each thing, Ilios and the ships
of the Argives, and the return of the Achaeans. So I told him all the tale in
order duly. But when I in turn took the word and asked of my journey, and
bade him send me on my way, he too denied me not, but furnished an
escort. He gave me a wallet, made of the hide of an ox of nine seasons old,
which he let flay, and therein he bound the ways of all the noisy winds; for
him the son of Cronos made keeper of the winds, either to lull or to rouse
what blasts he will. And he made it fast in the hold of the ship with a

shining silver thong, that not the faintest breath might escape. Then he sent
forth the blast of the West Wind to blow for me, to bear our ships and
ourselves upon our way; but this he was never to bring to pass, for we were
undone through our own heedlessness.
“For nine whole days we sailed by night and day continually, and now on
the tenth day my native land came in sight, and already we were so near
that we beheld the folk tending the beacon fires. Then over me there came
sweet slumber in my weariness, for all the time I was holding the sheet, nor
gave it to any of my company, that so we might come quicker to our own
country. Meanwhile my company held converse together, and said that I
was bringing home for myself gold and silver, gifts from Aeolus the high-
hearted son of Hippotas. And thus would they speak looking each man to
his neighbour:
“‘Lo now, how beloved he is and highly esteemed among all men, to the
city and land of whomsoever he may come. Many are the goodly treasures
he taketh with him out of the spoil from Troy, while we who have fulfilled
like journeying with him return homeward bringing with us but empty
hands. And now Aeolus hath given unto him these things freely in his love.
Nay come, let us quickly see what they are, even what wealth of gold and
silver is in the wallet.’
“So they spake, and the evil counsel of my company prevailed. They
loosed the wallet, and all the winds brake forth. And the violent blast seized
my men, and bare them towards the high seas weeping, away from their
own country; but as for me, I awoke and communed with my great heart,
whether I should cast myself from the ship and perish in the deep, or endure
in silence and abide yet among the living. Howbeit I hardened my heart to
endure, and muffling my head I lay still in the ship. But the vessels were
driven by the evil storm-wind back to the isle Aeolian, and my company
made moan.
“There we stepped ashore and drew water, and my company presently
took their midday meal by the swift ships. Now when we had tasted bread
and wine, I took with me a herald and one of my company, and went to the
famous dwelling of Aeolus: and I found him feasting with his wife and
children. So we went in and sat by the pillars of the door on the threshold,
and they all marvelled and asked us:

“‘How hast thou come hither, Odysseus? What evil god assailed thee?
Surely we sent thee on thy way with all diligence, that thou mightest get
thee to thine own country and thy home, and whithersoever thou wouldest.’
“Even so they said, but I spake among them heavy at heart: ‘My evil
company hath been my bane, and sleep thereto remorseless. Come, my
friends, do ye heal the harm, for yours is the power.’
“So I spake, beseeching them in soft words, but they held their peace.
And the father answered, saying: ‘Get thee forth from the island
straightway, thou that art the most reprobate of living men. Far be it from
me to help or to further that man whom the blessed gods abhor! Get thee
forth, for lo, thy coming marks thee hated by the deathless gods.’
“Therewith he sent me forth from the house making heavy moan. Thence
we sailed onwards stricken at heart. And the spirit of the men was spent
beneath the grievous rowing by reason of our vain endeavour, for there was
no more any sign of a wafting wind. So for the space of six days we sailed
by night and day continually, and on the seventh we came to the steep
stronghold of Lamos, Telepylos of the Laestrygons, where herdsman hails
herdsman as he drives in his flock, and the other who drives forth answers
the call. There might a sleepless man have earned a double wage, the one as
neat-herd, the other shepherding white flocks: so near are the outgoings of
the night and of the day. Thither when he had come to the fair haven,
whereabout on both sides goes one steep cliff unbroken and jutting
headlands over against each other stretch forth at the mouth of the harbour,
and strait is the entrance; thereinto all the others steered their curved ships.
Now the vessels were bound within the hollow harbour each hard by other,
for no wave ever swelled within it, great or small, but there was a bright
calm all around. But I alone moored my dark ship without the harbour, at
the uttermost point thereof, and made fast the hawser to a rock. And I went
up a craggy hill, a place of out-look, and stood thereon: thence there was no
sign of the labour of men or oxen, only we saw the smoke curling upward
from the land. Then I sent forth certain of my company to go and search out
what manner of men they were who here live upon the earth by bread,
choosing out two of my company and sending a third with them as herald.
Now when they had gone ashore, they went along a level road whereby
wains were wont to draw down wood from the high hills to the town. And
without the town they fell in with a damsel drawing water, the noble

daughter of Laestrygonian Antiphates. She had come down to the clear-
flowing spring Artacia, for thence it was custom to draw water to the town.
So they stood by her and spake unto her, and asked who was king of that
land, and who they were he ruled over. Then at once she showed them the
high-roofed hall of her father. Now when they had entered the renowned
house, they found his wife therein: she was huge of bulk as a mountain peak
and was loathly in their sight. Straightway she called the renowned
Antiphates, her lord, from the assembly-place, and he contrived a pitiful
destruction for my men. Forthwith he clutched up one of my company and
made ready his midday meal, but the other twain sprang up and came in
flight to the ships. Then he raised the war cry through the town, and the
valiant Laestrygons at the sound thereof, flocked together from every side, a
host past number, not like men but like the Giants. They cast at us from the
cliffs with great rocks, each of them a man’s burden, and anon there arose
from the fleet an evil din of men dying and ships shattered withal. And like
folk spearing fishes they bare home their hideous meal. While as yet they
were slaying my friends within the deep harbour, I drew my sharp sword
from my thigh, and with it cut the hawsers of my dark-prowed ship.
Quickly then I called to my company, and bade them dash in with the oars,
that we might clean escape this evil plight. And all with one accord they
tossed the sea water with the oar-blade, in dread of death, and to my delight
my barque flew forth to the high seas away from the beetling rocks, but
those other ships were lost there, one and all.
“Thence we sailed onward stricken at heart, yet glad as men saved from
death, albeit we had lost our dear companions. And we came to the isle
Aeaean, where dwelt Circe of the braided tresses, an awful goddess of
mortal speech, own sister to the wizard Aeetes. Both were begotten of
Helios, who gives light to all men, and their mother was Perse, daughter of
Oceanus. There on the shore we put in with our ship into the sheltering
haven silently, and some god was our guide. Then we stept ashore, and for
two days and two nights lay there, consuming our own hearts for weariness
and pain. But when now the fair-tressed Dawn had brought the full light of
the third day, then did I seize my spear and my sharp sword, and quickly
departing from the ship I went up unto a place of wide prospect, if haply I
might see any sign of the labour of men and hear the sound of their speech.
So I went up a craggy hill, a place of out-look, and I saw the smoke rising
from the broad-wayed earth in the halls of Circe, through the thick coppice

and the woodland. Then I mused in my mind and heart whether I should go
and make discovery, for that I had seen the smoke and flame. And as I
thought thereon this seemed to me the better counsel, to go first to the swift
ship and to the sea-banks, and give my company their midday meal, and
then send them to make search. But as I came and drew nigh to the curved
ship, some god even then took pity on me in my loneliness, and sent a tall
antlered stag across my very path. He was coming down from his pasture in
the woodland to the river to drink, for verily the might of the sun was sore
upon him. And as he came up from out of the stream, I smote him on the
spine in the middle of the back, and the brazen shaft went clean through
him, and with a moan he fell in the dust, and his life passed from him. Then
I set my foot on him and drew forth the brazen shaft from the wound, and
laid it hard by upon the ground and let it lie. Next I broke withies and
willow twigs, and wove me a rope a fathom in length, well twisted from
end to end, and bound together the feet of the huge beast, and went to the
black ship bearing him across my neck, and leaning on a spear, for it was in
no wise possible to carry him on my shoulder with the one hand, for he was
a mighty quarry. And I threw him down before the ship and roused my
company with soft words, standing by each man in turn:
“‘Friends, for all our sorrows we shall not yet a while go down to the
house of Hades, ere the coming of the day of destiny; go to then, while as
yet there is meat and drink in the swift ship, let us take thought thereof, that
we be not famished for hunger.’
“Even so I spake, and they speedily hearkened to my words. They
unmuffled their heads, and there on the shore of the unharvested sea gazed
at the stag, for he was a mighty quarry. But after they had delighted their
eyes with the sight of him, they washed their hands and got ready the
glorious feast. So for that time we sat the livelong day till the going down
of the sun, feasting on abundant flesh and sweet wine. But when the sun
sank and darkness had come on, then we laid us to rest upon the sea beach.
So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, I called a gathering
of my men and spake in the ears of them all:
“‘Hear my works, my fellows, despite your evil case. My friends, lo, now
we know not where is the place of darkness or of dawning, nor where the
Sun, that gives light to men, goes beneath the earth, nor where he rises;
therefore let us advise us speedily if any counsel yet may be: as for me, I

deem there is none. For I went up a craggy hill, a place of out-look, and saw
the island crowned about with the circle of the endless sea, the isle itself
lying low; and in the midst thereof mine eyes beheld the smoke through the
thick coppice and the woodland.’
“Even so I spake, but their spirit within them was broken, as they
remembered the deeds of Antiphates the Laestrygonian, and all the evil
violence of the haughty Cyclops, the man-eater. So they wept aloud
shedding big tears. Howbeit no avail came of their weeping.
“Then I numbered my goodly-greaved company in two bands, and
appointed a leader for each, and I myself took the command of the one part,
and godlike Eurylochus of the other. And anon we shook the lots in a
brazen-fitted helmet, and out leapt the lot of proud Eurylochus. So he went
on his way, and with him two and twenty of my fellowship all weeping; and
we were left behind making lament. In the forest glades they found the halls
of Circe builded, of polished stone, in a place with wide prospect. And all
around the palace mountain-bred wolves and lions were roaming, whom she
herself had bewitched with evil drugs that she gave them. Yet the beasts did
not set on my men, but lo, they ramped about them and fawned on them,
wagging their long tails. And as when dogs fawn about their lord when he
comes from the feast, for he always brings them the fragments that soothe
their mood, even so the strong-clawed wolves and the lions fawned around
them; but they were affrighted when they saw the strange and terrible
creatures. So they stood at the outer gate of the fair-tressed goddess, and
within they heard Circe singing in a sweet voice, as she fared to and fro
before the great web imperishable, such as is the handiwork of goddesses,
fine of woof and full of grace and splendour. Then Polites, a leader of men,
the dearest to me and the trustiest of all my company, first spake to them:
“‘Friends, forasmuch as there is one within that fares to and fro before a
mighty web singing a sweet song, so that all the floor of the hall makes
echo, a goddess she is or a woman; come quickly and cry aloud to her.’
“He spake the word and they cried aloud and called to her. And
straightway she came forth and opened the shining doors and bade them in,
and all went with her in their heedlessness. But Eurylochus tarried behind,
for he guessed that there was some treason. So she led them in and set them
upon chairs and high seats, and made them a mess of cheese and barley-
meal and yellow honey with Pramnian wine, and mixed harmful drugs with

the food to make them utterly forget their own country. Now when she had
given them the cup and they had drunk it off, presently she smote them with
a wand, and in the styes of the swine she penned them. So they had the head
and voice, the bristles and the shape of swine, but their mind abode even as
of old. Thus were they penned there weeping, and Circe flung them acorns
and mast and fruit of the cornel tree to eat, whereon wallowing swine do
always batten.
“Now Eurylochus came back to the swift black ship to bring tidings of
his fellows, and of their unseemly doom. Not a word could he utter, for all
his desire, so deeply smitten was he to the heart with grief, and his eyes
were filled with tears and his soul was fain of lamentation. But when we all
had pressed him with our questions in amazement, even then he told the
fate of the remnant of our company.
“‘We went, as thou didst command, through the coppice, noble
Odysseus: we found within the forest glades the fair halls, builded of
polished stone, in a place with wide prospect. And there was one that fared
before a mighty web and sang a clear song, a goddess she was or a woman,
and they cried aloud and called to her. And straightway she came forth, and
opened the shining doors and bade them in, and they all went with her in
their heedlessness. But I tarried behind, for I guessed that there was some
treason. Then they vanished away one and all, nor did any of them appear
again, though I sat long time watching.’
“So spake he, whereon I cast about my shoulder my silver-studded
sword, a great blade of bronze, and slung my bow about me and bade him
lead me again by the way that he came. But he caught me with both hands,
and by my knees he besought me, and bewailing him spake to me winged
words:
“‘Lead me not thither against my will, oh fosterling of Zeus, but leave me
here! For well I know thou shalt thyself return no more, nor bring any one
of all thy fellowship; nay, let us flee the swifter with those that be here, for
even yet may we escape the evil day.’
“On this wise he spake, but I answered him, saying: ‘Eurylochus, abide
for thy part here in this place, eating and drinking by the black hollow ship:
but I will go forth, for a strong constraint is laid on me.’
“With that I went up from the ship and the sea-shore. But lo, when in my
faring through the sacred glades I was now drawing near to the great hall of

the enchantress Circe, then did Hermes, of the golden wand, meet me as I
approached the house, in the likeness of a young man with the first down on
his lip, the time when youth is most gracious. So he clasped my hand and
spake and hailed me:
“‘Ah, hapless man, whither away again, all alone through the wolds, thou
that knowest not this country? And thy company yonder in the hall of Circe
are penned in the guise of swine, in their deep lairs abiding. Is it in hope to
free them that thou art come hither? Nay, methinks, thou thyself shalt never
return but remain there with the others. Come then, I will redeem thee from
thy distress, and bring deliverance. Lo, take this herb of virtue, and go to
the dwelling of Circe, that it may keep from thy head the evil day. And I
will tell thee all the magic sleight of Circe. She will mix thee a potion and
cast drugs into the mess; but not even so shall she be able to enchant thee;
so helpful is this charmed herb that I shall give thee, and I will tell thee all.
When it shall be that Circe smites thee with her long wand, even then draw
thou thy sharp sword from thy thigh, and spring on her, as one eager to slay
her. And she will shrink away and be instant with thee to lie with her.
Thenceforth disdain not thou the bed of the goddess, that she may deliver
thy company and kindly entertain thee. But command her to swear a mighty
oath by the blessed gods, that she will plan nought else of mischief to thine
own hurt, lest she make thee a dastard and unmanned, when she hath thee
naked.’
“Therewith the slayer of Argos gave me the plant that he had plucked
from the ground, and he showed me the growth thereof. It was black at the
root, but the flower was like to milk. Moly the gods call it, but it is hard for
mortal men to dig; howbeit with the gods all things are possible.
“Then Hermes departed toward high Olympus, up through the woodland
isle, but as for me I held on my way to the house of Circe, and my heart was
darkly troubled as I went. So I halted in the portals of the fair-tressed
goddess; there I stood and called aloud and the goddess heard my voice,
who presently came forth and opened the shining doors and bade me in, and
I went with her heavy at heart. So she led me in and set me on a chair with
studs of silver, a goodly carven chair, and beneath was a footstool for the
feet. And she made me a potion in a golden cup, that I might drink, and she
also put a charm therein, in the evil counsel of her heart.

“Now when she had given it and I had drunk it off and was not
bewitched, she smote me with her wand and spake and hailed me:
“‘Go thy way now to the stye, couch thee there with the rest of thy
company.’
“So spake she, but I drew my sharp sword from my thigh and sprang
upon Circe, as one eager to slay her. But with a great cry she slipped under,
and clasped my knees, and bewailing herself spake to me winged words:
“‘Who art thou of the sons of men, and whence? Where is thy city?
Where are they that begat thee? I marvel to see how thou hast drunk of this
charm, and wast nowise subdued. Nay, for there lives no man else that is
proof against this charm, whoso hath drunk thereof, and once it hath passed
his lips. But thou hast, methinks, a mind within thee that may not be
enchanted. Verily thou art Odysseus, ready at need, whom he of the golden
wand, the slayer of Argos, full often told me was to come hither, on his way
from Troy with his swift black ship. Nay come, put thy sword into the
sheath, and thereafter let us go up into my bed, that meeting in love and
sleep we may trust each the other.’
“So spake she, but I answered her, saying: ‘Nay, Circe, how canst thou
bid me be gentle to thee, who hast turned my company into swine within
thy halls, and holding me here with a guileful heart requirest me to pass
within thy chamber and go up into thy bed, that so thou mayest make me a
dastard and unmanned when thou hast me naked? Nay, never will I consent
to go up into thy bed, except thou wilt deign, goddess, to swear a mighty
oath, that thou wilt plan nought else of mischief to mine own hurt.’
“So I spake, and she straightway swore the oath not to harm me, as I bade
her. But when she had sworn and had done that oath, then at last I went up
into the beautiful bed of Circe.
“Now all this while her handmaids busied them in the halls, four maidens
that are her serving women in the house. They are born of the wells and of
the woods and of the holy rivers, that flow forward into the salt sea. Of
these one cast upon the chairs goodly coverlets of purple above, and spread
a linen cloth thereunder. And lo, another drew up silver tables to the chairs,
and thereon set for them golden baskets. And a third mixed sweet honey-
hearted wine in a silver bowl, and set out cups of gold. And a fourth bare
water, and kindled a great fire beneath the mighty cauldron. So the water
waxed warm; but when it boiled in the bright brazen vessel, she set me in a

bath and bathed me with water from out a great cauldron, pouring it over
head and shoulders, when she had mixed it to a pleasant warmth, till from
my limbs she took away the consuming weariness. Now after she had
bathed me and anointed me well with olive oil, and cast about me a fair
mantle and a doublet, she led me into the halls and set me on a chair with
studs of silver, a goodly carven chair, and beneath was a footstool for the
feet. And a handmaid bare water for the hands in a goodly golden ewer, and
poured it forth over a silver basin to wash withal; and to my side she drew a
polished table, and a grave dame bare wheaten bread and set it by me, and
laid on the board many dainties, giving freely of such things as she had by
her. And she bade me eat, but my soul found no pleasure therein. I sat with
other thoughts, and my heart had a boding of ill.
“Now when Circe saw that I sat thus, and that I put not forth my hands to
the meat, and that I was mightily afflicted, she drew near to me and spake to
me winged words:
“‘Wherefore thus, Odysseus, dost thou sit there like a speechless man,
consuming thine own soul, and dost not touch meat nor drink? Dost thou
indeed deem there is some further guile? Nay, thou hast no cause to fear, for
already I have sworn thee a strong oath not to harm thee.’
“So spake she, but I answered her, saying: ‘Oh, Circe, what righteous
man would have the heart to taste meat and drink ere he had redeemed his
company, and beheld them face to face? But if in good faith thou biddest
me eat and drink, then let them go free, that mine eyes may behold my dear
companions.’
“So I spake, and Circe passed out through the hall with the wand in her
hand, and opened the doors of the stye, and drave them forth in the shape of
swine of nine seasons old. There they stood before her, and she went
through their midst, and anointed each one of them with another charm.
And lo, from their limbs the bristles dropped away, wherewith the venom
had erewhile clothed them, that lady Circe gave them. And they became
men again, younger than before they were, and goodlier far, and taller to
behold. And they all knew me again and each one took my hands, and
wistful was the lament that sank into their souls, and the roof around rang
wondrously. And even the goddess herself was moved with compassion.
“Then standing nigh me the fair goddess spake unto me: ‘Son of Laertes,
of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, depart now to thy swift ship

and the sea-banks. And first of all, draw ye up the ship ashore, and bestow
the goods in the caves and all the gear. And thyself return again, and bring
with thee thy dear companions.’
“So spake she, and my lordly spirit consented thereto. So I went on my
way to the swift ship and the sea-banks, and there I found my dear company
on the swift ship lamenting piteously, shedding big tears. And as when
calves of the homestead gather round the droves of kine that have returned
to the yard, when they have had their fill of pasture, and all with one accord
frisk before them, and the folds may no more contain them, but with a
ceaseless lowing they skip about their dams, so flocked they all about me
weeping, when their eyes beheld me. Yea, and to their spirit it was as
though they had got to their dear country, and the very city of rugged
Ithaca, where they were born and reared.
“Then making lament they spake to me winged words: ‘O fosterling of
Zeus, we were none otherwise glad at thy returning, than if we had come to
Ithaca, our own country. Nay come, of our other companions tell us the tale
of their ruin.’
“So spake they, but I answered them with soft words: ‘Behold, let us first
of all draw up the ship ashore, and bestow our goods in the caves and all
our gear. And do ye bestir you, one and all, to go with me, that ye may see
your fellows in the sacred dwelling of Circe, eating and drinking, for they
have continual store.’
“So spake I, and at once they hearkened to my words, but Eurylochus
alone would have holden all my companions, and uttering his voice he
spake to them winged words:
“‘Wretched men that we are! whither are we going? Why are your hearts
so set on sorrow that ye should go down to the hall of Circe, who will
surely change us all to swine, or wolves, or lions, to guard her great house
perforce, according to the deeds that the Cyclops wrought, when certain of
our company went to his inmost fold, and with them went Odysseus, ever
hardy, for through the blindness of his heart did they too perish?’
“So spake he, but I mused in my heart whether to draw my long hanger
from my stout thigh, and therewith smite off his head and bring it to the
dust, albeit he was very near of kin to me; but the men of my company
stayed me on every side with soothing words:

“‘Prince of the seed of Zeus, as for this man, we will suffer him, if thou
wilt have it so, to abide here by the ship and guard the ship; but as for us, be
our guide to the sacred house of Circe.’
“So they spake and went up from the ship and the sea. Nay, nor yet was
Eurylochus left by the hollow ship, but he went with us, for he feared my
terrible rebuke.
“Meanwhile Circe bathed the rest of my company in her halls with all
care, and anointed them well with olive oil; and cast thick mantles and
doublets about them. And we found them all feasting nobly in the halls. And
when they saw and knew each other face to face, they wept and mourned,
and the house rang around. Then she stood near me, that fair goddess, and
spake saying:
“‘Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, no
more now wake this plenteous weeping: myself I know of all the pains ye
endured upon the teeming deep, and the great despite done you by unkindly
men upon the land. Nay come, eat ye meat and drink wine, till your spirit
shall return to you again, as it was when first ye left your own country of
rugged Ithaca; but now are ye wasted and wanting heart, mindful evermore
of your sore wandering, nor has your heart ever been merry, for very
grievous hath been your trial.’
“So spake she, and our lordly spirit consented thereto. So there we sat
day by day for the full circle of a year, feasting on abundant flesh and sweet
wine. But when now a year had gone, and the seasons returned as the
months waned, and the long days came in their course, then did my dear
company call me forth, and say:
“‘Good sir, now is it high time to mind thee of thy native land, if it is
ordained that thou shalt be saved, and come to thy lofty house and thine
own country.’
“So spake they and my lordly spirit consented thereto. So for that time
we sat the livelong day till the going down of the sun, feasting on abundant
flesh and sweet wine. But when the sun sank and darkness came on, they
laid them to rest throughout the shadowy halls.
“But when I had gone up into the fair bed of Circe, I besought her by her
knees, and the goddess heard my speech, and uttering my voice I spake to
her winged words: ‘Circe, fulfil for me the promise which thou madest me
to send me on my homeward way. Now is my spirit eager to be gone, and

the spirit of my company, that wear away my heart as they mourn around
me, when haply thou art gone from us.’
“So spake I, and the fair goddess answered me anon: ‘Son of Laertes, of
the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, tarry ye now no longer in my
house against your will; but first must ye perform another journey, and
reach the dwelling of Hades and of dread Persephone to seek to the spirit of
Theban Teiresias, the blind soothsayer, whose wits abide steadfast. To him
Persephone hath given judgment, even in death, that he alone should have
understanding; but the other souls sweep shadow-like around.’
“Thus spake she, but as for me, my heart was broken, and I wept as I sat
upon the bed, and my soul had no more care to live and to see the sunlight.
But when I had my fill of weeping and grovelling, then at the last I
answered and spake unto her saying: ‘And who, Circe, will guide us on this
way? for no man ever yet sailed to hell in a black ship.’
“So spake I, and the fair goddess answered me anon: ‘Son of Laertes, of
the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, nay, trouble not thyself for
want of a guide, by thy ship abiding, but set up the mast and spread abroad
the white sails and sit thee down; and the breeze of the North Wind will
bear thy vessel on her way. But when thou hast now sailed in thy ship
across the stream Oceanus, where is a waste shore and the groves of
Persephone, even tall poplar trees and willows that shed their fruit before
the season, there beach thy ship by deep eddying Oceanus, but go thyself to
the dank house of Hades. Thereby into Acheron flows Pyriphlegethon, and
Cocytus, a branch of the water of the Styx, and there is a rock, and the
meeting of the two roaring waters. So, hero, draw nigh thereto, as I
command thee, and dig a trench as it were a cubit in length and breadth, and
about it pour a drink-offering to all the dead, first with mead and thereafter
with sweet wine, and for the third time with water, and sprinkle white meal
thereon; and entreat with many prayers the strengthless heads of the dead,
and promise that on thy return to Ithaca thou wilt offer in thy halls a barren
heifer, the best thou hast, and will fill the pyre with treasure, and wilt
sacrifice apart, to Teiresias alone, a black ram without spot, the fairest of
your flock. But when thou hast with prayers made supplication to the lordly
races of the dead, then offer up a ram and a black ewe, bending their heads
towards Erebus and thyself turn thy back, with thy face set for the shore of
the river. Then will many spirits come to thee of the dead that be departed.

