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Title: The Odyssey

Author: Homer

Translator: Samuel Butler

Release date: April 1, 1999 [eBook #1727]
Most recently updated: December 2, 2023

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1727

Credits: Jim Tinsley and David Widger

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ODYSSEY
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The Odyssey

by Homer

rendered into English prose for the use of those who cannot read
the original

Contents
PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION
PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION
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.
FOOTNOTES:

AL PROFESSORE
CAV. BIAGIO INGROIA,
PREZIOSO ALLEATO
L’AUTORE RICONOSCENTE.

PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION

This translation is intended to supplement a work entitled “The Authoress
of the Odyssey”, which I published in 1897. I could not give the whole
“Odyssey” in that book without making it unwieldy, I therefore epitomised
my translation, which was already completed and which I now publish in
full.
I shall not here argue the two main points dealt with in the work just
mentioned; I have nothing either to add to, or to withdraw from, what I
have there written. The points in question are:
(1) that the “Odyssey” was written entirely at, and drawn entirely from,
the place now called Trapani on the West Coast of Sicily, alike as regards
the Phaeacian and the Ithaca scenes; while the voyages of Ulysses, when
once he is within easy reach of Sicily, solve themselves into a periplus of
the island, practically from Trapani back to Trapani, via the Lipari islands,
the Straits of Messina, and the island of Pantellaria.
(2) That the poem was entirely written by a very young woman, who
lived at the place now called Trapani, and introduced herself into her work
under the name of Nausicaa.
The main arguments on which I base the first of these somewhat startling
contentions, have been prominently and repeatedly before the English and
Italian public ever since they appeared (without rejoinder) in the
“Athenaeum” for January 30 and February 20, 1892. Both contentions were
urged (also without rejoinder) in the Johnian “Eagle” for the Lent and
October terms of the same year. Nothing to which I should reply has
reached me from any quarter, and knowing how anxiously I have
endeavoured to learn the existence of any flaws in my argument, I begin to
feel some confidence that, did such flaws exist, I should have heard, at any
rate about some of them, before now. Without, therefore, for a moment
pretending to think that scholars generally acquiesce in my conclusions, I

shall act as thinking them little likely so to gainsay me as that it will be
incumbent upon me to reply, and shall confine myself to translating the
“Odyssey” for English readers, with such notes as I think will be found
useful. Among these I would especially call attention to one on xxii. 465-
473 which Lord Grimthorpe has kindly allowed me to make public.
I have repeated several of the illustrations used in “The Authoress of the
Odyssey”, and have added two which I hope may bring the outer court of
Ulysses’ house more vividly before the reader. I should like to explain that
the presence of a man and a dog in one illustration is accidental, and was
not observed by me till I developed the negative. In an appendix I have also
reprinted the paragraphs explanatory of the plan of Ulysses’ house, together
with the plan itself. The reader is recommended to study this plan with
some attention.
In the preface to my translation of the “Iliad” I have given my views as to
the main principles by which a translator should be guided, and need not
repeat them here, beyond pointing out that the initial liberty of translating
poetry into prose involves the continual taking of more or less liberty
throughout the translation; for much that is right in poetry is wrong in
prose, and the exigencies of readable prose are the first things to be
considered in a prose translation. That the reader, however, may see how far
I have departed from strict construe, I will print here Messrs. Butcher and
Lang’s translation of the sixty lines or so of the “Odyssey.” Their translation
runs:

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 on 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 men and gods 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, the hapless one, who far from his
friends this long while suffereth affliction in a sea-girt 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?’

The “Odyssey” (as every one knows) abounds in passages borrowed
from the “Iliad”; I had wished to print these in a slightly different type, with
marginal references to the “Iliad,” and had marked them to this end in my
MS. I found, however, that the translation would be thus hopelessly
scholasticised, and abandoned my intention. I would nevertheless urge on
those who have the management of our University presses, that they would
render a great service to students if they would publish a Greek text of the
“Odyssey” with the Iliadic passages printed in a different type, and with
marginal references. I have given the British Museum a copy of the
“Odyssey” with the Iliadic passages underlined and referred to in MS.; I
have also given an “Iliad” marked with all the Odyssean passages, and their
references; but copies of both the “Iliad” and “Odyssey” so marked ought to
be within easy reach of all students.
Any one who at the present day discusses the questions that have arisen
round the “Iliad” since Wolf’s time, without keeping it well before his
reader’s mind that the “Odyssey” was demonstrably written from one single
neighbourhood, and hence (even though nothing else pointed to this
conclusion) presumably by one person only—that it was written certainly
before 750, and in all probability before 1000 B.C.—that the writer of this
very early poem was demonstrably familiar with the “Iliad” as we now have

it, borrowing as freely from those books whose genuineness has been most
impugned, as from those which are admitted to be by Homer—any one who
fails to keep these points before his readers, is hardly dealing equitably by
them. Any one on the other hand, who will mark his “Iliad” and his
“Odyssey” from the copies in the British Museum above referred to, and
who will draw the only inference that common sense can draw from the
presence of so many identical passages in both poems, will, I believe, find
no difficulty in assigning their proper value to a large number of books here
and on the Continent that at present enjoy considerable reputations.
Furthermore, and this perhaps is an advantage better worth securing, he will
find that many puzzles of the “Odyssey” cease to puzzle him on the
discovery that they arise from over-saturation with the “Iliad.”
Other difficulties will also disappear as soon as the development of the
poem in the writer’s mind is understood. I have dealt with this at some
length in pp. 251-261 of “The Authoress of the Odyssey”. Briefly, the
“Odyssey” consists of two distinct poems: (1) The Return of Ulysses, which
alone the Muse is asked to sing in the opening lines of the poem. This poem
includes the Phaeacian episode, and the account of Ulysses’ adventures as
told by himself in Books ix.-xii. It consists of lines 1-79 (roughly) of Book
i., of line 28 of Book v., and thence without intermission to the middle of
line 187 of Book xiii., at which point the original scheme was abandoned.
(2) The story of Penelope and the suitors, with the episode of
Telemachus’ voyage to Pylos. This poem begins with line 80 (roughly) of
Book i., is continued to the end of Book iv., and not resumed till Ulysses
wakes in the middle of line 187, Book xiii., from whence it continues to the
end of Book xxiv.
In “The Authoress of the Odyssey”, I wrote:

the introduction of lines xi., 115-137 and of line ix., 535,
with the writing a new council of the gods at the beginning
of Book v., to take the place of the one that was removed to
Book i., 1-79, were the only things that were done to give
even a semblance of unity to the old scheme and the new,
and to conceal the fact that the Muse, after being asked to
sing of one subject, spend two-thirds of her time in singing a
very different one, with a climax for which no-one has asked

her. For roughly the Return occupies eight Books, and
Penelope and the Suitors sixteen.

I believe this to be substantially correct.
Lastly, to deal with a very unimportant point, I observe that the Leipsic
Teubner edition of 894 makes Books ii. and iii. end with a comma. Stops
are things of such far more recent date than the “Odyssey,” that there does
not seem much use in adhering to the text in so small a matter; still, from a
spirit of mere conservatism, I have preferred to do so. Why [Greek] at the
beginnings of Books ii. and viii., and [Greek], at the beginning of Book vii.
should have initial capitals in an edition far too careful to admit a
supposition of inadvertence, when [Greek] at the beginning of Books vi.
and xiii., and [Greek] at the beginning of Book xvii. have no initial capitals,
I cannot determine. No other Books of the “Odyssey” have initial capitals
except the three mentioned unless the first word of the Book is a proper
name.

S. BUTLER.

July 25, 1900.

PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION

Butler’s Translation of the “Odyssey” appeared originally in 1900, and
The Authoress of the Odyssey in 1897. In the preface to the new edition of
“The Authoress”, which is published simultaneously with this new edition
of the Translation, I have given some account of the genesis of the two
books.
The size of the original page has been reduced so as to make both books
uniform with Butler’s other works; and, fortunately, it has been possible, by
using a smaller type, to get the same number of words into each page, so
that the references remain good, and, with the exception of a few minor
alterations and rearrangements now to be enumerated so far as they affect
the Translation, the new editions are faithful reprints of the original
editions, with misprints and obvious errors corrected—no attempt having
been made to edit them or to bring them up to date.
(a) The Index has been revised.
(b) Owing to the reduction in the size of the page it has been necessary to
shorten some of the headlines, and here advantage has been taken of various
corrections of and additions to the headlines and shoulder-notes made by
Butler in his own copies of the two books.
(c) For the most part each of the illustrations now occupies a page,
whereas in the original editions they generally appeared two on the page. It
has been necessary to reduce the plan of the House of Ulysses.
On page 153 of “The Authoress” Butler says: “No great poet would
compare his hero to a paunch full of blood and fat, cooking before the fire
(xx, 24-28).” This passage is not given in the abridged Story of the
“Odyssey” at the beginning of the book, but in the Translation it occurs in
these words:
“Thus he chided with his heart, and checked it into endurance, but he
tossed about as one who turns a paunch full of blood and fat in front of a

hot fire, doing it first on one side then on the other, that he may get it
cooked as soon as possible; even so did he turn himself about from side to
side, thinking all the time how, single-handed as he was, he should contrive
to kill so large a body of men as the wicked suitors.”
It looks as though in the interval between the publication of “The
Authoress” (1897) and of the Translation (1900) Butler had changed his
mind; for in the first case the comparison is between Ulysses and a paunch
full, etc., and in the second it is between Ulysses and a man who turns a
paunch full, etc. The second comparison is perhaps one which a great poet
might make.
In seeing the works through the press I have had the invaluable assistance
of Mr. A. T. Bartholomew of the University Library, Cambridge, and of Mr.
Donald S. Robertson, Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. To both these
friends I give my most cordial thanks for the care and skill exercised by
them. Mr. Robertson has found time for the labour of checking and
correcting all the quotations from and references to the “Iliad” and
“Odyssey,” and I believe that it could not have been better performed. It
was, I know, a pleasure for him; and it would have been a pleasure also for
Butler if he could have known that his work was being shepherded by the
son of his old friend, Mr. H. R. Robertson, who more than half a century
ago was a fellow-student with him at Cary’s School of Art in Streatham
Street, Bloomsbury.

HENRY FESTING JONES.

120 MAIDA VALE, W.9.
4th December, 1921.

THE ODYSSEY

BOOK I

THE GODS IN COUNCIL—MINERVA’S VISIT TO
ITHACA—THE CHALLENGE FROM TELEMACHUS
TO THE SUITORS.

Tell me, O Muse, of that ingenious hero who travelled far and wide after
he had sacked the famous town of Troy. Many cities did he visit, and many
were the nations with whose manners and customs he was acquainted;
moreover he suffered much by sea while trying to save his own life and
bring his men safely home; but do what he might he could not save his men,
for they perished through their own sheer folly in eating the cattle of the
Sun-god Hyperion; so the god prevented them from ever reaching home.
Tell me, too, about all these things, oh daughter of Jove, from whatsoever
source you may know them.
So now all who escaped death in battle or by shipwreck had got safely
home except Ulysses, and he, though he was longing to return to his wife
and country, was detained by the goddess Calypso, who had got him into a
large cave and wanted to marry him. But as years went by, there came a
time when the gods settled that he should go back to Ithaca; even then,
however, when he was among his own people, his troubles were not yet
over; nevertheless all the gods had now begun to pity him except Neptune,
who still persecuted him without ceasing and would not let him get home.
Now Neptune had gone off to the Ethiopians, who are at the world’s end,
and lie in two halves, the one looking West and the other East.[1] He had
gone there to accept a hecatomb of sheep and oxen, and was enjoying
himself at his festival; but the other gods met in the house of Olympian
Jove, and the sire of gods and men spoke first. At that moment he was
thinking of Aegisthus, who had been killed by Agamemnon’s son Orestes;
so he said to the other gods:
“See now, how men lay blame upon us gods for what is after all nothing
but their own folly. Look at Aegisthus; he must needs make love to

Agamemnon’s wife unrighteously and then kill Agamemnon, though he
knew it would be the death of him; for I sent Mercury to warn him not to do
either of these things, inasmuch as Orestes would be sure to take his
revenge when he grew up and wanted to return home. Mercury told him this
in all good will but he would not listen, and now he has paid for everything
in full.”
Then Minerva said, “Father, son of Saturn, King of kings, it served
Aegisthus right, and so it would any one else who does as he did; but
Aegisthus is neither here nor there; it is for Ulysses that my heart bleeds,
when I think of his sufferings in that lonely sea-girt island, far away, poor
man, from all his friends. It is an island covered with forest, in the very
middle of the sea, and a goddess lives there, daughter of the magician Atlas,
who looks after the bottom of the ocean, and carries the great columns that
keep heaven and earth asunder. This daughter of Atlas has got hold of poor
unhappy Ulysses, and keeps trying by every kind of blandishment to make
him forget his home, so that he is tired of life, and thinks of nothing but
how he may once more see the smoke of his own chimneys. You, sir, take
no heed of this, and yet when Ulysses was before Troy did he not propitiate
you with many a burnt sacrifice? Why then should you keep on being so
angry with him?”
And Jove said, “My child, what are you talking about? How can I forget
Ulysses than whom there is no more capable man on earth, nor more liberal
in his offerings to the immortal gods that live in heaven? Bear in mind,
however, that Neptune is still furious with Ulysses for having blinded an
eye of Polyphemus king of the Cyclopes. Polyphemus is son to Neptune by
the nymph Thoosa, daughter to the sea-king Phorcys; therefore though he
will not kill Ulysses outright, he torments him by preventing him from
getting home. Still, let us lay our heads together and see how we can help
him to return; Neptune will then be pacified, for if we are all of a mind he
can hardly stand out against us.”
And Minerva said, “Father, son of Saturn, King of kings, if, then, the
gods now mean that Ulysses should get home, we should first send Mercury
to the Ogygian island to tell Calypso that we have made up our minds and
that he is to return. In the meantime I will go to Ithaca, to put heart into
Ulysses’ son Telemachus; I will embolden him to call the Achaeans in
assembly, and speak out to the suitors of his mother Penelope, who persist

in eating up any number of his sheep and oxen; I will also conduct him to
Sparta and to Pylos, to see if he can hear anything about the return of his
dear father—for this will make people speak well of him.”
So saying she bound on her glittering golden sandals, imperishable, with
which she can fly like the wind over land or sea; she grasped the
redoubtable bronze-shod spear, so stout and sturdy and strong, wherewith
she quells the ranks of heroes who have displeased her, and down she
darted from the topmost summits of Olympus, whereon forthwith she was
in Ithaca, at the gateway of Ulysses’ house, disguised as a visitor, Mentes,
chief of the Taphians, and she held a bronze spear in her hand. There she
found the lordly suitors seated on hides of the oxen which they had killed
and eaten, and playing draughts in front of the house. Men-servants and
pages were bustling about to wait upon them, some mixing wine with water
in the mixing-bowls, some cleaning down the tables with wet sponges and
laying them out again, and some cutting up great quantities of meat.
Telemachus saw her long before any one else did. He was sitting moodily
among the suitors thinking about his brave father, and how he would send
them flying out of the house, if he were to come to his own again and be
honoured as in days gone by. Thus brooding as he sat among them, he
caught sight of Minerva and went straight to the gate, for he was vexed that
a stranger should be kept waiting for admittance. He took her right hand in
his own, and bade her give him her spear. “Welcome,” said he, “to our
house, and when you have partaken of food you shall tell us what you have
come for.”
He led the way as he spoke, and Minerva followed him. When they were
within he took her spear and set it in the spear-stand against a strong
bearing-post along with the many other spears of his unhappy father, and he
conducted her to a richly decorated seat under which he threw a cloth of
damask. There was a footstool also for her feet,[2] and he set another seat
near her for himself, away from the suitors, that she might not be annoyed
while eating by their noise and insolence, and that he might ask her more
freely about his father.
A maid servant then brought them water in a beautiful golden ewer and
poured it into a silver basin for them to wash their hands, and she drew a
clean table beside them. An upper servant brought them bread, and offered
them many good things of what there was in the house, the carver fetched

them plates of all manner of meats and set cups of gold by their side, and a
manservant brought them wine and poured it out for them.
Then the suitors came in and took their places on the benches and seats.[3]
Forthwith men servants poured water over their hands, maids went round
with the bread-baskets, pages filled the mixing-bowls with wine and water,
and they laid their hands upon the good things that were before them. As
soon as they had had enough to eat and drink they wanted music and
dancing, which are the crowning embellishments of a banquet, so a servant
brought a lyre to Phemius, whom they compelled perforce to sing to them.
As soon as he touched his lyre and began to sing Telemachus spoke low to
Minerva, with his head close to hers that no man might hear.
“I hope, sir,” said he, “that you will not be offended with what I am going
to say. Singing comes cheap to those who do not pay for it, and all this is
done at the cost of one whose bones lie rotting in some wilderness or
grinding to powder in the surf. If these men were to see my father come
back to Ithaca they would pray for longer legs rather than a longer purse,
for money would not serve them; but he, alas, has fallen on an ill fate, and
even when people do sometimes say that he is coming, we no longer heed
them; we shall never see him again. And now, sir, tell me and tell me true,
who you are and where you come from. Tell me of your town and parents,
what manner of ship you came in, how your crew brought you to Ithaca,
and of what nation they declared themselves to be—for you cannot have
come by land. Tell me also truly, for I want to know, are you a stranger to
this house, or have you been here in my father’s time? In the old days we
had many visitors for my father went about much himself.”
And Minerva answered, “I will tell you truly and particularly all about it.
I am Mentes, son of Anchialus, and I am King of the Taphians. I have come
here with my ship and crew, on a voyage to men of a foreign tongue being
bound for Temesa[4] with a cargo of iron, and I shall bring back copper. As
for my ship, it lies over yonder off the open country away from the town, in
the harbour Rheithron[5] under the wooded mountain Neritum.[6] Our fathers
were friends before us, as old Laertes will tell you, if you will go and ask
him. They say, however, that he never comes to town now, and lives by
himself in the country, faring hardly, with an old woman to look after him
and get his dinner for him, when he comes in tired from pottering about his
vineyard. They told me your father was at home again, and that was why I

came, but it seems the gods are still keeping him back, for he is not dead yet
not on the mainland. It is more likely he is on some sea-girt island in mid
ocean, or a prisoner among savages who are detaining him against his will.
I am no prophet, and know very little about omens, but I speak as it is borne
in upon me from heaven, and assure you that he will not be away much
longer; for he is a man of such resource that even though he were in chains
of iron he would find some means of getting home again. But tell me, and
tell me true, can Ulysses really have such a fine looking fellow for a son?
You are indeed wonderfully like him about the head and eyes, for we were
close friends before he set sail for Troy where the flower of all the Argives
went also. Since that time we have never either of us seen the other.”
“My mother,” answered Telemachus, “tells me I am son to Ulysses, but it
is a wise child that knows his own father. Would that I were son to one who
had grown old upon his own estates, for, since you ask me, there is no more
ill-starred man under heaven than he who they tell me is my father.”
And Minerva said, “There is no fear of your race dying out yet, while
Penelope has such a fine son as you are. But tell me, and tell me true, what
is the meaning of all this feasting, and who are these people? What is it all
about? Have you some banquet, or is there a wedding in the family—for no
one seems to be bringing any provisions of his own? And the guests—how
atrociously they are behaving; what riot they make over the whole house; it
is enough to disgust any respectable person who comes near them.”
“Sir,” said Telemachus, “as regards your question, so long as my father
was here it was well with us and with the house, but the gods in their
displeasure have willed it otherwise, and have hidden him away more
closely than mortal man was ever yet hidden. I could have borne it better
even though he were dead, if he had fallen with his men before Troy, or had
died with friends around him when the days of his fighting were done; for
then the Achaeans would have built a mound over his ashes, and I should
myself have been heir to his renown; but now the storm-winds have spirited
him away we know not whither; he is gone without leaving so much as a
trace behind him, and I inherit nothing but dismay. Nor does the matter end
simply with grief for the loss of my father; heaven has laid sorrows upon
me of yet another kind; for the chiefs from all our islands, Dulichium,
Same, and the woodland island of Zacynthus, as also all the principal men
of Ithaca itself, are eating up my house under the pretext of paying their

court to my mother, who will neither point blank say that she will not
marry,[7] nor yet bring matters to an end; so they are making havoc of my
estate, and before long will do so also with myself.”
“Is that so?” exclaimed Minerva, “then you do indeed want Ulysses
home again. Give him his helmet, shield, and a couple of lances, and if he is
the man he was when I first knew him in our house, drinking and making
merry, he would soon lay his hands about these rascally suitors, were he to
stand once more upon his own threshold. He was then coming from Ephyra,
where he had been to beg poison for his arrows from Ilus, son of Mermerus.
Ilus feared the ever-living gods and would not give him any, but my father
let him have some, for he was very fond of him. If Ulysses is the man he
then was these suitors will have a short shrift and a sorry wedding.
“But there! It rests with heaven to determine whether he is to return, and
take his revenge in his own house or no; I would, however, urge you to set
about trying to get rid of these suitors at once. Take my advice, call the
Achaean heroes in assembly to-morrow morning—lay your case before
them, and call heaven to bear you witness. Bid the suitors take themselves
off, each to his own place, and if your mother’s mind is set on marrying
again, let her go back to her father, who will find her a husband and provide
her with all the marriage gifts that so dear a daughter may expect. As for
yourself, let me prevail upon you to take the best ship you can get, with a
crew of twenty men, and go in quest of your father who has so long been
missing. Some one may tell you something, or (and people often hear things
in this way) some heaven-sent message may direct you. First go to Pylos
and ask Nestor; thence go on to Sparta and visit Menelaus, for he got home
last of all the Achaeans; if you hear that your father is alive and on his way
home, you can put up with the waste these suitors will make for yet another
twelve months. If on the other hand you hear of his death, come home at
once, celebrate his funeral rites with all due pomp, build a barrow to his
memory, and make your mother marry again. Then, having done all this,
think it well over in your mind how, by fair means or foul, you may kill
these suitors in your own house. You are too old to plead infancy any
longer; have you not heard how people are singing Orestes’ praises for
having killed his father’s murderer Aegisthus? You are a fine, smart looking
fellow; show your mettle, then, and make yourself a name in story. Now,
however, I must go back to my ship and to my crew, who will be impatient