Thereafter thou shalt call to thy company and command them to flay the
sheep which even now lie slain by the pitiless sword, and to consume them
with fire, and to make prayer to the gods, to mighty Hades and to dread
Persephone. And thyself draw the sharp sword from thy thigh and sit there,
suffering not the strengthless heads of the dead to draw nigh to the blood,
ere thou hast word of Teiresias. Then the seer will come to thee quickly,
leader of the people; he will surely declare to thee the way and the measure
of thy path, and as touching thy returning, how thou mayst go over the
teeming deep.’
“So spake she, and anon came the golden throned Dawn. Then she put on
me a mantle and a doublet for raiment, and the nymph clad herself in a
great shining robe, light of woof and gracious, and about her waist she cast
a fair golden girdle, and put a veil upon her head. But I passed through the
halls and roused my men with smooth words, standing by each one in turn:
“‘Sleep ye now no more nor breathe sweet slumber; but let us go on our
way, for surely she hath shown me all, the lady Circe.’
“So spake I, and their lordly soul consented thereto. Yet even thence I led
not my company safe away. There was one, Elpenor, the youngest of us all,
not very valiant in war neither steadfast in mind. He was lying apart from
the rest of my men on the housetop of Circe’s sacred dwelling, very fain of
the cool air, as one heavy with wine. Now when he heard the noise of the
voices and of the feet of my fellows as they moved to and fro, he leaped up
of a sudden and minded him not to descend again by the way of the tall
ladder, but fell right down from the roof, and his neck was broken from the
bones of the spine, and his spirit went down to the house of Hades.
“Then I spake among my men as they went on their way, saying: ‘Ye
deem now, I see, that ye are going to your own dear country; but Circe hath
showed us another way, even to the dwelling of Hades and of dread
Persephone, to seek to the spirit of Theban Teiresias.’
“Even so I spake, but their heart within them was broken, and they sat
them down even where they were, and made lament and tore their hair.
Howbeit no help came of their weeping.
“But as we were now wending sorrowful to the swift ship and the sea-
banks, shedding big tears, Circe meanwhile had gone her ways and made
fast a ram and a black ewe by the dark ship, lightly passing us by: who may
behold a god against his will, whether going to or fro?”

BOOK XI.

Odysseus, his descent into hell, and discourses with the
ghosts of the deceased heroes.

“Now when we had gone down to the ship and to the sea, first of all we
drew the ship unto the fair salt water and placed the mast and sails in the
black ship, and took those sheep and put them therein, and ourselves too
climbed on board, sorrowing, and shedding big tears. And in the wake of
our dark-prowed ship she sent a favouring wind that filled the sails, a kindly
escort,—even Circe of the braided tresses, a dread goddess of human
speech. And we set in order all the gear throughout the ship and sat us
down; and the wind and the helmsman guided our barque. And all day long
her sails were stretched in her seafaring; and the sun sank and all the ways
were darkened.
“She came to the limits of the world, to the deep-flowing Oceanus. There
is the land and the city of the Cimmerians, shrouded in mist and cloud, and
never does the shining sun look down on them with his rays, neither when
he climbs up the starry heavens, nor when again he turns earthward from
the firmament, but deadly night is outspread over miserable mortals. Thither
we came and ran the ship ashore and took out the sheep; but for our part we
held on our way along the stream of Oceanus, till we came to the place
which Circe had declared to us.
“There Perimedes and Eurylochus held the victims, but I drew my sharp
sword from my thigh, and dug a pit, as it were a cubit in length and breadth,
and about it poured a drink-offering to all the dead, first with mead and
thereafter with sweet wine, and for the third time with water. And I
sprinkled white meal thereon, and entreated with many prayers the
strengthless heads of the dead, and promised that on my return to Ithaca I
would offer in my halls a barren heifer, the best I had, and fill the pyre with

treasure, and apart unto Teiresias alone sacrifice a black ram without spot,
the fairest of my flock. But when I had besought the tribes of the dead with
vows and prayers, I took the sheep and cut their throats over the trench, and
the dark blood flowed forth, and lo, the spirits of the dead that be departed
gathered them from out of Erebus. Brides and youths unwed, and old men
of many and evil days, and tender maidens with grief yet fresh at heart; and
many there were, wounded with bronze-shod spears, men slain in fight with
their bloody mail about them. And these many ghosts flocked together from
every side about the trench with a wondrous cry, and pale fear gat hold on
me. Then did I speak to my company and command them to flay the sheep
that lay slain by the pitiless sword, and to consume them with fire, and to
make prayer to the gods, to mighty Hades and to dread Persephone, and
myself I drew the sharp sword from my thigh and sat there, suffering not
the strengthless heads of the dead to draw nigh to the blood, ere I had word
of Teiresias.
“And first came the soul of Elpenor, my companion, that had not yet been
buried beneath the wide-wayed earth; for we left the corpse behind us in the
hall of Circe, unwept and unburied, seeing that another task was instant on
us. At the sight of him I wept and had compassion on him, and uttering my
voice spake to him winged words: ‘Elpenor, how hast thou come beneath
the darkness and the shadow? Thou hast come fleeter on foot than I in my
black ship.’
“So spake I, and with a moan he answered me, saying: ‘Son of Laertes,
of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, an evil doom of some god
was my bane and wine out of measure. When I laid me down on the house-
top of Circe I minded me not to descend again by the way of the tall ladder,
but fell right down from the roof, and my neck was broken off from the
bones of the spine, and my spirit went down to the house of Hades. And
now I pray thee in the name of those whom we left, who are no more with
us, thy wife, and thy sire who cherished thee when as yet thou wert a little
one, and Telemachus, whom thou didst leave in thy halls alone; forasmuch
as I know that on thy way hence from out the dwelling of Hades, thou wilt
stay thy well-wrought ship at the isle Aeaean, even then, my lord, I charge
thee to think on me. Leave me not unwept and unburied as thou goest
hence, nor turn thy back upon me, lest haply I bring on thee the anger of the
gods. Nay, burn me there with mine armour, all that is mine, and pile me a
barrow on the shore of the grey sea, the grave of a luckless man, that even

men unborn may hear my story. Fulfil me this and plant upon the barrow
mine oar, wherewith I rowed in the days of my life, while yet I was among
my fellows.’
“Even so he spake, and I answered him saying: ‘All this, luckless man,
will I perform for thee and do.’
“Even so we twain were sitting holding sad discourse, I on the one side,
stretching forth my sword over the blood, while on the other side the ghost
of my friend told all his tale.
“Anon came up the soul of my mother dead, Anticleia, the daughter of
Autolycus the great-hearted, whom I left alive when I departed for sacred
Ilios. At the sight of her I wept, and was moved with compassion, yet even
so, for all my sore grief, I suffered her not to draw nigh to the blood, ere I
had word of Teiresias.
“Anon came the soul of Theban Teiresias, with a golden sceptre in his
hand, and he knew me and spake unto me: ‘Son of Laertes, of the seed of
Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, what seekest thou NOW, wretched man,
wherefore hast thou left the sunlight and come hither to behold the dead and
a land desolate of joy? Nay, hold off from the ditch and draw back thy sharp
sword, that I may drink of the blood and tell thee sooth.’
“So spake he and I put up my silver-studded sword into the sheath, and
when he had drunk the dark blood, even then did the noble seer speak unto
me, saying: Thou art asking of thy sweet returning, great Odysseus, but that
will the god make hard for thee; for methinks thou shalt not pass unheeded
by the Shaker of the Earth, who hath laid up wrath in his heart against thee,
for rage at the blinding of his dear son. Yet even so, through many troubles,
ye may come home, if thou wilt restrain thy spirit and the spirit of thy men
so soon as thou shalt bring thy well-wrought ship nigh to the isle Thrinacia,
fleeing the sea of violet blue, when ye find the herds of Helios grazing and
his brave flocks, of Helios who overseeth all and overheareth all things. If
thou doest these no hurt, being heedful of thy return, so may ye yet reach
Ithaca, albeit in evil case. But if thou hurtest them, I foreshow ruin for thy
ship and for thy men, and even though thou shalt thyself escape, late shalt
thou return in evil plight, with the loss of all thy company, on board the ship
of strangers, and thou shalt find sorrows in thy house, even proud men that
devour thy living, while they woo thy godlike wife and offer the gifts of
wooing. Yet I tell thee, on thy coming thou shalt avenge their violence. But

when thou hast slain the wooers in thy halls, whether by guile, or openly
with the edge of the sword, thereafter go thy way, taking with thee a shapen
oar, till thou shalt come to such men as know not the sea, neither eat meat
savoured with salt; yea, nor have they knowledge of ships of purple cheek,
nor shapen oars which serve for wings to ships. And I will give thee a most
manifest token, which cannot escape thee. In the day when another
wayfarer shall meet thee and say that thou hast a winnowing fan on thy
stout shoulder, even then make fast thy shapen oar in the earth and do
goodly sacrifice to the lord Poseidon, even with a ram and a bull and a boar,
the mate of swine, and depart for home and offer holy hecatombs to the
deathless gods that keep the wide heaven, to each in order due. And from
the sea shall thine own death come, the gentlest death that may be, which
shall end thee foredone with smooth old age, and the folk shall dwell
happily around thee. This that I say is sooth.’
“So spake he, and I answered him, saying: ‘Teiresias, all these threads,
methinks, the gods themselves have spun. But come, declare me this and
plainly tell me all. I see here the spirit of my mother dead; lo, she sits in
silence near the blood, nor deigns to look her son in the face nor speak to
him! Tell me, prince, how may she know me again that I am he?’
“So spake I, and anon he answered me, and said: ‘I will tell thee an easy
saying, and will put it in thy heart. Whomsoever of the dead that be
departed thou shalt suffer to draw nigh to the blood, he shall tell thee sooth;
but if thou shalt grudge any, that one shall go to his own place again.’
Therewith the spirit of the prince Teiresias went back within the house of
Hades, when he had told all his oracles. But I abode there steadfastly, till
my mother drew nigh and drank the dark blood; and at once she knew me,
and bewailing herself spake to me winged words:
“‘Dear child, how didst thou come beneath the darkness and the shadow,
thou that art a living man? Grievous is the sight of these things to the living,
for between us and you are great rivers and dreadful streams; first, Oceanus,
which can no wise be crossed on foot, but only if one have a well wrought
ship. Art thou but now come hither with thy ship and thy company in thy
long wanderings from Troy? and hast thou not yet reached Ithaca, nor seen
thy wife in thy halls?’
“Even so she spake, and I answered her, and said: ‘O my mother,
necessity was on me to come down to the house of Hades to seek to the

spirit of Theban Teiresias. For not yet have I drawn near to the Achaean
shore, nor yet have I set foot on mine own country, but have been
wandering evermore in affliction, from the day that first I went with goodly
Agamemnon to Ilios of the fair steeds, to do battle with the Trojans. But
come, declare me this and plainly tell it all. What doom overcame thee of
death that lays men at their length? Was it a slow disease, or did Artemis the
archer slay thee with the visitation of her gentle shafts? And tell me of my
father and my son, that I left behind me; doth my honour yet abide with
them, or hath another already taken it, while they say that I shall come
home no more? And tell me of my wedded wife, of her counsel and her
purpose, doth she abide with her son and keep all secure, or hath she
already wedded the best of the Achaeans?’
“Even so I spake, and anon my lady mother answered me: ‘Yea verily,
she abideth with steadfast spirit in thy halls; and wearily for her the nights
wane always and the days in shedding of tears. But the fair honour that is
thine no man hath yet taken; but Telemachus sits at peace on his demesne,
and feasts at equal banquets, whereof it is meet that a judge partake, for all
men bid him to their house. And thy father abides there in the field, and
goes not down to the town, nor lies he on bedding or rugs or shining
blankets, but all the winter he sleeps, where sleep the thralls in the house, in
the ashes by the fire, and is clad in sorry raiment. But when the summer
comes and the rich harvest-tide, his beds of fallen leaves are strewn lowly
all about the knoll of his vineyard plot. There he lies sorrowing and nurses
his mighty grief, for long desire of thy return, and old age withal comes
heavy upon him. Yea and even so did I too perish and meet my doom. It
was not the archer goddess of the keen sight, who slew me in my halls with
the visitation of her gentle shafts, nor did any sickness come upon me, such
as chiefly with a sad wasting draws the spirit from the limbs; nay, it was my
sore longing for thee, and for thy counsels, great Odysseus, and for thy
loving-kindness, that reft me of sweet life.’
“So spake she, and I mused in my heart and would fain have embraced
the spirit of my mother dead. Thrice I sprang towards her, and was minded
to embrace her; thrice she flitted from my hands as a shadow or even as a
dream, and sharp grief arose ever at my heart. And uttering my voice I
spake to her winged words:

“‘Mother mine, wherefore dost thou not abide me who am eager to clasp
thee, that even in Hades we twain may cast our arms each about the other,
and have our fill of chill lament? Is this but a phantom that the high goddess
Persephone hath sent me, to the end that I may groan for more exceeding
sorrow?’
“So spake I, and my lady mother answered me anon: ‘Ah me, my child,
of all men most ill-fated, Persephone, the daughter of Zeus, doth in no wise
deceive thee, but even on this wise it is with mortals when they die. For the
sinews no more bind together the flesh and the bones, but the great force of
burning fire abolishes these, so soon as the life hath left the white bones,
and the spirit like a dream flies forth and hovers near. But haste with all
thine heart toward the sunlight, and mark all this, that even hereafter thou
mayest tell it to thy wife.’
“Thus we twain held discourse together; and lo, the women came up, for
the high goddess Persephone sent them forth, all they that had been the
wives and daughters of mighty men. And they gathered and flocked about
the black blood, and I took counsel how I might question them each one.
And this was the counsel that showed best in my sight. I drew my long
hanger from my stalwart thigh, and suffered them not all at one time to
drink of the dark blood. So they drew nigh one by one, and each declared
her lineage, and I made question of all.
“Then verily did I first see Tyro, sprung of a noble sire, who said that she
was the child of noble Salmoneus, and declared herself the wife of
Cretheus, son of Aeolus. She loved a river, the divine Enipeus, far the
fairest of the floods that run upon the earth, and she would resort to the fair
streams of Enipeus. And it came to pass that the girdler of the world, the
Earth-shaker, put on the shape of the god, and lay by the lady at the mouths
of the whirling stream. Then the dark wave stood around them like a hill-
side bowed, and hid the god and the mortal woman. And he undid her
maiden girdle, and shed a slumber over her. Now when the god had done
the work of love, he clasped her hand and spake and hailed her:
“‘Woman, be glad in our love, and when the year comes round thou shalt
give birth to glorious children,—for not weak are the embraces of the gods,
—and do thou keep and cherish them. And now go home and hold thy
peace, and tell it not: but behold, I am Poseidon, shaker of the earth.’

“Therewith he plunged beneath the heaving deep. And she conceived and
bare Pelias and Neleus, who both grew to be mighty men, servants of Zeus.
Pelias dwelt in wide Iolcos, and was rich in flocks; and that other abode in
sandy Pylos. And the queen of women bare yet other sons to Cretheus, even
Aeson and Pheres and Amythaon, whose joy was in chariots.
“And after her I saw Antiope, daughter of Asopus, and her boast was that
she had slept even in the arms of Zeus, and she bare two sons, Amphion and
Zethus, who founded first the place of seven-gated Thebes, and they made
of it a fenced city, for they might not dwell in spacious Thebes unfenced,
for all their valiancy.
“Next to her I saw Alcmene, wife of Amphitryon, who lay in the arms of
mighty Zeus, and bare Heracles of the lion-heart, steadfast in the fight. And
I saw Megara, daughter of Creon, haughty of heart, whom the strong and
tireless son of Amphitryon had to wife.
“And I saw the mother of Oedipodes, fair Epicaste, who wrought a dread
deed unwittingly, being wedded to her own son, and he that had slain his
own father wedded her, and straightway the gods made these things known
to men. Yet he abode in pain in pleasant Thebes, ruling the Cadmaeans, by
reason of the deadly counsels of the gods. But she went down to the house
of Hades, the mighty warder; yea, she tied a noose from the high beam
aloft, being fast holden in sorrow; while for him she left pains behind full
many, even all that the Avengers of a mother bring to pass.
“And I saw lovely Chloris, whom Neleus wedded on a time for her
beauty, and brought gifts of wooing past number. She was the youngest
daughter of Amphion, son of Iasus, who once ruled mightily in Minyan
Orchomenus. And she was queen of Pylos, and bare glorious children to her
lord, Nestor and Chromius, and princely Periclymenus, and stately Pero too,
the wonder of all men. All that dwelt around were her wooers; but Neleus
would not give her, save to him who should drive off from Phylace the kine
of mighty Iphicles, with shambling gait and broad of brow, hard cattle to
drive. And none but the noble seer[19] took in hand to drive them; but a
grievous fate from the gods fettered him, even hard bonds and the herdsmen
of the wild. But when at length the months and days were being fulfilled, as
the year returned upon his course, and the seasons came round, then did
mighty Iphicles set him free, when he had spoken out all the oracles; and
herein was the counsel of Zeus being accomplished.

[19] Melampus

“And I saw Lede, the famous bed-fellow of Tyndareus, who bare to
Tyndareus two sons, hardy of heart, Castor tamer of steeds, and Polydeuces
the boxer. These twain yet live, but the quickening earth is over them; and
even in the nether world they have honour at the hand of Zeus. And they
possess their life in turn, living one day and dying the next, and they have
gotten worship even as the gods.
“And after her I beheld Iphimedeia, bed-fellow of Aloeus, who said that
she had lain with Poseidon, and she bare children twain, but short of life
were they, godlike Otus and far-famed Ephialtes. Now these were the tallest
men that earth, the graingiver, ever reared, and far the goodliest after the
renowned Orion. At nine seasons old they were of breadth nine cubits, and
nine fathoms in height. They it was who threatened to raise even against the
immortals in Olympus the din of stormy war. They strove to pile Ossa on
Olympus, and on Ossa Pelion with the trembling forest leaves, that there
might be a pathway to the sky. Yea, and they would have accomplished it,
had they reached the full measure of manhood. But the son of Zeus, whom
Leto of the fair locks bare, destroyed the twain, ere the down had bloomed
beneath their temples, and darkened their chins with the blossom of youth.
“And Phaedra and Procris I saw, and fair Ariadne, the daughter of wizard
Minos, whom Theseus on a time was bearing from Crete to the hill of
sacred Athens, yet had he no joy of her; for Artemis slew her ere that in sea-
girt Dia, by reason of the witness of Dionysus.
“And Maera and Clymene I saw, and hateful Eriphyle, who took fine
gold for the price of her dear lord’s life. But I cannot tell or name all the
wives and daughters of the heroes that I saw; ere that, the immortal night
would wane. Nay, it is even now time to sleep, whether I go to the swift
ship to my company or abide here: and for my convoy you and the gods
will care.”
So spake he, and dead silence fell on all, and they were spell-bound
throughout the shadowy halls. Then Arete of the white arms first spake
among them: “Phaeacians, what think you of this man for comeliness and
stature, and within for wisdom of heart? Moreover he is my guest, though
every one of you hath his share in this honour. Wherefore haste not to send
him hence, and stint not these your gifts for one that stands in such sore

need of them; for ye have much treasure stored in your halls by the grace of
the gods.”
Then too spake among them the old man, lord Echeneus, that was an
elder among the Phaeacians: “Friends, behold, the speech of our wise queen
is not wide of the mark, nor far from our deeming, so hearken ye thereto.
But on Alcinous here both word and work depend.”
Then Alcinous made answer, and spake unto him: “Yea, the word that she
hath spoken shall hold, if indeed I am yet to live and bear rule among the
Phaeacians, masters of the oar. Howbeit let the stranger, for all his craving
to return, nevertheless endure to abide until the morrow, till I make up the
full measure of the gift; and men shall care for his convoy, all men, but I in
chief, for mine is the lordship in the land.”
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him, saying: My lord
Alcinous, most notable of all the people, if ye bade me tarry here even for a
year, and would speed my convoy and give me splendid gifts, even that I
would choose; and better would it be for me to come with a fuller hand to
mine own dear country, so should I get more love and worship in the eyes
of all men, whoso should see me after I was returned to Ithaca.”
And Alcinous answered him, saying: “Odysseus, in no wise do we deem
thee, we that look on thee, to be a knave or a cheat, even as the dark earth
rears many such broadcast, fashioning lies whence none can even see his
way therein. But beauty crowns thy words, and wisdom is within thee; and
thy tale, as when a minstrel sings, thou hast told with skill, the weary woes
of all the Argives and of thine own self. But come, declare me this and
plainly tell it all. Didst thou see any of thy godlike company who went up at
the same time with thee to Ilios and there met their doom? Behold, the night
is of great length, unspeakable, and the time for sleep in the hall is not yet;
tell me therefore of those wondrous deeds. I could abide even till the bright
dawn, so long as thou couldst endure to rehearse me these woes of thine in
the hall.”
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him, saying: “My lord
Alcinous, most notable of all the people, there is a time for many words and
there is a time for sleep. But if thou art eager still to listen, I would not for
my part grudge to tell thee of other things more pitiful still, even the woes
of my comrades, those that perished afterward, for they had escaped with

their lives from the dread war-cry of the Trojans, but perished in returning
by the will of an evil woman.
“Now when holy Persephone had scattered this way and that the spirits of
the women folk, thereafter came the soul of Agamemnon, son of Atreus,
sorrowing; and round him others were gathered, the ghosts of them who had
died with him in the house of Aegisthus and met their doom. And he knew
me straightway when he had drunk the dark blood, yea, and he wept aloud,
and shed big tears as he stretched forth his hands in his longing to reach me.
But it might not be, for he had now no steadfast strength nor power at all in
moving, such as was aforetime in his supple limbs.
“At the sight of him I wept and was moved with compassion, and
uttering my voice, spake to him winged words: ‘Most renowned son of
Atreus, Agamemnon, king of men, say what doom overcame thee of death
that lays men at their length? Did Poseidon smite thee in thy ships, raising
the dolorous blast of contrary winds, or did unfriendly men do thee hurt
upon the land, whilst thou wert cutting off their oxen and fair flocks of
sheep, or fighting to win a city and the women thereof?’
“So spake I, and straightway he answered, and said unto me: ‘Son of
Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, it was not Poseidon
that smote me in my ships, and raised the dolorous blast of contrary winds,
nor did unfriendly men do me hurt upon the land, but Aegisthus it was that
wrought me death and doom and slew me, with the aid of my accursed
wife, as one slays an ox at the stall, after he had bidden me to his house, and
entertained me at a feast. Even so I died by a death most pitiful, and round
me my company likewise were slain without ceasing, like swine with
glittering tusks which are slaughtered in the house of a rich and mighty
man, whether at a wedding banquet or a joint-feast or a rich clan-drinking.
Ere now hast thou been at the slaying of many a man, killed in single fight
or in strong battle, yet thou wouldst have sorrowed the most at this sight,
how we lay in the hall round the mixing-bowl and the laden boards, and the
floor all ran with blood. And most pitiful of all that I heard was the voice of
the daughter of Priam, of Cassandra, whom hard by me the crafty
Clytemnestra slew. Then I strove to raise my hands as I was dying upon the
sword, but to earth they fell. And that shameless one turned her back upon
me, and had not the heart to draw down my eyelids with her fingers nor to
close my mouth. So surely is there nought more terrible and shameless than

a woman who imagines such evil in her heart, even as she too planned a
foul deed, fashioning death for her wedded lord. Verily I had thought to
come home most welcome to my children and my thralls; but she, out of the
depth of her evil knowledge, hath shed shame on herself and on all
womankind, which shall be for ever, even on the upright.’
“Even so he spake, but I answered him, saying: ‘Lo now, in very sooth,
hath Zeus of the far-borne voice wreaked wondrous hatred on the seed of
Atreus through the counsels of woman from of old. For Helen’s sake so
many of us perished, and now Clytemnestra hath practised treason against
thee, while yet thou wast afar off.’
“Even so I spake, and anon he answered me, saying: ‘Wherefore do thou
too, never henceforth be soft even to thy wife, neither show her all the
counsel that thou knowest, but a part declare and let part be hid. Yet shalt
not thou, Odysseus, find death at the hand of thy wife, for she is very
discreet and prudent in all her ways, the wise Penelope, daughter of Icarius.
Verily we left her a bride new wed when we went to the war, and a child
was at her breast, who now, methinks, sits in the ranks of men, happy in his
lot, for his dear father shall behold him on his coming, and he shall embrace
his sire as is meet. But us for my wife, she suffered me not so much as to
have my fill of gazing on my son; ere that she slew me, even her lord. And
yet another thing will I tell thee, and do thou ponder it in thy heart. Put thy
ship to land in secret, and not openly, on the shore of thy dear country; for
there is no more faith in woman. But come, declare me this and plainly tell
it all, if haply ye hear of my son as yet living, either, it may be, in
Orchomenus or in sandy Pylos, or perchance with Menelaus in wide Sparta,
for goodly Orestes hath not yet perished on the earth.’
“Even so he spake, but I answered him, saying: ‘Son of Atreus,
wherefore dost thou ask me straitly of these things? Nay I know not at all,
whether he be alive or dead; it is ill to speak words light as wind.’
“Thus we twain stood sorrowing, holding sad discourse, while the big
tears fell fast: and therewithal came the soul of Achilles, son of Peleus, and
of Patroclus and of noble Antilochus and of Aias, who in face and form was
goodliest of all the Danaans, after the noble son of Peleus. And the spirit of
the son of Aeacus, fleet of foot, knew me again, and making lament spake
to me winged words:

“‘Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, man
overbold, what new deed and hardier than this wilt thou devise in thy heart?
How durst thou come down to the house of Hades, where dwell the
senseless dead, the phantoms of men outworn?’
“So he spake, but I answered him: ‘Achilles, son of Peleus, mightiest far
of the Achaeans, I am come hither to seek to Teiresias, if he may tell me any
counsel, how I may come to rugged Ithaca. For not yet have I come nigh the
Achaean land, nor set foot on mine own soil, but am still in evil case; while
as for thee, Achilles, none other than thou wast heretofore the most blessed
of men, nor shall any be hereafter. For of old, in the days of thy life, we
Argives gave thee one honour with the gods, and now thou art a great
prince here among the dead. Wherefore let not thy death be any grief to
thee, Achilles.’
“Even so I spake, and he straightway answered me, and said: ‘Nay, speak
not comfortably to me of death, oh great Odysseus. Rather would I live on
ground[20] as the hireling of another, with a landless man who had no great
livelihood, than bear sway among all the dead that be departed. But come,
tell me tidings of that lordly son of mine—did he follow to the war to be a
leader or not? And tell me of noble Peleus, if thou hast heard aught,—is he
yet held in worship among the Myrmidons, or do they dishonour him from
Hellas to Phthia, for that old age binds him hand and foot? For I am no
longer his champion under the sun, so mighty a man as once I was, when in
wide Troy I slew the best of the host, and succoured the Argives. Ah! could
I but come for an hour to my father’s house as then I was, so would I make
my might and hands invincible, to be hateful to many an one of those who
do him despite and keep him from his honour.’
[20] ἐπάρουρος seems to mean “upon the earth,” “above ground,” as opposed to
the dead who are below, rather than “bound to the soil,” in which sense most
commentators take it.

“Even so he spake, but I answered him saying: ‘As for noble Peleus,
verily I have heard nought of him; but concerning thy dear son
Neoptolemus, I will tell thee all the truth, according to thy word. It was I
that led him up out of Scyros in my good hollow ship, in the wake of the
goodly-greaved Achaeans. Now oft as we took counsel around Troy town,
he was ever the first to speak, and no word missed the mark; the godlike
Nestor and I alone surpassed him. But whensoever we Achaeans did battle

on the plain of Troy, he never tarried behind in the throng or the press of
men, but ran out far before us all, yielding to none in that might of his. And
many men he slew in warfare dread; but I could not tell of all or name their
names, even all the host he slew in succouring the Argives; but, ah, how he
smote with the sword that son of Telephus, the hero Eurypylus, and many
Ceteians[21] of his company were slain around him, by reason of a
woman’s bribe. He truly was the comeliest man that ever I saw, next to
goodly Memnon. And again when we, the best of the Argives, were about to
go down into the horse which Epeus wrought, and the charge of all was laid
on me, both to open the door of our good ambush and to shut the same, then
did the other princes and counsellors of the Danaans wipe away the tears,
and the limbs of each one trembled beneath him, but never once did I see
thy son’s fair face wax pale, nor did he wipe the tears from his cheeks: but
he besought me often to let him go forth from the horse, and kept handling
his sword-hilt, and his heavy bronze-shod spear, and he was set on mischief
against the Trojans. But after we had sacked the steep city of Priam, he
embarked unscathed with his share of the spoil, and with a noble prize; he
was not smitten with the sharp spear, and got no wound in close fight: and
many such chances there be in war, for Ares rageth confusedly.’
[21] See Lenormant, Premières Civilisations, vol. i. p. 289.

“So I spake, and the spirit of the son of Aeacus, fleet of foot, passed with
great strides along the mead of asphodel, rejoicing in that I had told him of
his son’s renown.
“But lo, other spirits of the dead that be departed stood sorrowing, and
each one asked of those that were dear to them. The soul of Aias, son of
Telamon, alone stood apart being still angry for the victory wherein I
prevailed against him, in the suit by the ships concerning the arms of
Achilles, that his lady mother had set for a prize; and the sons of the Trojans
made award and Pallas Athene. Would that I had never prevailed and won
such a prize! So goodly a head hath the earth closed over, for the sake of
those arms, even over Aias, who in beauty and in feats of war was of a
mould above all the other Danaans, next to the noble son of Peleus. To him
then I spake softly, saying:
“‘Aias, son of noble Telamon, so art thou not even in death to forget thy
wrath against me, by reason of those arms accursed, which the gods set to
be the bane of the Argives? What a tower of strength fell in thy fall, and we

Achaeans cease not to sorrow for thee, even as for the life of Achilles, son
of Peleus! Nay, there is none other to blame, but Zeus, who hath borne
wondrous hate to the army of the Danaan spearsmen, and laid on thee thy
doom. Nay, come hither, my lord, that thou mayest hear my word and my
speech; master thy wrath and thy proud spirit.’
“So I spake, but he answered me not a word and passed to Erebus after
the other spirits of the dead that be departed. Even then, despite his anger,
would he have spoken to me or I to him, but my heart within me was
minded to see the spirits of those others that were departed.
“There then I saw Minos, glorious son of Zeus, wielding a golden
sceptre, giving sentence from his throne to the dead, while they sat and
stood around the prince, asking his dooms through the wide-gated house of
Hades.
“And after him I marked the mighty Orion driving the wild beasts
together over the mead of asphodel, the very beasts that himself had slain
on the lonely hills, with a strong mace all of bronze in his hands,[22] that is
ever unbroken.
[22] ἔχων in strict grammar agrees with αὐτὸς in 574, but this is merely by
attraction, for in sense it refers not to the living man, but to his phantom.

“And I saw Tityos, son of renowned Earth, lying on a levelled ground,
and he covered nine roods as he lay, and vultures twain beset him one on
either side, and gnawed at his liver, piercing even to the caul, but he drave
them not away with his hands. For he had dealt violently with Leto, the
famous bedfellow of Zeus, as she went up to Pytho through the fair lawns
of Panopeus.
“Moreover I beheld Tantalus in grievous torment, standing in a mere and
the water came nigh unto his chin. And he stood straining as one athirst, but
he might not attain to the water to drink of it. For often as that old man
stooped down in his eagerness to drink, so often the water was swallowed
up and it vanished away, and the black earth still showed at his feet, for
some god parched it evermore. And tall trees flowering shed their fruit
overhead, pears and pomegranates and apple trees with bright fruit, and
sweet figs and olives in their bloom, whereat when that old man reached out
his hands to clutch them, the wind would toss them to the shadowy clouds.

“Yea and I beheld Sisyphus in strong torment, grasping a monstrous
stone with both his hands. He was pressing thereat with hands and feet, and
trying to roll the stone upward toward the brow of the hill. But oft as he was
about to hurl it over the top, the weight would drive him back, so once
again to the plain rolled the stone, the shameless thing. And he once more
kept heaving and straining, and the sweat the while was pouring down his
limbs, and the dust rose upwards from his head.
“And after him I descried the mighty Heracles, his phantom, I say; but as
for himself he hath joy at the banquet among the deathless gods, and hath to
wife Hebe of the fair ankles, child of great Zeus, and of Here of the golden
sandals. And all about him there was a clamour of the dead, as it were fowls
flying every way in fear, and he like black Night, with bow uncased, and
shaft upon the string, fiercely glancing around, like one in the act to shoot.
And about his breast was an awful belt, a baldric of gold, whereon
wondrous things were wrought, bears and wild boars and lions with
flashing eyes, and strife and battles and slaughters and murders of men.
Nay, now that he hath fashioned this, never another may he fashion, whoso
stored in his craft the device of that belt! And anon he knew me when his
eyes beheld me, and making lament he spake unto me winged words:
“‘Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices: ah!
wretched one, dost thou too lead such a life of evil doom, as I endured
beneath the rays of the sun? I was the son of Zeus Cronion, yet had I trouble
beyond measure, for I was subdued unto a man far worse than I. And he
enjoined on me hard adventures, yea and on a time he sent me hither to
bring back the hound of hell; for he devised no harder task for me than this.
I lifted the hound and brought him forth from out of the house of Hades;
and Hermes sped me on my way and the grey-eyed Athene.’
“Therewith he departed again into the house of Hades, but I abode there
still, if perchance some one of the hero folk besides might come, who died
in old time. Yea and I should have seen the men of old, whom I was fain to
look on, Theseus and Peirithous, renowned children of the gods. But ere
that might be the myriad tribes of the dead thronged up together with
wondrous clamour: and pale fear gat hold of me, lest the high goddess
Persephone should send me the head of the Gorgon, that dread monster,
from out of Hades.

“Straightway then I went to the ship, and bade my men mount the vessel,
and loose the hawsers. So speedily they went on board, and sat upon the
benches. And the wave of the flood bore the barque down the stream of
Oceanus, we rowing first, and afterwards the fair wind was our convoy.

BOOK XII.

Odysseus, his passage by the Sirens, and by Scylla and
Charybdis. The sacrilege committed by his men in the isle
Thrinacia. The destruction of his ships and men. How he
swam on a plank nine days together, and came to Ogygia,
where he stayed seven years with Calypso.

“Now after the ship had left the stream of the river Oceanus, and was
come to the wave of the wide sea, and the isle Aeaean, where is the
dwelling place of early Dawn and her dancing grounds, and the land of
sunrising, upon our coming thither we beached the ship in the sand, and
ourselves too stept ashore on the sea beach. There we fell on sound sleep
and awaited the bright Dawn.
“So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, I sent forth my
fellows to the house of Circe to fetch the body of the dead Elpenor. And
speedily we cut billets of wood and sadly we buried him, where the furthest
headland runs out into the sea, shedding big tears. But when the dead man
was burned and the arms of the dead, we piled a barrow and dragged up
thereon a pillar, and on the topmost mound we set the shapen oar.
“Now all that task we finished, and our coming from out of Hades was
not unknown to Circe, but she arrayed herself and speedily drew nigh, and
her handmaids with her bare flesh and bread in plenty and dark red wine.
And the fair goddess stood in the midst and spake in our ears, saying:
“‘Men overbold, who have gone alive into the house of Hades, to know
death twice, while all men else die once for all. Nay come, eat ye meat and
drink wine here all day long; and with the breaking of the day ye shall set
sail, and myself I will show you the path and declare each thing, that ye
may not suffer pain or hurt through any grievous ill-contrivance by sea or
on the land.’

“So spake she, and our lordly souls consented thereto. Thus for that time
we sat the livelong day, until the going down of the sun, feasting on
abundant flesh and on sweet wine. Now when the sun sank and darkness
came on, my company laid them to rest by the hawsers of the ship. Then
she took me by the hand and led me apart from my dear company, and
made me to sit down and laid herself at my feet, and asked all my tale. And
I told her all in order duly. Then at the last the Lady Circe spake unto me,
saying:
“‘Even so, now all these things have an end; do thou then hearken even
as I tell thee, and the god himself shall bring it back to thy mind. To the
Sirens first shalt thou come, who bewitch all men, whosoever shall come to
them. Whoso draws nigh them unwittingly and hears the sound of the
Sirens’ voice, never doth he see wife or babes stand by him on his return,
nor have they joy at his coming; but the Sirens enchant him with their clear
song, sitting in the meadow, and all about is a great heap of bones of men,
corrupt in death, and round the bones the skin is wasting. But do thou drive
thy ship past, and knead honey-sweet wax, and anoint therewith the ears of
thy company, lest any of the rest hear the song; but if thou myself art
minded to hear, let them bind thee in the swift ship hand and foot, upright in
the mast-stead, and from the mast let rope-ends be tied, that with delight
thou mayest hear the voice of the Sirens. And if thou shalt beseech thy
company and bid them to loose thee, then let them bind thee with yet more
bonds. But when thy friends have driven thy ship past these, I will not tell
thee fully which path shall thenceforth be thine, but do thou thyself consider
it, and I will speak to thee of either way. On the one side there are beetling
rocks, and against them the great wave roars of dark-eyed Amphitrite.
These, ye must know, are they the blessed gods call the Rocks Wandering.
By this way even winged things may never pass, nay, not even the cowering
doves that bear ambrosia to Father Zeus, but the sheer rock evermore takes
away one even of these, and the Father sends in another to make up the tale.
Thereby no ship of men ever escapes that comes thither, but the planks of
ships and the bodies of men confusedly are tossed by the waves of the sea
and the storms of ruinous fire. One ship only of all that fare by sea hath
passed that way, even Argo, that is in all men’s minds, on her voyage from
Aeetes. And even her the wave would lightly have cast there upon the
mighty rocks, but Here sent her by for love of Jason.