if I keep them waiting longer; think the matter over for yourself, and
remember what I have said to you.”
“Sir,” answered Telemachus, “it has been very kind of you to talk to me
in this way, as though I were your own son, and I will do all you tell me; I
know you want to be getting on with your voyage, but stay a little longer till
you have taken a bath and refreshed yourself. I will then give you a present,
and you shall go on your way rejoicing; I will give you one of great beauty
and value—a keepsake such as only dear friends give to one another.”
Minerva answered, “Do not try to keep me, for I would be on my way at
once. As for any present you may be disposed to make me, keep it till I
come again, and I will take it home with me. You shall give me a very good
one, and I will give you one of no less value in return.”
With these words she flew away like a bird into the air, but she had given
Telemachus courage, and had made him think more than ever about his
father. He felt the change, wondered at it, and knew that the stranger had
been a god, so he went straight to where the suitors were sitting.
Phemius was still singing, and his hearers sat rapt in silence as he told the
sad tale of the return from Troy, and the ills Minerva had laid upon the
Achaeans. Penelope, daughter of Icarius, heard his song from her room
upstairs, and came down by the great staircase, not alone, but attended by
two of her handmaids. When she reached the suitors she stood by one of the
bearing posts that supported the roof of the cloisters[8] with a staid maiden
on either side of her. She held a veil, moreover, before her face, and was
weeping bitterly.
“Phemius,” she cried, “you know many another feat of gods and heroes,
such as poets love to celebrate. Sing the suitors some one of these, and let
them drink their wine in silence, but cease this sad tale, for it breaks my
sorrowful heart, and reminds me of my lost husband whom I mourn ever
without ceasing, and whose name was great over all Hellas and middle
Argos.”[9]
“Mother,” answered Telemachus, “let the bard sing what he has a mind
to; bards do not make the ills they sing of; it is Jove, not they, who makes
them, and who sends weal or woe upon mankind according to his own good
pleasure. This fellow means no harm by singing the ill-fated return of the
Danaans, for people always applaud the latest songs most warmly. Make up
your mind to it and bear it; Ulysses is not the only man who never came

back from Troy, but many another went down as well as he. Go, then,
within the house and busy yourself with your daily duties, your loom, your
distaff, and the ordering of your servants; for speech is man’s matter, and
mine above all others [10]—for it is I who am master here.”
She went wondering back into the house, and laid her son’s saying in her
heart. Then, going upstairs with her handmaids into her room, she mourned
her dear husband till Minerva shed sweet sleep over her eyes. But the
suitors were clamorous throughout the covered cloisters[11], and prayed each
one that he might be her bed fellow.
Then Telemachus spoke, “Shameless,” he cried, “and insolent suitors, let
us feast at our pleasure now, and let there be no brawling, for it is a rare
thing to hear a man with such a divine voice as Phemius has; but in the
morning meet me in full assembly that I may give you formal notice to
depart, and feast at one another’s houses, turn and turn about, at your own
cost. If on the other hand you choose to persist in spunging upon one man,
heaven help me, but Jove shall reckon with you in full, and when you fall in
my father’s house there shall be no man to avenge you.”
The suitors bit their lips as they heard him, and marvelled at the boldness
of his speech. Then, Antinous, son of Eupeithes, said, “The gods seem to
have given you lessons in bluster and tall talking; may Jove never grant you
to be chief in Ithaca as your father was before you.”
Telemachus answered, “Antinous, do not chide with me, but, god willing,
I will be chief too if I can. Is this the worst fate you can think of for me? It
is no bad thing to be a chief, for it brings both riches and honour. Still, now
that Ulysses is dead there are many great men in Ithaca both old and young,
and some other may take the lead among them; nevertheless I will be chief
in my own house, and will rule those whom Ulysses has won for me.”
Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered, “It rests with heaven to
decide who shall be chief among us, but you shall be master in your own
house and over your own possessions; no one while there is a man in Ithaca
shall do you violence nor rob you. And now, my good fellow, I want to
know about this stranger. What country does he come from? Of what family
is he, and where is his estate? Has he brought you news about the return of
your father, or was he on business of his own? He seemed a well to do man,
but he hurried off so suddenly that he was gone in a moment before we
could get to know him.”

“My father is dead and gone,” answered Telemachus, “and even if some
rumour reaches me I put no more faith in it now. My mother does indeed
sometimes send for a soothsayer and question him, but I give his
prophecyings no heed. As for the stranger, he was Mentes, son of
Anchialus, chief of the Taphians, an old friend of my father’s.” But in his
heart he knew that it had been the goddess.
The suitors then returned to their singing and dancing until the evening;
but when night fell upon their pleasuring they went home to bed each in his
own abode.[12] Telemachus’s room was high up in a tower[13] that looked on
to the outer court; hither, then, he hied, brooding and full of thought. A good
old woman, Euryclea, daughter of Ops, the son of Pisenor, went before him
with a couple of blazing torches. Laertes had bought her with his own
money when she was quite young; he gave the worth of twenty oxen for
her, and shewed as much respect to her in his household as he did to his
own wedded wife, but he did not take her to his bed for he feared his wife’s
resentment.[14] She it was who now lighted Telemachus to his room, and she
loved him better than any of the other women in the house did, for she had
nursed him when he was a baby. He opened the door of his bed room and
sat down upon the bed; as he took off his shirt[15] he gave it to the good old
woman, who folded it tidily up, and hung it for him over a peg by his bed
side, after which she went out, pulled the door to by a silver catch, and drew
the bolt home by means of the strap.[16] But Telemachus as he lay covered
with a woollen fleece kept thinking all night through of his intended voyage
and of the counsel that Minerva had given him.

BOOK II

ASSEMBLY OF THE PEOPLE OF ITHACA—SPEECHES
OF TELEMACHUS AND OF THE SUITORS—
TELEMACHUS MAKES HIS PREPARATIONS AND
STARTS FOR PYLOS WITH MINERVA DISGUISED AS
MENTOR.

Now when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared
Telemachus rose and dressed himself. He bound his sandals on to his
comely feet, girded his sword about his shoulder, and left his room looking
like an immortal god. He at once sent the criers round to call the people in
assembly, so they called them and the people gathered thereon; then, when
they were got together, he went to the place of assembly spear in hand—not
alone, for his two hounds went with him. Minerva endowed him with a
presence of such divine comeliness that all marvelled at him as he went by,
and when he took his place in his father’s seat even the oldest councillors
made way for him.
Aegyptius, a man bent double with age, and of infinite experience, was
the first to speak. His son Antiphus had gone with Ulysses to Ilius, land of
noble steeds, but the savage Cyclops had killed him when they were all shut
up in the cave, and had cooked his last dinner for him.[17] He had three sons
left, of whom two still worked on their father’s land, while the third,
Eurynomus, was one of the suitors; nevertheless their father could not get
over the loss of Antiphus, and was still weeping for him when he began his
speech.
“Men of Ithaca,” he said, “hear my words. From the day Ulysses left us
there has been no meeting of our councillors until now; who then can it be,
whether old or young, that finds it so necessary to convene us? Has he got
wind of some host approaching, and does he wish to warn us, or would he

speak upon some other matter of public moment? I am sure he is an
excellent person, and I hope Jove will grant him his heart’s desire.”
Telemachus took this speech as of good omen and rose at once, for he
was bursting with what he had to say. He stood in the middle of the
assembly and the good herald Pisenor brought him his staff. Then, turning
to Aegyptius, “Sir,” said he, “it is I, as you will shortly learn, who have
convened you, for it is I who am the most aggrieved. I have not got wind of
any host approaching about which I would warn you, nor is there any
matter of public moment on which I would speak. My grievance is purely
personal, and turns on two great misfortunes which have fallen upon my
house. The first of these is the loss of my excellent father, who was chief
among all you here present, and was like a father to every one of you; the
second is much more serious, and ere long will be the utter ruin of my
estate. The sons of all the chief men among you are pestering my mother to
marry them against her will. They are afraid to go to her father Icarius,
asking him to choose the one he likes best, and to provide marriage gifts for
his daughter, but day by day they keep hanging about my father’s house,
sacrificing our oxen, sheep, and fat goats for their banquets, and never
giving so much as a thought to the quantity of wine they drink. No estate
can stand such recklessness; we have now no Ulysses to ward off harm
from our doors, and I cannot hold my own against them. I shall never all my
days be as good a man as he was, still I would indeed defend myself if I had
power to do so, for I cannot stand such treatment any longer; my house is
being disgraced and ruined. Have respect, therefore, to your own
consciences and to public opinion. Fear, too, the wrath of heaven, lest the
gods should be displeased and turn upon you. I pray you by Jove and
Themis, who is the beginning and the end of councils, [do not] hold back,
my friends, and leave me singlehanded[18]—unless it be that my brave father
Ulysses did some wrong to the Achaeans which you would now avenge on
me, by aiding and abetting these suitors. Moreover, if I am to be eaten out
of house and home at all, I had rather you did the eating yourselves, for I
could then take action against you to some purpose, and serve you with
notices from house to house till I got paid in full, whereas now I have no
remedy.”[19]
With this Telemachus dashed his staff to the ground and burst into tears.
Every one was very sorry for him, but they all sat still and no one ventured
to make him an angry answer, save only Antinous, who spoke thus:

“Telemachus, insolent braggart that you are, how dare you try to throw
the blame upon us suitors? It is your mother’s fault not ours, for she is a
very artful woman. This three years past, and close on four, she had been
driving us out of our minds, by encouraging each one of us, and sending
him messages without meaning one word of what she says. And then there
was that other trick she played us. She set up a great tambour frame in her
room, and began to work on an enormous piece of fine needlework. ‘Sweet
hearts,’ said she, ‘Ulysses is indeed dead, still do not press me to marry
again immediately, wait—for I would not have skill in needlework perish
unrecorded—till I have completed a pall for the hero Laertes, to be in
readiness against the time when death shall take him. He is very rich, and
the women of the place will talk if he is laid out without a pall.’
“This was what she said, and we assented; whereon we could see her
working on her great web all day long, but at night she would unpick the
stitches again by torchlight. She fooled us in this way for three years and we
never found her out, but as time wore on and she was now in her fourth
year, one of her maids who knew what she was doing told us, and we
caught her in the act of undoing her work, so she had to finish it whether
she would or no. The suitors, therefore, make you this answer, that both you
and the Achaeans may understand—‘Send your mother away, and bid her
marry the man of her own and of her father’s choice’; for I do not know
what will happen if she goes on plaguing us much longer with the airs she
gives herself on the score of the accomplishments Minerva has taught her,
and because she is so clever. We never yet heard of such a woman; we
know all about Tyro, Alcmena, Mycene, and the famous women of old, but
they were nothing to your mother any one of them. It was not fair of her to
treat us in that way, and as long as she continues in the mind with which
heaven has now endowed her, so long shall we go on eating up your estate;
and I do not see why she should change, for she gets all the honour and
glory, and it is you who pay for it, not she. Understand, then, that we will
not go back to our lands, neither here nor elsewhere, till she has made her
choice and married some one or other of us.”
Telemachus answered, “Antinous, how can I drive the mother who bore
me from my father’s house? My father is abroad and we do not know
whether he is alive or dead. It will be hard on me if I have to pay Icarius the
large sum which I must give him if I insist on sending his daughter back to
him. Not only will he deal rigorously with me, but heaven will also punish

me; for my mother when she leaves the house will call on the Erinyes to
avenge her; besides, it would not be a creditable thing to do, and I will have
nothing to say to it. If you choose to take offence at this, leave the house
and feast elsewhere at one another’s houses at your own cost turn and turn
about. If, on the other hand, you elect to persist in spunging upon one man,
heaven help me, but Jove shall reckon with you in full, and when you fall in
my father’s house there shall be no man to avenge you.”
As he spoke Jove sent two eagles from the top of the mountain, and they
flew on and on with the wind, sailing side by side in their own lordly flight.
When they were right over the middle of the assembly they wheeled and
circled about, beating the air with their wings and glaring death into the
eyes of them that were below; then, fighting fiercely and tearing at one
another, they flew off towards the right over the town. The people wondered
as they saw them, and asked each other what all this might be; whereon
Halitherses, who was the best prophet and reader of omens among them,
spoke to them plainly and in all honesty, saying:
“Hear me, men of Ithaca, and I speak more particularly to the suitors, for
I see mischief brewing for them. Ulysses is not going to be away much
longer; indeed he is close at hand to deal out death and destruction, not on
them alone, but on many another of us who live in Ithaca. Let us then be
wise in time, and put a stop to this wickedness before he comes. Let the
suitors do so of their own accord; it will be better for them, for I am not
prophesying without due knowledge; everything has happened to Ulysses as
I foretold when the Argives set out for Troy, and he with them. I said that
after going through much hardship and losing all his men he should come
home again in the twentieth year and that no one would know him; and now
all this is coming true.”
Eurymachus son of Polybus then said, “Go home, old man, and prophesy
to your own children, or it may be worse for them. I can read these omens
myself much better than you can; birds are always flying about in the
sunshine somewhere or other, but they seldom mean anything. Ulysses has
died in a far country, and it is a pity you are not dead along with him,
instead of prating here about omens and adding fuel to the anger of
Telemachus which is fierce enough as it is. I suppose you think he will give
you something for your family, but I tell you—and it shall surely be—when
an old man like you, who should know better, talks a young one over till he

becomes troublesome, in the first place his young friend will only fare so
much the worse—he will take nothing by it, for the suitors will prevent this
—and in the next, we will lay a heavier fine, sir, upon yourself than you
will at all like paying, for it will bear hardly upon you. As for Telemachus, I
warn him in the presence of you all to send his mother back to her father,
who will find her a husband and provide her with all the marriage gifts so
dear a daughter may expect. Till then we shall go on harassing him with our
suit; for we fear no man, and care neither for him, with all his fine speeches,
nor for any fortune-telling of yours. You may preach as much as you please,
but we shall only hate you the more. We shall go back and continue to eat
up Telemachus’s estate without paying him, till such time as his mother
leaves off tormenting us by keeping us day after day on the tiptoe of
expectation, each vying with the other in his suit for a prize of such rare
perfection. Besides we cannot go after the other women whom we should
marry in due course, but for the way in which she treats us.”
Then Telemachus said, “Eurymachus, and you other suitors, I shall say
no more, and entreat you no further, for the gods and the people of Ithaca
now know my story. Give me, then, a ship and a crew of twenty men to take
me hither and thither, and I will go to Sparta and to Pylos in quest of my
father who has so long been missing. Some one may tell me something, or
(and people often hear things in this way) some heaven-sent message may
direct me. If I can hear of him as alive and on his way home I will put up
with the waste you suitors will make for yet another twelve months. If on
the other hand I hear of his death, I will return at once, celebrate his funeral
rites with all due pomp, build a barrow to his memory, and make my mother
marry again.”
With these words he sat down, and Mentor[20] who had been a friend of
Ulysses, and had been left in charge of everything with full authority over
the servants, rose to speak. He, then, plainly and in all honesty addressed
them thus:
“Hear me, men of Ithaca, I hope that you may never have a kind and
well-disposed ruler any more, nor one who will govern you equitably; I
hope that all your chiefs henceforward may be cruel and unjust, for there is
not one of you but has forgotten Ulysses, who ruled you as though he were
your father. I am not half so angry with the suitors, for if they choose to do
violence in the naughtiness of their hearts, and wager their heads that

Ulysses will not return, they can take the high hand and eat up his estate,
but as for you others I am shocked at the way in which you all sit still
without even trying to stop such scandalous goings on—which you could
do if you chose, for you are many and they are few.”
Leiocritus, son of Evenor, answered him saying, “Mentor, what folly is
all this, that you should set the people to stay us? It is a hard thing for one
man to fight with many about his victuals. Even though Ulysses himself
were to set upon us while we are feasting in his house, and do his best to
oust us, his wife, who wants him back so very badly, would have small
cause for rejoicing, and his blood would be upon his own head if he fought
against such great odds. There is no sense in what you have been saying.
Now, therefore, do you people go about your business, and let his father’s
old friends, Mentor and Halitherses, speed this boy on his journey, if he
goes at all—which I do not think he will, for he is more likely to stay where
he is till some one comes and tells him something.”
On this he broke up the assembly, and every man went back to his own
abode, while the suitors returned to the house of Ulysses.
Then Telemachus went all alone by the sea side, washed his hands in the
grey waves, and prayed to Minerva.
“Hear me,” he cried, “you god who visited me yesterday, and bade me
sail the seas in search of my father who has so long been missing. I would
obey you, but the Achaeans, and more particularly the wicked suitors, are
hindering me that I cannot do so.”
As he thus prayed, Minerva came close up to him in the likeness and with
the voice of Mentor. “Telemachus,” said she, “if you are made of the same
stuff as your father you will be neither fool nor coward henceforward, for
Ulysses never broke his word nor left his work half done. If, then, you take
after him, your voyage will not be fruitless, but unless you have the blood
of Ulysses and of Penelope in your veins I see no likelihood of your
succeeding. Sons are seldom as good men as their fathers; they are
generally worse, not better; still, as you are not going to be either fool or
coward henceforward, and are not entirely without some share of your
father’s wise discernment, I look with hope upon your undertaking. But
mind you never make common cause with any of those foolish suitors, for
they have neither sense nor virtue, and give no thought to death and to the
doom that will shortly fall on one and all of them, so that they shall perish

on the same day. As for your voyage, it shall not be long delayed; your
father was such an old friend of mine that I will find you a ship, and will
come with you myself. Now, however, return home, and go about among
the suitors; begin getting provisions ready for your voyage; see everything
well stowed, the wine in jars, and the barley meal, which is the staff of life,
in leathern bags, while I go round the town and beat up volunteers at once.
There are many ships in Ithaca both old and new; I will run my eye over
them for you and will choose the best; we will get her ready and will put
out to sea without delay.”
Thus spoke Minerva daughter of Jove, and Telemachus lost no time in
doing as the goddess told him. He went moodily home, and found the
suitors flaying goats and singeing pigs in the outer court. Antinous came up
to him at once and laughed as he took his hand in his own, saying,
“Telemachus, my fine fire-eater, bear no more ill blood neither in word nor
deed, but eat and drink with us as you used to do. The Achaeans will find
you in everything—a ship and a picked crew to boot—so that you can set
sail for Pylos at once and get news of your noble father.”
“Antinous,” answered Telemachus, “I cannot eat in peace, nor take
pleasure of any kind with such men as you are. Was it not enough that you
should waste so much good property of mine while I was yet a boy? Now
that I am older and know more about it, I am also stronger, and whether
here among this people, or by going to Pylos, I will do you all the harm I
can. I shall go, and my going will not be in vain—though, thanks to you
suitors, I have neither ship nor crew of my own, and must be passenger not
captain.”
As he spoke he snatched his hand from that of Antinous. Meanwhile the
others went on getting dinner ready about the buildings,[21] jeering at him
tauntingly as they did so.
“Telemachus,” said one youngster, “means to be the death of us; I
suppose he thinks he can bring friends to help him from Pylos, or again
from Sparta, where he seems bent on going. Or will he go to Ephyra as
well, for poison to put in our wine and kill us?”
Another said, “Perhaps if Telemachus goes on board ship, he will be like
his father and perish far from his friends. In this case we should have plenty
to do, for we could then divide up his property amongst us: as for the house
we can let his mother and the man who marries her have that.”

This was how they talked. But Telemachus went down into the lofty and
spacious store-room where his father’s treasure of gold and bronze lay
heaped up upon the floor, and where the linen and spare clothes were kept
in open chests. Here, too, there was a store of fragrant olive oil, while casks
of old, well-ripened wine, unblended and fit for a god to drink, were ranged
against the wall in case Ulysses should come home again after all. The
room was closed with well-made doors opening in the middle; moreover the
faithful old house-keeper Euryclea, daughter of Ops the son of Pisenor, was
in charge of everything both night and day. Telemachus called her to the
store-room and said:
“Nurse, draw me off some of the best wine you have, after what you are
keeping for my father’s own drinking, in case, poor man, he should escape
death, and find his way home again after all. Let me have twelve jars, and
see that they all have lids; also fill me some well-sewn leathern bags with
barley meal—about twenty measures in all. Get these things put together at
once, and say nothing about it. I will take everything away this evening as
soon as my mother has gone upstairs for the night. I am going to Sparta and
to Pylos to see if I can hear anything about the return of my dear father.”
When Euryclea heard this she began to cry, and spoke fondly to him,
saying, “My dear child, what ever can have put such notion as that into your
head? Where in the world do you want to go to—you, who are the one hope
of the house? Your poor father is dead and gone in some foreign country
nobody knows where, and as soon as your back is turned these wicked ones
here will be scheming to get you put out of the way, and will share all your
possessions among themselves; stay where you are among your own
people, and do not go wandering and worrying your life out on the barren
ocean.”
“Fear not, nurse,” answered Telemachus, “my scheme is not without
heaven’s sanction; but swear that you will say nothing about all this to my
mother, till I have been away some ten or twelve days, unless she hears of
my having gone, and asks you; for I do not want her to spoil her beauty by
crying.”
The old woman swore most solemnly that she would not, and when she
had completed her oath, she began drawing off the wine into jars, and
getting the barley meal into the bags, while Telemachus went back to the
suitors.

Then Minerva bethought her of another matter. She took his shape, and
went round the town to each one of the crew, telling them to meet at the
ship by sundown. She went also to Noemon son of Phronius, and asked him
to let her have a ship—which he was very ready to do. When the sun had
set and darkness was over all the land, she got the ship into the water, put
all the tackle on board her that ships generally carry, and stationed her at the
end of the harbour. Presently the crew came up, and the goddess spoke
encouragingly to each of them.
Furthermore she went to the house of Ulysses, and threw the suitors into
a deep slumber. She caused their drink to fuddle them, and made them drop
their cups from their hands, so that instead of sitting over their wine, they
went back into the town to sleep, with their eyes heavy and full of
drowsiness. Then she took the form and voice of Mentor, and called
Telemachus to come outside.
“Telemachus,” said she, “the men are on board and at their oars, waiting
for you to give your orders, so make haste and let us be off.”
On this she led the way, while Telemachus followed in her steps. When
they got to the ship they found the crew waiting by the water side, and
Telemachus said, “Now my men, help me to get the stores on board; they
are all put together in the cloister, and my mother does not know anything
about it, nor any of the maid servants except one.”
With these words he led the way and the others followed after. When
they had brought the things as he told them, Telemachus went on board,
Minerva going before him and taking her seat in the stern of the vessel,
while Telemachus sat beside her. Then the men loosed the hawsers and took
their places on the benches. Minerva sent them a fair wind from the West,[22]
that whistled over the deep blue waves[23] whereon Telemachus told them to
catch hold of the ropes and hoist sail, and they did as he told them. They set
the mast in its socket in the cross plank, raised it, and made it fast with the
forestays; then they hoisted their white sails aloft with ropes of twisted ox
hide. As the sail bellied out with the wind, the ship flew through the deep
blue water, and the foam hissed against her bows as she sped onward. Then
they made all fast throughout the ship, filled the mixing bowls to the brim,
and made drink offerings to the immortal gods that are from everlasting, but
more particularly to the grey-eyed daughter of Jove.

Thus, then, the ship sped on her way through the watches of the night
from dark till dawn.

BOOK III

TELEMACHUS VISITS NESTOR AT PYLOS.

but as the sun was rising from the fair sea[24] into the firmament of heaven
to shed light on mortals and immortals, they reached Pylos the city of
Neleus. Now the people of Pylos were gathered on the sea shore to offer
sacrifice of black bulls to Neptune lord of the Earthquake. There were nine
guilds with five hundred men in each, and there were nine bulls to each
guild. As they were eating the inward meats[25] and burning the thigh bones
[on the embers] in the name of Neptune, Telemachus and his crew arrived,
furled their sails, brought their ship to anchor, and went ashore.
Minerva led the way and Telemachus followed her. Presently she said,
“Telemachus, you must not be in the least shy or nervous; you have taken
this voyage to try and find out where your father is buried and how he came
by his end; so go straight up to Nestor that we may see what he has got to
tell us. Beg of him to speak the truth, and he will tell no lies, for he is an
excellent person.”
“But how, Mentor,” replied Telemachus, “dare I go up to Nestor, and how
am I to address him? I have never yet been used to holding long
conversations with people, and am ashamed to begin questioning one who
is so much older than myself.”
“Some things, Telemachus,” answered Minerva, “will be suggested to
you by your own instinct, and heaven will prompt you further; for I am
assured that the gods have been with you from the time of your birth until
now.”
She then went quickly on, and Telemachus followed in her steps till they
reached the place where the guilds of the Pylian people were assembled.
There they found Nestor sitting with his sons, while his company round him
were busy getting dinner ready, and putting pieces of meat on to the spits[26]
while other pieces were cooking. When they saw the strangers they

crowded round them, took them by the hand and bade them take their
places. Nestor’s son Pisistratus at once offered his hand to each of them,
and seated them on some soft sheepskins that were lying on the sands near
his father and his brother Thrasymedes. Then he gave them their portions of
the inward meats and poured wine for them into a golden cup, handing it to
Minerva first, and saluting her at the same time.
“Offer a prayer, sir,” said he, “to King Neptune, for it is his feast that you
are joining; when you have duly prayed and made your drink offering, pass
the cup to your friend that he may do so also. I doubt not that he too lifts his
hands in prayer, for man cannot live without God in the world. Still he is
younger than you are, and is much of an age with myself, so I will give you
the precedence.”
As he spoke he handed her the cup. Minerva thought it very right and
proper of him to have given it to herself first;[27] she accordingly began
praying heartily to Neptune. “O thou,” she cried, “that encirclest the earth,
vouchsafe to grant the prayers of thy servants that call upon thee. More
especially we pray thee send down thy grace on Nestor and on his sons;
thereafter also make the rest of the Pylian people some handsome return for
the goodly hecatomb they are offering you. Lastly, grant Telemachus and
myself a happy issue, in respect of the matter that has brought us in our ship
to Pylos.”
When she had thus made an end of praying, she handed the cup to
Telemachus and he prayed likewise. By and by, when the outer meats were
roasted and had been taken off the spits, the carvers gave every man his
portion and they all made an excellent dinner. As soon as they had had
enough to eat and drink, Nestor, knight of Gerene, began to speak.
“Now,” said he, “that our guests have done their dinner, it will be best to
ask them who they are. Who, then, sir strangers, are you, and from what
port have you sailed? Are you traders? or do you sail the seas as rovers with
your hand against every man, and every man’s hand against you?”
Telemachus answered boldly, for Minerva had given him courage to ask
about his father and get himself a good name.
“Nestor,” said he, “son of Neleus, honour to the Achaean name, you ask
whence we come, and I will tell you. We come from Ithaca under Neritum,
[28]
and the matter about which I would speak is of private not public import.
I seek news of my unhappy father Ulysses, who is said to have sacked the

town of Troy in company with yourself. We know what fate befell each one
of the other heroes who fought at Troy, but as regards Ulysses heaven has
hidden from us the knowledge even that he is dead at all, for no one can
certify us in what place he perished, nor say whether he fell in battle on the
mainland, or was lost at sea amid the waves of Amphitrite. Therefore I am
suppliant at your knees, if haply you may be pleased to tell me of his
melancholy end, whether you saw it with your own eyes, or heard it from
some other traveller, for he was a man born to trouble. Do not soften things
out of any pity for me, but tell me in all plainness exactly what you saw. If
my brave father Ulysses ever did you loyal service, either by word or deed,
when you Achaeans were harassed among the Trojans, bear it in mind now
as in my favour and tell me truly all.”
“My friend,” answered Nestor, “you recall a time of much sorrow to my
mind, for the brave Achaeans suffered much both at sea, while privateering
under Achilles, and when fighting before the great city of king Priam. Our
best men all of them fell there—Ajax, Achilles, Patroclus peer of gods in
counsel, and my own dear son Antilochus, a man singularly fleet of foot and
in fight valiant. But we suffered much more than this; what mortal tongue
indeed could tell the whole story? Though you were to stay here and
question me for five years, or even six, I could not tell you all that the
Achaeans suffered, and you would turn homeward weary of my tale before
it ended. Nine long years did we try every kind of stratagem, but the hand
of heaven was against us; during all this time there was no one who could
compare with your father in subtlety—if indeed you are his son—I can
hardly believe my eyes—and you talk just like him too—no one would say
that people of such different ages could speak so much alike. He and I never
had any kind of difference from first to last neither in camp nor council, but
in singleness of heart and purpose we advised the Argives how all might be
ordered for the best.
“When, however, we had sacked the city of Priam, and were setting sail
in our ships as heaven had dispersed us, then Jove saw fit to vex the Argives
on their homeward voyage; for they had not all been either wise or
understanding, and hence many came to a bad end through the displeasure
of Jove’s daughter Minerva, who brought about a quarrel between the two
sons of Atreus.

“The sons of Atreus called a meeting which was not as it should be, for it
was sunset and the Achaeans were heavy with wine. When they explained
why they had called the people together, it seemed that Menelaus was for
sailing homeward at once, and this displeased Agamemnon, who thought
that we should wait till we had offered hecatombs to appease the anger of
Minerva. Fool that he was, he might have known that he would not prevail
with her, for when the gods have made up their minds they do not change
them lightly. So the two stood bandying hard words, whereon the Achaeans
sprang to their feet with a cry that rent the air, and were of two minds as to
what they should do.
“That night we rested and nursed our anger, for Jove was hatching
mischief against us. But in the morning some of us drew our ships into the
water and put our goods with our women on board, while the rest, about
half in number, stayed behind with Agamemnon. We—the other half—
embarked and sailed; and the ships went well, for heaven had smoothed the
sea. When we reached Tenedos we offered sacrifices to the gods, for we
were longing to get home; cruel Jove, however, did not yet mean that we
should do so, and raised a second quarrel in the course of which some
among us turned their ships back again, and sailed away under Ulysses to
make their peace with Agamemnon; but I, and all the ships that were with
me pressed forward, for I saw that mischief was brewing. The son of
Tydeus went on also with me, and his crews with him. Later on Menelaus
joined us at Lesbos, and found us making up our minds about our course—
for we did not know whether to go outside Chios by the island of Psyra,
keeping this to our left, or inside Chios, over against the stormy headland of
Mimas. So we asked heaven for a sign, and were shown one to the effect
that we should be soonest out of danger if we headed our ships across the
open sea to Euboea. This we therefore did, and a fair wind sprang up which
gave us a quick passage during the night to Geraestus,[29] where we offered
many sacrifices to Neptune for having helped us so far on our way. Four
days later Diomed and his men stationed their ships in Argos, but I held on
for Pylos, and the wind never fell light from the day when heaven first
made it fair for me.
“Therefore, my dear young friend, I returned without hearing anything
about the others. I know neither who got home safely nor who were lost
but, as in duty bound, I will give you without reserve the reports that have
reached me since I have been here in my own house. They say the

Myrmidons returned home safely under Achilles’ son Neoptolemus; so also
did the valiant son of Poias, Philoctetes. Idomeneus, again, lost no men at
sea, and all his followers who escaped death in the field got safe home with
him to Crete. No matter how far out of the world you live, you will have
heard of Agamemnon and the bad end he came to at the hands of Aegisthus
—and a fearful reckoning did Aegisthus presently pay. See what a good
thing it is for a man to leave a son behind him to do as Orestes did, who
killed false Aegisthus the murderer of his noble father. You too, then—for
you are a tall smart-looking fellow—show your mettle and make yourself a
name in story.”
“Nestor son of Neleus,” answered Telemachus, “honour to the Achaean
name, the Achaeans applaud Orestes and his name will live through all time
for he has avenged his father nobly. Would that heaven might grant me to
do like vengeance on the insolence of the wicked suitors, who are ill
treating me and plotting my ruin; but the gods have no such happiness in
store for me and for my father, so we must bear it as best we may.”
“My friend,” said Nestor, “now that you remind me, I remember to have
heard that your mother has many suitors, who are ill disposed towards you
and are making havoc of your estate. Do you submit to this tamely, or are
public feeling and the voice of heaven against you? Who knows but what
Ulysses may come back after all, and pay these scoundrels in full, either
single-handed or with a force of Achaeans behind him? If Minerva were to
take as great a liking to you as she did to Ulysses when we were fighting
before Troy (for I never yet saw the gods so openly fond of any one as
Minerva then was of your father), if she would take as good care of you as
she did of him, these wooers would soon some of them forget their
wooing.”
Telemachus answered, “I can expect nothing of the kind; it would be far
too much to hope for. I dare not let myself think of it. Even though the gods
themselves willed it no such good fortune could befall me.”
On this Minerva said, “Telemachus, what are you talking about? Heaven
has a long arm if it is minded to save a man; and if it were me, I should not
care how much I suffered before getting home, provided I could be safe
when I was once there. I would rather this, than get home quickly, and then
be killed in my own house as Agamemnon was by the treachery of
Aegisthus and his wife. Still, death is certain, and when a man’s hour is

come, not even the gods can save him, no matter how fond they are of
him.”
“Mentor,” answered Telemachus, “do not let us talk about it any more.
There is no chance of my father’s ever coming back; the gods have long
since counselled his destruction. There is something else, however, about
which I should like to ask Nestor, for he knows much more than any one
else does. They say he has reigned for three generations so that it is like
talking to an immortal. Tell me, therefore, Nestor, and tell me true; how did
Agamemnon come to die in that way? What was Menelaus doing? And how
came false Aegisthus to kill so far better a man than himself? Was Menelaus
away from Achaean Argos, voyaging elsewhither among mankind, that
Aegisthus took heart and killed Agamemnon?”
“I will tell you truly,” answered Nestor, “and indeed you have yourself
divined how it all happened. If Menelaus when he got back from Troy had
found Aegisthus still alive in his house, there would have been no barrow
heaped up for him, not even when he was dead, but he would have been
thrown outside the city to dogs and vultures, and not a woman would have
mourned him, for he had done a deed of great wickedness; but we were
over there, fighting hard at Troy, and Aegisthus, who was taking his ease
quietly in the heart of Argos, cajoled Agamemnon’s wife Clytemnestra with
incessant flattery.
“At first she would have nothing to do with his wicked scheme, for she
was of a good natural disposition;[30] moreover there was a bard with her, to
whom Agamemnon had given strict orders on setting out for Troy, that he
was to keep guard over his wife; but when heaven had counselled her
destruction, Aegisthus carried this bard off to a desert island and left him
there for crows and seagulls to batten upon—after which she went willingly
enough to the house of Aegisthus. Then he offered many burnt sacrifices to
the gods, and decorated many temples with tapestries and gilding, for he
had succeeded far beyond his expectations.
“Meanwhile Menelaus and I were on our way home from Troy, on good
terms with one another. When we got to Sunium, which is the point of
Athens, Apollo with his painless shafts killed Phrontis the steersman of
Menelaus’ ship (and never man knew better how to handle a vessel in rough
weather) so that he died then and there with the helm in his hand, and
Menelaus, though very anxious to press forward, had to wait in order to

bury his comrade and give him his due funeral rites. Presently, when he too
could put to sea again, and had sailed on as far as the Malean heads, Jove
counselled evil against him and made it blow hard till the waves ran
mountains high. Here he divided his fleet and took the one half towards
Crete where the Cydonians dwell round about the waters of the river
Iardanus. There is a high headland hereabouts stretching out into the sea
from a place called Gortyn, and all along this part of the coast as far as
Phaestus the sea runs high when there is a south wind blowing, but after
Phaestus the coast is more protected, for a small headland can make a great
shelter. Here this part of the fleet was driven on to the rocks and wrecked;
but the crews just managed to save themselves. As for the other five ships,
they were taken by winds and seas to Egypt, where Menelaus gathered
much gold and substance among people of an alien speech. Meanwhile
Aegisthus here at home plotted his evil deed. For seven years after he had
killed Agamemnon he ruled in Mycene, and the people were obedient under
him, but in the eighth year Orestes came back from Athens to be his bane,
and killed the murderer of his father. Then he celebrated the funeral rites of
his mother and of false Aegisthus by a banquet to the people of Argos, and
on that very day Menelaus came home,[31] with as much treasure as his ships
could carry.
“Take my advice then, and do not go travelling about for long so far from
home, nor leave your property with such dangerous people in your house;
they will eat up everything you have among them, and you will have been
on a fool’s errand. Still, I should advise you by all means to go and visit
Menelaus, who has lately come off a voyage among such distant peoples as
no man could ever hope to get back from, when the winds had once carried
him so far out of his reckoning; even birds cannot fly the distance in a
twelve-month, so vast and terrible are the seas that they must cross. Go to
him, therefore, by sea, and take your own men with you; or if you would
rather travel by land you can have a chariot, you can have horses, and here
are my sons who can escort you to Lacedaemon where Menelaus lives. Beg
of him to speak the truth, and he will tell you no lies, for he is an excellent
person.”
As he spoke the sun set and it came on dark, whereon Minerva said, “Sir,
all that you have said is well; now, however, order the tongues of the
victims to be cut, and mix wine that we may make drink-offerings to

Neptune, and the other immortals, and then go to bed, for it is bed time.
People should go away early and not keep late hours at a religious festival.”
Thus spoke the daughter of Jove, and they obeyed her saying. Men
servants poured water over the hands of the guests, while pages filled the
mixing-bowls with wine and water, and handed it round after giving every
man his drink offering; then they threw the tongues of the victims into the
fire, and stood up to make their drink offerings. When they had made their
offerings and had drunk each as much as he was minded, Minerva and
Telemachus were for going on board their ship, but Nestor caught them up
at once and stayed them.
“Heaven and the immortal gods,” he exclaimed, “forbid that you should
leave my house to go on board of a ship. Do you think I am so poor and
short of clothes, or that I have so few cloaks and as to be unable to find
comfortable beds both for myself and for my guests? Let me tell you I have
store both of rugs and cloaks, and shall not permit the son of my old friend
Ulysses to camp down on the deck of a ship—not while I live—nor yet will
my sons after me, but they will keep open house as I have done.”
Then Minerva answered, “Sir, you have spoken well, and it will be much
better that Telemachus should do as you have said; he, therefore, shall
return with you and sleep at your house, but I must go back to give orders to
my crew, and keep them in good heart. I am the only older person among
them; the rest are all young men of Telemachus’ own age, who have taken
this voyage out of friendship; so I must return to the ship and sleep there.
Moreover to-morrow I must go to the Cauconians where I have a large sum
of money long owing to me. As for Telemachus, now that he is your guest,
send him to Lacedaemon in a chariot, and let one of your sons go with him.
Be pleased to also provide him with your best and fleetest horses.”
When she had thus spoken, she flew away in the form of an eagle, and all
marvelled as they beheld it. Nestor was astonished, and took Telemachus by
the hand. “My friend,” said he, “I see that you are going to be a great hero
some day, since the gods wait upon you thus while you are still so young.
This can have been none other of those who dwell in heaven than Jove’s
redoubtable daughter, the Trito-born, who shewed such favour towards your
brave father among the Argives. Holy queen,” he continued, “vouchsafe to
send down thy grace upon myself, my good wife, and my children. In
return, I will offer you in sacrifice a broad-browed heifer of a year old,

unbroken, and never yet brought by man under the yoke. I will gild her
horns, and will offer her up to you in sacrifice.”
Thus did he pray, and Minerva heard his prayer. He then led the way to
his own house, followed by his sons and sons in law. When they had got
there and had taken their places on the benches and seats, he mixed them a
bowl of sweet wine that was eleven years old when the housekeeper took
the lid off the jar that held it. As he mixed the wine, he prayed much and
made drink offerings to Minerva, daughter of Aegis-bearing Jove. Then,
when they had made their drink offerings and had drunk each as much as he
was minded, the others went home to bed each in his own abode; but Nestor
put Telemachus to sleep in the room that was over the gateway along with
Pisistratus, who was the only unmarried son now left him. As for himself,
he slept in an inner room of the house, with the queen his wife by his side.
Now when the child of morning rosy-fingered Dawn appeared, Nestor
left his couch and took his seat on the benches of white and polished marble
that stood in front of his house. Here aforetime sat Neleus, peer of gods in
counsel, but he was now dead, and had gone to the house of Hades; so
Nestor sat in his seat sceptre in hand, as guardian of the public weal. His
sons as they left their rooms gathered round him, Echephron, Stratius,
Perseus, Aretus, and Thrasymedes; the sixth son was Pisistratus, and when
Telemachus joined them they made him sit with them. Nestor then
addressed them.
“My sons,” said he, “make haste to do as I shall bid you. I wish first and
foremost to propitiate the great goddess Minerva, who manifested herself
visibly to me during yesterday’s festivities. Go, then, one or other of you to
the plain, tell the stockman to look me out a heifer, and come on here with it
at once. Another must go to Telemachus’ ship, and invite all the crew,
leaving two men only in charge of the vessel. Some one else will run and
fetch Laerceus the goldsmith to gild the horns of the heifer. The rest, stay all
of you where you are; tell the maids in the house to prepare an excellent
dinner, and to fetch seats, and logs of wood for a burnt offering. Tell them
also to bring me some clear spring water.”
On this they hurried off on their several errands. The heifer was brought
in from the plain, and Telemachus’s crew came from the ship; the goldsmith
brought the anvil, hammer, and tongs, with which he worked his gold, and
Minerva herself came to accept the sacrifice. Nestor gave out the gold, and

the smith gilded the horns of the heifer that the goddess might have pleasure
in their beauty. Then Stratius and Echephron brought her in by the horns;
Aretus fetched water from the house in a ewer that had a flower pattern on
it, and in his other hand he held a basket of barley meal; sturdy
Thrasymedes stood by with a sharp axe, ready to strike the heifer, while
Perseus held a bucket. Then Nestor began with washing his hands and
sprinkling the barley meal, and he offered many a prayer to Minerva as he
threw a lock from the heifer’s head upon the fire.
When they had done praying and sprinkling the barley meal[32]
Thrasymedes dealt his blow, and brought the heifer down with a stroke that
cut through the tendons at the base of her neck, whereon the daughters and
daughters in law of Nestor, and his venerable wife Eurydice (she was eldest
daughter to Clymenus) screamed with delight. Then they lifted the heifer’s
head from off the ground, and Pisistratus cut her throat. When she had done
bleeding and was quite dead, they cut her up. They cut out the thigh bones
all in due course, wrapped them round in two layers of fat, and set some
pieces of raw meat on the top of them; then Nestor laid them upon the wood
fire and poured wine over them, while the young men stood near him with
five-pronged spits in their hands. When the thighs were burned and they
had tasted the inward meats, they cut the rest of the meat up small, put the
pieces on the spits and toasted them over the fire.
Meanwhile lovely Polycaste, Nestor’s youngest daughter, washed
Telemachus. When she had washed him and anointed him with oil, she
brought him a fair mantle and shirt,[33] and he looked like a god as he came
from the bath and took his seat by the side of Nestor. When the outer meats
were done they drew them off the spits and sat down to dinner where they
were waited upon by some worthy henchmen, who kept pouring them out
their wine in cups of gold. As soon as they had had enough to eat and drink
Nestor said, “Sons, put Telemachus’s horses to the chariot that he may start
at once.”
Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said, and yoked the fleet
horses to the chariot. The housekeeper packed them up a provision of bread,
wine, and sweet meats fit for the sons of princes. Then Telemachus got into
the chariot, while Pisistratus gathered up the reins and took his seat beside
him. He lashed the horses on and they flew forward nothing loth into the
open country, leaving the high citadel of Pylos behind them. All that day did

they travel, swaying the yoke upon their necks till the sun went down and
darkness was over all the land. Then they reached Pherae where Diocles
lived, who was son to Ortilochus and grandson to Alpheus. Here they
passed the night and Diocles entertained them hospitably. When the child of
morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, they again yoked their horses and
drove out through the gateway under the echoing gatehouse.[34] Pisistratus
lashed the horses on and they flew forward nothing loth; presently they
came to the corn lands of the open country, and in the course of time
completed their journey, so well did their steeds take them.[35]
Now when the sun had set and darkness was over the land,