“‘On the other part are two rocks, whereof the one reaches with sharp
peak to the wide heaven, and a dark cloud encompasses it; this never
streams away, and there is no clear air about the peak neither in summer nor
in harvest tide. No mortal man may scale it or set foot thereon, not though
he had twenty hands and feet. For the rock is smooth, and sheer, as it were
polished. And in the midst of the cliff is a dim cave turned to Erebus,
towards the place of darkness, whereby ye shall even steer your hollow
ship, noble Odysseus. Not with an arrow from a bow might a man in his
strength reach from his hollow ship into that deep cave. And therein
dwelleth Scylla, yelping terribly. Her voice indeed is no greater than the
voice of a new-born whelp, but a dreadful monster is she, nor would any
look on her gladly, not if it were a god that met her. Verily she hath twelve
feet all dangling down; and six necks exceeding long, and on each a
hideous head, and therein three rows of teeth set thick and close, full of
black death. Up to her middle is she sunk far down in the hollow cave, but
forth she holds her heads from the dreadful gulf, and there she fishes,
swooping round the rock, for dolphins or sea-dogs, or whatso greater beast
she may anywhere take, whereof the deep-voiced Amphitrite feeds
countless flocks. Thereby no sailors boast that they have fled scatheless
ever with their ship, for with each head she carries off a man, whom she
hath snatched from out the dark-prowed ship.
“‘But that other cliff, Odysseus, thou shalt note, lying lower, hard by the
first: thou couldest send an arrow across. And thereon is a great fig-tree
growing, in fullest leaf, and beneath it mighty Charybdis sucks down black
water, for thrice a day she spouts it forth, and thrice a day she sucks it down
in terrible wise. Never mayest thou be there when she sucks the water, for
none might save thee then from thy bane, not even the Earth-Shaker! But
take heed and swiftly drawing nigh to Scylla’s rock drive the ship past,
since of a truth it is far better to mourn six of thy company in the ship, than
all in the selfsame hour.’
“So spake she, but I answered, and said unto her: ‘Come I pray thee
herein, goddess, tell me true, if there be any means whereby I might escape
from the deadly Charybdis and avenge me on that other, when she would
prey upon my company.’
“So spake I, and that fair goddess answered me: ‘Man overbold, lo, now
again the deeds of war are in thy mind and the travail thereof. Wilt thou not

yield thee even to the deathless gods? As for her, she is no mortal, but an
immortal plague, dread, grievous, and fierce, and not to be fought with; and
against her there is no defence; flight is the bravest way. For if thou tarry to
do on thine armour by the cliff, I fear lest once again she sally forth and
catch at thee with so many heads, and seize as many men as before. So
drive past with all thy force, and call on Cratais, mother of Scylla, which
bore her for a bane to mortals. And she will then let her from darting forth
thereafter.
“‘Then thou shalt come unto the isle Thrinacia; there are the many kine
of Helios and his brave flocks feeding, seven herds of kine and as many
goodly flocks of sheep, and fifty in each flock. They have no part in birth or
in corruption, and there are goddesses to shepherd them, nymphs with fair
tresses, Phaethusa and Lampetie whom bright Neaera bare to Helios
Hyperion. Now when the lady their mother had borne and nursed them, she
carried them to the isle Thrinacia to dwell afar, that they should guard their
father’s flocks and his kine with shambling gait. If thou doest these no hurt,
being heedful of thy return, truly ye may even yet reach Ithaca, albeit in evil
case. But if thou hurtest them, I foreshow ruin for thy ship and for thy men,
and even though thou shouldest thyself escape, late shalt thou return in evil
plight with the loss of all thy company.’
“So spake she, and anon came the golden-throned Dawn. Then the fair
goddess took her way up the island. But I departed to my ship and roused
my men themselves to mount the vessel and loose the hawsers. And
speedily they went aboard and sat upon the benches, and sitting orderly
smote the grey sea water with their oars. And in the wake of our dark-
prowed ship she sent a favouring wind that filled the sails, a kindly escort,
—even Circe of the braided tresses, a dread goddess of human speech. And
straightway we set in order the gear throughout the ship and sat us down,
and the wind and the helmsman guided our barque.
“Then I spake among my company with a heavy heart: ‘Friends,
forasmuch as it is not well that one or two alone should know of the oracles
that Circe, the fair goddess, spake unto me, therefore will I declare them,
that with foreknowledge we may die, or haply shunning death and destiny
escape. First she bade us avoid the sound of the voice of the wondrous
Sirens, and their field of flowers, and me only she bade listen to their
voices. So bind ye me in a hard bond, that I may abide unmoved in my

place, upright in the mast-stead, and from the mast let rope-ends be tied,
and if I beseech and bid you to set me free, then do ye straiten me with yet
more bonds.’
“Thus I rehearsed these things one and all, and declared them to my
company. Meanwhile our good ship quickly came to the island of the Sirens
twain, for a gentle breeze sped her on her way. Then straightway the wind
ceased, and lo, there was a windless calm, and some god lulled the waves.
Then my company rose up and drew in the ship’s sails, and stowed them in
the hold of the ship, while they sat at the oars and whitened the water with
their polished pine blades. But I with my sharp sword cleft in pieces a great
circle of wax, and with my strong hands kneaded it. And soon the wax grew
warm, for that my great might constrained it, and the beam of the lord
Helios, son of Hyperion. And I anointed therewith the ears of all my men in
their order, and in the ship they bound me hand and foot upright in the
mast-stead, and from the mast they fastened rope-ends and themselves sat
down, and smote the grey sea water with their oars. But when the ship was
within the sound of a man’s shout from the land, we fleeing swiftly on our
way, the Sirens espied the swift ship speeding toward them, and they raised
their clear-toned song:
“‘Hither, come hither, renowned Odysseus, great glory of the Achaeans,
here stay thy barque, that thou mayest listen to the voice of us twain. For
none hath ever driven by this way in his black ship, till he hath heard from
our lips the voice sweet as the honeycomb, and hath had joy thereof and
gone on his way the wiser. For lo, we know all things, all the travail that in
wide Troy-land the Argives and Trojans bare by the gods’ designs, yea, and
we know all that shall hereafter be upon the fruitful earth.’
“So spake they uttering a sweet voice, and my heart was fain to listen,
and I bade my company unbind me, nodding at them with a frown, but they
bent to their oars and rowed on. Then straight uprose Perimedes and
Eurylochus and bound me with more cords and straitened me yet the more.
Now when we had driven past them, nor heard we any longer the sound of
the Sirens or their song, forthwith my dear company took away the wax
wherewith I had anointed their ears and loosed me from my bonds.
“But so soon as we left that isle, thereafter presently I saw smoke and a
great wave, and heard the sea roaring. Then for very fear the oars flew from
their hands, and down the stream they all splashed, and the ship was holden

there, for my company no longer plied with their hands the tapering oars.
But I paced the ship and cheered on my men, as I stood by each one and
spake smooth words:
“‘Friends, forasmuch as in sorrow we are not all unlearned, truly this is
no greater woe that is upon us,[23] than when the Cyclops penned us by
main might in his hollow cave; yet even thence we made escape by my
manfulness, even by my counsel and my wit, and some day I think that this
adventure too we shall remember. Come now, therefore, let us all give ear
to do according to my word. Do ye smite the deep surf of the sea with your
oars, as ye sit on the benches, if peradventure Zeus may grant us to escape
from and shun this death. And as for thee, helmsman, thus I charge thee,
and ponder it in thine heart seeing that thou wieldest the helm of the hollow
ship. Keep the ship well away from this smoke and from the wave and hug
the rocks, lest the ship, ere thou art aware, start from her course to the other
side, and so thou hurl us into ruin.’
[23] Reading ἐπὶ, not ἔπει with La Roche.

“So I spake, and quickly they hearkened to my words. But of Scylla I
told them nothing more, a bane none might deal with, lest haply my
company should cease from rowing for fear, and hide them in the hold. In
that same hour I suffered myself to forget the hard behest of Circe, in that
she bade me in nowise be armed; but I did on my glorious harness and
caught up two long lances in my hands, and went on the decking of the
prow, for thence methought that Scylla of the rock would first be seen, who
was to bring woe on my company. Yet could I not spy her anywhere, and
my eyes waxed weary for gazing all about toward the darkness of the rock.
“Next we began to sail up the narrow strait lamenting. For on the one
hand lay Scylla, and on the other mighty Charybdis in terrible wise sucked
down the salt sea water. As often as she belched it forth, like a cauldron on
a great fire she would seethe up through all her troubled deeps, and
overhead the spray fell on the tops of either cliff. But oft as she gulped
down the salt sea water, within she was all plain to see through her troubled
deeps, and the rock around roared horribly and beneath the earth was
manifest swart with sand, and pale fear gat hold on my men. Toward her,
then, we looked fearing destruction; but Scylla meanwhile caught from out
my hollow ship six of my company, the hardiest of their hands and the chief
in might. And looking into the swift ship to find my men, even then I

marked their feet and hands as they were lifted on high, and they cried
aloud in their agony, and called me by my name for that last time of all.
Even as when as fisher on some headland lets down with a long rod his
baits for a snare to the little fishes below, casting into the deep the horn of
an ox of the homestead, and as he catches each flings it writhing ashore, so
writhing were they borne upward to the cliff. And there she devoured them
shrieking in her gates, they stretching forth their hands to me in the dread
death-struggle. And the most pitiful thing was this that mine eyes have seen
of all my travail in searching out the paths of the sea.
“Now when we had escaped the Rocks and dread Charybdis and Scylla,
thereafter we soon came to the fair island of the god; where were the goodly
kine, broad of brow, and the many brave flocks of Helios Hyperion. Then
while as yet I was in my black ship upon the deep, I heard the lowing of the
cattle being stalled and the bleating of the sheep, and on my mind there fell
the saying of the blind seer, Theban Teiresias, and of Circe of Aia, who
charged me very straitly to shun the isle of Helios, the gladdener of the
world. Then I spake out among my company in sorrow of heart:
“‘Hear my words, my men, albeit in evil plight, that I may declare unto
you the oracles of Teiresias and of Circe of Aia, who very straitly charged
me to shun the isle of Helios, the gladdener of the world. For there she said
the most dreadful mischief would befal us. Nay, drive ye then the black ship
beyond and past that isle.’
“So spake I, and their heart was broken within them. And Eurylochus
straightway answered me sadly, saying:
“‘Hardy art thou, Odysseus, of might beyond measure, and thy limbs are
never weary; verily thou art fashioned all of iron, that sufferest not thy
fellows, foredone with toil and drowsiness, to set foot on shore, where we
might presently prepare us a good supper in this sea-girt island. But even as
we are thou biddest us fare blindly through the sudden night, and from the
isle go wandering on the misty deep. And strong winds, the bane of ships,
are born of the night. How could a man escape from utter doom, if there
chanced to come a sudden blast of the South Wind, or of the boisterous
West, which mainly wreck ships, beyond the will of the gods, the lords of
all? Howbeit for this present let us yield to the black night, and we will
make ready our supper abiding by the swift ship, and in the morning we
will climb on board, and put out into the broad deep.’

“So spake Eurylochus, and the rest of my company consented thereto.
Then at the last I knew that some god was indeed imagining evil, and I
uttered my voice and spake unto him winged words:
“‘Eurylochus, verily ye put force upon me, being but one among you all.
But come, swear me now a mighty oath, one and all, to the intent that if we
light on a herd of kine or a great flock of sheep, none in the evil folly of his
heart may slay any sheep or ox; but in quiet eat ye the meat which the
deathless Circe gave.’
“So I spake, and straightway they swore to refrain as I commanded them.
Now after they had sworn and done that oath, we stayed our well-builded
ship in the hollow harbour near to a well of sweet water, and my company
went forth from out the ship and deftly got ready supper. But when they had
put from them the desire of meat and drink, thereafter they fell a weeping as
they thought upon their dear companions whom Scylla had snatched from
out the hollow ship and so devoured. And deep sleep came upon them amid
their weeping. And when it was the third watch of the night, and the stars
had crossed the zenith, Zeus the cloud-gatherer roused against them an
angry wind with wondrous tempest, and shrouded in clouds land and sea
alike, and from heaven sped down the night. Now when early Dawn shone
forth, the rosy-fingered, we beached the ship, and dragged it up within a
hollow cave, where were the fair dancing grounds of the nymphs and the
places of their session. Thereupon I ordered a gathering of my men and
spake in their midst, saying:
“‘Friends, forasmuch as there is yet meat and drink in the swift ship, let
us keep our hands off those kine, lest some evil thing befal us. For these are
the kine and the brave flocks of a dread god, even of Helios, who overseeth
all and overheareth all things.’
“So I spake, and their lordly spirit hearkened thereto. Then for a whole
month the South Wind blew without ceasing, and no other wind arose, save
only the East and the South.
“Now so long as my company still had corn and red wine, they refrained
them from the kine, for they were fain of life. But when the corn was now
all spent from out the ship, and they went wandering with barbed hooks in
quest of game, as needs they must, fishes and fowls, whatsoever might
come to their hand, for hunger gnawed at their belly, then at last I departed
up the isle, that I might pray to the gods, if perchance some one of them

might show me a way of returning. And now when I had avoided my
company on my way through the island, I laved my hands where was a
shelter from the wind, and prayed to all the gods that hold Olympus. But
they shed sweet sleep upon my eyelids. And Eurylochus the while set forth
an evil counsel to my company:
“‘Hear my words, my friends, though ye be in evil case. Truly every
shape of death is hateful to wretched mortals, but to die of hunger and so
meet doom is most pitiful of all. Nay come, we will drive off the best of the
kine of Helios and will do sacrifice to the deathless gods who keep wide
heaven. And if we may yet reach Ithaca, our own country, forthwith will we
rear a rich shrine to Helios Hyperion, and therein would we set many a
choice offering. But if he be somewhat wroth for his cattle with straight
horns, and is fain to wreck our ship, and the other gods follow his desire,
rather with one gulp at the wave would I cast my life away, than be slowly
straitened to death in a desert isle.’
“So spake Eurylochus, and the rest of the company consented thereto.
Forthwith they drave off the best of the kine of Helios that were nigh at
hand, for the fair kine of shambling gait and broad of brow were feeding no
great way from the dark-prowed ship. Then they stood around the cattle and
prayed to the gods, plucking the fresh leaves from an oak of lofty boughs,
for they had no white barley on board the decked ship. Now after they had
prayed and cut the throats of the kine and flayed them, they cut out slices of
the thighs and wrapped them in the fat, making a double fold, and thereon
they laid raw flesh. Yet had they no pure wine to pour over the flaming
sacrifices, but they made libation with water and roasted the entrails over
the fire. Now after the thighs were quite consumed and they had tasted the
inner parts, they cut the rest up small and spitted it on spits. In the same
hour deep sleep sped from my eyelids and I sallied forth to the swift ship
and the sea-banks. But on my way as I drew near to the curved ship, the
sweet savour of the fat came all about me; and I groaned and spake out
before the deathless gods:
“‘Father Zeus, and all ye other blessed gods that live for ever, verily to
my undoing ye have lulled me with a ruthless sleep, and my company
abiding behind have imagined a monstrous deed.’
“Then swiftly to Helios Hyperion came Lampetie of the long robes, with
the tidings that we had slain his kine. And straight he spake with angry heart

amid the Immortals:
“‘Father Zeus, and all ye other blessed gods that live for ever, take
vengeance I pray you on the company of Odysseus, son of Laertes, that
have insolently slain my cattle, wherein I was wont to be glad as I went
toward the starry heaven, and when I again turned earthward from the
firmament. And if they pay me not full atonement for the cattle, I will go
down to Hades and shine among the dead.’
“And Zeus the cloud-gatherer answered him, saying: ‘Helios, do thou, I
say, shine on amidst the deathless gods, and amid mortal men upon the
earth, the grain-giver. But as for me, I will soon smite their swift ship with
my white bolt, and cleave it in pieces in the midst of the wine-dark deep.’
“This I heard from Calypso of the fair hair; and she said that she herself
had heard it from Hermes the Messenger.
“But when I had come down to the ship and to the sea, I went up to my
companions and rebuked them one by one; but we could find no remedy,
the cattle were dead and gone. And soon thereafter the gods showed forth
signs and wonders to my company. The skins were creeping, and the flesh
bellowing upon the spits, both the roast and raw, and there was a sound as
the voice of kine.
“Then for six days my dear company feasted on the best of the kine of
Helios which they had driven off. But when Zeus, son of Cronos, had added
the seventh day thereto, thereafter the wind ceased to blow with a rushing
storm, and at once we climbed the ship and launched into the broad deep,
when we had set up the mast and hoisted the white sails.
“But now when we left that isle nor any other land appeared, but sky and
sea only, even then the son of Cronos stayed a dark cloud above the hollow
ship, and beneath it the deep darkened. And the ship ran on her way for no
long while, for of a sudden came the shrilling West, with the rushing of a
great tempest, and the blast of wind snapped the two forestays of the mast,
and the mast fell backward and all the gear dropped into the bilge. And
behold, on the hind part of the ship the mast struck the head of the pilot and
brake all the bones of his skull together, and like a diver he dropt down
from the deck, and his brave spirit left his bones. In that same hour Zeus
thundered and cast his bolt upon the ship, and she reeled all over being
stricken by the bolt of Zeus, and was filled with sulphur, and lo, my

company fell from out the vessel. Like sea-gulls they were borne round the
black ship upon the billows, and the god reft them of returning.
“But I kept pacing through my ship, till the surge loosened the sides from
the keel, and the wave swept her along stript of her tackling, and brake her
mast clean off at the keel. Now the backstay fashioned of an oxhide had
been flung thereon; therewith I lashed together both keel and mast, and
sitting thereon I was borne by the ruinous winds.
“Then verily the West Wind ceased to blow with a rushing storm, and
swiftly withal the South Wind came, bringing sorrow to my soul, that so I
might again measure back that space of sea, the way to deadly Charybdis.
All the night was I borne, but with the rising of the sun I came to the rock of
Scylla, and to dread Charybdis. Now she had sucked down her salt sea
water, when I was swung up on high to the tall fig-tree whereto I clung like
a bat, and could find no sure rest for my feet nor place to stand, for the roots
spread far below and the branches hung aloft out of reach, long and large,
and overshadowed Charybdis. Steadfast I clung till she should spew forth
mast and keel again; and late they came to my desire. At the hour when a
man rises up from the assembly and goes to supper, one who judges the
many quarrels of the young men that seek to him for law, at that same hour
those timbers came forth to view from out Charybdis. And I let myself drop
down hands and feet, and plunged heavily in the midst of the waters beyond
the long timbers, and sitting on these I rowed hard with my hands. But the
father of gods and of men suffered me no more to behold Scylla, else I
should never have escaped from utter doom.
“Thence for nine days was I borne, and on the tenth night the gods
brought me nigh to the isle of Ogygia, where dwells Calypso of the braided
tresses, an awful goddess of mortal speech, who took me in and entreated
me kindly. But why rehearse all this tale? For even yesterday I told it to
thee and to thy noble wife in thy house; and it liketh me not twice to tell a
plain-told tale.”

BOOK XIII.

Odysseus, sleeping, is set ashore at Ithaca by the Phaeacians,
and waking knows it not. Pallas, in the form of a shepherd,
helps to hide his treasure. The ship that conveyed him is
turned into a rock, and Odysseus by Pallas is instructed what
to do, and transformed into an old beggarman.

So spake he, and dead silence fell on all, and they were spell-bound
throughout the shadowy halls. Thereupon Alcinous answered him, and
spake, saying:
“Odysseus, now that thou hast come to my high house with floor of
bronze, never, methinks, shalt thou be driven from thy way ere thou
returnest, though thou hast been sore afflicted. And for each man among
you, that in these halls of mine drink evermore the dark wine of the elders,
and hearken to the minstrel, this is my word and command. Garments for
the stranger are already laid up in a polished coffer, with gold curiously
wrought, and all other such gifts as the counsellors of the Phaeacians bare
hither. Come now, let us each of us give him a great tripod and a cauldron,
and we in turn will gather goods among the people and get us recompense;
for it were hard that one man should give without repayment.”
So spake Alcinous, and the saying pleased them well. Then they went
each one to his house to lay him down to rest; but so soon as early Dawn
shone forth, the rosy-fingered, they hasted to the ship and bare the bronze,
the joy of men. And the mighty king Alcinous himself went about the ship
and diligently bestowed the gifts beneath the benches, that they might not
hinder any of the crew in their rowing, when they laboured at their oars.
Then they betook them to the house of Alcinous and fell to feasting. And
the mighty king Alcinous sacrificed before them an ox to Zeus, the son of
Cronos, that dwells in the dark clouds, who is lord of all. And when they

had burnt the pieces of the thighs, they shared the glorious feast and made
merry, and among them harped the divine minstrel Demodocus, whom the
people honoured. But Odysseus would ever turn his head toward the
splendour of the sun, as one fain to hasten his setting: for verily he was
most eager to return. And as when a man longs for his supper, for whom all
day long two dark oxen drag through the fallow field the jointed plough,
yea and welcome to such an one the sunlight sinketh, that so he may get
him to supper, for his knees wax faint by the way, even so welcome was the
sinking of the sunlight to Odysseus. Then straight he spake among the
Phaeacians, masters of the oar, and to Alcinous in chief he made known his
word, saying:
“My lord Alcinous, most notable of all the people, pour ye the drink
offering, and send me safe upon my way, and as for you, fare ye well. For
now have I all that my heart desired, an escort and loving gifts. May the
gods of heaven give me good fortune with them, and may I find my noble
wife in my home with my friends unharmed, while ye, for your part, abide
here and make glad your wedded wives and children; and may the gods
vouchsafe all manner of good, and may no evil come nigh the people!”
So spake he, and they all consented thereto and bade send the stranger on
his way, in that he had spoken aright. Then the mighty Alcinous spake to the
henchman: “Pontonous, mix the bowl and serve out the wine to all in the
hall, that we may pray to Father Zeus, and send the stranger on his way to
his own country.”
So spake he, and Pontonous mixed the honey-hearted wine, and served it
to all in turn. And they poured forth before the blessed gods that keep wide
heaven, even there as they sat. Then goodly Odysseus uprose, and placed in
Arete’s hand the two-handled cup, and uttering his voice spake to her
winged words:
“Fare thee well, O queen, all the days of thy life, till old age come and
death, that visit all mankind. But I go homeward, and do thou in this thy
house rejoice in thy children and thy people and Alcinous the king.”
Therewith goodly Odysseus stept over the threshold. And with him the
mighty Alcinous sent forth a henchman to guide him to the swift ship and
the sea-banks. And Arete sent in this train certain maidens of her household,
one bearing a fresh robe and a doublet, and another she joined to them to
carry the strong coffer, and yet another bare bread and red wine. Now when

they had come down to the ship and to the sea, straightway the good men of
the escort took these things and laid them by in the hollow ship, even all the
meat and drink. Then they strewed for Odysseus a rug and a sheet of linen,
on the decks of the hollow ship, in the hinder part thereof, that he might
sleep sound. Then he too climbed aboard and laid him down in silence,
while they sat upon the benches, every man in order, and unbound the
hawser from the pierced stone. So soon as they leant backwards and tossed
the sea water with the oar blade, a deep sleep fell upon his eyelids, a sound
sleep, very sweet, and next akin to death. And even as on a plain a yoke of
four stallions comes springing all together beneath the lash, leaping high
and speedily accomplishing the way, so leaped the stern of that ship, and the
dark wave of the sounding sea rushed mightily in the wake, and she ran
ever surely on her way, nor could a circling hawk keep pace with her, of
winged things the swiftest. Even thus she lightly sped and cleft the waves of
the sea, bearing a man whose counsel was as the counsel of the gods, one
that erewhile had suffered much sorrow of heart, in passing through the
wars of men, and the grievous waves; but for that time he slept in peace,
forgetful of all that he had suffered.
So when the star came up, that is brightest of all, and goes ever heralding
the light of early Dawn, even then did the seafaring ship draw nigh the
island. There is in the land of Ithaca a certain haven of Phorcys, the ancient
one of the sea, and thereby are two headlands of sheer cliff, which slope to
the sea on the haven’s side and break the mighty wave that ill winds roll
without, but within, the decked ships ride unmoored when once they have
reached the place of anchorage. Now at the harbour’s head is a long-leaved
olive tree, and hard by is a pleasant cave and shadowy, sacred to the
nymphs, that are called the Naiads. And therein are mixing bowls and jars
of stone, and there moreover do bees hive. And there are great looms of
stone, whereon the nymphs weave raiment of purple stain, a marvel to
behold, and therein are waters welling evermore. Two gates there are to the
cave, the one set toward the North Wind whereby men may go down, but
the portals toward the South pertain rather to the gods, whereby men may
not enter: it is the way of the immortals.
Thither they, as having knowledge of that place, let drive their ship; and
now the vessel in full course ran ashore, half her keel’s length high; so well
was she sped by the hands of the oarsmen. Then they alighted from the
benched ship upon the land, and first they lifted Odysseus from out the

hollow ship, all as he was in the sheet of linen and the bright rug, and laid
him yet heavy with slumber on the sand. And they took forth the goods
which the lordly Phaeacians had given him on his homeward way by grace
of the great-hearted Athene. These they set in a heap by the trunk of the
olive tree, a little aside from the road, lest some wayfaring man, before
Odysseus awakened, should come and spoil them. Then themselves
departed homeward again. But the shaker of the earth forgat not the threats,
wherewith at the first he had threatened god like Odysseus, and he inquired
into the counsel of Zeus, saying:
“Father Zeus, I for one shall no longer be of worship among the deathless
gods, when mortal men hold me in no regard, even Phaeacians, who
moreover are of mine own lineage. Lo, now I said that after much affliction
Odysseus should come home, for I had no mind to rob him utterly of his
return, when once thou hadst promised it and given assent; but behold, in
his sleep they have borne him in a swift ship over the sea, and set him down
in Ithaca, and given him gifts out of measure, bronze and gold in plenty and
woven raiment, much store, such as never would Odysseus have won for
himself out of Troy; yea, though he had returned unhurt with the share of
the spoil that fell to him.”
And Zeus, the cloud gatherer, answered him saying: “Lo, now, shaker of
the earth, of widest power, what a word hast thou spoken! The gods nowise
dishonour thee; hard would it be to assail with dishonour our eldest and our
best. But if any man, giving place to his own hardihood and strength, holds
thee not in worship, thou hast always thy revenge for the same, even in the
time to come. Do thou as thou wilt, and as seems thee good.”
Then Poseidon, shaker of the earth, answered him: “Straightway would I
do even as thou sayest, O god of the dark clouds; but thy wrath I always
hold in awe and avoid. Howbeit, now I fain would smite a fair ship of the
Phaeacians, as she comes home from a convoy on the misty deep, that
thereby they may learn to hold their hands, and cease from giving escort to
men; and I would overshadow their city with a great mountain.”
And Zeus the gatherer of the clouds, answered him, saying: “Friend,
learn now what seems best in my sight. At an hour when the folk are all
looking forth from the city at the ship upon her way, smite her into a stone
hard by the land; a stone in the likeness of a swift ship, that all mankind
may marvel, and do thou overshadow their city with a great mountain.”