BOOK IV

THE VISIT TO KING MENELAUS, WHO TELLS HIS
STORY—MEANWHILE THE SUITORS IN ITHACA
PLOT AGAINST TELEMACHUS.

they reached the low lying city of Lacedaemon, where they drove straight
to the abode of Menelaus[36] [and found him in his own house, feasting with
his many clansmen in honour of the wedding of his son, and also of his
daughter, whom he was marrying to the son of that valiant warrior Achilles.
He had given his consent and promised her to him while he was still at
Troy, and now the gods were bringing the marriage about; so he was
sending her with chariots and horses to the city of the Myrmidons over
whom Achilles’ son was reigning. For his only son he had found a bride
from Sparta,[37] the daughter of Alector. This son, Megapenthes, was born to
him of a bondwoman, for heaven vouchsafed Helen no more children after
she had borne Hermione, who was fair as golden Venus herself.
So the neighbours and kinsmen of Menelaus were feasting and making
merry in his house. There was a bard also to sing to them and play his lyre,
while two tumblers went about performing in the midst of them when the
man struck up with his tune.[38]
Telemachus and the son of Nestor stayed their horses at the gate,
whereon Eteoneus servant to Menelaus came out, and as soon as he saw
them ran hurrying back into the house to tell his Master. He went close up
to him and said, “Menelaus, there are some strangers come here, two men,
who look like sons of Jove. What are we to do? Shall we take their horses
out, or tell them to find friends elsewhere as they best can?”
Menelaus was very angry and said, “Eteoneus, son of Boethous, you
never used to be a fool, but now you talk like a simpleton. Take their horses
out, of course, and show the strangers in that they may have supper; you

and I have staid often enough at other people’s houses before we got back
here, where heaven grant that we may rest in peace henceforward.”
So Eteoneus bustled back and bade the other servants come with him.
They took their sweating steeds from under the yoke, made them fast to the
mangers, and gave them a feed of oats and barley mixed. Then they leaned
the chariot against the end wall of the courtyard, and led the way into the
house. Telemachus and Pisistratus were astonished when they saw it, for its
splendour was as that of the sun and moon; then, when they had admired
everything to their heart’s content, they went into the bath room and washed
themselves.
When the servants had washed them and anointed them with oil, they
brought them woollen cloaks and shirts, and the two took their seats by the
side of Menelaus. A maid-servant brought them water in a beautiful golden
ewer, and poured it into a silver basin for them to wash their hands; and she
drew a clean table beside them. An upper servant brought them bread, and
offered them many good things of what there was in the house, while the
carver fetched them plates of all manner of meats and set cups of gold by
their side.
Menelaus then greeted them saying, “Fall to, and welcome; when you
have done supper I shall ask who you are, for the lineage of such men as
you cannot have been lost. You must be descended from a line of sceptre-
bearing kings, for poor people do not have such sons as you are.”
On this he handed them[39] a piece of fat roast loin, which had been set
near him as being a prime part, and they laid their hands on the good things
that were before them; as soon as they had had enough to eat and drink,
Telemachus said to the son of Nestor, with his head so close that no one
might hear, “Look, Pisistratus, man after my own heart, see the gleam of
bronze and gold—of amber,[40] ivory, and silver. Everything is so splendid
that it is like seeing the palace of Olympian Jove. I am lost in admiration.”
Menelaus overheard him and said, “No one, my sons, can hold his own
with Jove, for his house and everything about him is immortal; but among
mortal men—well, there may be another who has as much wealth as I have,
or there may not; but at all events I have travelled much and have
undergone much hardship, for it was nearly eight years before I could get
home with my fleet. I went to Cyprus, Phoenicia and the Egyptians; I went
also to the Ethiopians, the Sidonians, and the Erembians, and to Libya

where the lambs have horns as soon as they are born, and the sheep lamb
down three times a year. Every one in that country, whether master or man,
has plenty of cheese, meat, and good milk, for the ewes yield all the year
round. But while I was travelling and getting great riches among these
people, my brother was secretly and shockingly murdered through the
perfidy of his wicked wife, so that I have no pleasure in being lord of all
this wealth. Whoever your parents may be they must have told you about all
this, and of my heavy loss in the ruin[41] of a stately mansion fully and
magnificently furnished. Would that I had only a third of what I now have
so that I had stayed at home, and all those were living who perished on the
plain of Troy, far from Argos. I often grieve, as I sit here in my house, for
one and all of them. At times I cry aloud for sorrow, but presently I leave
off again, for crying is cold comfort and one soon tires of it. Yet grieve for
these as I may, I do so for one man more than for them all. I cannot even
think of him without loathing both food and sleep, so miserable does he
make me, for no one of all the Achaeans worked so hard or risked so much
as he did. He took nothing by it, and has left a legacy of sorrow to myself,
for he has been gone a long time, and we know not whether he is alive or
dead. His old father, his long-suffering wife Penelope, and his son
Telemachus, whom he left behind him an infant in arms, are plunged in
grief on his account.”
Thus spoke Menelaus, and the heart of Telemachus yearned as he
bethought him of his father. Tears fell from his eyes as he heard him thus
mentioned, so that he held his cloak before his face with both hands. When
Menelaus saw this he doubted whether to let him choose his own time for
speaking, or to ask him at once and find what it was all about.
While he was thus in two minds Helen came down from her high vaulted
and perfumed room, looking as lovely as Diana herself. Adraste brought her
a seat, Alcippe a soft woollen rug while Phylo fetched her the silver work-
box which Alcandra wife of Polybus had given her. Polybus lived in
Egyptian Thebes, which is the richest city in the whole world; he gave
Menelaus two baths, both of pure silver, two tripods, and ten talents of gold;
besides all this, his wife gave Helen some beautiful presents, to wit, a
golden distaff, and a silver work box that ran on wheels, with a gold band
round the top of it. Phylo now placed this by her side, full of fine spun yarn,
and a distaff charged with violet coloured wool was laid upon the top of it.

Then Helen took her seat, put her feet upon the footstool, and began to
question her husband.[42]
“Do we know, Menelaus,” said she, “the names of these strangers who
have come to visit us? Shall I guess right or wrong?—but I cannot help
saying what I think. Never yet have I seen either man or woman so like
somebody else (indeed when I look at him I hardly know what to think) as
this young man is like Telemachus, whom Ulysses left as a baby behind
him, when you Achaeans went to Troy with battle in your hearts, on account
of my most shameless self.”
“My dear wife,” replied Menelaus, “I see the likeness just as you do. His
hands and feet are just like Ulysses; so is his hair, with the shape of his head
and the expression of his eyes. Moreover, when I was talking about
Ulysses, and saying how much he had suffered on my account, tears fell
from his eyes, and he hid his face in his mantle.”
Then Pisistratus said, “Menelaus, son of Atreus, you are right in thinking
that this young man is Telemachus, but he is very modest, and is ashamed to
come here and begin opening up discourse with one whose conversation is
so divinely interesting as your own. My father, Nestor, sent me to escort
him hither, for he wanted to know whether you could give him any counsel
or suggestion. A son has always trouble at home when his father has gone
away leaving him without supporters; and this is how Telemachus is now
placed, for his father is absent, and there is no one among his own people to
stand by him.”
“Bless my heart,” replied Menelaus, “then I am receiving a visit from the
son of a very dear friend, who suffered much hardship for my sake. I had
always hoped to entertain him with most marked distinction when heaven
had granted us a safe return from beyond the seas. I should have founded a
city for him in Argos, and built him a house. I should have made him leave
Ithaca with his goods, his son, and all his people, and should have sacked
for them some one of the neighbouring cities that are subject to me. We
should thus have seen one another continually, and nothing but death could
have interrupted so close and happy an intercourse. I suppose, however, that
heaven grudged us such great good fortune, for it has prevented the poor
fellow from ever getting home at all.”
Thus did he speak, and his words set them all a weeping. Helen wept,
Telemachus wept, and so did Menelaus, nor could Pisistratus keep his eyes

from filling, when he remembered his dear brother Antilochus whom the
son of bright Dawn had killed. Thereon he said to Menelaus,
“Sir, my father Nestor, when we used to talk about you at home, told me
you were a person of rare and excellent understanding. If, then, it be
possible, do as I would urge you. I am not fond of crying while I am getting
my supper. Morning will come in due course, and in the forenoon I care not
how much I cry for those that are dead and gone. This is all we can do for
the poor things. We can only shave our heads for them and wring the tears
from our cheeks. I had a brother who died at Troy; he was by no means the
worst man there; you are sure to have known him—his name was
Antilochus; I never set eyes upon him myself, but they say that he was
singularly fleet of foot and in fight valiant.”
“Your discretion, my friend,” answered Menelaus, “is beyond your years.
It is plain you take after your father. One can soon see when a man is son to
one whom heaven has blessed both as regards wife and offspring—and it
has blessed Nestor from first to last all his days, giving him a green old age
in his own house, with sons about him who are both well disposed and
valiant. We will put an end therefore to all this weeping, and attend to our
supper again. Let water be poured over our hands. Telemachus and I can
talk with one another fully in the morning.”
On this Asphalion, one of the servants, poured water over their hands and
they laid their hands on the good things that were before them.
Then Jove’s daughter Helen bethought her of another matter. She
drugged the wine with an herb that banishes all care, sorrow, and ill
humour. Whoever drinks wine thus drugged cannot shed a single tear all the
rest of the day, not even though his father and mother both of them drop
down dead, or he sees a brother or a son hewn in pieces before his very
eyes. This drug, of such sovereign power and virtue, had been given to
Helen by Polydamna wife of Thon, a woman of Egypt, where there grow all
sorts of herbs, some good to put into the mixing bowl and others poisonous.
Moreover, every one in the whole country is a skilled physician, for they are
of the race of Paeeon. When Helen had put this drug in the bowl, and had
told the servants to serve the wine round, she said:
“Menelaus, son of Atreus, and you my good friends, sons of honourable
men (which is as Jove wills, for he is the giver both of good and evil, and
can do what he chooses), feast here as you will, and listen while I tell you a

tale in season. I cannot indeed name every single one of the exploits of
Ulysses, but I can say what he did when he was before Troy, and you
Achaeans were in all sorts of difficulties. He covered himself with wounds
and bruises, dressed himself all in rags, and entered the enemy’s city
looking like a menial or a beggar, and quite different from what he did
when he was among his own people. In this disguise he entered the city of
Troy, and no one said anything to him. I alone recognised him and began to
question him, but he was too cunning for me. When, however, I had washed
and anointed him and had given him clothes, and after I had sworn a solemn
oath not to betray him to the Trojans till he had got safely back to his own
camp and to the ships, he told me all that the Achaeans meant to do. He
killed many Trojans and got much information before he reached the Argive
camp, for all which things the Trojan women made lamentation, but for my
own part I was glad, for my heart was beginning to yearn after my home,
and I was unhappy about the wrong that Venus had done me in taking me
over there, away from my country, my girl, and my lawful wedded husband,
who is indeed by no means deficient either in person or understanding.”
Then Menelaus said, “All that you have been saying, my dear wife, is
true. I have travelled much, and have had much to do with heroes, but I
have never seen such another man as Ulysses. What endurance too, and
what courage he displayed within the wooden horse, wherein all the bravest
of the Argives were lying in wait to bring death and destruction upon the
Trojans.[43] At that moment you came up to us; some god who wished well
to the Trojans must have set you on to it and you had Deiphobus with you.
Three times did you go all round our hiding place and pat it; you called our
chiefs each by his own name, and mimicked all our wives—Diomed,
Ulysses, and I from our seats inside heard what a noise you made. Diomed
and I could not make up our minds whether to spring out then and there, or
to answer you from inside, but Ulysses held us all in check, so we sat quite
still, all except Anticlus, who was beginning to answer you, when Ulysses
clapped his two brawny hands over his mouth, and kept them there. It was
this that saved us all, for he muzzled Anticlus till Minerva took you away
again.”
“How sad,” exclaimed Telemachus, “that all this was of no avail to save
him, nor yet his own iron courage. But now, sir, be pleased to send us all to
bed, that we may lie down and enjoy the blessed boon of sleep.”

On this Helen told the maid servants to set beds in the room that was in
the gatehouse, and to make them with good red rugs, and spread coverlets
on the top of them with woollen cloaks for the guests to wear. So the maids
went out, carrying a torch, and made the beds, to which a man-servant
presently conducted the strangers. Thus, then, did Telemachus and
Pisistratus sleep there in the forecourt, while the son of Atreus lay in an
inner room with lovely Helen by his side.
When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn appeared, Menelaus rose
and dressed himself. He bound his sandals on to his comely feet, girded his
sword about his shoulders, and left his room looking like an immortal god.
Then, taking a seat near Telemachus he said:
“And what, Telemachus, has led you to take this long sea voyage to
Lacedaemon? Are you on public, or private business? Tell me all about it.”
“I have come, sir,” replied Telemachus, “to see if you can tell me
anything about my father. I am being eaten out of house and home; my fair
estate is being wasted, and my house is full of miscreants who keep killing
great numbers of my sheep and oxen, on the pretence of paying their
addresses to my mother. Therefore, I am suppliant at your knees if haply
you may tell me about my father’s melancholy end, whether you saw it with
your own eyes, or heard it from some other traveller; for he was a man born
to trouble. Do not soften things out of any pity for myself, but tell me in all
plainness exactly what you saw. If my brave father Ulysses ever did you
loyal service either by word or deed, when you Achaeans were harassed by
the Trojans, bear it in mind now as in my favour and tell me truly all.”
Menelaus on hearing this was very much shocked. “So,” he exclaimed,
“these cowards would usurp a brave man’s bed? A hind might as well lay
her new born young in the lair of a lion, and then go off to feed in the forest
or in some grassy dell: the lion when he comes back to his lair will make
short work with the pair of them—and so will Ulysses with these suitors.
By father Jove, Minerva, and Apollo, if Ulysses is still the man that he was
when he wrestled with Philomeleides in Lesbos, and threw him so heavily
that all the Achaeans cheered him—if he is still such and were to come near
these suitors, they would have a short shrift and a sorry wedding. As regards
your questions, however, I will not prevaricate nor deceive you, but will tell
you without concealment all that the old man of the sea told me.

“I was trying to come on here, but the gods detained me in Egypt, for my
hecatombs had not given them full satisfaction, and the gods are very strict
about having their dues. Now off Egypt, about as far as a ship can sail in a
day with a good stiff breeze behind her, there is an island called Pharos—it
has a good harbour from which vessels can get out into open sea when they
have taken in water—and here the gods becalmed me twenty days without
so much as a breath of fair wind to help me forward. We should have run
clean out of provisions and my men would have starved, if a goddess had
not taken pity upon me and saved me in the person of Idothea, daughter to
Proteus, the old man of the sea, for she had taken a great fancy to me.
“She came to me one day when I was by myself, as I often was, for the
men used to go with their barbed hooks, all over the island in the hope of
catching a fish or two to save them from the pangs of hunger. ‘Stranger,’
said she, ‘it seems to me that you like starving in this way—at any rate it
does not greatly trouble you, for you stick here day after day, without even
trying to get away though your men are dying by inches.’
“‘Let me tell you,’ said I, ‘whichever of the goddesses you may happen
to be, that I am not staying here of my own accord, but must have offended
the gods that live in heaven. Tell me, therefore, for the gods know
everything, which of the immortals it is that is hindering me in this way,
and tell me also how I may sail the sea so as to reach my home.’
“‘Stranger,’ replied she, ‘I will make it all quite clear to you. There is an
old immortal who lives under the sea hereabouts and whose name is
Proteus. He is an Egyptian, and people say he is my father; he is Neptune’s
head man and knows every inch of ground all over the bottom of the sea. If
you can snare him and hold him tight, he will tell you about your voyage,
what courses you are to take, and how you are to sail the sea so as to reach
your home. He will also tell you, if you so will, all that has been going on at
your house both good and bad, while you have been away on your long and
dangerous journey.’
“‘Can you show me,’ said I, ‘some stratagem by means of which I may
catch this old god without his suspecting it and finding me out? For a god is
not easily caught—not by a mortal man.’
“‘Stranger,’ said she, ‘I will make it all quite clear to you. About the time
when the sun shall have reached mid heaven, the old man of the sea comes
up from under the waves, heralded by the West wind that furs the water

over his head. As soon as he has come up he lies down, and goes to sleep in
a great sea cave, where the seals—Halosydne’s chickens as they call them
—come up also from the grey sea, and go to sleep in shoals all round him;
and a very strong and fish-like smell do they bring with them. [44] Early to-
morrow morning I will take you to this place and will lay you in ambush.
Pick out, therefore, the three best men you have in your fleet, and I will tell
you all the tricks that the old man will play you.
“‘First he will look over all his seals, and count them; then, when he has
seen them and tallied them on his five fingers, he will go to sleep among
them, as a shepherd among his sheep. The moment you see that he is asleep
seize him; put forth all your strength and hold him fast, for he will do his
very utmost to get away from you. He will turn himself into every kind of
creature that goes upon the earth, and will become also both fire and water;
but you must hold him fast and grip him tighter and tighter, till he begins to
talk to you and comes back to what he was when you saw him go to sleep;
then you may slacken your hold and let him go; and you can ask him which
of the gods it is that is angry with you, and what you must do to reach your
home over the seas.’
“Having so said she dived under the waves, whereon I turned back to the
place where my ships were ranged upon the shore; and my heart was
clouded with care as I went along. When I reached my ship we got supper
ready, for night was falling, and camped down upon the beach.
“When the child of morning rosy-fingered Dawn appeared, I took the
three men on whose prowess of all kinds I could most rely, and went along
by the sea-side, praying heartily to heaven. Meanwhile the goddess fetched
me up four seal skins from the bottom of the sea, all of them just skinned,
for she meant playing a trick upon her father. Then she dug four pits for us
to lie in, and sat down to wait till we should come up. When we were close
to her, she made us lie down in the pits one after the other, and threw a seal
skin over each of us. Our ambuscade would have been intolerable, for the
stench of the fishy seals was most distressing[45]—who would go to bed with
a sea monster if he could help it?—but here, too, the goddess helped us, and
thought of something that gave us great relief, for she put some ambrosia
under each man’s nostrils, which was so fragrant that it killed the smell of
the seals.[46]

“We waited the whole morning and made the best of it, watching the
seals come up in hundreds to bask upon the sea shore, till at noon the old
man of the sea came up too, and when he had found his fat seals he went
over them and counted them. We were among the first he counted, and he
never suspected any guile, but laid himself down to sleep as soon as he had
done counting. Then we rushed upon him with a shout and seized him; on
which he began at once with his old tricks, and changed himself first into a
lion with a great mane; then all of a sudden he became a dragon, a leopard,
a wild boar; the next moment he was running water, and then again directly
he was a tree, but we stuck to him and never lost hold, till at last the
cunning old creature became distressed, and said, ‘Which of the gods was
it, Son of Atreus, that hatched this plot with you for snaring me and seizing
me against my will? What do you want?’
“‘You know that yourself, old man,’ I answered, ‘you will gain nothing
by trying to put me off. It is because I have been kept so long in this island,
and see no sign of my being able to get away. I am losing all heart; tell me,
then, for you gods know everything, which of the immortals it is that is
hindering me, and tell me also how I may sail the sea so as to reach my
home?’
“Then,’ he said, ‘if you would finish your voyage and get home quickly,
you must offer sacrifices to Jove and to the rest of the gods before
embarking; for it is decreed that you shall not get back to your friends, and
to your own house, till you have returned to the heaven-fed stream of
Egypt, and offered holy hecatombs to the immortal gods that reign in
heaven. When you have done this they will let you finish your voyage.’
“I was broken hearted when I heard that I must go back all that long and
terrible voyage to Egypt;[47] nevertheless, I answered, ‘I will do all, old man,
that you have laid upon me; but now tell me, and tell me true, whether all
the Achaeans whom Nestor and I left behind us when we set sail from Troy
have got home safely, or whether any one of them came to a bad end either
on board his own ship or among his friends when the days of his fighting
were done.’
“‘Son of Atreus,’ he answered, ‘why ask me? You had better not know
what I can tell you, for your eyes will surely fill when you have heard my
story. Many of those about whom you ask are dead and gone, but many still
remain, and only two of the chief men among the Achaeans perished during

their return home. As for what happened on the field of battle—you were
there yourself. A third Achaean leader is still at sea, alive, but hindered from
returning. Ajax was wrecked, for Neptune drove him on to the great rocks
of Gyrae; nevertheless, he let him get safe out of the water, and in spite of
all Minerva’s hatred he would have escaped death, if he had not ruined
himself by boasting. He said the gods could not drown him even though
they had tried to do so, and when Neptune heard this large talk, he seized
his trident in his two brawny hands, and split the rock of Gyrae in two
pieces. The base remained where it was, but the part on which Ajax was
sitting fell headlong into the sea and carried Ajax with it; so he drank salt
water and was drowned.
“‘Your brother and his ships escaped, for Juno protected him, but when
he was just about to reach the high promontory of Malea, he was caught by
a heavy gale which carried him out to sea again sorely against his will, and
drove him to the foreland where Thyestes used to dwell, but where
Aegisthus was then living. By and by, however, it seemed as though he was
to return safely after all, for the gods backed the wind into its old quarter
and they reached home; whereon Agamemnon kissed his native soil, and
shed tears of joy at finding himself in his own country.
“‘Now there was a watchman whom Aegisthus kept always on the watch,
and to whom he had promised two talents of gold. This man had been
looking out for a whole year to make sure that Agamemnon did not give
him the slip and prepare war; when, therefore, this man saw Agamemnon
go by, he went and told Aegisthus, who at once began to lay a plot for him.
He picked twenty of his bravest warriors and placed them in ambuscade on
one side the cloister, while on the opposite side he prepared a banquet. Then
he sent his chariots and horsemen to Agamemnon, and invited him to the
feast, but he meant foul play. He got him there, all unsuspicious of the
doom that was awaiting him, and killed him when the banquet was over as
though he were butchering an ox in the shambles; not one of Agamemnon’s
followers was left alive, nor yet one of Aegisthus’, but they were all killed
there in the cloisters.’
“Thus spoke Proteus, and I was broken hearted as I heard him. I sat down
upon the sands and wept; I felt as though I could no longer bear to live nor
look upon the light of the sun. Presently, when I had had my fill of weeping
and writhing upon the ground, the old man of the sea said, ‘Son of Atreus,

do not waste any more time in crying so bitterly; it can do no manner of
good; find your way home as fast as ever you can, for Aegisthus may be
still alive, and even though Orestes has been beforehand with you in killing
him, you may yet come in for his funeral.’
“On this I took comfort in spite of all my sorrow, and said, ‘I know, then,
about these two; tell me, therefore, about the third man of whom you spoke;
is he still alive, but at sea, and unable to get home? or is he dead? Tell me,
no matter how much it may grieve me.’
“‘The third man,’ he answered, ‘is Ulysses who dwells in Ithaca. I can
see him in an island sorrowing bitterly in the house of the nymph Calypso,
who is keeping him prisoner, and he cannot reach his home for he has no
ships nor sailors to take him over the sea. As for your own end, Menelaus,
you shall not die in Argos, but the gods will take you to the Elysian plain,
which is at the ends of the world. There fair-haired Rhadamanthus reigns,
and men lead an easier life than any where else in the world, for in Elysium
there falls not rain, nor hail, nor snow, but Oceanus breathes ever with a
West wind that sings softly from the sea, and gives fresh life to all men.
This will happen to you because you have married Helen, and are Jove’s
son-in-law.’
“As he spoke he dived under the waves, whereon I turned back to the
ships with my companions, and my heart was clouded with care as I went
along. When we reached the ships we got supper ready, for night was
falling, and camped down upon the beach. When the child of morning,
rosy-fingered Dawn appeared, we drew our ships into the water, and put our
masts and sails within them; then we went on board ourselves, took our
seats on the benches, and smote the grey sea with our oars. I again stationed
my ships in the heaven-fed stream of Egypt, and offered hecatombs that
were full and sufficient. When I had thus appeased heaven’s anger, I raised
a barrow to the memory of Agamemnon that his name might live for ever,
after which I had a quick passage home, for the gods sent me a fair wind.
“And now for yourself—stay here some ten or twelve days longer, and I
will then speed you on your way. I will make you a noble present of a
chariot and three horses. I will also give you a beautiful chalice that so long
as you live you may think of me whenever you make a drink-offering to the
immortal gods.”

“Son of Atreus,” replied Telemachus, “do not press me to stay longer; I
should be contented to remain with you for another twelve months; I find
your conversation so delightful that I should never once wish myself at
home with my parents; but my crew whom I have left at Pylos are already
impatient, and you are detaining me from them. As for any present you may
be disposed to make me, I had rather that it should be a piece of plate. I will
take no horses back with me to Ithaca, but will leave them to adorn your
own stables, for you have much flat ground in your kingdom where lotus
thrives, as also meadow-sweet and wheat and barley, and oats with their
white and spreading ears; whereas in Ithaca we have neither open fields nor
racecourses, and the country is more fit for goats than horses, and I like it
the better for that. [48] None of our islands have much level ground, suitable
for horses, and Ithaca least of all.”
Menelaus smiled and took Telemachus’s hand within his own. “What you
say,” said he, “shows that you come of good family. I both can, and will,
make this exchange for you, by giving you the finest and most precious
piece of plate in all my house. It is a mixing bowl by Vulcan’s own hand, of
pure silver, except the rim, which is inlaid with gold. Phaedimus, king of
the Sidonians, gave it me in the course of a visit which I paid him when I
returned thither on my homeward journey. I will make you a present of it.”
Thus did they converse [and guests kept coming to the king’s house.
They brought sheep and wine, while their wives had put up bread for them
to take with them; so they were busy cooking their dinners in the courts].[49]
Meanwhile the suitors were throwing discs or aiming with spears at a
mark on the levelled ground in front of Ulysses’ house, and were behaving
with all their old insolence. Antinous and Eurymachus, who were their
ringleaders and much the foremost among them all, were sitting together
when Noemon son of Phronius came up and said to Antinous,
“Have we any idea, Antinous, on what day Telemachus returns from
Pylos? He has a ship of mine, and I want it, to cross over to Elis: I have
twelve brood mares there with yearling mule foals by their side not yet
broken in, and I want to bring one of them over here and break him.”
They were astounded when they heard this, for they had made sure that
Telemachus had not gone to the city of Neleus. They thought he was only
away somewhere on the farms, and was with the sheep, or with the
swineherd; so Antinous said, “When did he go? Tell me truly, and what

young men did he take with him? Were they freemen or his own bondsmen
—for he might manage that too? Tell me also, did you let him have the ship
of your own free will because he asked you, or did he take it without your
leave?”
“I lent it him,” answered Noemon, “what else could I do when a man of
his position said he was in a difficulty, and asked me to oblige him? I could
not possibly refuse. As for those who went with him they were the best
young men we have, and I saw Mentor go on board as captain—or some
god who was exactly like him. I cannot understand it, for I saw Mentor here
myself yesterday morning, and yet he was then setting out for Pylos.”
Noemon then went back to his father’s house, but Antinous and
Eurymachus were very angry. They told the others to leave off playing, and
to come and sit down along with themselves. When they came, Antinous
son of Eupeithes spoke in anger. His heart was black with rage, and his eyes
flashed fire as he said:
“Good heavens, this voyage of Telemachus is a very serious matter; we
had made sure that it would come to nothing, but the young fellow has got
away in spite of us, and with a picked crew too. He will be giving us trouble
presently; may Jove take him before he is full grown. Find me a ship,
therefore, with a crew of twenty men, and I will lie in wait for him in the
straits between Ithaca and Samos; he will then rue the day that he set out to
try and get news of his father.”
Thus did he speak, and the others applauded his saying; they then all of
them went inside the buildings.
It was not long ere Penelope came to know what the suitors were
plotting; for a man servant, Medon, overheard them from outside the outer
court as they were laying their schemes within, and went to tell his mistress.
As he crossed the threshold of her room Penelope said: “Medon, what have
the suitors sent you here for? Is it to tell the maids to leave their master’s
business and cook dinner for them? I wish they may neither woo nor dine
henceforward, neither here nor anywhere else, but let this be the very last
time, for the waste you all make of my son’s estate. Did not your fathers tell
you when you were children, how good Ulysses had been to them—never
doing anything high-handed, nor speaking harshly to anybody? Kings may
say things sometimes, and they may take a fancy to one man and dislike
another, but Ulysses never did an unjust thing by anybody—which shows

what bad hearts you have, and that there is no such thing as gratitude left in
this world.”
Then Medon said, “I wish, Madam, that this were all; but they are
plotting something much more dreadful now—may heaven frustrate their
design. They are going to try and murder Telemachus as he is coming home
from Pylos and Lacedaemon, where he has been to get news of his father.”
Then Penelope’s heart sank within her, and for a long time she was
speechless; her eyes filled with tears, and she could find no utterance. At
last, however, she said, “Why did my son leave me? What business had he
to go sailing off in ships that make long voyages over the ocean like sea-
horses? Does he want to die without leaving any one behind him to keep up
his name?”
“I do not know,” answered Medon, “whether some god set him on to it,
or whether he went on his own impulse to see if he could find out if his
father was dead, or alive and on his way home.”
Then he went downstairs again, leaving Penelope in an agony of grief.
There were plenty of seats in the house, but she had no heart for sitting on
any one of them; she could only fling herself on the floor of her own room
and cry; whereon all the maids in the house, both old and young, gathered
round her and began to cry too, till at last in a transport of sorrow she
exclaimed,
“My dears, heaven has been pleased to try me with more affliction than
any other woman of my age and country. First I lost my brave and lion-
hearted husband, who had every good quality under heaven, and whose
name was great over all Hellas and middle Argos, and now my darling son
is at the mercy of the winds and waves, without my having heard one word
about his leaving home. You hussies, there was not one of you would so
much as think of giving me a call out of my bed, though you all of you very
well knew when he was starting. If I had known he meant taking this
voyage, he would have had to give it up, no matter how much he was bent
upon it, or leave me a corpse behind him—one or other. Now, however, go
some of you and call old Dolius, who was given me by my father on my
marriage, and who is my gardener. Bid him go at once and tell everything to
Laertes, who may be able to hit on some plan for enlisting public sympathy
on our side, as against those who are trying to exterminate his own race and
that of Ulysses.”

Then the dear old nurse Euryclea said, “You may kill me, Madam, or let
me live on in your house, whichever you please, but I will tell you the real
truth. I knew all about it, and gave him everything he wanted in the way of
bread and wine, but he made me take my solemn oath that I would not tell
you anything for some ten or twelve days, unless you asked or happened to
hear of his having gone, for he did not want you to spoil your beauty by
crying. And now, Madam, wash your face, change your dress, and go
upstairs with your maids to offer prayers to Minerva, daughter of Aegis-
bearing Jove, for she can save him even though he be in the jaws of death.
Do not trouble Laertes: he has trouble enough already. Besides, I cannot
think that the gods hate the race of the son of Arceisius so much, but there
will be a son left to come up after him, and inherit both the house and the
fair fields that lie far all round it.”
With these words she made her mistress leave off crying, and dried the
tears from her eyes. Penelope washed her face, changed her dress, and went
upstairs with her maids. She then put some bruised barley into a basket and
began praying to Minerva.
“Hear me,” she cried, “Daughter of Aegis-bearing Jove, unweariable. If
ever Ulysses while he was here burned you fat thigh bones of sheep or
heifer, bear it in mind now as in my favour, and save my darling son from
the villainy of the suitors.”
She cried aloud as she spoke, and the goddess heard her prayer;
meanwhile the suitors were clamorous throughout the covered cloister, and
one of them said:
“The queen is preparing for her marriage with one or other of us. Little
does she dream that her son has now been doomed to die.”
This was what they said, but they did not know what was going to
happen. Then Antinous said, “Comrades, let there be no loud talking, lest
some of it get carried inside. Let us be up and do that in silence, about
which we are all of a mind.”
He then chose twenty men, and they went down to their ship and to the
sea side; they drew the vessel into the water and got her mast and sails
inside her; they bound the oars to the thole-pins with twisted thongs of
leather, all in due course, and spread the white sails aloft, while their fine
servants brought them their armour. Then they made the ship fast a little

way out, came on shore again, got their suppers, and waited till night should
fall.
But Penelope lay in her own room upstairs unable to eat or drink, and
wondering whether her brave son would escape, or be overpowered by the
wicked suitors. Like a lioness caught in the toils with huntsmen hemming
her in on every side she thought and thought till she sank into a slumber,
and lay on her bed bereft of thought and motion.
Then Minerva bethought her of another matter, and made a vision in the
likeness of Penelope’s sister Iphthime daughter of Icarius who had married
Eumelus and lived in Pherae. She told the vision to go to the house of
Ulysses, and to make Penelope leave off crying, so it came into her room by
the hole through which the thong went for pulling the door to, and hovered
over her head saying,
“You are asleep, Penelope: the gods who live at ease will not suffer you
to weep and be so sad. Your son has done them no wrong, so he will yet
come back to you.”
Penelope, who was sleeping sweetly at the gates of dreamland, answered,
“Sister, why have you come here? You do not come very often, but I
suppose that is because you live such a long way off. Am I, then, to leave
off crying and refrain from all the sad thoughts that torture me? I, who have
lost my brave and lion-hearted husband, who had every good quality under
heaven, and whose name was great over all Hellas and middle Argos; and
now my darling son has gone off on board of a ship—a foolish fellow who
has never been used to roughing it, nor to going about among gatherings of
men. I am even more anxious about him than about my husband; I am all in
a tremble when I think of him, lest something should happen to him, either
from the people among whom he has gone, or by sea, for he has many
enemies who are plotting against him, and are bent on killing him before he
can return home.”
Then the vision said, “Take heart, and be not so much dismayed. There is
one gone with him whom many a man would be glad enough to have stand
by his side, I mean Minerva; it is she who has compassion upon you, and
who has sent me to bear you this message.”
“Then,” said Penelope, “if you are a god or have been sent here by divine
commission, tell me also about that other unhappy one—is he still alive, or
is he already dead and in the house of Hades?”

And the vision said, “I shall not tell you for certain whether he is alive or
dead, and there is no use in idle conversation.”
Then it vanished through the thong-hole of the door and was dissipated
into thin air; but Penelope rose from her sleep refreshed and comforted, so
vivid had been her dream.
Meantime the suitors went on board and sailed their ways over the sea,
intent on murdering Telemachus. Now there is a rocky islet called Asteris,
of no great size, in mid channel between Ithaca and Samos, and there is a
harbour on either side of it where a ship can lie. Here then the Achaeans
placed themselves in ambush.

BOOK V

CALYPSO—ULYSSES REACHES SCHERIA ON A
RAFT.

And now, as Dawn rose from her couch beside Tithonus—harbinger of
light alike to mortals and immortals—the gods met in council and with
them, Jove the lord of thunder, who is their king. Thereon Minerva began to
tell them of the many sufferings of Ulysses, for she pitied him away there in
the house of the nymph Calypso.
“Father Jove,” said she, “and all you other gods that live in everlasting
bliss, I hope there may never be such a thing as a kind and well-disposed
ruler any more, nor one who will govern equitably. I hope they will be all
henceforth cruel and unjust, for there is not one of his subjects but has
forgotten Ulysses, who ruled them as though he were their father. There he
is, lying in great pain in an island where dwells the nymph Calypso, who
will not let him go; and he cannot get back to his own country, for he can
find neither ships nor sailors to take him over the sea. Furthermore, wicked
people are now trying to murder his only son Telemachus, who is coming
home from Pylos and Lacedaemon, where he has been to see if he can get
news of his father.”
“What, my dear, are you talking about?” replied her father, “did you not
send him there yourself, because you thought it would help Ulysses to get
home and punish the suitors? Besides, you are perfectly able to protect
Telemachus, and to see him safely home again, while the suitors have to
come hurry-skurrying back without having killed him.”
When he had thus spoken, he said to his son Mercury, “Mercury, you are
our messenger, go therefore and tell Calypso we have decreed that poor
Ulysses is to return home. He is to be convoyed neither by gods nor men,
but after a perilous voyage of twenty days upon a raft he is to reach fertile
Scheria,[50] the land of the Phaeacians, who are near of kin to the gods, and

will honour him as though he were one of ourselves. They will send him in
a ship to his own country, and will give him more bronze and gold and
raiment than he would have brought back from Troy, if he had had all his
prize money and had got home without disaster. This is how we have settled
that he shall return to his country and his friends.”
Thus he spoke, and Mercury, guide and guardian, slayer of Argus, did as
he was told. Forthwith he bound on his glittering golden sandals with which
he could fly like the wind over land and sea. He took the wand with which
he seals men’s eyes in sleep or wakes them just as he pleases, and flew
holding it in his hand over Pieria; then he swooped down through the
firmament till he reached the level of the sea, whose waves he skimmed like
a cormorant that flies fishing every hole and corner of the ocean, and
drenching its thick plumage in the spray. He flew and flew over many a
weary wave, but when at last he got to the island which was his journey’s
end, he left the sea and went on by land till he came to the cave where the
nymph Calypso lived.
He found her at home. There was a large fire burning on the hearth, and
one could smell from far the fragrant reek of burning cedar and sandal
wood. As for herself, she was busy at her loom, shooting her golden shuttle
through the warp and singing beautifully. Round her cave there was a thick
wood of alder, poplar, and sweet smelling cypress trees, wherein all kinds
of great birds had built their nests—owls, hawks, and chattering sea-crows
that occupy their business in the waters. A vine loaded with grapes was
trained and grew luxuriantly about the mouth of the cave; there were also
four running rills of water in channels cut pretty close together, and turned
hither and thither so as to irrigate the beds of violets and luscious herbage
over which they flowed. [51] Even a god could not help being charmed with
such a lovely spot, so Mercury stood still and looked at it; but when he had
admired it sufficiently he went inside the cave.
Calypso knew him at once—for the gods all know each other, no matter
how far they live from one another—but Ulysses was not within; he was on
the sea-shore as usual, looking out upon the barren ocean with tears in his
eyes, groaning and breaking his heart for sorrow. Calypso gave Mercury a
seat and said: “Why have you come to see me, Mercury—honoured, and
ever welcome—for you do not visit me often? Say what you want; I will do

it for you at once if I can, and if it can be done at all; but come inside, and
let me set refreshment before you.”
As she spoke she drew a table loaded with ambrosia beside him and
mixed him some red nectar, so Mercury ate and drank till he had had
enough, and then said:
“We are speaking god and goddess to one another, and you ask me why I
have come here, and I will tell you truly as you would have me do. Jove
sent me; it was no doing of mine; who could possibly want to come all this
way over the sea where there are no cities full of people to offer me
sacrifices or choice hecatombs? Nevertheless I had to come, for none of us
other gods can cross Jove, nor transgress his orders. He says that you have
here the most ill-starred of all those who fought nine years before the city of
King Priam and sailed home in the tenth year after having sacked it. On
their way home they sinned against Minerva,[52] who raised both wind and
waves against them, so that all his brave companions perished, and he alone
was carried hither by wind and tide. Jove says that you are to let this man
go at once, for it is decreed that he shall not perish here, far from his own
people, but shall return to his house and country and see his friends again.”
Calypso trembled with rage when she heard this, “You gods,” she
exclaimed, “ought to be ashamed of yourselves. You are always jealous and
hate seeing a goddess take a fancy to a mortal man, and live with him in
open matrimony. So when rosy-fingered Dawn made love to Orion, you
precious gods were all of you furious till Diana went and killed him in
Ortygia. So again when Ceres fell in love with Iasion, and yielded to him in
a thrice-ploughed fallow field, Jove came to hear of it before so very long
and killed Iasion with his thunderbolts. And now you are angry with me too
because I have a man here. I found the poor creature sitting all alone astride
of a keel, for Jove had struck his ship with lightning and sunk it in mid
ocean, so that all his crew were drowned, while he himself was driven by
wind and waves on to my island. I got fond of him and cherished him, and
had set my heart on making him immortal, so that he should never grow old
all his days; still I cannot cross Jove, nor bring his counsels to nothing;
therefore, if he insists upon it, let the man go beyond the seas again; but I
cannot send him anywhere myself for I have neither ships nor men who can
take him. Nevertheless I will readily give him such advice, in all good faith,
as will be likely to bring him safely to his own country.”

“Then send him away,” said Mercury, “or Jove will be angry with you
and punish you”.
On this he took his leave, and Calypso went out to look for Ulysses, for
she had heard Jove’s message. She found him sitting upon the beach with
his eyes ever filled with tears, and dying of sheer home sickness; for he had
got tired of Calypso, and though he was forced to sleep with her in the cave
by night, it was she, not he, that would have it so. As for the day time, he
spent it on the rocks and on the sea shore, weeping, crying aloud for his
despair, and always looking out upon the sea. Calypso then went close up to
him said:
“My poor fellow, you shall not stay here grieving and fretting your life
out any longer. I am going to send you away of my own free will; so go, cut
some beams of wood, and make yourself a large raft with an upper deck
that it may carry you safely over the sea. I will put bread, wine, and water
on board to save you from starving. I will also give you clothes, and will
send you a fair wind to take you home, if the gods in heaven so will it—for
they know more about these things, and can settle them better than I can.”
Ulysses shuddered as he heard her. “Now goddess,” he answered, “there
is something behind all this; you cannot be really meaning to help me home
when you bid me do such a dreadful thing as put to sea on a raft. Not even a
well found ship with a fair wind could venture on such a distant voyage:
nothing that you can say or do shall make me go on board a raft unless you
first solemnly swear that you mean me no mischief.”
Calypso smiled at this and caressed him with her hand: “You know a
great deal,” said she, “but you are quite wrong here. May heaven above and
earth below be my witnesses, with the waters of the river Styx—and this is
the most solemn oath which a blessed god can take—that I mean you no
sort of harm, and am only advising you to do exactly what I should do
myself in your place. I am dealing with you quite straightforwardly; my
heart is not made of iron, and I am very sorry for you.”
When she had thus spoken she led the way rapidly before him, and
Ulysses followed in her steps; so the pair, goddess and man, went on and on
till they came to Calypso’s cave, where Ulysses took the seat that Mercury
had just left. Calypso set meat and drink before him of the food that mortals
eat; but her maids brought ambrosia and nectar for herself, and they laid

their hands on the good things that were before them. When they had
satisfied themselves with meat and drink, Calypso spoke, saying:
“Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, so you would start home to your own
land at once? Good luck go with you, but if you could only know how
much suffering is in store for you before you get back to your own country,
you would stay where you are, keep house along with me, and let me make
you immortal, no matter how anxious you may be to see this wife of yours,
of whom you are thinking all the time day after day; yet I flatter myself that
I am no whit less tall or well-looking than she is, for it is not to be expected
that a mortal woman should compare in beauty with an immortal.”
“Goddess,” replied Ulysses, “do not be angry with me about this. I am
quite aware that my wife Penelope is nothing like so tall or so beautiful as
yourself. She is only a woman, whereas you are an immortal. Nevertheless,
I want to get home, and can think of nothing else. If some god wrecks me
when I am on the sea, I will bear it and make the best of it. I have had
infinite trouble both by land and sea already, so let this go with the rest.”
Presently the sun set and it became dark, whereon the pair retired into the
inner part of the cave and went to bed.
When the child of morning rosy-fingered Dawn appeared, Ulysses put on
his shirt and cloak, while the goddess wore a dress of a light gossamer
fabric, very fine and graceful, with a beautiful golden girdle about her waist
and a veil to cover her head. She at once set herself to think how she could
speed Ulysses on his way. So she gave him a great bronze axe that suited
his hands; it was sharpened on both sides, and had a beautiful olive-wood
handle fitted firmly on to it. She also gave him a sharp adze, and then led
the way to the far end of the island where the largest trees grew—alder,
poplar and pine, that reached the sky—very dry and well seasoned, so as to
sail light for him in the water.[53] Then, when she had shown him where the
best trees grew, Calypso went home, leaving him to cut them, which he
soon finished doing. He cut down twenty trees in all and adzed them
smooth, squaring them by rule in good workmanlike fashion. Meanwhile
Calypso came back with some augers, so he bored holes with them and
fitted the timbers together with bolts and rivets. He made the raft as broad
as a skilled shipwright makes the beam of a large vessel, and he fixed a
deck on top of the ribs, and ran a gunwale all round it. He also made a mast
with a yard arm, and a rudder to steer with. He fenced the raft all round

with wicker hurdles as a protection against the waves, and then he threw on
a quantity of wood. By and by Calypso brought him some linen to make the
sails, and he made these too, excellently, making them fast with braces and
sheets. Last of all, with the help of levers, he drew the raft down into the
water.
In four days he had completed the whole work, and on the fifth Calypso
sent him from the island after washing him and giving him some clean
clothes. She gave him a goat skin full of black wine, and another larger one
of water; she also gave him a wallet full of provisions, and found him in
much good meat. Moreover, she made the wind fair and warm for him, and
gladly did Ulysses spread his sail before it, while he sat and guided the raft
skilfully by means of the rudder. He never closed his eyes, but kept them
fixed on the Pleiads, on late-setting Bootes, and on the Bear—which men
also call the wain, and which turns round and round where it is, facing
Orion, and alone never dipping into the stream of Oceanus—for Calypso
had told him to keep this to his left. Days seven and ten did he sail over the
sea, and on the eighteenth the dim outlines of the mountains on the nearest
part of the Phaeacian coast appeared, rising like a shield on the horizon.
But King Neptune, who was returning from the Ethiopians, caught sight
of Ulysses a long way off, from the mountains of the Solymi. He could see
him sailing upon the sea, and it made him very angry, so he wagged his
head and muttered to himself, saying, “Good heavens, so the gods have
been changing their minds about Ulysses while I was away in Ethiopia, and
now he is close to the land of the Phaeacians, where it is decreed that he
shall escape from the calamities that have befallen him. Still, he shall have
plenty of hardship yet before he has done with it.”
Thereon he gathered his clouds together, grasped his trident, stirred it
round in the sea, and roused the rage of every wind that blows till earth, sea,
and sky were hidden in cloud, and night sprang forth out of the heavens.
Winds from East, South, North, and West fell upon him all at the same time,
and a tremendous sea got up, so that Ulysses’ heart began to fail him.
“Alas,” he said to himself in his dismay, “what ever will become of me? I
am afraid Calypso was right when she said I should have trouble by sea
before I got back home. It is all coming true. How black is Jove making
heaven with his clouds, and what a sea the winds are raising from every
quarter at once. I am now safe to perish. Blest and thrice blest were those