Now when Poseidon, shaker of the earth, heard this saying, he went on
his way to Scheria, where the Phaeacians dwell. There he abode awhile; and
lo, she drew near, the seafaring ship, lightly sped upon her way. Then nigh
her came the shaker of the earth, and he smote her into a stone, and rooted
her far below with the down-stroke of his hand; and he departed thence
again.
Then one to the other they spake winged words, the Phaeacians of the
long oars, mariners renowned. And thus would they speak, looking each
man to his neighbour:
“Ah me! who is this that fettered our swift ship on the deep as she drave
homewards? Even now she stood full in sight.”
Even so they would speak; but they knew not how these things were
ordained. And Alcinous made harangue and spake among them:
“Lo now, in very truth the ancient oracles of my father have come home
to me. He was wont to say that Poseidon was jealous of us, for that we give
safe escort to all men. He said that the day would come when the god would
smite a fair ship of the Phaeacians, as she came home from a convoy on the
misty deep, and overshadow our city with a great mountain. Thus that
ancient one would speak; and lo, all these things now have an end. But
come, let us all give ear and do according to my word. Cease ye from the
convoy of mortals, whensoever any shall come unto our town, and let us
sacrifice to Poseidon twelve choice bulls, if perchance he may take pity,
neither overshadow our city with a great mountain.”
So spake he, and they were dismayed and got ready the bulls. Thus were
they praying to the lord Poseidon, the princes and counsellors of the land of
the Phaeacians, as they stood about the altar.
Even then the goodly Odysseus awoke where he slept on his native land;
nor knew he the same again, having now been long afar, for around him the
goddess had shed a mist, even Pallas Athene, daughter of Zeus, to the end
that she might make him undiscovered for that he was, and might expound
to him all things, that so his wife should not know him neither his
townsmen and kinsfolk, ere the wooers had paid for all their transgressions.
Wherefore each thing showed strange to the lord of the land, the long paths
and the sheltering havens and the steep rocks and the trees in their bloom.
So he started up, and stood and looked upon his native land, and then he

made moan withal, and smote on both his thighs with the down-stroke of
his hands, and making lament, he spake, saying:
“Oh, woe is me, unto what mortals’ land am I now come? Say, are they
froward, and wild, and unjust, or hospitable and of a god-fearing mind?
Whither do I bear all this treasure? Yea, where am I wandering myself? Oh
that the treasure had remained with the Phaeacians where it was, so had I
come to some other of the mighty princes, who would have entreated me
kindly and sent me on my way. But now I know not where to bestow these
things, nor yet will I leave them here behind, lest haply other men make
spoil of them. Ah then, they are not wholly wise or just, the princes and
counsellors of the Phaeacians, who carried me to a strange land. Verily they
promised to bring me to clear-seen Ithaca, but they performed it not. May
Zeus requite them, the god of suppliants, seeing that he watches over all
men and punishes the transgressor! But come, I will reckon up these goods
and look to them, lest the men be gone, and have taken aught away upon
their hollow ship.”
Therewith he set to number the fair tripods and the cauldrons and the
gold and the goodly woven raiment; and of all these he lacked not aught,
but he bewailed him for his own country, as he walked downcast by the
shore of the sounding sea, and made sore lament. Then Athene came nigh
him in the guise of a young man, the herdsman of a flock, a young man
most delicate, such as are the sons of kings. And she had a well-wrought
mantle that fell in two folds about her shoulders, and beneath her smooth
feet she had sandals bound, and a javelin in her hands. And Odysseus
rejoiced as he saw her, and came over against her, and uttering his voice
spake to her winged words:
“Friend, since thou art the first that I have chanced on in this land, hail to
thee, and with no ill-will mayest thou meet me! Nay, save this my substance
and save me too, for to thee as to a god I make prayer, and to thy dear knees
have I come. And herein tell me true, that I may surely know. What land,
what people is this? what men dwell therein? Surely, methinks, it is some
clear seen isle, or a shore of the rich mainland that lies and leans upon the
deep.”
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, spake to him again: “Thou art
witless, stranger, or thou art come from afar, if indeed thou askest of this
land; nay, it is not so very nameless but that many men know it, both all

those who dwell toward the dawning and the sun, and they that abide over
against the light toward the shadowy west. Verily it is rough and not fit for
the driving of horses, yet is it not a very sorry isle, though narrow withal.
For herein is corn past telling, and herein too wine is found, and the rain is
on it evermore, and the fresh dew. And it is good for feeding goats and
feeding kine; all manner of wood is here, and watering-places unfailing are
herein. Wherefore, stranger, the name of Ithaca hath reached even unto
Troy-land, which men say is far from this Achaean shore.”
So spake she, and the steadfast goodly Odysseus was glad, and had joy in
his own country, according to the word of Pallas Athene, daughter of Zeus,
lord of the aegis. And he uttered his voice and spake unto her winged
words; yet he did not speak the truth, but took back the word that was on his
lips, for quick and crafty was his wit within his breast:
“Of Ithaca have I heard tell, even in broad Crete, far over the seas; and
now have I come hither myself with these my goods. And I left as much
again to my children, when I turned outlaw for the slaying of the dear son
of Idomeneus, Orsilochus, swift of foot, who in wide Crete was the swiftest
of all men that live by bread. Now he would have despoiled me of all that
booty of Troy, for the which I had endured pain of heart, in passing through
the wars of men, and the grievous waves of the sea, for this cause that I
would not do a favour to his father, and make me his squire in the land of
the Trojans, but commanded other fellowship of mine own. So I smote him
with a bronze-shod spear as he came home from the field, lying in ambush
for him by the wayside, with one of my companions. And dark midnight
held the heavens, and no man marked us, but privily I took his life away.
Now after I had slain him with the sharp spear, straightway I went to a ship
and besought the lordly Phoenicians, and gave them spoil to their hearts’
desire. I charged them to take me on board, and land me at Pylos or at
goodly Elis where the Epeans bear rule. Howbeit of a truth, the might of the
wind drave them out of their course, sore against their will, nor did they
wilfully play me false. Thence we were driven wandering, and came hither
by night. And with much ado we rowed onward into harbour, nor took we
any thought of supper, though we stood sore in need thereof, but even as we
were we stept ashore and all lay down. Then over me there came sweet
slumber in my weariness, but they took forth my goods from the hollow
ship, and set them by me where I myself lay upon the sands. Then they

went on board, and departed for the fair-lying land of Sidon; while as for
me I was left stricken at heart.”
So spake he and the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, smiled, and caressed
him with her hand; and straightway she changed to the semblance of a
woman, fair and tall, and skilled in splendid handiwork. And uttering her
voice she spake unto him winged words:
“Crafty must he be, and knavish, who would outdo thee in all manner of
guile, even if it were a god encountered thee. Hardy man, subtle of wit, of
guile insatiate, so thou wast not even in thine own country to cease from thy
sleights and knavish words, which thou lovest from the bottom of thine
heart! But come, no more let us tell of these things, being both of us
practised in deceits, for that thou art of all men far the first in counsel and in
discourse, and I in the company of all the gods win renown for my wit and
wile. Yet thou knewest not me, Pallas Athene, daughter of Zeus, who am
always by thee and guard thee in all adventures. Yea, and I made thee to be
beloved of all the Phaeacians. And now am I come hither to contrive a plot
with thee and to hide away the goods, that by my counsel and design the
noble Phaeacians gave thee on thy homeward way. And I would tell thee
how great a measure of trouble thou art ordained to fulfil within thy well-
builded house. But do thou harden thy heart, for so it must be, and tell none
neither man nor woman of all the folk, that thou hast indeed returned from
wandering, but in silence endure much sorrow, submitting thee to the
despite of men.”
And Odysseus of many counsels answered her saying: “Hard is it,
goddess, for a mortal man that meets thee to discern thee, howsoever wise
he be; for thou takest upon thee every shape. But this I know well, that of
old thou wast kindly to me, so long as we sons of the Achaeans made war in
Troy. But so soon as we had sacked the steep city of Priam and had gone on
board our ships, and the god had scattered the Achaeans, thereafter I have
never beheld thee, daughter of Zeus, nor seen thee coming on board my
ship, to ward off sorrow from me—but I wandered evermore with a stricken
heart, till the gods delivered me from my evil case—even till the day when,
within the fat land of the men of Phaeacia, thou didst comfort me with thy
words, and thyself didst lead me to their city. And now I beseech thee in thy
father’s name to tell me: for I deem not that I am come to clear-seen Ithaca,
but I roam over some other land, and methinks that thou speakest thus to

mock me and beguile my mind. Tell me whether in very deed I am come to
mine own dear country.”
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, answered him: “Yea, such a thought
as this is ever in thy breast. Wherefore I may in no wise leave thee in thy
grief, so courteous art thou, so ready of wit and so prudent. Right gladly
would any other man on his return from wandering have hasted to behold
his children and his wife in his halls; but thou hast no will to learn or to hear
aught, till thou hast furthermore made trial of thy wife, who sits as ever in
her halls, and wearily for her the nights wane always and the days, in
shedding of tears. But of this I never doubted, but ever knew it in my heart
that thou wouldest come home with the loss of all thy company. Yet, I tell
thee, I had no mind to be at strife with Poseidon, my own father’s brother,
who laid up wrath in his heart against thee, being angered at the blinding of
his dear son. But come, and I will show thee the place of the dwelling of
Ithaca, that thou mayst be assured. Lo, here is the haven of Phorcys, the
ancient one of the sea, and here at the haven’s head is the olive tree with
spreading leaves, and hard by it is the pleasant cave and shadowy, sacred to
the nymphs that are called the Naiads. Yonder, behold, is the roofed cavern,
where thou offeredst many an acceptable sacrifice of hecatombs to the
nymphs; and lo, this hill is Neriton, all clothed in forest.”
Therewith the goddess scattered the mist, and the land appeared. Then
the steadfast goodly Odysseus was glad rejoicing in his own land, and he
kissed the earth, the grain-giver. And anon he prayed to the nymphs, and
lifted up his hands, saying:
“Ye Naiad nymphs, daughters of Zeus, never did I think to look on you
again, but now be ye greeted in my loving prayers: yea, and gifts as
aforetime I will give, if the daughter of Zeus, driver of the spoil, suffer me
of her grace myself to live, and bring my dear son to manhood.”
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, spake to him again: “Be of good
courage, and let not thy heart be careful about these things. But come, let us
straightway set thy goods in the secret place of the wondrous cave, that
there they may abide for thee safe. And let us for ourselves advise us how
all may be for the very best.”
Therewith the goddess plunged into the shadowy cave, searching out the
chambers of the cavern. Meanwhile Odysseus brought up his treasure, the
gold and the unyielding bronze and fair woven raiment, which the

Phaeacians gave him. And these things he laid by with care, and Pallas
Athene, daughter of Zeus, lord of the aegis, set a stone against the door of
the cave. Then they twain sat down by the trunk of the sacred olive tree, and
devised death for the froward wooers. And the goddess, grey-eyed Athene,
spake first, saying:
“Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, advise
thee how thou mayest stretch forth thine hands upon the shameless wooers,
who now these three years lord it through thy halls, as they woo thy godlike
wife and proffer the gifts of wooing. And she, that is ever bewailing her for
thy return, gives hope to all and makes promises to every man and sends
them messages, but her mind is set on other things.”
And Odysseus of many counsels answered her, saying:
“Lo now, in very truth I was like to have perished in my halls by the evil
doom of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, hadst not thou, goddess, declared me
each thing aright. Come then, weave some counsel whereby I may requite
them; and thyself stand by me, and put great boldness of spirit within me,
even as in the day when we loosed the shining coronal of Troy. If but thou
wouldest stand by me with such eagerness, thou grey-eyed goddess, I would
war even with three hundred men, with thee my lady and goddess, if thou of
thy grace didst succour me the while.”
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, answered him: “Yea, verily I will
be near thee nor will I forget thee, whensoever we come to this toil: and
methinks that certain of the wooers that devour thy livelihood shall
bespatter the boundless earth with blood and brains. But come, I will make
thee such-like that no man shall know thee. Thy fair skin I will wither on
thy supple limbs, and make waste thy yellow hair from off thy head, and
wrap thee in a foul garment, such that one would shudder to see a man
therein.[24] And I will dim thy two eyes, erewhile so fair, in such wise that
thou mayest be unseemly in the sight of all the wooers and of thy wife and
son, whom thou didst leave in thy halls. And do thou thyself first of all go
unto the swineherd, who tends thy swine, loyal and at one with thee, and
loves thy son and constant Penelope. Him shalt thou find sitting by the
swine, as they are feeding near the rock of Corax and the spring Arethusa,
and there they eat abundance of acorns and drink the black water, things
whereby swine grow fat and well-liking. There do thou abide and sit by the
swine, and find out all, till I have gone to Sparta, the land of fair women, to

call Telemachus thy dear son, Odysseus, who hath betaken himself to
spacious Lacedaemon, to the house of Menelaus to seek tidings of thee,
whether haply thou are yet alive.”
[24] Reading ἄνθρωπον, not ἄνθρωπος.

And Odysseus of many counsels answered her saying: “Nay, wherefore
then didst thou not tell him, seeing thou hast knowledge of all? Was it,
perchance, that he too may wander in sorrow over the unharvested seas, and
that others may consume his livelihood?”
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, answered him: “Nay, let him not be
heavy on thy heart. I myself was his guide, that by going thither he might
win a good report. Lo, he knows no toil, but he sits in peace in the palace of
the son of Atreus, and has boundless store about him. Truly the young men
with their black ship they lie in wait, and are eager to slay him ere he come
to his own country. But this, methinks, shall never be. Yea, sooner shall the
earth close over certain of the wooers that devour thy livelihood.”
Therewith Athene touched him with her wand. His fair flesh she withered
on his supple limbs, and made waste his yellow hair from off his head, and
over all his limbs she cast the skin of an old man, and dimmed his two eyes,
erewhile so fair. And she changed his raiment to a vile wrap and a doublet,
torn garments and filthy, stained with foul smoke. And over all she clad him
with the great bald hide of a swift stag, and she gave him a staff and a mean
tattered scrip, and a cord therewith to hang it.
And after they twain had taken this counsel together, they parted; and she
now went to goodly Lacedaemon to fetch the son of Odysseus.

BOOK XIV.

Odysseus, in the form of a beggar, goes to Eumaeus, the
master of his swine, where he is well used and tells a feigned
story, and informs himself of the behaviour of the wooers.

But Odysseus fared forth from the haven by the rough track, up the
wooded country and through the heights, where Athene had showed him
that he should find the goodly swineherd, who cared most for his substance
of all the thralls that goodly Odysseus had gotten.
Now he found him sitting at the vestibule of the house, where his
courtyard was builded high, in a place with wide prospect; a great court it
was and a fair, with free range round it. This the swineherd had builded by
himself for the swine of his lord who was afar, and his mistress and the old
man Laertes knew not of it. With stones from the quarry had he builded it,
and coped it with a fence of white thorn, and he had split an oak to the dark
core, and without he had driven stakes the whole length thereof on either
side, set thick and close; and within the courtyard he made twelve styes
hard by one another to be beds for the swine, and in each stye fifty
grovelling swine were penned, brood swine; but the boars slept without.
Now these were far fewer in number, the godlike wooers minishing them at
their feasts, for the swineherd ever sent in the best of all the fatted hogs.
And their tale was three hundred and three-score. And by them always slept
four dogs, as fierce as wild beasts, which the swineherd had bred, a master
of men. Now he was fitting sandals to his feet, cutting a good brown
oxhide, while the rest of his fellows, three in all, were abroad this way and
that, with the droves of swine; while the fourth he had sent to the city to
take a boar to the proud wooers, as needs he must, that they might sacrifice
it and satisfy their soul with flesh.

And of a sudden the baying dogs saw Odysseus, and they ran at him
yelping, but Odysseus in his wariness sat him down, and let the staff fall
from his hand. There by his own homestead would he have suffered foul
hurt, but the swineherd with quick feet hasted after them, and sped through
the outer door, and let the skin fall from his hand. And the hounds he chid
and drave them this way and that, with a shower of stones, and he spake
unto his lord, saying:
“Old man, truly the dogs went nigh to be the death of thee all of a
sudden, so shouldest thou have brought shame on me. Yea, and the gods
have given me other pains and griefs enough. Here I sit, mourning and
sorrowing for my godlike lord, and foster the fat swine for others to eat,
while he craving, perchance, for food, wanders over some land and city of
men of a strange speech, if haply he yet lives and beholds the sunlight. But
come with me, let us to the inner steading, old man, that when thy heart is
satisfied with bread and wine, thou too mayest tell thy tale and declare
whence thou art, and how many woes thou hast endured.”
Therewith the goodly swineherd led him to the steading, and took him in
and set him down, and strewed beneath him thick brushwood, and spread
thereon the hide of a shaggy wild goat, wide and soft, which served himself
for a mattress. And Odysseus rejoiced that he had given him such welcome,
and spake and hailed him:
“May Zeus, O stranger, and all the other deathless gods grant thee thy
dearest wish, since thou hast received me heartily!”
Then, O swineherd Eumaeus, didst thou answer him, saying: “Guest of
mine, it were an impious thing for me to slight a stranger, even if there
came a meaner man than thou; for from Zeus are all strangers and beggars;
and a little gift from such as we, is dear; for this is the way with thralls, who
are ever in fear when young lords like ours bear rule over them. For surely
the gods have stayed the returning of my master, who would have loved me
diligently, and given me somewhat of my own, a house and a parcel of
ground, and a comely[25] wife, such as a kind lord gives to his man, who
hath laboured much for him and the work of whose hands God hath
likewise increased, even as he increaseth this work of mine whereat I abide.
Therefore would my lord have rewarded me greatly, had he grown old at
home. But he hath perished, as I would that all the stock of Helen had
perished utterly, forasmuch as she hath caused the loosening of many a

man’s knees. For he too departed to Ilios of the goodly steeds, to get
atonement for Agamemnon, that so he might war with the Trojans.”
[25] Reading ἐύμορφόν.

Therewith he quickly bound up his doublet with his girdle, and went his
way to the styes, where the tribes of the swine were penned. Thence he took
and brought forth two, and sacrificed them both, and singed them and cut
them small, and spitted them. And when he had roasted all, he bare and set
it by Odysseus, all hot as it was upon the spits, and he sprinkled thereupon
white barley-meal. Then in a bowl of ivywood he mixed the honey-sweet
wine, and himself sat over against him and bade him fall to:
“Eat now, stranger, such fare as thralls have to hand, even flesh of
sucking pigs; but the fatted hogs the wooers devour, for they know not the
wrath of the gods nor any pity. Verily the blessed gods love not froward
deeds, but they reverence justice and the righteous acts of men. Yet even
foes and men unfriendly, that land on a strange coast, and Zeus grants them
a prey, and they have laden their ships and depart for home; yea, even on
their hearts falls strong fear of the wrath of the gods. But lo you, these men
know somewhat,—for they have heard an utterance of a god—, even the
tidings of our lord’s evil end, seeing that they are not minded justly to woo,
nor to go back to their own, but at ease they devour our wealth with
insolence, and now there is no sparing. For every day and every night that
comes from Zeus, they make sacrifice not of one victim only, nor of two,
and wine they draw and waste it riotously. For surely his livelihood was
great past telling, no lord in the dark mainland had so much, nor any in
Ithaca itself; nay, not twenty men together have wealth so great, and I will
tell thee the sum thereof. Twelve herds of kine upon the mainland, as many
flocks of sheep, as many droves of swine, as many ranging herds of goats,
that his own shepherds and strangers pasture. And ranging herds of goats,
eleven in all, graze here by the extremity of the island with trusty men to
watch them. And day by day each man of these ever drives one of the flock
to the wooers, whichsoever seems the best of the fatted goats. But as for me
I guard and keep these swine and I choose out for them, as well as I may,
the best of the swine and send it hence.”
So spake he, but Odysseus ceased not to eat flesh and drink wine right
eagerly and in silence, and the while was sowing the seeds of evil for the
wooers. Now when he had well eaten and comforted his heart with food,

then the herdsman filled him the bowl out of which he was wont himself to
drink, and he gave it him brimming with wine, and he took it and was glad
at heart, and uttering his voice spake to him winged words:
“My friend, who was it then that bought thee with his wealth, a man so
exceedingly rich and mighty as thou declarest? Thou saidest that he
perished to get atonement for Agamemnon; tell me, if perchance I may
know him, being such an one as thou sayest. For Zeus, methinks, and the
other deathless gods know whether I may bring tidings of having seen him;
for I have wandered far.”
Then the swineherd, a master of men, answered him: “Old man, no
wanderer who may come hither and bring tidings of him can win the ear of
his wife and his dear son; but lightly do vagrants lie when they need
entertainment, and care not to tell truth. Whosoever comes straying to the
land of Ithaca, goes to my mistress and speaks words of guile. And she
receives him kindly and lovingly and inquires of all things, and the tears fall
from her eyelids for weeping, as is meet for a woman when her lord hath
died afar. And quickly enough wouldst thou too, old man, forge a tale, if
any would but give thee a mantle and a doublet for raiment. But as for him,
dogs and swift fowls are like already to have torn his skin from the bones,
and his spirit hath left him. Or the fishes have eaten him in the deep, and
there lie his bones swathed in sand-drift on the shore. Yonder then hath he
perished, but for his friends nought is ordained but care, for all, but for me
in chief. For never again shall I find a lord so gentle, how far soever I may
go, not though again I attain unto the house of my father and my mother,
where at first I was born, and they nourished me themselves and with their
own hands they reared me. Nor henceforth it is not for these that I sorrow
so much, though I long to behold them with mine eyes in mine own
country, but desire comes over me for Odysseus who is afar. His name,
stranger, even though he is not here, it shameth me to speak, for he loved
me exceedingly, and cared for me at heart; nay, I call him ‘worshipful,’
albeit he is far hence.”
Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus spake to him again: “My friend,
forasmuch as thou gainsayest utterly, and sayest that henceforth he will not
come again, and thine heart is ever slow to believe, therefore will I tell thee
not lightly but with an oath, that Odysseus shall return. And let me have the
wages of good tidings as soon as ever he in his journeying shall come hither

to his home. Then clothe me in a mantle and a doublet, goodly raiment. But
ere that, albeit I am sore in need I will not take aught, for hateful to me even
as the gates of hell, is that man, who under stress of poverty speaks words
of guile. Now be Zeus my witness before any god, and the hospitable board
and the hearth of noble Odysseus whereunto I am come, that all these things
shall surely be accomplished even as I tell thee. In this same year Odysseus
shall come hither; as the old moon wanes and the new is born shall he
return to his home, and shall take vengeance on all who here dishonour his
wife and noble son.”
Then didst thou make answer, swineherd Eumaeus: “Old man, it is not I
then, that shall ever pay thee these wages of good tidings, nor henceforth
shall Odysseus ever come to his home. Nay drink in peace, and let us turn
our thoughts to other matters, and bring not these to my remembrance, for
surely my heart within me is sorrowful whenever any man puts me in mind
of my true lord. But as for thine oath, we will let it go by; yet, oh that
Odysseus may come according to my desire, and the desire of Penelope and
of that old man Laertes and godlike Telemachus! But now I make a
comfortless lament for the boy begotten of Odysseus, even for Telemachus.
When the gods had reared him like a young sapling, and I thought that he
would be no worse man among men than his dear father, glorious in form
and face, some god or some man marred his good wits within him, and he
went to fair Pylos after tidings of his sire. And now the lordly wooers lie in
wait for him on his way home, that the race of godlike Arceisius may perish
nameless out of Ithaca. Howbeit, no more of him now, whether he shall be
taken or whether he shall escape, and Cronion stretch out his hand to shield
him. But come, old man, do thou tell me of thine own troubles. And herein
tell me true, that I may surely know. Who art thou of the sons of men, and
whence? Where is thy city, where are they that begat thee? Say on what
manner of ship didst thou come, and how did sailors bring thee to Ithaca,
and who did they avow them to be? For in nowise do I deem that thou
camest hither by land.”
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: “Yea now, I will
tell thee all most plainly. Might we have food and sweet wine enough to last
for long, while we abide within thy hut to feast thereon in quiet, and others
betake them to their work; then could I easily speak for a whole year, nor
yet make a full end of telling all the troubles of my spirit, all the travail I
have wrought by the will of the gods.

“I avow that I come by lineage from wide Crete, and am the son of a
wealthy man. And many other sons he had born and bred in the halls, lawful
born of a wedded wife; but the mother that bare me was a concubine bought
with a price. Yet Castor son of Hylax, of whose blood I avow me to be,
gave me no less honour than his lawful sons. Now he at the time got
worship even as a god from the Cretans in the land, for wealth and riches
and sons renowned. Howbeit the fates of death bare him away to the house
of Hades, and his gallant sons divided among them his living and cast lots
for it. But to me they gave a very small gift and assigned me a dwelling,
and I took unto me a wife, the daughter of men that had wide lands, by
reason of my valour, for that I was no weakling nor a dastard; but now all
my might has failed me, yet even so I deem that thou mightest guess from
seeing the stubble what the grain has been, for of trouble I have plenty and
to spare. But then verily did Ares and Athene give me boldness and courage
to hurl through the press of men, whensoever I chose the best warriors for
an ambush, sowing the seeds of evil for my foes; no boding of death was
ever in my lordly heart, but I would leap out the foremost and slay with the
spear whoso of my foes was less fleet of foot than I. Such an one was I in
war, but the labour of the field I never loved, nor home-keeping thrift, that
breeds brave children, but galleys with their oars were dear to me, and wars
and polished shafts and darts—baneful things whereat others use to
shudder. But that, methinks, was dear to me which the god put in my heart,
for divers men take delight in divers deeds. For ere ever the sons of the
Achaeans had set foot on the land of Troy, I had nine times been a leader of
men and of swift-faring ships against a strange people, and wealth fell ever
to my hands. Of the booty I would choose out for me all that I craved, and
much thereafter I won by lot. So my house got increase speedily, and thus I
waxed dread and honourable among the Cretans. But when Zeus, of the far-
borne voice, devised at the last that hateful path which loosened the knees
of many a man in death, then the people called on me and on renowned
Idomeneus to lead the ships to Ilios, nor was there any way whereby to
refuse, for the people’s voice bore hard upon us. There we sons of the
Achaeans warred for nine whole years, and then in the tenth year we sacked
the city of Priam, and departed homeward with our ships, and a god
scattered the Achaeans. But Zeus, the counsellor, devised mischief against
me, wretched man that I was! For one month only I abode and had joy in
my children and my wedded wife, and all that I had; and thereafter my spirit

bade me fit out ships in the best manner and sail to Egypt with my godlike
company. Nine ships I fitted out and the host was gathered quickly; and
then for six days my dear company feasted, and I gave them many victims
that they might sacrifice to the gods and prepare a feast for themselves. But
on the seventh day we set sail from wide Crete, with a North Wind fresh
and fair, and lightly we ran as it were down stream, yea and no harm came
to any ship of mine, but we sat safe and hale, while the wind and the pilots
guided the barques. And on the fifth day we came to the fair-flowing
Aegyptus, and in the river Aegyptus I stayed my curved ships. Then verily I
bade my dear companions to abide there by the ships and to guard them,
and I sent forth scouts to range the points of outlook. But my men gave
place to wantonness, being the fools of their own force, and soon they fell
to wasting the fields of the Egyptians, exceeding fair, and led away their
wives and infant children and slew the men. And the cry came quickly to
the city, and the people hearing the shout came forth at the breaking of the
day, and all the plain was filled with footmen and chariots and with the
glitter of bronze. And Zeus, whose joy is in the thunder, sent an evil panic
upon my company, and none durst stand and face the foe, for danger
encompassed us on every side. There they slew many of us with the edge of
the sword, and others they led up with them alive to work for them
perforce. But as for me, Zeus himself put a thought into my heart; would to
God that I had rather died, and met my fate there in Egypt, for sorrow was
still mine host! Straightway I put off my well-wrought helmet from my
head, and the shield from off my shoulders, and I cast away my spear from
my hand, and I came over against the chariots of the king, and clasped and
kissed his knees, and he saved me and delivered me, and setting me on his
own chariot took me weeping to his home. Truly many an one made at me
with their ashen spears, eager to slay me, for verily they were sore angered.
But the king kept them off and had respect unto the wrath of Zeus, the god
of strangers, who chiefly hath displeasure at evil deeds. So for seven whole
years I abode with their king, and gathered much substance among the
Egyptians, for they all gave me gifts. But when the eighth year came in due
season, there arrived a Phoenician practised in deceit, a greedy knave, who
had already done much mischief among men. He wrought on me with his
cunning, and took me with him until he came to Phoenicia, where was his
house and where his treasures lay. There I abode with him for the space of a
full year. But when now the months and days were fulfilled, as the year

came round and the seasons returned, he set me aboard a seafaring ship for
Libya, under colour as though I was to convey a cargo thither with him, but
his purpose was to sell me in Libya, and get a great price. So I went with
him on board, perforce, yet boding evil. And the ship ran before a North
Wind fresh and fair, through the mid sea over above Crete, and Zeus
contrived the destruction of the crew. But when we left Crete, and no land
showed in sight but sky and sea only, even then the son of Cronos stayed a
dark cloud over the hollow ship, and the deep grew dark beneath it. And in
the same moment Zeus thundered and smote his bolt into the ship, and she
reeled all over being stricken by the bolt of Zeus, and was filled with fire
and brimstone, and all the crew fell overboard. And like sea-gulls they were
borne hither and thither on the waves about the black ship, and the god cut
off their return. But in this hour of my affliction Zeus himself put into my
hands the huge mast of the dark-prowed ship, that even yet I might escape
from harm. So I clung round the mast and was borne by the ruinous winds.
For nine days was I borne, and on the tenth black night the great rolling
wave brought me nigh to the land of the Thesprotians. There the king of the
Thesprotians, the lord Pheidon, took me in freely, for his dear son lighted
on me and raised me by the hand and led me to his house, foredone with toil
and the keen air, till he came to his father’s palace. And he clothed me in a
mantle and a doublet for raiment.
“There I heard tidings of Odysseus, for the king told me that he had
entertained him, and kindly entreated him on his way to his own country;
and he showed me all the wealth that Odysseus had gathered, bronze and
gold and well-wrought iron; yea it would suffice for his children after him
even to the tenth generation, so great were the treasures he had stored in the
chambers of the king. He had gone, he said, to Dodona to hear the counsel
of Zeus, from the high leafy oak tree of the god, how he should return to the
fat land of Ithaca after long absence, whether openly or by stealth.
Moreover, he sware, in mine own presence, as he poured the drink offering
in his house, that the ship was drawn down to the sea and his company were
ready, who were to convey him to his own dear country. But ere that, he
sent me off, for it chanced that a ship of the Thesprotians was starting for
Dulichium, a land rich in grain. Thither he bade them bring me with all
diligence to the king Acastus. But an evil counsel concerning me found
favour in their sight, that even yet I might reach the extremity of sorrow.
When the seafaring ship had sailed a great way from the land, anon they

sought how they might compass for me the day of slavery. They stript me of
my garments, my mantle and a doublet, and changed my raiment to a vile
wrap and doublet, tattered garments, even those thou seest now before thee;
and in the evening they reached the fields of clear-seen Ithaca. There in the
decked ship they bound me closely with a twisted rope, and themselves
went ashore, and hasted to take supper by the sea-banks. Meanwhile the
gods themselves lightly unclasped my bands, and muffling my head with
the wrap I slid down the smooth lading-plank, and set my breast to the sea
and rowed hard with both hands as I swam, and very soon I was out of the
water and beyond their reach. Then I went up where there was a thicket, a
wood in full leaf, and lay there crouching. And they went hither and thither
making great moan; but when now it seemed to them little avail to go
further on their quest, they departed back again aboard their hollow ship.
And the gods themselves hid me easily and brought me nigh to the
homestead of a wise man; for still, methinks, I am ordained to live on.”
Then didst thou make answer to him, swineherd Eumaeus: “Ah!
wretched guest, verily thou hast stirred my heart with the tale of all these
things, of thy sufferings and thy wanderings. Yet herein, methinks, thou
speakest not aright, and never shalt thou persuade me with the tale about
Odysseus; why should one in thy plight lie vainly? Well I know of mine
own self, as touching my lord’s return, that he was utterly hated by all the
gods, in that they smote him not among the Trojans nor in the arms of his
friends, when he had wound up the clew of war. So should the whole
Achaean host have builded him a barrow; yea and for his son would he
have won great glory in the after days; but now all ingloriously the spirits of
the storm have snatched him away. But as for me I dwell apart by the swine
and go not to the city, unless perchance wise Penelope summons me thither,
when tidings of my master are brought I know not whence. Now all the
people sit round and straitly question the news-bearer, both such as grieve
for their lord that is long gone, and such as rejoice in devouring his living
without atonement. But I have no care to ask or to inquire, since the day
that an Aetolian cheated me with his story, one who had slain his man and
wandered over wide lands and came to my steading, and I dealt lovingly
with him. He said that he had seen my master among the Cretans at the
house of Idomeneus, mending his ships which the storms had broken. And
he said that he would come home either by the summer or the harvest-tide,
bringing much wealth with the godlike men of his company. And thou too,

old man of many sorrows, seeing that some god hath brought thee to me,
seek not my grace with lies, nor give me any such comfort; not for this will
I have respect to thee or hold thee dear, but only for the fear of Zeus, the
god of strangers, and for pity of thyself.”
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: “Verily thy heart
within thee is slow to believe, seeing that even with an oath I have not won
thee, nor find credence with thee. But come now, let us make a covenant;
and we will each one have for witnesses the gods above, who hold
Olympus. If thy lord shall return to this house, put on me a mantle and
doublet for raiment, and send me on my way to Dulichium, whither I had a
desire to go. But if thy lord return not according to my word, set thy thralls
upon me, and cast me down from a mighty rock, that another beggar in his
turn may beware of deceiving.”
And the goodly swineherd answered him, saying: “Yea stranger, even so
should I get much honour and good luck among men both now and ever
hereafter, if after bringing thee to my hut and giving thee a stranger’s cheer,
I should turn again and slay thee and take away thy dear life. Eager indeed
thereafter should I be to make a prayer to Zeus the son of Cronos! But now
it is supper-time, and would that my fellows may speedily be at home, that
we may make ready a dainty supper within the hut.”
Thus they spake one to the other. And lo, the swine and the swineherds
drew nigh. And the swine they shut up to sleep in their lairs, and a mighty
din arose as the swine were being stalled. Then the goodly swineherd called
to his fellows, saying:
“Bring the best of the swine, that I may sacrifice it for a guest of mine
from a far land: and we too will have good cheer therewith, for we have
long suffered and toiled by reason of the white-tusked swine, while others
devour the fruit of our labour without atonement.”
Therewithal he cleft logs with the pitiless axe, and the others brought in a
well-fatted boar of five years old; and they set him by the hearth nor did the
swineherd forget the deathless gods, for he was of an understanding heart.
But for a beginning of sacrifice he cast bristles from the head of the white-
tusked boar upon the fire, and prayed to all the gods that wise Odysseus
might return to his own house. Then he stood erect, and smote the boar with
a billet of oak which he had left in the cleaving, and the boar yielded up his
life. Then they cut the throat and singed the carcass and quickly cut it up,

and the swineherd took a first portion from all the limbs, and laid the raw
flesh on the rich fat. And some pieces he cast into the fire after sprinkling
them with bruised barley-meal, and they cut the rest up small, and pierced
it, and spitted and roasted it carefully, and drew it all off from the spits, and
put the whole mess together on trenchers. Then the swineherd stood up to
carve, for well he knew what was fair, and he cut up the whole and divided
it into seven portions. One, when he had prayed, he set aside for the nymphs
and for Hermes son of Maia, and the rest he distributed to each. And he
gave Odysseus the portion of honour, the long back of the white-tusked
boar, and the soul of his lord rejoiced at this renown, and Odysseus of many
counsels hailed him saying:
“Eumaeus, oh that thou mayest so surely be dear to father Zeus, as thou
art to me, seeing that thou honourest me with a good portion, such an one as
I am!”
Then didst thou make answer, swineherd Eumaeus:
“Eat, luckless stranger, and make merry with such fare as is here. And
one thing the god will give and another withhold, even as he will, for with
him all things are possible.”
So he spake, and made burnt offering of the hallowed parts to the
everlasting gods, and poured the dark wine for a drink offering, and set the
cup in the hands of Odysseus, the waster of cities, and sat down by his own
mess. And Mesaulius bare them wheaten bread, a thrall that the swineherd
had gotten all alone, while his lord was away, without the knowledge of his
mistress and the old Laertes: yea he had bought him of the Taphians with
his own substance. So they stretched forth their hands upon the good cheer
spread before them. Now after they had put from them the desire of meat
and drink, Mesaulius cleared away the bread, and they, now that they had
eaten enough of bread and flesh, were moved to go to rest.
Now it was so that night came on foul with a blind moon, and Zeus
rained the whole night through, and still the great West Wind, the rainy
wind, was blowing. Then Odysseus spake among them that he might make
trial of the swineherd, and see whether he would take off his own mantle
and give it to him or bid one of his company strip, since he cared for him so
greatly:
“Listen now, Eumaeus, and all of you his companions, with a prayer will
I utter my word; so bids me witless wine, which drives even the wisest to

sing and to laugh softly, and rouses him to dance, yea and makes him to
speak out a word which were better unspoken. Howbeit, now that I have
broken into speech, I will not hide aught. Oh that I were young, and my
might were steadfast, as in the day when we arrayed our ambush and led it
beneath Troy town! And Odysseus, and Menelaus son of Atreus, were
leaders and with them I was a third in command; for so they bade me. Now
when we had come to the city and the steep wall, we lay about the citadel in
the thick brushwood, crouching under our arms among the reeds and the
marsh land, and behold, the night came on foul, with frost, as the North
Wind went down, while the snow fell from above, and crusted like rime,
bitter cold, and the ice set thick about our shields. Now the others all had
mantles and doublets, and slept in peace with their shields buckled close
about their shoulders; but I as I went forth had left my mantle behind with
my men, in my folly, thinking that even so I should not be cold: so I came
with only my shield and bright leathern apron. But when it was now the
third watch of the night and the stars had passed the zenith, in that hour I
spake unto Odysseus who was nigh me, and thrust him with my elbow, and
he listened straightway:
“‘Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, verily I
shall cease from among living men, for this wintry cold is slaying me,
seeing that I have no mantle. Some god beguiled me to wear a doublet only,
and henceforth is no way of escape.’
“So I spake, and he apprehended a thought in his heart, such an one as he
was in counsel and in fight. So he whispered and spake to me, saying:
“‘Be silent now, lest some other Achaeans hear thee.’ Therewith he raised
his head upon his elbow, and spake, saying: ‘Listen, friends, a vision from a
god came to me in my sleep. Lo, we have come very far from the ships; I
would there were one to tell it to Agamemnon, son of Atreus, shepherd of
the host, if perchance he may send us hither a greater company from the
ships.’
“So spake he, and Thoas, son of Andraemon, rose up quickly and cast off
his purple mantle. And he started to run unto the ships, but I lay gladly in
his garment, and the golden-throned Dawn showed her light. Oh! that I
were young as then and my might steadfast! Then should some of the
swineherds in the homestead give me a mantle, alike for love’s sake and for

pity of a good warrior. But now they scorn me for that sorry raiment is
about my body.”
Then didst thou make answer, O swineherd Eumaeus: “Old man, the tale
that thou hast told in his praise is very good, and so far thou hast not
misspoken aught, nor uttered a word unprofitably. Wherefore for this night
thou shalt lack neither raiment nor aught else that is the due of a hapless
suppliant, when he has met them that can befriend him. But in the morning
thou shalt go shuffling in thine own rags, for there are not many mantles
here or changes of doublet; for each man hath but one coat. But when the
dear son of Odysseus comes, he himself will give thee a mantle and doublet
for raiment, and send thee whithersoever thy heart and spirit bid.”
With that he sprang up and set a bed for Odysseus near the fire, and
thereon he cast skins of sheep and goats. There Odysseus laid him down
and Eumaeus cast a great thick mantle over him, which he had ever by him
for a change of covering, when any terrible storm should arise.
So there Odysseus slept, and the young men slept beside him. But the
swineherd had no mind to lie there in a bed away from the boars. So he
made him ready to go forth and Odysseus was glad, because he had a great
care for his master’s substance while he was afar. First he cast his sharp
sword about his strong shoulders, then he clad him in a very thick mantle,
to keep the wind away; and he caught up the fleece of a great and well-fed
goat, and seized his sharp javelin, to defend him against dogs and men.
Then he went to lay him down even where the white-tusked boars were
sleeping, beneath the hollow of the rock, in a place of shelter from the
North Wind.

BOOK XV.

Pallas sends home Telemachus from Lacedaemon with the
presents given him by Menelaus. Telemachus landed, goes
first to Eumaeus.