Danaans who fell before Troy in the cause of the sons of Atreus. Would that
I had been killed on the day when the Trojans were pressing me so sorely
about the dead body of Achilles, for then I should have had due burial and
the Achaeans would have honoured my name; but now it seems that I shall
come to a most pitiable end.”
As he spoke a sea broke over him with such terrific fury that the raft
reeled again, and he was carried overboard a long way off. He let go the
helm, and the force of the hurricane was so great that it broke the mast half
way up, and both sail and yard went over into the sea. For a long time
Ulysses was under water, and it was all he could do to rise to the surface
again, for the clothes Calypso had given him weighed him down; but at last
he got his head above water and spat out the bitter brine that was running
down his face in streams. In spite of all this, however, he did not lose sight
of his raft, but swam as fast as he could towards it, got hold of it, and
climbed on board again so as to escape drowning. The sea took the raft and
tossed it about as Autumn winds whirl thistledown round and round upon a
road. It was as though the South, North, East, and West winds were all
playing battledore and shuttlecock with it at once.
When he was in this plight, Ino daughter of Cadmus, also called
Leucothea, saw him. She had formerly been a mere mortal, but had been
since raised to the rank of a marine goddess. Seeing in what great distress
Ulysses now was, she had compassion upon him, and, rising like a sea-gull
from the waves, took her seat upon the raft.
“My poor good man,” said she, “why is Neptune so furiously angry with
you? He is giving you a great deal of trouble, but for all his bluster he will
not kill you. You seem to be a sensible person, do then as I bid you; strip,
leave your raft to drive before the wind, and swim to the Phaeacian coast
where better luck awaits you. And here, take my veil and put it round your
chest; it is enchanted, and you can come to no harm so long as you wear it.
As soon as you touch land take it off, throw it back as far as you can into
the sea, and then go away again.” With these words she took off her veil
and gave it him. Then she dived down again like a sea-gull and vanished
beneath the dark blue waters.
But Ulysses did not know what to think. “Alas,” he said to himself in his
dismay, “this is only some one or other of the gods who is luring me to ruin
by advising me to quit my raft. At any rate I will not do so at present, for

the land where she said I should be quit of all troubles seemed to be still a
good way off. I know what I will do—I am sure it will be best—no matter
what happens I will stick to the raft as long as her timbers hold together, but
when the sea breaks her up I will swim for it; I do not see how I can do any
better than this.”
While he was thus in two minds, Neptune sent a terrible great wave that
seemed to rear itself above his head till it broke right over the raft, which
then went to pieces as though it were a heap of dry chaff tossed about by a
whirlwind. Ulysses got astride of one plank and rode upon it as if he were
on horseback; he then took off the clothes Calypso had given him, bound
Ino’s veil under his arms, and plunged into the sea—meaning to swim on
shore. King Neptune watched him as he did so, and wagged his head,
muttering to himself and saying, “There now, swim up and down as you
best can till you fall in with well-to-do people. I do not think you will be
able to say that I have let you off too lightly.” On this he lashed his horses
and drove to Aegae where his palace is.
But Minerva resolved to help Ulysses, so she bound the ways of all the
winds except one, and made them lie quite still; but she roused a good stiff
breeze from the North that should lay the waters till Ulysses reached the
land of the Phaeacians where he would be safe.
Thereon he floated about for two nights and two days in the water, with a
heavy swell on the sea and death staring him in the face; but when the third
day broke, the wind fell and there was a dead calm without so much as a
breath of air stirring. As he rose on the swell he looked eagerly ahead, and
could see land quite near. Then, as children rejoice when their dear father
begins to get better after having for a long time borne sore affliction sent
him by some angry spirit, but the gods deliver him from evil, so was
Ulysses thankful when he again saw land and trees, and swam on with all
his strength that he might once more set foot upon dry ground. When,
however, he got within earshot, he began to hear the surf thundering up
against the rocks, for the swell still broke against them with a terrific roar.
Everything was enveloped in spray; there were no harbours where a ship
might ride, nor shelter of any kind, but only headlands, low-lying rocks, and
mountain tops.
Ulysses’ heart now began to fail him, and he said despairingly to himself,
“Alas, Jove has let me see land after swimming so far that I had given up all

hope, but I can find no landing place, for the coast is rocky and surf-beaten,
the rocks are smooth and rise sheer from the sea, with deep water close
under them so that I cannot climb out for want of foot hold. I am afraid
some great wave will lift me off my legs and dash me against the rocks as I
leave the water—which would give me a sorry landing. If, on the other
hand, I swim further in search of some shelving beach or harbour, a
hurricane may carry me out to sea again sorely against my will, or heaven
may send some great monster of the deep to attack me; for Amphitrite
breeds many such, and I know that Neptune is very angry with me.”
While he was thus in two minds a wave caught him and took him with
such force against the rocks that he would have been smashed and torn to
pieces if Minerva had not shown him what to do. He caught hold of the
rock with both hands and clung to it groaning with pain till the wave retired,
so he was saved that time; but presently the wave came on again and carried
him back with it far into the sea—tearing his hands as the suckers of a
polypus are torn when some one plucks it from its bed, and the stones come
up along with it—even so did the rocks tear the skin from his strong hands,
and then the wave drew him deep down under the water.
Here poor Ulysses would have certainly perished even in spite of his own
destiny, if Minerva had not helped him to keep his wits about him. He
swam seaward again, beyond reach of the surf that was beating against the
land, and at the same time he kept looking towards the shore to see if he
could find some haven, or a spit that should take the waves aslant. By and
by, as he swam on, he came to the mouth of a river, and here he thought
would be the best place, for there were no rocks, and it afforded shelter
from the wind. He felt that there was a current, so he prayed inwardly and
said:
“Hear me, O King, whoever you may be, and save me from the anger of
the sea-god Neptune, for I approach you prayerfully. Any one who has lost
his way has at all times a claim even upon the gods, wherefore in my
distress I draw near to your stream, and cling to the knees of your
riverhood. Have mercy upon me, O king, for I declare myself your
suppliant.”
Then the god staid his stream and stilled the waves, making all calm
before him, and bringing him safely into the mouth of the river. Here at last
Ulysses’ knees and strong hands failed him, for the sea had completely

broken him. His body was all swollen, and his mouth and nostrils ran down
like a river with sea-water, so that he could neither breathe nor speak, and
lay swooning from sheer exhaustion; presently, when he had got his breath
and came to himself again, he took off the scarf that Ino had given him and
threw it back into the salt[54] stream of the river, whereon Ino received it into
her hands from the wave that bore it towards her. Then he left the river, laid
himself down among the rushes, and kissed the bounteous earth.
“Alas,” he cried to himself in his dismay, “what ever will become of me,
and how is it all to end? If I stay here upon the river bed through the long
watches of the night, I am so exhausted that the bitter cold and damp may
make an end of me—for towards sunrise there will be a keen wind blowing
from off the river. If, on the other hand, I climb the hill side, find shelter in
the woods, and sleep in some thicket, I may escape the cold and have a
good night’s rest, but some savage beast may take advantage of me and
devour me.”
In the end he deemed it best to take to the woods, and he found one upon
some high ground not far from the water. There he crept beneath two shoots
of olive that grew from a single stock—the one an ungrafted sucker, while
the other had been grafted. No wind, however squally, could break through
the cover they afforded, nor could the sun’s rays pierce them, nor the rain
get through them, so closely did they grow into one another. Ulysses crept
under these and began to make himself a bed to lie on, for there was a great
litter of dead leaves lying about—enough to make a covering for two or
three men even in hard winter weather. He was glad enough to see this, so
he laid himself down and heaped the leaves all round him. Then, as one
who lives alone in the country, far from any neighbor, hides a brand as fire-
seed in the ashes to save himself from having to get a light elsewhere, even
so did Ulysses cover himself up with leaves; and Minerva shed a sweet
sleep upon his eyes, closed his eyelids, and made him lose all memories of
his sorrows.

BOOK VI

THE MEETING BETWEEN NAUSICAA AND ULYSSES.

So here Ulysses slept, overcome by sleep and toil; but Minerva went off
to the country and city of the Phaeacians—a people who used to live in the
fair town of Hypereia, near the lawless Cyclopes. Now the Cyclopes were
stronger than they and plundered them, so their king Nausithous moved
them thence and settled them in Scheria, far from all other people. He
surrounded the city with a wall, built houses and temples, and divided the
lands among his people; but he was dead and gone to the house of Hades,
and King Alcinous, whose counsels were inspired of heaven, was now
reigning. To his house, then, did Minerva hie in furtherance of the return of
Ulysses.
She went straight to the beautifully decorated bedroom in which there
slept a girl who was as lovely as a goddess, Nausicaa, daughter to King
Alcinous. Two maid servants were sleeping near her, both very pretty, one
on either side of the doorway, which was closed with well made folding
doors. Minerva took the form of the famous sea captain Dymas’s daughter,
who was a bosom friend of Nausicaa and just her own age; then, coming up
to the girl’s bedside like a breath of wind, she hovered over her head and
said:
“Nausicaa, what can your mother have been about, to have such a lazy
daughter? Here are your clothes all lying in disorder, yet you are going to be
married almost immediately, and should not only be well dressed yourself,
but should find good clothes for those who attend you. This is the way to
get yourself a good name, and to make your father and mother proud of
you. Suppose, then, that we make tomorrow a washing day, and start at
daybreak. I will come and help you so that you may have everything ready
as soon as possible, for all the best young men among your own people are
courting you, and you are not going to remain a maid much longer. Ask

your father, therefore, to have a waggon and mules ready for us at daybreak,
to take the rugs, robes, and girdles, and you can ride, too, which will be
much pleasanter for you than walking, for the washing-cisterns are some
way from the town.”
When she had said this Minerva went away to Olympus, which they say
is the everlasting home of the gods. Here no wind beats roughly, and neither
rain nor snow can fall; but it abides in everlasting sunshine and in a great
peacefulness of light, wherein the blessed gods are illumined for ever and
ever. This was the place to which the goddess went when she had given
instructions to the girl.
By and by morning came and woke Nausicaa, who began wondering
about her dream; she therefore went to the other end of the house to tell her
father and mother all about it, and found them in their own room. Her
mother was sitting by the fireside spinning her purple yarn with her maids
around her, and she happened to catch her father just as he was going out to
attend a meeting of the town council, which the Phaeacian aldermen had
convened. She stopped him and said:
“Papa dear, could you manage to let me have a good big waggon? I want
to take all our dirty clothes to the river and wash them. You are the chief
man here, so it is only right that you should have a clean shirt when you
attend meetings of the council. Moreover, you have five sons at home, two
of them married, while the other three are good looking bachelors; you
know they always like to have clean linen when they go to a dance, and I
have been thinking about all this.”
She did not say a word about her own wedding, for she did not like to,
but her father knew and said, “You shall have the mules, my love, and
whatever else you have a mind for. Be off with you, and the men shall get
you a good strong waggon with a body to it that will hold all your clothes.”
On this he gave his orders to the servants, who got the waggon out,
harnessed the mules, and put them to, while the girl brought the clothes
down from the linen room and placed them on the waggon. Her mother
prepared her a basket of provisions with all sorts of good things, and a goat
skin full of wine; the girl now got into the waggon, and her mother gave her
also a golden cruse of oil, that she and her women might anoint themselves.
Then she took the whip and reins and lashed the mules on, whereon they set
off, and their hoofs clattered on the road. They pulled without flagging, and

carried not only Nausicaa and her wash of clothes, but the maids also who
were with her.
When they reached the water side they went to the washing cisterns,
through which there ran at all times enough pure water to wash any quantity
of linen, no matter how dirty. Here they unharnessed the mules and turned
them out to feed on the sweet juicy herbage that grew by the water side.
They took the clothes out of the waggon, put them in the water, and vied
with one another in treading them in the pits to get the dirt out. After they
had washed them and got them quite clean, they laid them out by the sea
side, where the waves had raised a high beach of shingle, and set about
washing themselves and anointing themselves with olive oil. Then they got
their dinner by the side of the stream, and waited for the sun to finish drying
the clothes. When they had done dinner they threw off the veils that covered
their heads and began to play at ball, while Nausicaa sang for them. As the
huntress Diana goes forth upon the mountains of Taygetus or Erymanthus to
hunt wild boars or deer, and the wood nymphs, daughters of Aegis-bearing
Jove, take their sport along with her (then is Leto proud at seeing her
daughter stand a full head taller than the others, and eclipse the loveliest
amid a whole bevy of beauties), even so did the girl outshine her
handmaids.
When it was time for them to start home, and they were folding the
clothes and putting them into the waggon, Minerva began to consider how
Ulysses should wake up and see the handsome girl who was to conduct him
to the city of the Phaeacians. The girl, therefore, threw a ball at one of the
maids, which missed her and fell into deep water. On this they all shouted,
and the noise they made woke Ulysses, who sat up in his bed of leaves and
began to wonder what it might all be.
“Alas,” said he to himself, “what kind of people have I come amongst?
Are they cruel, savage, and uncivilised, or hospitable and humane? I seem
to hear the voices of young women, and they sound like those of the
nymphs that haunt mountain tops, or springs of rivers and meadows of
green grass. At any rate I am among a race of men and women. Let me try if
I cannot manage to get a look at them.”
As he said this he crept from under his bush, and broke off a bough
covered with thick leaves to hide his nakedness. He looked like some lion
of the wilderness that stalks about exulting in his strength and defying both

wind and rain; his eyes glare as he prowls in quest of oxen, sheep, or deer,
for he is famished, and will dare break even into a well fenced homestead,
trying to get at the sheep—even such did Ulysses seem to the young
women, as he drew near to them all naked as he was, for he was in great
want. On seeing one so unkempt and so begrimed with salt water, the others
scampered off along the spits that jutted out into the sea, but the daughter of
Alcinous stood firm, for Minerva put courage into her heart and took away
all fear from her. She stood right in front of Ulysses, and he doubted
whether he should go up to her, throw himself at her feet, and embrace her
knees as a suppliant, or stay where he was and entreat her to give him some
clothes and show him the way to the town. In the end he deemed it best to
entreat her from a distance in case the girl should take offence at his coming
near enough to clasp her knees, so he addressed her in honeyed and
persuasive language.
“O queen,” he said, “I implore your aid—but tell me, are you a goddess
or are you a mortal woman? If you are a goddess and dwell in heaven, I can
only conjecture that you are Jove’s daughter Diana, for your face and figure
resemble none but hers; if on the other hand you are a mortal and live on
earth, thrice happy are your father and mother—thrice happy, too, are your
brothers and sisters; how proud and delighted they must feel when they see
so fair a scion as yourself going out to a dance; most happy, however, of all
will he be whose wedding gifts have been the richest, and who takes you to
his own home. I never yet saw any one so beautiful, neither man nor
woman, and am lost in admiration as I behold you. I can only compare you
to a young palm tree which I saw when I was at Delos growing near the
altar of Apollo—for I was there, too, with much people after me, when I
was on that journey which has been the source of all my troubles. Never yet
did such a young plant shoot out of the ground as that was, and I admired
and wondered at it exactly as I now admire and wonder at yourself. I dare
not clasp your knees, but I am in great distress; yesterday made the
twentieth day that I had been tossing about upon the sea. The winds and
waves have taken me all the way from the Ogygian island,[55] and now fate
has flung me upon this coast that I may endure still further suffering; for I
do not think that I have yet come to the end of it, but rather that heaven has
still much evil in store for me.
“And now, O queen, have pity upon me, for you are the first person I
have met, and I know no one else in this country. Show me the way to your

town, and let me have anything that you may have brought hither to wrap
your clothes in. May heaven grant you in all things your heart’s desire—
husband, house, and a happy, peaceful home; for there is nothing better in
this world than that man and wife should be of one mind in a house. It
discomfits their enemies, makes the hearts of their friends glad, and they
themselves know more about it than any one.”
To this Nausicaa answered, “Stranger, you appear to be a sensible, well-
disposed person. There is no accounting for luck; Jove gives prosperity to
rich and poor just as he chooses, so you must take what he has seen fit to
send you, and make the best of it. Now, however, that you have come to this
our country, you shall not want for clothes nor for anything else that a
foreigner in distress may reasonably look for. I will show you the way to the
town, and will tell you the name of our people; we are called Phaeacians,
and I am daughter to Alcinous, in whom the whole power of the state is
vested.”
Then she called her maids and said, “Stay where you are, you girls. Can
you not see a man without running away from him? Do you take him for a
robber or a murderer? Neither he nor any one else can come here to do us
Phaeacians any harm, for we are dear to the gods, and live apart on a land’s
end that juts into the sounding sea, and have nothing to do with any other
people. This is only some poor man who has lost his way, and we must be
kind to him, for strangers and foreigners in distress are under Jove’s
protection, and will take what they can get and be thankful; so, girls, give
the poor fellow something to eat and drink, and wash him in the stream at
some place that is sheltered from the wind.”
On this the maids left off running away and began calling one another
back. They made Ulysses sit down in the shelter as Nausicaa had told them,
and brought him a shirt and cloak. They also brought him the little golden
cruse of oil, and told him to go and wash in the stream. But Ulysses said,
“Young women, please to stand a little on one side that I may wash the
brine from my shoulders and anoint myself with oil, for it is long enough
since my skin has had a drop of oil upon it. I cannot wash as long as you all
keep standing there. I am ashamed to strip[56] before a number of good
looking young women.”
Then they stood on one side and went to tell the girl, while Ulysses
washed himself in the stream and scrubbed the brine from his back and

from his broad shoulders. When he had thoroughly washed himself, and had
got the brine out of his hair, he anointed himself with oil, and put on the
clothes which the girl had given him; Minerva then made him look taller
and stronger than before, she also made the hair grow thick on the top of his
head, and flow down in curls like hyacinth blossoms; she glorified him
about the head and shoulders as a skilful workman who has studied art of
all kinds under Vulcan and Minerva enriches a piece of silver plate by
gilding it—and his work is full of beauty. Then he went and sat down a little
way off upon the beach, looking quite young and handsome, and the girl
gazed on him with admiration; then she said to her maids:
“Hush, my dears, for I want to say something. I believe the gods who live
in heaven have sent this man to the Phaeacians. When I first saw him I
thought him plain, but now his appearance is like that of the gods who
dwell in heaven. I should like my future husband to be just such another as
he is, if he would only stay here and not want to go away. However, give
him something to eat and drink.”
They did as they were told, and set food before Ulysses, who ate and
drank ravenously, for it was long since he had had food of any kind.
Meanwhile, Nausicaa bethought her of another matter. She got the linen
folded and placed in the waggon, she then yoked the mules, and, as she took
her seat, she called Ulysses:
“Stranger,” said she, “rise and let us be going back to the town; I will
introduce you at the house of my excellent father, where I can tell you that
you will meet all the best people among the Phaeacians. But be sure and do
as I bid you, for you seem to be a sensible person. As long as we are going
past the fields and farm lands, follow briskly behind the waggon along with
the maids and I will lead the way myself. Presently, however, we shall come
to the town, where you will find a high wall running all round it, and a good
harbour on either side with a narrow entrance into the city, and the ships
will be drawn up by the road side, for every one has a place where his own
ship can lie. You will see the market place with a temple of Neptune in the
middle of it, and paved with large stones bedded in the earth. Here people
deal in ship’s gear of all kinds, such as cables and sails, and here, too, are
the places where oars are made, for the Phaeacians are not a nation of
archers; they know nothing about bows and arrows, but are a sea-faring

folk, and pride themselves on their masts, oars, and ships, with which they
travel far over the sea.
“I am afraid of the gossip and scandal that may be set on foot against me
later on; for the people here are very ill-natured, and some low fellow, if he
met us, might say, ‘Who is this fine-looking stranger that is going about
with Nausicaa? Where did she find him? I suppose she is going to marry
him. Perhaps he is a vagabond sailor whom she has taken from some
foreign vessel, for we have no neighbours; or some god has at last come
down from heaven in answer to her prayers, and she is going to live with
him all the rest of her life. It would be a good thing if she would take
herself off and find a husband somewhere else, for she will not look at one
of the many excellent young Phaeacians who are in love with her.’ This is
the kind of disparaging remark that would be made about me, and I could
not complain, for I should myself be scandalised at seeing any other girl do
the like, and go about with men in spite of everybody, while her father and
mother were still alive, and without having been married in the face of all
the world.
“If, therefore, you want my father to give you an escort and to help you
home, do as I bid you; you will see a beautiful grove of poplars by the road
side dedicated to Minerva; it has a well in it and a meadow all round it.
Here my father has a field of rich garden ground, about as far from the town
as a man’s voice will carry. Sit down there and wait for a while till the rest
of us can get into the town and reach my father’s house. Then, when you
think we must have done this, come into the town and ask the way to the
house of my father Alcinous. You will have no difficulty in finding it; any
child will point it out to you, for no one else in the whole town has anything
like such a fine house as he has. When you have got past the gates and
through the outer court, go right across the inner court till you come to my
mother. You will find her sitting by the fire and spinning her purple wool by
firelight. It is a fine sight to see her as she leans back against one of the
bearing-posts with her maids all ranged behind her. Close to her seat stands
that of my father, on which he sits and topes like an immortal god. Never
mind him, but go up to my mother, and lay your hands upon her knees if
you would get home quickly. If you can gain her over, you may hope to see
your own country again, no matter how distant it may be.”

So saying she lashed the mules with her whip and they left the river. The
mules drew well, and their hoofs went up and down upon the road. She was
careful not to go too fast for Ulysses and the maids who were following on
foot along with the waggon, so she plied her whip with judgement. As the
sun was going down they came to the sacred grove of Minerva, and there
Ulysses sat down and prayed to the mighty daughter of Jove.
“Hear me,” he cried, “daughter of Aegis-bearing Jove, unweariable, hear
me now, for you gave no heed to my prayers when Neptune was wrecking
me. Now, therefore, have pity upon me and grant that I may find friends and
be hospitably received by the Phaeacians.”
Thus did he pray, and Minerva heard his prayer, but she would not show
herself to him openly, for she was afraid of her uncle Neptune, who was
still furious in his endeavors to prevent Ulysses from getting home.

BOOK VII

RECEPTION OF ULYSSES AT THE PALACE OF KING
ALCINOUS.

Thus, then, did Ulysses wait and pray; but the girl drove on to the town.
When she reached her father’s house she drew up at the gateway, and her
brothers—comely as the gods—gathered round her, took the mules out of
the waggon, and carried the clothes into the house, while she went to her
own room, where an old servant, Eurymedusa of Apeira, lit the fire for her.
This old woman had been brought by sea from Apeira, and had been chosen
as a prize for Alcinous because he was king over the Phaeacians, and the
people obeyed him as though he were a god.[57] She had been nurse to
Nausicaa, and had now lit the fire for her, and brought her supper for her
into her own room.
Presently Ulysses got up to go towards the town; and Minerva shed a
thick mist all round him to hide him in case any of the proud Phaeacians
who met him should be rude to him, or ask him who he was. Then, as he
was just entering the town, she came towards him in the likeness of a little
girl carrying a pitcher. She stood right in front of him, and Ulysses said:
“My dear, will you be so kind as to show me the house of king Alcinous?
I am an unfortunate foreigner in distress, and do not know one in your town
and country.”
Then Minerva said, “Yes, father stranger, I will show you the house you
want, for Alcinous lives quite close to my own father. I will go before you
and show the way, but say not a word as you go, and do not look at any
man, nor ask him questions; for the people here cannot abide strangers, and
do not like men who come from some other place. They are a sea-faring
folk, and sail the seas by the grace of Neptune in ships that glide along like
thought, or as a bird in the air.”

On this she led the way, and Ulysses followed in her steps; but not one of
the Phaeacians could see him as he passed through the city in the midst of
them; for the great goddess Minerva in her good will towards him had
hidden him in a thick cloud of darkness. He admired their harbours, ships,
places of assembly, and the lofty walls of the city, which, with the palisade
on top of them, were very striking, and when they reached the king’s house
Minerva said:
“This is the house, father stranger, which you would have me show you.
You will find a number of great people sitting at table, but do not be afraid;
go straight in, for the bolder a man is the more likely he is to carry his point,
even though he is a stranger. First find the queen. Her name is Arete, and
she comes of the same family as her husband Alcinous. They both descend
originally from Neptune, who was father to Nausithous by Periboea, a
woman of great beauty. Periboea was the youngest daughter of Eurymedon,
who at one time reigned over the giants, but he ruined his ill-fated people
and lost his own life to boot.
“Neptune, however, lay with his daughter, and she had a son by him, the
great Nausithous, who reigned over the Phaeacians. Nausithous had two
sons Rhexenor and Alcinous;[58] Apollo killed the first of them while he was
still a bridegroom and without male issue; but he left a daughter Arete,
whom Alcinous married, and honours as no other woman is honoured of all
those that keep house along with their husbands.
“Thus she both was, and still is, respected beyond measure by her
children, by Alcinous himself, and by the whole people, who look upon her
as a goddess, and greet her whenever she goes about the city, for she is a
thoroughly good woman both in head and heart, and when any women are
friends of hers, she will help their husbands also to settle their disputes. If
you can gain her good will, you may have every hope of seeing your friends
again, and getting safely back to your home and country.”
Then Minerva left Scheria and went away over the sea. She went to
Marathon[59] and to the spacious streets of Athens, where she entered the
abode of Erechtheus; but Ulysses went on to the house of Alcinous, and he
pondered much as he paused a while before reaching the threshold of
bronze, for the splendour of the palace was like that of the sun or moon.
The walls on either side were of bronze from end to end, and the cornice
was of blue enamel. The doors were gold, and hung on pillars of silver that

rose from a floor of bronze, while the lintel was silver and the hook of the
door was of gold.
On either side there stood gold and silver mastiffs which Vulcan, with his
consummate skill, had fashioned expressly to keep watch over the palace of
king Alcinous; so they were immortal and could never grow old. Seats were
ranged all along the wall, here and there from one end to the other, with
coverings of fine woven work which the women of the house had made.
Here the chief persons of the Phaeacians used to sit and eat and drink, for
there was abundance at all seasons; and there were golden figures of young
men with lighted torches in their hands, raised on pedestals, to give light by
night to those who were at table. There are[60] fifty maid servants in the
house, some of whom are always grinding rich yellow grain at the mill,
while others work at the loom, or sit and spin, and their shuttles go
backwards and forwards like the fluttering of aspen leaves, while the linen
is so closely woven that it will turn oil. As the Phaeacians are the best
sailors in the world, so their women excel all others in weaving, for
Minerva has taught them all manner of useful arts, and they are very
intelligent.
Outside the gate of the outer court there is a large garden of about four
acres with a wall all round it. It is full of beautiful trees—pears,
pomegranates, and the most delicious apples. There are luscious figs also,
and olives in full growth. The fruits never rot nor fail all the year round,
neither winter nor summer, for the air is so soft that a new crop ripens
before the old has dropped. Pear grows on pear, apple on apple, and fig on
fig, and so also with the grapes, for there is an excellent vineyard: on the
level ground of a part of this, the grapes are being made into raisins; in
another part they are being gathered; some are being trodden in the wine
tubs, others further on have shed their blossom and are beginning to show
fruit, others again are just changing colour. In the furthest part of the ground
there are beautifully arranged beds of flowers that are in bloom all the year
round. Two streams go through it, the one turned in ducts throughout the
whole garden, while the other is carried under the ground of the outer court
to the house itself, and the town’s people draw water from it. Such, then,
were the splendours with which the gods had endowed the house of king
Alcinous.

So here Ulysses stood for a while and looked about him, but when he had
looked long enough he crossed the threshold and went within the precincts
of the house. There he found all the chief people among the Phaeacians
making their drink offerings to Mercury, which they always did the last
thing before going away for the night.[61] He went straight through the court,
still hidden by the cloak of darkness in which Minerva had enveloped him,
till he reached Arete and King Alcinous; then he laid his hands upon the
knees of the queen, and at that moment the miraculous darkness fell away
from him and he became visible. Every one was speechless with surprise at
seeing a man there, but Ulysses began at once with his petition.
“Queen Arete,” he exclaimed, “daughter of great Rhexenor, in my
distress I humbly pray you, as also your husband and these your guests
(whom may heaven prosper with long life and happiness, and may they
leave their possessions to their children, and all the honours conferred upon
them by the state) to help me home to my own country as soon as possible;
for I have been long in trouble and away from my friends.”
Then he sat down on the hearth among the ashes and they all held their
peace, till presently the old hero Echeneus, who was an excellent speaker
and an elder among the Phaeacians, plainly and in all honesty addressed
them thus:
“Alcinous,” said he, “it is not creditable to you that a stranger should be
seen sitting among the ashes of your hearth; every one is waiting to hear
what you are about to say; tell him, then, to rise and take a seat on a stool
inlaid with silver, and bid your servants mix some wine and water that we
may make a drink offering to Jove the lord of thunder, who takes all well
disposed suppliants under his protection; and let the housekeeper give him
some supper, of whatever there may be in the house.”
When Alcinous heard this he took Ulysses by the hand, raised him from
the hearth, and bade him take the seat of Laodamas, who had been sitting
beside him, and was his favourite son. A maid servant then brought him
water in a beautiful golden ewer and poured it into a silver basin for him to
wash his hands, and she drew a clean table beside him; an upper servant
brought him bread and offered him many good things of what there was in
the house, and Ulysses ate and drank. Then Alcinous said to one of the
servants, “Pontonous, mix a cup of wine and hand it round that we may

make drink-offerings to Jove the lord of thunder, who is the protector of all
well-disposed suppliants.”
Pontonous then mixed wine and water, and handed it round after giving
every man his drink-offering. When they had made their offerings, and had
drunk each as much as he was minded, Alcinous said:
“Aldermen and town councillors of the Phaeacians, hear my words. You
have had your supper, so now go home to bed. To-morrow morning I shall
invite a still larger number of aldermen, and will give a sacrificial banquet
in honour of our guest; we can then discuss the question of his escort, and
consider how we may at once send him back rejoicing to his own country
without trouble or inconvenience to himself, no matter how distant it may
be. We must see that he comes to no harm while on his homeward journey,
but when he is once at home he will have to take the luck he was born with
for better or worse like other people. It is possible, however, that the
stranger is one of the immortals who has come down from heaven to visit
us; but in this case the gods are departing from their usual practice, for
hitherto they have made themselves perfectly clear to us when we have
been offering them hecatombs. They come and sit at our feasts just like one
of our selves, and if any solitary wayfarer happens to stumble upon some
one or other of them, they affect no concealment, for we are as near of kin
to the gods as the Cyclopes and the savage giants are.”[62]
Then Ulysses said: “Pray, Alcinous, do not take any such notion into your
head. I have nothing of the immortal about me, neither in body nor mind,
and most resemble those among you who are the most afflicted. Indeed,
were I to tell you all that heaven has seen fit to lay upon me, you would say
that I was still worse off than they are. Nevertheless, let me sup in spite of
sorrow, for an empty stomach is a very importunate thing, and thrusts itself
on a man’s notice no matter how dire is his distress. I am in great trouble,
yet it insists that I shall eat and drink, bids me lay aside all memory of my
sorrows and dwell only on the due replenishing of itself. As for yourselves,
do as you propose, and at break of day set about helping me to get home. I
shall be content to die if I may first once more behold my property, my
bondsmen, and all the greatness of my house.”[63]
Thus did he speak. Every one approved his saying, and agreed that he
should have his escort inasmuch as he had spoken reasonably. Then when
they had made their drink offerings, and had drunk each as much as he was

minded they went home to bed every man in his own abode, leaving
Ulysses in the cloister with Arete and Alcinous while the servants were
taking the things away after supper. Arete was the first to speak, for she
recognised the shirt, cloak, and good clothes that Ulysses was wearing, as
the work of herself and of her maids; so she said, “Stranger, before we go
any further, there is a question I should like to ask you. Who, and whence
are you, and who gave you those clothes? Did you not say you had come
here from beyond the sea?”
And Ulysses answered, “It would be a long story Madam, were I to relate
in full the tale of my misfortunes, for the hand of heaven has been laid
heavy upon me; but as regards your question, there is an island far away in
the sea which is called ‘the Ogygian.’ Here dwells the cunning and
powerful goddess Calypso, daughter of Atlas. She lives by herself far from
all neighbours human or divine. Fortune, however, brought me to her hearth
all desolate and alone, for Jove struck my ship with his thunderbolts, and
broke it up in mid-ocean. My brave comrades were drowned every man of
them, but I stuck to the keel and was carried hither and thither for the space
of nine days, till at last during the darkness of the tenth night the gods
brought me to the Ogygian island where the great goddess Calypso lives.
She took me in and treated me with the utmost kindness; indeed she wanted
to make me immortal that I might never grow old, but she could not
persuade me to let her do so.
“I stayed with Calypso seven years straight on end, and watered the good
clothes she gave me with my tears during the whole time; but at last when
the eighth year came round she bade me depart of her own free will, either
because Jove had told her she must, or because she had changed her mind.
She sent me from her island on a raft, which she provisioned with
abundance of bread and wine. Moreover she gave me good stout clothing,
and sent me a wind that blew both warm and fair. Days seven and ten did I
sail over the sea, and on the eighteenth I caught sight of the first outlines of
the mountains upon your coast—and glad indeed was I to set eyes upon
them. Nevertheless there was still much trouble in store for me, for at this
point Neptune would let me go no further, and raised a great storm against
me; the sea was so terribly high that I could no longer keep to my raft,
which went to pieces under the fury of the gale, and I had to swim for it, till
wind and current brought me to your shores.

“There I tried to land, but could not, for it was a bad place and the waves
dashed me against the rocks, so I again took to the sea and swam on till I
came to a river that seemed the most likely landing place, for there were no
rocks and it was sheltered from the wind. Here, then, I got out of the water
and gathered my senses together again. Night was coming on, so I left the
river, and went into a thicket, where I covered myself all over with leaves,
and presently heaven sent me off into a very deep sleep. Sick and sorry as I
was I slept among the leaves all night, and through the next day till
afternoon, when I woke as the sun was westering, and saw your daughter’s
maid servants playing upon the beach, and your daughter among them
looking like a goddess. I besought her aid, and she proved to be of an
excellent disposition, much more so than could be expected from so young
a person—for young people are apt to be thoughtless. She gave me plenty
of bread and wine, and when she had had me washed in the river she also
gave me the clothes in which you see me. Now, therefore, though it has
pained me to do so, I have told you the whole truth.”
Then Alcinous said, “Stranger, it was very wrong of my daughter not to
bring you on at once to my house along with the maids, seeing that she was
the first person whose aid you asked.”
“Pray do not scold her,” replied Ulysses; “she is not to blame. She did tell
me to follow along with the maids, but I was ashamed and afraid, for I
thought you might perhaps be displeased if you saw me. Every human
being is sometimes a little suspicious and irritable.”
“Stranger,” replied Alcinous, “I am not the kind of man to get angry
about nothing; it is always better to be reasonable; but by Father Jove,
Minerva, and Apollo, now that I see what kind of person you are, and how
much you think as I do, I wish you would stay here, marry my daughter,
and become my son-in-law. If you will stay I will give you a house and an
estate, but no one (heaven forbid) shall keep you here against your own
wish, and that you may be sure of this I will attend tomorrow to the matter
of your escort. You can sleep[64] during the whole voyage if you like, and the
men shall sail you over smooth waters either to your own home, or
wherever you please, even though it be a long way further off than Euboea,
which those of my people who saw it when they took yellow-haired
Rhadamanthus to see Tityus the son of Gaia, tell me is the furthest of any
place—and yet they did the whole voyage in a single day without

distressing themselves, and came back again afterwards. You will thus see
how much my ships excel all others, and what magnificent oarsmen my
sailors are.”
Then was Ulysses glad and prayed aloud saying, “Father Jove, grant that
Alcinous may do all as he has said, for so he will win an imperishable name
among mankind, and at the same time I shall return to my country.”
Thus did they converse. Then Arete told her maids to set a bed in the
room that was in the gatehouse, and make it with good red rugs, and to
spread coverlets on the top of them with woollen cloaks for Ulysses to
wear. The maids thereon went out with torches in their hands, and when
they had made the bed they came up to Ulysses and said, “Rise, sir stranger,
and come with us for your bed is ready,” and glad indeed was he to go to
his rest.
So Ulysses slept in a bed placed in a room over the echoing gateway; but
Alcinous lay in the inner part of the house, with the queen his wife by his
side.

BOOK VIII

BANQUET IN THE HOUSE OF ALCINOUS—THE
GAMES.

Now when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, Alcinous
and Ulysses both rose, and Alcinous led the way to the Phaeacian place of
assembly, which was near the ships. When they got there they sat down side
by side on a seat of polished stone, while Minerva took the form of one of
Alcinous’ servants, and went round the town in order to help Ulysses to get
home. She went up to the citizens, man by man, and said, “Aldermen and
town councillors of the Phaeacians, come to the assembly all of you and
listen to the stranger who has just come off a long voyage to the house of
King Alcinous; he looks like an immortal god.”
With these words she made them all want to come, and they flocked to
the assembly till seats and standing room were alike crowded. Every one
was struck with the appearance of Ulysses, for Minerva had beautified him
about the head and shoulders, making him look taller and stouter than he
really was, that he might impress the Phaeacians favourably as being a very
remarkable man, and might come off well in the many trials of skill to
which they would challenge him. Then, when they were got together,
Alcinous spoke:
“Hear me,” said he, “aldermen and town councillors of the Phaeacians,
that I may speak even as I am minded. This stranger, whoever he may be,
has found his way to my house from somewhere or other either East or
West. He wants an escort and wishes to have the matter settled. Let us then
get one ready for him, as we have done for others before him; indeed, no
one who ever yet came to my house has been able to complain of me for not
speeding on his way soon enough. Let us draw a ship into the sea—one that
has never yet made a voyage—and man her with two and fifty of our
smartest young sailors. Then when you have made fast your oars each by

his own seat, leave the ship and come to my house to prepare a feast.[65] I
will find you in everything. I am giving these instructions to the young men
who will form the crew, for as regards you aldermen and town councillors,
you will join me in entertaining our guest in the cloisters. I can take no
excuses, and we will have Demodocus to sing to us; for there is no bard like
him whatever he may choose to sing about.”
Alcinous then led the way, and the others followed after, while a servant
went to fetch Demodocus. The fifty-two picked oarsmen went to the sea
shore as they had been told, and when they got there they drew the ship into
the water, got her mast and sails inside her, bound the oars to the thole-pins
with twisted thongs of leather, all in due course, and spread the white sails
aloft. They moored the vessel a little way out from land, and then came on
shore and went to the house of King Alcinous. The out houses,[66] yards, and
all the precincts were filled with crowds of men in great multitudes both old
and young; and Alcinous killed them a dozen sheep, eight full grown pigs,
and two oxen. These they skinned and dressed so as to provide a
magnificent banquet.
A servant presently led in the famous bard Demodocus, whom the muse
had dearly loved, but to whom she had given both good and evil, for though
she had endowed him with a divine gift of song, she had robbed him of his
eyesight. Pontonous set a seat for him among the guests, leaning it up
against a bearing-post. He hung the lyre for him on a peg over his head, and
showed him where he was to feel for it with his hands. He also set a fair
table with a basket of victuals by his side, and a cup of wine from which he
might drink whenever he was so disposed.
The company then laid their hands upon the good things that were before
them, but as soon as they had had enough to eat and drink, the muse
inspired Demodocus to sing the feats of heroes, and more especially a
matter that was then in the mouths of all men, to wit, the quarrel between
Ulysses and Achilles, and the fierce words that they heaped on one another
as they sat together at a banquet. But Agamemnon was glad when he heard
his chieftains quarrelling with one another, for Apollo had foretold him this
at Pytho when he crossed the stone floor to consult the oracle. Here was the
beginning of the evil that by the will of Jove fell both upon Danaans and
Trojans.