Now Pallas Athene went to the wide land of Lacedaemon, to put the
noble son of the great-hearted Odysseus in mind of his return, and to make
him hasten his coming. And she found Telemachus, and the glorious son of
Nestor, couched at the vestibule of the house of famous Menelaus. The son
of Nestor truly was overcome with soft sleep, but sweet sleep gat not hold
of Telemachus, but, through the night divine, careful thoughts for his father
kept him wakeful. And grey-eyed Athene stood nigh him and spake to him,
saying:
“Telemachus, it is no longer meet that thou shouldest wander far from thy
home, leaving thy substance behind thee, and men in thy house so wanton,
lest they divide and utterly devour all thy wealth, and thou shalt have gone
on a vain journey. But come, rouse with all haste Menelaus, of the loud
war-cry, to send thee on thy way, that thou mayest even yet find thy noble
mother in her home. For even now her father and her brethren bid her wed
Eurymachus, for he outdoes all the wooers in his presents, and hath been
greatly increasing his gifts of wooing. So shall she take no treasure from thy
house despite thy will. Thou knowest of what sort is the heart of a woman
within her; all her desire is to increase the house of the man who takes her
to wife, but of her former children and of her own dear lord she has no more
memory once he is dead, and she asks concerning him no more. Go then,
and thyself place all thy substance in the care of the handmaid who seems
to thee the best, till the day when the gods shall show thee a glorious bride.
Now another word will I tell thee, and do thou lay it up in thine heart. The
noblest of the wooers lie in wait for thee of purpose, in the strait between

Ithaca and rugged Samos, eager to slay thee before thou come to thine own
country. But this, methinks, will never be; yea, sooner shall the earth close
over certain of the wooers that devour thy livelihood. Nay, keep thy well-
wrought ship far from those isles, and sail by night as well as day, and he of
the immortals who hath thee in his keeping and protection will send thee a
fair breeze in thy wake. But when thou hast touched the nearest shore of
Ithaca, send thy ship and all thy company forward to the city, but for thy
part seek first the swineherd who keeps thy swine, loyal and at one with
thee. There do thou rest the night, and bid him go to the city to bear tidings
of thy coming to the wise Penelope, how that she hath got thee safe, and
thou art come up out of Pylos.”
Therewith she departed to high Olympus. But Telemachus woke the son
of Nestor out of sweet sleep, touching him with his heel, and spake to him,
saying:
“Awake, Peisistratus, son of Nestor, bring up thy horses of solid hoof,
and yoke them beneath the car, that we may get forward on the road.”
Then Peisistratus, son of Nestor, answered him, saying: “Telemachus, we
may in no wise drive through the dark night, how eager soever to be gone;
nay, soon it will be dawn. Tarry then, till the hero, the son of Atreus, spear-
famed Menelaus, brings gifts, and sets them on the car, and bespeaks thee
kindly, and sends thee on thy way. For of him a guest is mindful all the days
of his life, even of the host that shows him loving-kindness.”
So spake he, and anon came the golden-throned Dawn. And Menelaus, of
the loud war cry, drew nigh to them, new risen from his bed, by fair-haired
Helen. Now when the dear son of Odysseus marked him, he made haste and
girt his shining doublet about him, and the hero cast a great mantle over his
mighty shoulders, and went forth at the door, and Telemachus, dear son of
divine Odysseus, came up and spake to Menelaus, saying:
“Menelaus, son of Atreus, fosterling of Zeus, leader of the people, even
now do thou speed me hence, to mine own dear country; for even now my
heart is fain to come home again.”
Then Menelaus, of the loud war cry, answered him: “Telemachus, as for
me, I will not hold thee a long time here, that art eager to return; nay, I think
it shame even in another host, who loves overmuch or hates overmuch.
Measure is best in all things. He does equal wrong who speeds a guest that
would fain abide, and stays one who is in haste to be gone. Men should

lovingly entreat the present guest and speed the parting. But abide till I
bring fair gifts and set them on the car and thine own eyes behold them, and
I bid the women to prepare the midday meal in the halls, out of the good
store they have within. Honour and glory it is for us, and gain withal for
thee, that ye should have eaten well ere ye go on your way, over vast and
limitless lands. What and if thou art minded to pass through Hellas and mid
Argos? So shall I too go with thee, and yoke thee horses and lead thee to the
towns of men, and none shall send us empty away, but will give us some
one thing to take with us, either a tripod of goodly bronze or a cauldron, or
two mules or a golden chalice.”
Then wise Telemachus answered him saying: “Menelaus, son of Atreus,
fosterling of Zeus, leader of the people, rather would I return even now to
mine own land, for I left none behind to watch over my goods when I
departed. I would not that I myself should perish on the quest of my godlike
father, nor that any good heir-loom should be lost from my halls.”
Now when Menelaus, of the loud war cry, heard this saying, straightway
he bade his wife and maids to prepare the midday meal in the halls, out of
the good store they had by them. Then Eteoneus, son of Boethous, came
nigh him, just risen from his bed, for he abode not far from him. Him
Menelaus of the loud war cry bade kindle the fire and roast of the flesh; and
he hearkened and obeyed. Then the prince went down into the fragrant
treasure chamber, not alone, for Helen went with him, and Megapenthes.
Now, when they came to the place where the treasures were stored, then
Atrides took a two-handled cup, and bade his son Megapenthes to bear a
mixing bowl of silver. And Helen stood by the coffers, wherein were her
robes of curious needlework which she herself had wrought. Then Helen,
the fair lady, lifted one and brought it out, the widest and most beautifully
embroidered of all, and it shone like a star, and lay far beneath the rest.
Then they went forth through the house till they came to Telemachus; and
Menelaus, of the fair hair, spake to him saying:
“Telemachus, may Zeus the thunderer, and the lord of Here, in very truth
bring about thy return according to the desire of thy heart. And of the gifts,
such as are treasures stored in my house, I will give thee the goodliest and
greatest of price. I will give thee a mixing bowl beautifully wrought; it is all
of silver and the lips thereof are finished with gold, the work of Hephaestus;

and the hero Phaedimus the king of the Sidonians, gave it to me when his
house sheltered me, on my coming thither. This cup I would give to thee.”
Therewith the hero Atrides set the two-handled cup in his hands. And the
strong Megapenthes bare the shining silver bowl and set it before him. And
Helen came up, beautiful Helen, with the robe in her hands, and spake and
hailed him:
“Lo! I too give thee this gift, dear child, a memorial of the hands of
Helen, against the day of thy desire, even of thy bridal, for thy bride to wear
it. But meanwhile let it lie by thy dear mother in her chamber. And may joy
go with thee to thy well-builded house, and thine own country.”
With that she put it into his hands, and he took it and was glad. And the
hero Peisistratus took the gifts and laid them in the chest of the car, and
gazed on all and wondered. Then Menelaus of the fair hair led them to the
house. Then they twain sat them down on chairs and high seats, and a
handmaid bare water for the hands in a goodly golden ewer, and poured it
forth over a silver basin to wash withal, and drew to their side a polished
table. And a grave dame bare wheaten bread and set it by them, and laid on
the board many dainties, giving freely of such things as she had by her. And
the son of Boethous carved by the board and divided the messes, and the
son of renowned Menelaus poured forth the wine. So they stretched forth
their hands upon the good cheer set before them. Now when they had put
from them the desire of meat and drink, then did Telemachus and the
glorious son of Nestor yoke the horses and climb into the inlaid car. And
they drave forth from the gateway and the echoing gallery. After these
Menelaus, of the fair hair, the son of Atreus, went forth bearing in his right
hand a golden cup of honey-hearted wine, that they might pour a drink-
offering ere they departed. And he stood before the horses and spake his
greeting:
“Farewell, knightly youths, and salute in my name Nestor, the shepherd
of the people; for truly he was gentle to me as a father, while we sons of the
Achaeans warred in the land of Troy.”
And wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “Yea verily, O fosterling of
Zeus, we will tell him all on our coming even as thou sayest. Would God
that when I return to Ithaca I may find Odysseus in his home and tell him
all, so surely as now I go on my way having met with all loving-kindness at
thy hands, and take with me treasures many and goodly!”

And even as he spake a bird flew forth at his right hand, an eagle that
bare in his claws a great white goose, a tame fowl from the yard, and men
and women followed shouting. But the bird drew near them and flew off to
the right, across the horses, and they that saw it were glad, and their hearts
were all comforted within them. And Peisistratus, son of Nestor, first spake
among them:
“Consider, Menelaus, fosterling of Zeus, leader of the people, whether
god hath showed forth this sign for us twain, or for thee thyself.”
So spake he, and the warrior Menelaus pondered thereupon, how he
should take heed to answer, and interpret it aright.
And long-robed Helen took the word and spake, saying: “Hear me, and I
will prophesy as the immortals put it into my heart, and as I deem it will be
accomplished. Even as yonder eagle came down from the hill, the place of
his birth and kin, and snatched away the goose that was fostered in the
house, even so shall Odysseus return home after much trial and long
wanderings and take vengeance; yea, or even now is he at home and sowing
the seeds of evil for all the wooers.”
Then wise Telemachus answered her, saying: “Now may Zeus ordain it
so, Zeus the thunderer and the lord of Here. Then would I do thee worship,
as to a god, even in my home afar.”
He spake and smote the horses with the lash, and they sped quickly
towards the plain, in eager course through the city. So all day long they
swayed the yoke they bore upon their necks. And the sun sank, and all the
ways were darkened. And they came to Pherae, to the house of Diocles, son
of Orsilochus, the child begotten of Alpheus. There they rested for the
night, and by them he set the entertainment of strangers.
Now so soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, they yoked
the horses and mounted the inlaid car. And forth they drave from the
gateway and the echoing gallery. And he touched the horses with the whip
to start them, and the pair flew onward nothing loth. And soon thereafter
they reached the steep hold of Pylos. Then Telemachus spake unto the son
of Nestor, saying:
“Son of Nestor, in what wise mightest thou make me a promise and fulfil
my bidding? For we claim to be friends by reason of our fathers’ friendship
from of old. Moreover we are equals in age, and this journey shall turn to
our greater love. Take me not hence past my ship, O fosterling of Zeus, but

leave me there, lest that old man keep me in his house in my despite, out of
his eager kindness, for I must go right quickly home.”
So spake he, and the some of Nestor communed with his own heart how
he might make promise, and duly fulfil the same. So as he thought thereon,
in this wise it seemed to him best. He turned back his horses toward the
swift ship and the sea-banks, and took forth the fair gifts and set them in the
hinder part of the ship, the raiment and the gold which Menelaus gave him.
And he called to Telemachus and spake to him winged words:
“Now climb the ship with all haste, and bid all thy company do likewise,
ere I reach home and bring the old man word. For well I know in my mind
and heart that, being so wilful of heart, he will not let thee go, but he
himself will come hither to bid thee to his house, and methinks that he will
not go back without thee; for very wroth will he be despite thine excuse.”
Thus he spake, and drave the horses with the flowing manes back to the
town of the Pylians, and came quickly to the halls. And Telemachus called
to his companions and commanded them, saying:
“Set ye the gear in order, my friends, in the black ship, and let us climb
aboard that we may make way upon our course.”
So spake he, and they gave good heed and hearkened. Then straightway
they embarked and sat upon the benches.
Thus was he busy hereat and praying and making burnt-offering to
Athene, by the stern of the ship, when there drew nigh him one from a far
country, that had slain his man and was fleeing from out of Argos. He was a
soothsayer, and by his lineage he came of Melampus, who of old time
abode in Pylos, mother of flocks, a rich man and one that had an exceeding
goodly house among the Pylians, but afterward he had come to the land of
strangers, fleeing from his country and from Neleus, the great-hearted, the
proudest of living men, who kept all his goods for a full year by force. All
that time Melampus lay bound with hard bonds in the halls of Phylacus,
suffering strong pains for the sake of the daughter of Neleus, and for the
dread blindness of soul which the goddess, the Erinnys of the dolorous
stroke, had laid on him. Howsoever he escaped his fate, and drave away the
lowing kine from Phylace to Pylos, and avenged the foul deed upon godlike
Neleus, and brought the maiden home to his own brother to wife. As for
him, he went to a country of other men, to Argos, the pastureland of horses;
for there truly it was ordained that he should dwell, bearing rule over many

of the Argives. There he wedded a wife, and builded him a lofty house, and
begat Antiphates and Mantius, two mighty sons. Now Antiphates begat
Oicles the great-hearted, and Oicles Amphiaraus, the rouser of the host,
whom Zeus, lord of the aegis, and Apollo loved with all manner of love. Yet
he reached not the threshold of old age, but died in Thebes by reason of a
woman’s gifts. And the sons born to him were Alcmaeon and Amphilochus.
But Mantius begat Polypheides and Cleitus; but it came to pass that the
golden-throned Dawn snatched away Cleitus for his very beauty’s sake, that
he might dwell with the Immortals.
And Apollo made the high-souled Polypheides a seer, far the chief of
human kind, Amphiaraus being now dead. He removed his dwelling to
Hypheresia, being angered with his father, and here he abode and
prophesied to all men.
This man’s son it was, Theoclymenus by name, that now drew nigh and
stood by Telemachus. And he found him pouring a drink-offering and
praying by the swift black ship, and uttering his voice he spake to him
winged words:
“Friend, since I find thee making burnt-offering in this place, I pray thee,
by thine offerings and by the god, and thereafter by thine own head, and in
the name of the men of thy company answer my question truly and hide it
not. Who art thou of the sons of men and whence? Where is thy city, where
are they that begat thee?”
And wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “Yea now, stranger, I will
plainly tell thee all. Of Ithaca am I by lineage, and my father is Odysseus, if
ever such an one there was, but now hath he perished by an evil fate.
Wherefore I have taken my company and a black ship, and have gone forth
to hear word of my father that has been long afar.”
Then godlike Theoclymenus spake to him again: “Even so I too have fled
from my country, for the manslaying of one of mine own kin. And many
brethren and kinsmen of the slain are in Argos, the pastureland of horses,
and rule mightily over the Achaeans. Wherefore now am I an exile to shun
death and black fate at their hands, for it is my doom yet to wander among
men. Now set me on board ship, since I supplicate thee in my flight, lest
they slay me utterly; for methinks they follow hard after me.”
And wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “Surely I will not drive thee
away from our good ship, if thou art fain to come. Follow thou with us then,

and in Ithaca thou shalt be welcome to such things as we have.”
Therewith he took from him his spear of bronze, and laid it along the
deck of the curved ship, and himself too climbed the seafaring ship. Then
he sat him down in the stern and made Theoclymenus to sit beside him; and
his company loosed the hawsers. Then Telemachus called unto his
company, and bade them lay hands on the tackling, and speedily they
hearkened to his call. So they raised the mast of pine tree, and set it in the
hole of the cross plank and made it fast with forestays, and hauled up the
white sails with twisted ropes of ox-hide. And grey-eyed Athene sent them a
favouring breeze, rushing violently through the clear sky that the ship might
speedily finish her course over the salt water of the sea. So they passed by
Crouni and Chalcis, a land of fair streams.
And the sun set and all the ways were darkened. And the vessel drew
nigh to Pheae, being sped before the breeze of Zeus, and then passed goodly
Elis where the Epeans bear rule. From thence he drave on again to the
Pointed Isles, pondering whether he should escape death or be cut off.
Now Odysseus and the goodly swineherd were supping in the hut, and
the other men sat at meat with them. So when they had put from them the
desire of meat and drink, Odysseus spake among them, to prove the
swineherd, whether he would still entertain him diligently, and bid him
abide there in the steading or send him forward to the city:
“Listen now, Eumaeus, and all the others of the company. In the morning
I would fain be gone to the town to go a begging, that I be not ruinous to
thyself and thy fellows. Now advise me well, and lend me a good guide by
the way to lead me thither; and through the city will I wander alone as
needs I must, if perchance one may give me a cup of water and a morsel of
bread. Moreover I would go to the house of divine Odysseus and bear
tidings to the wise Penelope, and consort with the wanton wooers, if haply
they might grant me a meal out of the boundless store that they have by
them. Lightly might I do good service among them, even all that they
would. For lo! I will tell thee and do thou mark and listen. By the favour of
Hermes, the messenger, who gives grace and glory to all men’s work, no
mortal may vie with me in the business of a serving-man, in piling well a
fire, in cleaving dry faggots, and in carving and roasting flesh and in
pouring of wine, those offices wherein meaner men serve their betters.”

Then didst thou speak to him in heaviness of heart, swineherd Eumaeus:
“Ah! wherefore, stranger, hath such a thought arisen in thine heart? Surely
thou art set on perishing utterly there, if thou wouldest indeed go into the
throng of the wooers, whose outrage and violence reacheth even to the iron
heaven! Not such as thou are their servants; they that minister to them are
young and gaily clad in mantles and in doublets, and their heads are
anointed with oil and they are fair of face, and the polished boards are laden
with bread and flesh and wine. Nay, abide here, for none is vexed by thy
presence, neither I nor any of my fellows that are with me. But when the
dear son of Odysseus comes, he himself will give thee a mantle and a
doublet for raiment, and will send thee whithersoever thy heart and spirit
bid thee go.”
Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus answered him: “Oh, that thou mayst
so surely be dear to father Zeus as thou art to me, in that thou didst make
me to cease from wandering and dread woe! For there is no other thing
more mischievous to men than roaming; yet for their cursed belly’s need
men endure sore distress, to whom come wandering and tribulation and
pain. But behold now, since thou stayest me here, and biddest me wait his
coming, tell me of the mother of divine Odysseus, and of the father whom
at his departure he left behind him on the threshold of old age; are they, it
may be, yet alive beneath the sunlight, or already dead and within the house
of Hades?”
Then spake to him the swineherd, a master of men: “Yea now, stranger, I
will plainly tell thee all. Laertes yet lives, and prays evermore to Zeus that
his life may waste from out his limbs within his halls. For he has wondrous
sorrow for his son that is far away, and for the wedded lady his wise wife,
whose death afflicted him in chief and brought him to old age before his
day. Now she died of very grief for her son renowned, by an evil death, so
may no man perish who dwells here and is a friend to me in word and deed!
So long as she was on earth, though in much sorrow, I was glad to ask and
enquire concerning her, for that she herself had reared me along with long-
robed Ctimene, her noble daughter, the youngest of her children. With her I
was reared, and she honoured me little less than her own. But when we both
came to the time of our desire, to the flower of age, thereupon they sent her
to Same, and got a great bride-price; but my lady clad me in a mantle and a
doublet, raiment very fair, and gave me sandals for my feet and sent me
forth to the field, and right dear at heart she held me. But of these things

now at last am I lacking; yet the blessed gods prosper the work of mine own
hands, whereat I abide. Of this my substance I have eaten and drunken and
given to reverend strangers. But from my lady I may hear naught pleasant,
neither word nor deed, for evil hath fallen on her house, a plague of froward
men; yet thralls have a great desire to speak before their mistress and find
out all eat and drink, and moreover to carry off somewhat with them to the
field, such things as ever comfort the heart of a thrall.”
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: “Ah, Eumaeus,
how far then didst thou wander from thine own country and thy parents
while as yet thou wast but a child! But come, declare me this and plainly
tell it all. Was a wide-wayed town of men taken and sacked, wherein dwelt
thy father and thy lady mother, or did unfriendly men find thee lonely,
tending sheep or cattle, and shipped thee thence, and sold thee into the
house of thy master here, who paid for thee a goodly price?”
Then spake to him the swineherd, a master of men: Stranger, since thou
askest and questionest me hereof, give heed now in silence and make merry,
and abide here drinking wine. Lo, the nights now are of length untold. Time
is there to sleep, and time to listen and be glad; thou needest not turn to bed
before the hour; even too much sleep is vexation of spirit. But for the rest,
let him whose heart and mind bid him, go forth and slumber, and at the
dawning of the day let him break his fast, and follow our master’s swine.
But let us twain drink and feast within the steading, and each in his
neighbour’s sorrows take delight, recalling them, for even the memory of
griefs is a joy to a man who hath been sore tried and wandered far.
Wherefore I will tell thee that whereof thou askest and dost question me.
“There is a certain isle called Syria, if haply thou hast heard tell of it,
over above Ortygia, and there are the turning-places of the sun. It is not
very great in compass, though a goodly isle, rich in herds, rich in flocks,
with plenty of corn and wine. Dearth never enters the land, and no hateful
sickness falls on wretched mortals. But when the tribes of men grow old in
that city, then comes Apollo of the silver bow, with Artemis, and slays them
with the visitation of his gentle shafts. In that isle are two cities, and the
whole land is divided between them, and my father was king over the twain,
Ctesius son of Ormenus, a man like to the Immortals.
“Thither came the Phoenicians, mariners renowned, greedy merchant
men, with countless gauds in a black ship. Now in my father’s house was a