Thus sang the bard, but Ulysses drew his purple mantle over his head and
covered his face, for he was ashamed to let the Phaeacians see that he was
weeping. When the bard left off singing he wiped the tears from his eyes,
uncovered his face, and, taking his cup, made a drink-offering to the gods;
but when the Phaeacians pressed Demodocus to sing further, for they
delighted in his lays, then Ulysses again drew his mantle over his head and
wept bitterly. No one noticed his distress except Alcinous, who was sitting
near him, and heard the heavy sighs that he was heaving. So he at once said,
“Aldermen and town councillors of the Phaeacians, we have had enough
now, both of the feast, and of the minstrelsy that is its due accompaniment;
let us proceed therefore to the athletic sports, so that our guest on his return
home may be able to tell his friends how much we surpass all other nations
as boxers, wrestlers, jumpers, and runners.”
With these words he led the way, and the others followed after. A servant
hung Demodocus’s lyre on its peg for him, led him out of the cloister, and
set him on the same way as that along which all the chief men of the
Phaeacians were going to see the sports; a crowd of several thousands of
people followed them, and there were many excellent competitors for all
the prizes. Acroneos, Ocyalus, Elatreus, Nauteus, Prymneus, Anchialus,
Eretmeus, Ponteus, Proreus, Thoon, Anabesineus, and Amphialus son of
Polyneus son of Tecton. There was also Euryalus son of Naubolus, who was
like Mars himself, and was the best looking man among the Phaeacians
except Laodamas. Three sons of Alcinous, Laodamas, Halios, and
Clytoneus, competed also.
The foot races came first. The course was set out for them from the
starting post, and they raised a dust upon the plain as they all flew forward
at the same moment. Clytoneus came in first by a long way; he left every
one else behind him by the length of the furrow that a couple of mules can
plough in a fallow field.[67] They then turned to the painful art of wrestling,
and here Euryalus proved to be the best man. Amphialus excelled all the
others in jumping, while at throwing the disc there was no one who could
approach Elatreus. Alcinous’s son Laodamas was the best boxer, and he it
was who presently said, when they had all been diverted with the games,
“Let us ask the stranger whether he excels in any of these sports; he seems
very powerfully built; his thighs, calves, hands, and neck are of prodigious
strength, nor is he at all old, but he has suffered much lately, and there is

nothing like the sea for making havoc with a man, no matter how strong he
is.”
“You are quite right, Laodamas,” replied Euryalus, “go up to your guest
and speak to him about it yourself.”
When Laodamas heard this he made his way into the middle of the crowd
and said to Ulysses, “I hope, Sir, that you will enter yourself for some one
or other of our competitions if you are skilled in any of them—and you
must have gone in for many a one before now. There is nothing that does
any one so much credit all his life long as the showing himself a proper man
with his hands and feet. Have a try therefore at something, and banish all
sorrow from your mind. Your return home will not be long delayed, for the
ship is already drawn into the water, and the crew is found.”
Ulysses answered, “Laodamas, why do you taunt me in this way? my
mind is set rather on cares than contests; I have been through infinite
trouble, and am come among you now as a suppliant, praying your king and
people to further me on my return home.”
Then Euryalus reviled him outright and said, “I gather, then, that you are
unskilled in any of the many sports that men generally delight in. I suppose
you are one of those grasping traders that go about in ships as captains or
merchants, and who think of nothing but of their outward freights and
homeward cargoes. There does not seem to be much of the athlete about
you.”
“For shame, Sir,” answered Ulysses, fiercely, “you are an insolent fellow
—so true is it that the gods do not grace all men alike in speech, person, and
understanding. One man may be of weak presence, but heaven has adorned
this with such a good conversation that he charms every one who sees him;
his honeyed moderation carries his hearers with him so that he is leader in
all assemblies of his fellows, and wherever he goes he is looked up to.
Another may be as handsome as a god, but his good looks are not crowned
with discretion. This is your case. No god could make a finer looking fellow
than you are, but you are a fool. Your ill-judged remarks have made me
exceedingly angry, and you are quite mistaken, for I excel in a great many
athletic exercises; indeed, so long as I had youth and strength, I was among
the first athletes of the age. Now, however, I am worn out by labour and
sorrow, for I have gone through much both on the field of battle and by the

waves of the weary sea; still, in spite of all this I will compete, for your
taunts have stung me to the quick.”
So he hurried up without even taking his cloak off, and seized a disc,
larger, more massive and much heavier than those used by the Phaeacians
when disc-throwing among themselves.[68] Then, swinging it back, he threw
it from his brawny hand, and it made a humming sound in the air as he did
so. The Phaeacians quailed beneath the rushing of its flight as it sped
gracefully from his hand, and flew beyond any mark that had been made
yet. Minerva, in the form of a man, came and marked the place where it had
fallen. “A blind man, Sir,” said she, “could easily tell your mark by groping
for it—it is so far ahead of any other. You may make your mind easy about
this contest, for no Phaeacian can come near to such a throw as yours.”
Ulysses was glad when he found he had a friend among the lookers-on,
so he began to speak more pleasantly. “Young men,” said he, “come up to
that throw if you can, and I will throw another disc as heavy or even
heavier. If anyone wants to have a bout with me let him come on, for I am
exceedingly angry; I will box, wrestle, or run, I do not care what it is, with
any man of you all except Laodamas, but not with him because I am his
guest, and one cannot compete with one’s own personal friend. At least I do
not think it a prudent or a sensible thing for a guest to challenge his host’s
family at any game, especially when he is in a foreign country. He will cut
the ground from under his own feet if he does; but I make no exception as
regards any one else, for I want to have the matter out and know which is
the best man. I am a good hand at every kind of athletic sport known among
mankind. I am an excellent archer. In battle I am always the first to bring a
man down with my arrow, no matter how many more are taking aim at him
alongside of me. Philoctetes was the only man who could shoot better than I
could when we Achaeans were before Troy and in practice. I far excel every
one else in the whole world, of those who still eat bread upon the face of the
earth, but I should not like to shoot against the mighty dead, such as
Hercules, or Eurytus the Oechalian—men who could shoot against the gods
themselves. This in fact was how Eurytus came prematurely by his end, for
Apollo was angry with him and killed him because he challenged him as an
archer. I can throw a dart farther than any one else can shoot an arrow.
Running is the only point in respect of which I am afraid some of the
Phaeacians might beat me, for I have been brought down very low at sea;
my provisions ran short, and therefore I am still weak.”

They all held their peace except King Alcinous, who began, “Sir, we have
had much pleasure in hearing all that you have told us, from which I
understand that you are willing to show your prowess, as having been
displeased with some insolent remarks that have been made to you by one
of our athletes, and which could never have been uttered by any one who
knows how to talk with propriety. I hope you will apprehend my meaning,
and will explain to any one of your chief men who may be dining with
yourself and your family when you get home, that we have an hereditary
aptitude for accomplishments of all kinds. We are not particularly
remarkable for our boxing, nor yet as wrestlers, but we are singularly fleet
of foot and are excellent sailors. We are extremely fond of good dinners,
music, and dancing; we also like frequent changes of linen, warm baths, and
good beds, so now, please, some of you who are the best dancers set about
dancing, that our guest on his return home may be able to tell his friends
how much we surpass all other nations as sailors, runners, dancers, and
minstrels. Demodocus has left his lyre at my house, so run some one or
other of you and fetch it for him.”
On this a servant hurried off to bring the lyre from the king’s house, and
the nine men who had been chosen as stewards stood forward. It was their
business to manage everything connected with the sports, so they made the
ground smooth and marked a wide space for the dancers. Presently the
servant came back with Demodocus’s lyre, and he took his place in the
midst of them, whereon the best young dancers in the town began to foot
and trip it so nimbly that Ulysses was delighted with the merry twinkling of
their feet.
Meanwhile the bard began to sing the loves of Mars and Venus, and how
they first began their intrigue in the house of Vulcan. Mars made Venus
many presents, and defiled King Vulcan’s marriage bed, so the sun, who
saw what they were about, told Vulcan. Vulcan was very angry when he
heard such dreadful news, so he went to his smithy brooding mischief, got
his great anvil into its place, and began to forge some chains which none
could either unloose or break, so that they might stay there in that place.[69]
When he had finished his snare he went into his bedroom and festooned the
bed-posts all over with chains like cobwebs; he also let many hang down
from the great beam of the ceiling. Not even a god could see them so fine
and subtle were they. As soon as he had spread the chains all over the bed,
he made as though he were setting out for the fair state of Lemnos, which of

all places in the world was the one he was most fond of. But Mars kept no
blind look out, and as soon as he saw him start, hurried off to his house,
burning with love for Venus.
Now Venus was just come in from a visit to her father Jove, and was
about sitting down when Mars came inside the house, and said as he took
her hand in his own, “Let us go to the couch of Vulcan: he is not at home,
but is gone off to Lemnos among the Sintians, whose speech is barbarous.”
She was nothing loth, so they went to the couch to take their rest,
whereon they were caught in the toils which cunning Vulcan had spread for
them, and could neither get up nor stir hand or foot, but found too late that
they were in a trap. Then Vulcan came up to them, for he had turned back
before reaching Lemnos, when his scout the sun told him what was going
on. He was in a furious passion, and stood in the vestibule making a
dreadful noise as he shouted to all the gods.
“Father Jove,” he cried, “and all you other blessed gods who live for
ever, come here and see the ridiculous and disgraceful sight that I will show
you. Jove’s daughter Venus is always dishonouring me because I am lame.
She is in love with Mars, who is handsome and clean built, whereas I am a
cripple—but my parents are to blame for that, not I; they ought never to
have begotten me. Come and see the pair together asleep on my bed. It
makes me furious to look at them. They are very fond of one another, but I
do not think they will lie there longer than they can help, nor do I think that
they will sleep much; there, however, they shall stay till her father has
repaid me the sum I gave him for his baggage of a daughter, who is fair but
not honest.”
On this the gods gathered to the house of Vulcan. Earth-encircling
Neptune came, and Mercury the bringer of luck, and King Apollo, but the
goddesses staid at home all of them for shame. Then the givers of all good
things stood in the doorway, and the blessed gods roared with
inextinguishable laughter, as they saw how cunning Vulcan had been,
whereon one would turn towards his neighbour saying:
“Ill deeds do not prosper, and the weak confound the strong. See how
limping Vulcan, lame as he is, has caught Mars who is the fleetest god in
heaven; and now Mars will be cast in heavy damages.”
Thus did they converse, but King Apollo said to Mercury, “Messenger
Mercury, giver of good things, you would not care how strong the chains

were, would you, if you could sleep with Venus?”
“King Apollo,” answered Mercury, “I only wish I might get the chance,
though there were three times as many chains—and you might look on, all
of you, gods and goddesses, but I would sleep with her if I could.”
The immortal gods burst out laughing as they heard him, but Neptune
took it all seriously, and kept on imploring Vulcan to set Mars free again.
“Let him go,” he cried, “and I will undertake, as you require, that he shall
pay you all the damages that are held reasonable among the immortal
gods.”
“Do not,” replied Vulcan, “ask me to do this; a bad man’s bond is bad
security; what remedy could I enforce against you if Mars should go away
and leave his debts behind him along with his chains?”
“Vulcan,” said Neptune, “if Mars goes away without paying his damages,
I will pay you myself.” So Vulcan answered, “In this case I cannot and must
not refuse you.”
Thereon he loosed the bonds that bound them, and as soon as they were
free they scampered off, Mars to Thrace and laughter-loving Venus to
Cyprus and to Paphos, where is her grove and her altar fragrant with burnt
offerings. Here the Graces bathed her, and anointed her with oil of ambrosia
such as the immortal gods make use of, and they clothed her in raiment of
the most enchanting beauty.
Thus sang the bard, and both Ulysses and the seafaring Phaeacians were
charmed as they heard him.
Then Alcinous told Laodamas and Halius to dance alone, for there was
no one to compete with them. So they took a red ball which Polybus had
made for them, and one of them bent himself backwards and threw it up
towards the clouds, while the other jumped from off the ground and caught
it with ease before it came down again. When they had done throwing the
ball straight up into the air they began to dance, and at the same time kept
on throwing it backwards and forwards to one another, while all the young
men in the ring applauded and made a great stamping with their feet. Then
Ulysses said:
“King Alcinous, you said your people were the nimblest dancers in the
world, and indeed they have proved themselves to be so. I was astonished
as I saw them.”

The king was delighted at this, and exclaimed to the Phaeacians,
“Aldermen and town councillors, our guest seems to be a person of singular
judgement; let us give him such proof of our hospitality as he may
reasonably expect. There are twelve chief men among you, and counting
myself there are thirteen; contribute, each of you, a clean cloak, a shirt, and
a talent of fine gold; let us give him all this in a lump down at once, so that
when he gets his supper he may do so with a light heart. As for Euryalus he
will have to make a formal apology and a present too, for he has been
rude.”
Thus did he speak. The others all of them applauded his saying, and sent
their servants to fetch the presents. Then Euryalus said, “King Alcinous, I
will give the stranger all the satisfaction you require. He shall have my
sword, which is of bronze, all but the hilt, which is of silver. I will also give
him the scabbard of newly sawn ivory into which it fits. It will be worth a
great deal to him.”
As he spoke he placed the sword in the hands of Ulysses and said, “Good
luck to you, father stranger; if anything has been said amiss may the winds
blow it away with them, and may heaven grant you a safe return, for I
understand you have been long away from home, and have gone through
much hardship.”
To which Ulysses answered, “Good luck to you too my friend, and may
the gods grant you every happiness. I hope you will not miss the sword you
have given me along with your apology.”
With these words he girded the sword about his shoulders and towards
sundown the presents began to make their appearance, as the servants of the
donors kept bringing them to the house of King Alcinous; here his sons
received them, and placed them under their mother’s charge. Then Alcinous
led the way to the house and bade his guests take their seats.
“Wife,” said he, turning to Queen Arete, “Go, fetch the best chest we
have, and put a clean cloak and shirt in it. Also, set a copper on the fire and
heat some water; our guest will take a warm bath; see also to the careful
packing of the presents that the noble Phaeacians have made him; he will
thus better enjoy both his supper and the singing that will follow. I shall
myself give him this golden goblet—which is of exquisite workmanship—
that he may be reminded of me for the rest of his life whenever he makes a
drink offering to Jove, or to any of the gods.”[70]

Then Arete told her maids to set a large tripod upon the fire as fast as
they could, whereon they set a tripod full of bath water on to a clear fire;
they threw on sticks to make it blaze, and the water became hot as the flame
played about the belly of the tripod.[71] Meanwhile Arete brought a
magnificent chest from her own room, and inside it she packed all the
beautiful presents of gold and raiment which the Phaeacians had brought.
Lastly she added a cloak and a good shirt from Alcinous, and said to
Ulysses:
“See to the lid yourself, and have the whole bound round at once, for fear
any one should rob you by the way when you are asleep in your ship.” [72]
When Ulysses heard this he put the lid on the chest and made it fast with
a bond that Circe had taught him. He had done so before an upper servant
told him to come to the bath and wash himself. He was very glad of a warm
bath, for he had had no one to wait upon him ever since he left the house of
Calypso, who as long as he remained with her had taken as good care of
him as though he had been a god. When the servants had done washing and
anointing him with oil, and had given him a clean cloak and shirt, he left the
bath room and joined the guests who were sitting over their wine. Lovely
Nausicaa stood by one of the bearing-posts supporting the roof of the
cloister, and admired him as she saw him pass. “Farewell stranger,” said
she, “do not forget me when you are safe at home again, for it is to me first
that you owe a ransom for having saved your life.”
And Ulysses said, “Nausicaa, daughter of great Alcinous, may Jove the
mighty husband of Juno, grant that I may reach my home; so shall I bless
you as my guardian angel all my days, for it was you who saved me.”
When he had said this, he seated himself beside Alcinous. Supper was
then served, and the wine was mixed for drinking. A servant led in the
favourite bard Demodocus, and set him in the midst of the company, near
one of the bearing-posts supporting the cloister, that he might lean against
it. Then Ulysses cut off a piece of roast pork with plenty of fat (for there
was abundance left on the joint) and said to a servant, “Take this piece of
pork over to Demodocus and tell him to eat it; for all the pain his lays may
cause me I will salute him none the less; bards are honoured and respected
throughout the world, for the muse teaches them their songs and loves
them.”

The servant carried the pork in his fingers over to Demodocus, who took
it and was very much pleased. They then laid their hands on the good things
that were before them, and as soon as they had had to eat and drink, Ulysses
said to Demodocus, “Demodocus, there is no one in the world whom I
admire more than I do you. You must have studied under the Muse, Jove’s
daughter, and under Apollo, so accurately do you sing the return of the
Achaeans with all their sufferings and adventures. If you were not there
yourself, you must have heard it all from some one who was. Now,
however, change your song and tell us of the wooden horse which Epeus
made with the assistance of Minerva, and which Ulysses got by stratagem
into the fort of Troy after freighting it with the men who afterwards sacked
the city. If you will sing this tale aright I will tell all the world how
magnificently heaven has endowed you.”
The bard inspired of heaven took up the story at the point where some of
the Argives set fire to their tents and sailed away while others, hidden
within the horse,[73] were waiting with Ulysses in the Trojan place of
assembly. For the Trojans themselves had drawn the horse into their
fortress, and it stood there while they sat in council round it, and were in
three minds as to what they should do. Some were for breaking it up then
and there; others would have it dragged to the top of the rock on which the
fortress stood, and then thrown down the precipice; while yet others were
for letting it remain as an offering and propitiation for the gods. And this
was how they settled it in the end, for the city was doomed when it took in
that horse, within which were all the bravest of the Argives waiting to bring
death and destruction on the Trojans. Anon he sang how the sons of the
Achaeans issued from the horse, and sacked the town, breaking out from
their ambuscade. He sang how they overran the city hither and thither and
ravaged it, and how Ulysses went raging like Mars along with Menelaus to
the house of Deiphobus. It was there that the fight raged most furiously,
nevertheless by Minerva’s help he was victorious.
All this he told, but Ulysses was overcome as he heard him, and his
cheeks were wet with tears. He wept as a woman weeps when she throws
herself on the body of her husband who has fallen before his own city and
people, fighting bravely in defence of his home and children. She screams
aloud and flings her arms about him as he lies gasping for breath and dying,
but her enemies beat her from behind about the back and shoulders, and
carry her off into slavery, to a life of labour and sorrow, and the beauty

fades from her cheeks—even so piteously did Ulysses weep, but none of
those present perceived his tears except Alcinous, who was sitting near him,
and could hear the sobs and sighs that he was heaving. The king, therefore,
at once rose and said:
“Aldermen and town councillors of the Phaeacians, let Demodocus cease
his song, for there are those present who do not seem to like it. From the
moment that we had done supper and Demodocus began to sing, our guest
has been all the time groaning and lamenting. He is evidently in great
trouble, so let the bard leave off, that we may all enjoy ourselves, hosts and
guest alike. This will be much more as it should be, for all these festivities,
with the escort and the presents that we are making with so much good will
are wholly in his honour, and any one with even a moderate amount of right
feeling knows that he ought to treat a guest and a suppliant as though he
were his own brother.
“Therefore, Sir, do you on your part affect no more concealment nor
reserve in the matter about which I shall ask you; it will be more polite in
you to give me a plain answer; tell me the name by which your father and
mother over yonder used to call you, and by which you were known among
your neighbours and fellow-citizens. There is no one, neither rich nor poor,
who is absolutely without any name whatever, for people’s fathers and
mothers give them names as soon as they are born. Tell me also your
country, nation, and city, that our ships may shape their purpose accordingly
and take you there. For the Phaeacians have no pilots; their vessels have no
rudders as those of other nations have, but the ships themselves understand
what it is that we are thinking about and want; they know all the cities and
countries in the whole world, and can traverse the sea just as well even
when it is covered with mist and cloud, so that there is no danger of being
wrecked or coming to any harm. Still I do remember hearing my father say
that Neptune was angry with us for being too easy-going in the matter of
giving people escorts. He said that one of these days he should wreck a ship
of ours as it was returning from having escorted some one,[74] and bury our
city under a high mountain. This is what my father used to say, but whether
the god will carry out his threat or no is a matter which he will decide for
himself.
“And now, tell me and tell me true. Where have you been wandering, and
in what countries have you travelled? Tell us of the peoples themselves, and

of their cities—who were hostile, savage and uncivilised, and who, on the
other hand, hospitable and humane. Tell us also why you are made so
unhappy on hearing about the return of the Argive Danaans from Troy. The
gods arranged all this, and sent them their misfortunes in order that future
generations might have something to sing about. Did you lose some brave
kinsman of your wife’s when you were before Troy? a son-in-law or father-
in-law—which are the nearest relations a man has outside his own flesh and
blood? or was it some brave and kindly-natured comrade—for a good friend
is as dear to a man as his own brother?”

BOOK IX

ULYSSES DECLARES HIMSELF AND BEGINS HIS
STORY—-THE CICONS, LOTOPHAGI, AND
CYCLOPES.

And Ulysses answered, “King Alcinous, it is a good thing to hear a bard
with such a divine voice as this man has. There is nothing better or more
delightful than when a whole people make merry together, with the guests
sitting orderly to listen, while the table is loaded with bread and meats, and
the cup-bearer draws wine and fills his cup for every man. This is indeed as
fair a sight as a man can see. Now, however, since you are inclined to ask
the story of my sorrows, and rekindle my own sad memories in respect of
them, I do not know how to begin, nor yet how to continue and conclude
my tale, for the hand of heaven has been laid heavily upon me.
“Firstly, then, I will tell you my name that you too may know it, and one
day, if I outlive this time of sorrow, may become my guests though I live so
far away from all of you. I am Ulysses son of Laertes, renowned among
mankind for all manner of subtlety, so that my fame ascends to heaven. I
live in Ithaca, where there is a high mountain called Neritum, covered with
forests; and not far from it there is a group of islands very near to one
another—Dulichium, Same, and the wooded island of Zacynthus. It lies
squat on the horizon, all highest up in the sea towards the sunset, while the
others lie away from it towards dawn.[75] It is a rugged island, but it breeds
brave men, and my eyes know none that they better love to look upon. The
goddess Calypso kept me with her in her cave, and wanted me to marry her,
as did also the cunning Aeaean goddess Circe; but they could neither of
them persuade me, for there is nothing dearer to a man than his own country
and his parents, and however splendid a home he may have in a foreign
country, if it be far from father or mother, he does not care about it. Now,

however, I will tell you of the many hazardous adventures which by Jove’s
will I met with on my return from Troy.
“When I had set sail thence the wind took me first to Ismarus, which is
the city of the Cicons. There I sacked the town and put the people to the
sword. We took their wives and also much booty, which we divided
equitably amongst us, so that none might have reason to complain. I then
said that we had better make off at once, but my men very foolishly would
not obey me, so they staid there drinking much wine and killing great
numbers of sheep and oxen on the sea shore. Meanwhile the Cicons cried
out for help to other Cicons who lived inland. These were more in number,
and stronger, and they were more skilled in the art of war, for they could
fight, either from chariots or on foot as the occasion served; in the morning,
therefore, they came as thick as leaves and bloom in summer, and the hand
of heaven was against us, so that we were hard pressed. They set the battle
in array near the ships, and the hosts aimed their bronze-shod spears at one
another.[76] So long as the day waxed and it was still morning, we held our
own against them, though they were more in number than we; but as the sun
went down, towards the time when men loose their oxen, the Cicons got the
better of us, and we lost half a dozen men from every ship we had; so we
got away with those that