Phoenician woman, tall and fair and skilled in bright handiwork; this
woman the Phoenicians with their sleights beguiled. First as she was
washing clothes, one of them lay with her in love by the hollow ship, for
love beguiles the minds of womankind, even of the upright. Then he asked
her who she was and whence she came, and straightway she showed him
the lofty home of my father, saying:
“‘From out of Sidon I avow that I come, land rich in bronze, and I am the
daughter of Arybas, the deeply wealthy. But Taphians, who were sea-
robbers, laid hands on me and snatched me away as I came in from the
fields, and brought me hither and sold me into the house of my master, who
paid for me a goodly price.’
“Then the man who had lain with her privily, answered: ‘Say, wouldst
thou now return home with us, that thou mayst look again on the lofty
house of thy father and mother and on their faces? For truly they yet live,
and have a name for wealth.’
“Then the woman answered him and spake, saying: ‘Even this may well
be, if ye sailors will pledge me an oath to bring me home in safety.’
“So spake she, and they all swore thereto as she bade them. Now when
they had sworn and done that oath, again the woman spake among them and
answered, saying:
“‘Hold your peace now, and let none of your fellows speak to me and
greet me, if they meet me in the street, or even at the well, lest one go and
tell it to the old man at home, and he suspect somewhat and bind me in hard
bonds and devise death for all of you. But keep ye the matter in mind, and
speed the purchase of your homeward freight. And when your ship is
freighted with stores, let a message come quickly to me at the house; for I
will likewise bring gold, all that comes under my hand. Yea and there is
another thing that I would gladly give for my fare. I am nurse to the child of
my lord in the halls, a most cunning little boy, that runs out and abroad with
me. Him would I bring on board ship, and he should fetch you a great price,
wheresoever ye take him for sale among men of strange speech.’
“Therewith she went her way to the fair halls. But they abode among us a
whole year, and got together much wealth in their hollow ship. And when
their hollow ship was now laden to depart, they sent a messenger to tell the
tidings to the woman. There came a man versed in craft to my father’s
house, with a golden chain strung here and there with amber beads. Now

the maidens in the hall and my lady mother were handling the chain and
gazing on it, and offering him their price; but he had signed silently to the
woman, and therewithal gat him away to the hollow ship. Then she took me
by the hand and led me forth from the house. And at the vestibule of the
house she found the cups and the tables of the guests that had been feasting,
who were in waiting on my father. They had gone forth to the session and
the place of parley of the people. And she straightway hid three goblets in
her bosom, and bare them away, and I followed in my innocence. Then the
sun sank and all the ways were darkened and we went quickly and came to
the good haven, where was the swift ship of the Phoenicians. So they
climbed on board and took us up with them, and sailed over the wet ways,
and Zeus sent us a favouring wind. For six days we sailed by day and night
continually; but when Zeus, son of Cronos, added the seventh day thereto,
then Artemis, the archer, smote the woman that she fell, as a sea-swallow
falls, with a plunge into the hold. And they cast her forth to be the prey of
seals and fishes, but I was left stricken at heart. And wind and water bare
them and brought them to Ithaca, where Laertes bought me with his
possessions. And thus it chanced that mine eyes beheld this land.”
Then Odysseus, of the seed of Zeus, answered him saying:
“Eumaeus, verily thou hast stirred my heart within me with the tale of all
these things, of all the sorrow of heart thou hast endured. Yet surely Zeus
hath given thee good as well as evil, since after all these adventures thou
hast come to the house of a kindly man, who is careful to give thee meat
and drink and right well thou livest. But I have come hither still wandering
through the many towns of men.”
Thus they spake one with the other. Then they laid them down to sleep
for no long while, but for a little space, for soon came the throned Dawn.
But on the shore the company of Telemachus were striking their sails, and
took down the mast quickly and rowed the ship on to anchorage. And they
cast anchors and made fast the hawsers, and themselves too stept forth upon
the strand of the sea, and made ready the midday meal, and mixed the dark
wine. Now when they had put from them the desire of meat and drink, wise
Telemachus first spake among them:
“Do ye now drive the black ship to the city, while I will go to the fields
and to the herdsmen, and at even I will return to the city, when I have seen

my lands. And in the morning I will set by you the wages of the voyage, a
good feast of flesh and of sweet wine.”
Then godlike Theoclymenus answered him: “And whither shall I go, dear
child? To what man’s house shall I betake me, of such as are lords in rocky
Ithaca? Shall I get me straight to thy mother and to thy home?”
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “In other case I would bid
thee go even to our own house; for there is no lack of cheer for strangers,
but now would it be worse for thyself, forasmuch as I shall be away nor
would my mother see thee. For she comes not often in sight of the wooers
in the house, but abides apart from them in her upper chamber, and weaves
at her web. Yet there is one whom I will tell thee of, to whom thou mayst
go, Eurymachus the glorious son of wise Polybus, whom now the men of
Ithaca look upon, even as if he were a god. For he is far the best man of
them all, and is most eager to wed my mother and to have the sovereignty
of Odysseus. Howbeit, Olympian Zeus, that dwells in the clear sky, knows
hereof, whether or no he will fulfill for them the evil day before their
marriage.”
Now even as he spake, a bird flew out on the right, a hawk, the swift
messenger of Apollo. In his talons he held a dove and plucked her, and shed
the feathers down to the earth, midway between the ship and Telemachus
himself. Then Theoclymenus called him apart from his fellows, and clasped
his hand and spake and hailed him:
“Telemachus, surely not without the god’s will hath the bird flown out on
the right, for I knew when I saw him that he was a bird of omen. There is no
other house more kingly than yours in the land of Ithaca; nay, ye have ever
the mastery.”
And wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “Ah, stranger, would that
this word may be accomplished! Soon shouldest thou be aware of kindness
and many a gift at my hands, so that whoso met with thee would call thee
blessed.”
Then he spake to Piraeus, his trusty companion: “Piraeus, son of Clytius,
thou that at other seasons hearkenest to me above all my company who
went with me to Pylos, even now, I pray, lead this stranger home with thee,
and give heed to treat him lovingly and with worship in thy house till I
come.”

Then Piraeus, spearsman renowned, answered him saying: “Telemachus,
why, even if thou shouldest tarry here long, yet will I entertain this man,
and he shall have no lack of stranger’s cheer.”
Therewith he went on board, and bade his men themselves to mount and
loose the hawsers. And quickly they embarked and sat upon the benches.
And Telemachus bound his goodly sandals beneath his feet, and seized a
mighty spear, shod with sharp bronze, from the deck of the ship and his
men loosed the hawsers. So they thrust off and sailed to the city, as
Telemachus bade them, the dear son of divine Odysseus. But swiftly his feet
bore him on his forward way, till he came to the court, where were his
swine out of number; and among them the good swineherd slept, a man
loyal to his lords.

BOOK XVI.

Telemachus sends Eumaeus to the city to tell his mother of
his return. And how, in the meantime, Odysseus discovers
himself to his son.

Now these twain, Odysseus and the goodly swineherd, within the hut had
kindled a fire, and were making ready breakfast at the dawn, and had sent
forth the herdsmen with the droves of swine. And round Telemachus the
hounds, that love to bark, fawned and barked not, as he drew nigh. And
goodly Odysseus took note of the fawning of the dogs, and the noise of
footsteps fell upon his ears. Then straight he spake to Eumaeus winged
words:
“Eumaeus, verily some friend or some other of thy familiars will soon be
here, for the dogs do not bark but fawn around, and I catch the sound of
footsteps.”
While the word was yet on his lips, his own dear son stood at the entering
in of the gate. Then the swineherd sprang up in amazement, and out of his
hands fell the vessels wherewith he was busied in mingling the dark wine.
And he came over against his master and kissed his head and both his
beautiful eyes and both his hands, and he let a great tear fall. And even as a
loving father welcomes his son that has come in the tenth year from a far
country, his only son and well-beloved, for whose sake he has had great
sorrow and travail, even so did the goodly swineherd fall upon the neck of
godlike Telemachus, and kiss him all over as one escaped from death, and
he wept aloud and spake to him winged words:
“Thou art come, Telemachus, a sweet light in the dark; methought I
should see thee never again, after thou hadst gone in thy ship to Pylos. Nay
now enter, dear child, that my heart may be glad at the sight of thee in mine
house, who hast newly come from afar. For thou dost not often visit the

field and the herdsmen, but abidest in the town; so it seems has thy good
pleasure been, to look on the ruinous throng of the wooers.”
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “So be it, father, as thou
sayest; and for thy sake am I come hither to see thee with mine eyes, and to
hear from thy lips whether my mother yet abides in the halls or another has
already wedded her, and the couch of Odysseus, perchance, lies in lack of
bedding and deep in foul spider-webs.”
Then the swineherd, a master of men, answered him: “Yea verily, she
abides with patient spirit in thy halls, and wearily for her the nights wane
always and the days, in shedding of tears.”
So he spake and took from him the spear of bronze. Then Telemachus
passed within and crossed the threshold of stone. As he came near, his
father Odysseus arose from his seat to give him place; but Telemachus, on
his part, stayed him and spake saying:
“Be seated, stranger, and we will find a seat some other where in our
steading, and there is a man here to set it for us.”
So he spake, and Odysseus went back and sat him down again. And the
swineherd strewed for Telemachus green brushwood below, and a fleece
thereupon, and there presently the dear son of Odysseus sat him down. Next
the swineherd set by them platters of roast flesh, the fragments that were
left from the meal of yesterday. And wheaten bread he briskly heaped up in
baskets, and mixed the honey-sweet wine in a goblet of ivy wood, and
himself sat down over against divine Odysseus. So they stretched forth their
hands upon the good cheer set before them. Now when they had put from
them the desire of meat and drink, Telemachus spake to the goodly
swineherd, saying:
“Father, whence came this stranger to thee? How did sailors bring him to
Ithaca? and who did they avow them to be? For in no wise, I deem, did he
come hither by land.”
Then didst thou make answer, swineherd Eumaeus: “Yea now, my son, I
will tell thee all the truth. Of wide Crete he avows him to be by lineage, and
he says that round many cities of mortals he has wandered at adventure;
even so has some god spun for him the thread of fate. But now, as a
runaway from a ship of the Thesprotians, has he come to my steading, and I
will give him to thee for thy man; do with him as thou wilt; he avows him
for thy suppliant.”

Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “Eumaeus, verily a bitter
word is this that thou speakest. How indeed shall I receive this guest in my
house? Myself I am young, and trust not yet to my strength of hands to
defend me against the man who does violence without a cause. And my
mother has divisions of heart, whether to abide here with me and keep the
house, respecting the bed of her lord and the voice of the people, or
straightway to go with whomsoever of the Achaeans that woo her in the
halls is the best man, and gives most bridal gifts. But behold, as for this
guest of thine, now that he has come to thy house, I will clothe him in a
mantle and a doublet, goodly raiment, and I will give him a two-edged
sword, and shoes for his feet, and send him on his way, whithersoever his
heart and his spirit bid him go. Or, if thou wilt, hold him here in the
steading and take care of him, and raiment I will send hither, and all manner
of food to eat, that he be not ruinous to thee and to thy fellows. But thither
into the company of the wooers would I not suffer him to go, for they are
exceeding full of infatuate insolence, lest they mock at him, and that would
be a sore grief to me. And hard it is for one man, how valiant soever, to
achieve aught among a multitude, for verily they are far the stronger.”
Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus answered him: “My friend, since it is
indeed my right to answer thee withal, of a truth my heart is rent as I hear
your words, such infatuate deeds ye say the wooers devise in the halls, in
despite of thee, a man so noble. Say, dost thou willingly submit thee to
oppression, or do the people through the township hate thee, obedient to the
voice of a god? Or hast thou cause to blame thy brethren, in whose battle a
man puts trust, even if a great feud arise? Ah, would that I had the youth, as
now I have the spirit, and were either the son of noble Odysseus or
Odysseus’ very self,[26] straightway then might a stranger sever my head
from off my neck, if I went not to the halls of Odysseus, son of Laertes, and
made myself the bane of every man among them! But if they should
overcome me by numbers, being but one man against so many, far rather
would I die slain in mine own halls, than witness for ever these unseemly
deeds, strangers shamefully entreated, and men haling the handmaidens in
foul wise through the fair house, and wine drawn wastefully and the wooers
devouring food all recklessly without avail, at a work that knows no
ending.”
[26] We omit line 101, which spoils the sense of the passage, and was rejected by
antiquity.

Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “Yea now, stranger I will
plainly tell thee all. There is no grudge and hatred borne my by the whole
people, neither have I cause to blame my brethren, in whose battle a man
puts trust, even if a great feud arise. For thus, as thou seest, Cronion has
made us a house of but one heir. Arceisius got him one only son Laertes,
and one only son Odysseus was begotten of his father, and Odysseus left me
the only child of his getting in these halls, and had no joy of me; wherefore
now are foemen innumerable in the house. For all the noblest that are
princes in the islands, in Dulichium and Same and wooded Zacynthus, and
as many as lord it in rocky Ithaca, all these woo my mother and waste my
house. But as for her she neither refuseth the hated bridal, nor hath the heart
to make and end; so they devour and minish my house; and ere long will
they make havoc likewise of myself. Howbeit these things surely lie on the
knees of the gods. Nay, father, but do thou go with haste and tell the
constant Penelope that she hath got me safe and that I am come up out of
Pylos. As for me, I will tarry here, and do thou return hither when thou hast
told the tidings to her alone; but of the other Achaeans let no man learn it,
for there be many that devise mischief against me.”
Then didst thou make answer, swineherd Eumaeus: “I mark, I heed, all
this thou speakest to one with understanding. But come, declare me this and
tell it plainly; whether or no I shall go the same road with tidings to Laertes,
that hapless man, who till lately, despite his great sorrow for Odysseus’
sake, yet had oversight of the tillage, and did eat and drink with the thralls
in his house, as often as his heart within him bade him. But now, from the
day that thou wentest in thy ship to Pylos, never to this hour, they say, hath
he so much as eaten and drunken, nor looked to the labours of the field, but
with groaning and lamentation he sits sorrowing, and the flesh wastes away
about his bones.”
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “All the more grievous it
is! yet will we let him be, though we sorrow thereat. For if men might in
any wise have all their will, we should before ought else choose the day of
my father’s returning. But do thou when thou hast told the tidings come
straight back, and go not wandering through the fields after Laertes. But
speak to my mother that with all speed she send forth the house-dame her
handmaid, secretly, for she might bear tidings to the old man.”

With that word he roused the swineherd, who took his sandals in his
hands and bound them beneath his feet and departed for the city. Now
Athene noted Eumaeus the swineherd pass from the steading, and she drew
nigh in the semblance of a woman fair and tall, and skilled in splendid
handiwork. And she stood in presence manifest to Odysseus over against
the doorway of the hut; but it was so that Telemachus saw her not before
him and marked her not; for the gods in no wise appear visibly to all. But
Odysseus was ware of her and the dogs likewise, which barked not, but
with a low whine shrank cowering to the far side of the steading. Then she
nodded at him with bent brows, and goodly Odysseus perceived it, and
came forth from the room, past the great wall of the yard, and stood before
her, and Athene spake to him, saying:
“Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, now is
the hour to reveal thy word to thy son, and hide it not, that ye twain having
framed death and doom for the wooers, may fare to the famous town. Nor
will I, even I, be long away from you, being right eager for battle.”
Therewith Athene touched him with her golden wand. First she cast
about his breast a fresh linen robe and a doublet, and she increased his bulk
and bloom. Dark his colour grew again, and his cheeks filled out, and the
black beard spread thick around his chin.
Now she, when she had so wrought, withdrew again, but Odysseus went
into the hut, and his dear son marvelled at him and looked away for very
fear lest it should be a god, and he uttered his voice and spake to him
winged words:
“Even now, stranger, thou art other in my sight than that thou wert a
moment since, and other garments thou hast, and the colour of thy skin is
no longer the same. Surely thou art a god of those that keep the wide
heaven. Nay then, be gracious, that we may offer to thee well-pleasing
sacrifices and golden gifts, beautifully wrought; and spare us I pray thee.”
Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus answered him, saying: “Behold, no
god am I; why likenest thou me to the immortals? nay, thy father am I, for
whose sake thou sufferest many pains and groanest sore, and submittest
thee to the despite of men,”
At the word he kissed his son, and from his cheeks let a tear fall to earth:
before, he had stayed the tears continually. But Telemachus (for as yet he
believed not that it was his father) answered in turn and spake, saying:

“Thou art not Odysseus my father, but some god beguiles me, that I may
groan for more exceeding sorrow. For it cannot be that a mortal man should
contrive this by the aid of his own wit, unless a god were himself to visit
him, and lightly of his own will to make him young or old. For truly, but a
moment gone, thou wert old and foully clad, but now thou art like the gods
who keep the wide heaven.”
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: “Telemachus, it
fits thee not to marvel overmuch that thy father is come home, or to be
amazed. Nay for thou shalt find no other Odysseus come hither any more;
but lo, I, all as I am, after sufferings and much wandering have come in the
twentieth year to mine own country. Behold, this is the work of Athene,
driver of the spoil, who makes me such manner of man as she will,—for
with her it is possible,— now like a beggar, and now again like a young
man, and one clad about in rich raiment. Easy it is for the gods who keep
the wide heaven to glorify or to abase a mortal man.”
With this word then he sat down again; but Telemachus, flinging himself
upon his noble father’s neck, mourned and shed tears, and in both their
hearts arose the desire of lamentation. And they wailed aloud, more
ceaselessly than birds, sea-eagles or vultures of crooked claws, whose
younglings the country folk have taken from the nest, ere yet they are
fledged. Even so pitifully fell the tears beneath their brows. And now would
the sunlight have gone down upon their sorrowing, had not Telemachus
spoken to his father suddenly:
“And in what manner of ship, father dear, did sailors at length bring thee
hither to Ithaca? and who did they avow them to be? For in no wise, I deem,
didst thou come hither by land.”
And the steadfast goodly Odysseus answered him: “Yea now, my child, I
will tell thee all the truth. The Phaeacians brought me hither, mariners
renowned, who speed other men too upon their way, whosoever comes to
them. Asleep in the swift ship they bore me over the seas and set me down
in Ithaca, and gave me splendid gifts, bronze and gold in plenty and woven
raiment. And these treasures are lying by the gods’ grace in the caves. But
now I am come hither by the promptings of Athene, that we may take
counsel for the slaughter of the foemen. But come, tell me all the tale of the
wooers and their number, that I may know how many and what men they
be, and that so I may commune with my good heart and advise me, whether

we twain shall be able alone to make head against them without aid, or
whether we should even seek succour of others.”
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “Verily, father, I have ever
heard of thy great fame, for a warrior hardy of thy hands, and sage in
counsel. But this is a hard saying of thine: awe comes over me; for it may
not be that two men should do battle with many men and stalwart. For of
the wooers there are not barely ten nor twice ten only, but many a decad
more: and straight shalt thou learn the tale of them ere we part. From
Dulichium there be two and fifty chosen lords, and six serving men go with
them; and out of Same four and twenty men; and from Zacynthus there are
twenty lords of the Achaeans; and from Ithaca itself full twelve men of the
best, and with them Medon the henchman, and the divine minstrel, and two
squires skilled in carving viands. If we shall encounter all these within the
halls, see thou to it, lest bitter and baneful for us be the vengeance thou
takest on their violence at thy coming. But do thou, if thou canst think of
some champion, advise thee of any that may help us with all his heart.”
Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus answered him, saying: “Yea now, I
will tell thee, and do thou mark and listen to me, and consider whether
Athene with Father Zeus will suffice for us twain, or whether I shall cast
about for some other champion.”
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “Valiant helpers, in sooth,
are these two thou namest, whose seat is aloft in the clouds, and they rule
among all men and among the deathless gods!”
Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus answered him: “Yet will the twain
not long keep aloof from the strong tumult of war, when between the
wooers and us in my halls is held the trial of the might of Ares. But as now,
do thou go homeward at the breaking of the day, and consort with the proud
wooers. As for me, the swineherd will lead me to the town later in the day,
in the likeness of a beggar, a wretched man and an old. And if they shall
evil entreat me in the house, let thy heart harden itself to endure while I am
shamefully handled, yea even if they drag me by the feet through the house
to the doors, or cast at me and smite me: still do thou bear the sight.
Howbeit thou shalt surely bid them cease from their folly, exhorting them
with smooth words; yet no whit will they hearken, nay for the day of their
doom is at hand. Yet another thing will I tell thee, and do thou ponder it in
thy heart. When Athene, of deep counsel, shall put it into my heart, I will

nod to thee with my head and do thou note it, and carry away all thy
weapons of war that lie in the halls, and lay them down every one in the
secret place of the lofty chamber. And when the wooers miss them and ask
thee concerning them, thou shalt beguile them with soft words, saying:
“‘Out of the smoke I laid them by, since they were no longer like those
that Odysseus left behind him of old when he went to Troy, but they are
wholly marred: so mightily hath passed upon them the vapour of fire.
Moreover Cronion hath put into my heart this other and greater care, that
perchance, when ye are heated with wine, ye set a quarrel between you and
wound one the other and thereby shame the feast and the wooing; for iron
of itself draws a man thereto.’ But for us twain alone leave two swords and
two spears and two shields of oxhide to grasp, that we may rush upon the
arms and seize them; and then shall Pallas Athene and Zeus the counsellor
enchant the wooers to their ruin. Yet another thing will I tell thee, and do
thou ponder it in thy heart. If in very truth thou art my son and of our blood,
then let no man hear that Odysseus is come home; neither let Laertes know
it, nor the swineherd nor any of the household nor Penelope herself, but let
me and thee alone discover the intent of the women. Yea, and we would
moreover make trial of certain of the men among the thralls, and learn
who[27] of them chances to honour us and to fear us heartily, and who
regards us not at all and holds even thee in no esteem, so noble a man as
thou art.”
[27] Reading ὅ πού τις.

Then his renowned son answered him, and said: “O my father, of a truth
thou shalt learn, methinks, even hereafter what spirit I am of, for no whit
doth folly possess me. But I deem not that this device of thine will be
gainful to us twain, so I bid thee to give heed. For thou shalt be long time
on thy road to little purpose, making trial of each man, while thou visitest
the farm lands; but at ease in thy halls the wooers devour thy goods with
insolence, and now there is no sparing. Howbeit I would have thee take
knowledge of the women, who they be that dishonour thee, and who are
guiltless. But of the men I would not that we should make trial in the
steadings, but that we should see to this task afterwards, if indeed thou
knowest some sign from Zeus, lord of the aegis.”
Thus they spake one to the other. And now the well-builded ship was
being brought to land at Ithaca, the ship that bare Telemachus from Pylos

with all his company. When they were now come within the deep harbour,
the men drew up the black ship on the shore, while squires, haughty of
heart, bare away their weapons, and straightway carried the glorious gifts to
the house of Clytius. Anon they sent forward a herald to the house of
Odysseus to bear the tidings to prudent Penelope, namely, how Telemachus
was in the field, and had bidden the ship sail to the city, lest the noble queen
should be afraid, and let the round tears fall. So these two met, the herald
and the goodly swineherd, come on the same errand to tell all to the lady.
Now when they were got to the house of the divine king, the herald spake
out among all the handmaids saying:
“Verily, O queen, thy son hath come out of Pylos.”
But the swineherd went up to Penelope, and told her all that her dear son
had bidden him say. So, when he had declared all that had been enjoined
him, he went on his way to the swine and left the enclosure and the hall.
Now the wooers were troubled and downcast in spirit, and forth they
went from the hall past the great wall of the court, and there in front of the
gates they held their session. And Eurymachus son of Polybus first spake
among them saying:
“Verily, friends, a proud deed hath Telemachus accomplished with a high
hand, even this journey, and we said that he should never bring it to pass.
But come, launch we a black ship, the best there is, and let us get together
oarsmen of the sea, who shall straightway bear word to our friends to return
home with speed.”
The word was yet on his lips, when Amphinomus turned in his place and
saw the ship within the deep harbour, and the men lowering the sails and
with the oars in their hands. Then sweetly he laughed out and spake among
his fellows:
“Nay, let us now send no message any more, for lo, they are come home.
Either some god has told them all or they themselves have seen the ship of
Telemachus go by, and have not been able to catch her.”
Thus he spake, and they arose and went to the sea-banks. Swiftly the men
drew up the black ship on the shore, and squires, haughty of heart, bare
away their weapons. And the wooers all together went to the assembly-
place, and suffered none other to sit with them, either of the young men or
of the elders. Then Antinous spake among them, the son of Eupeithes: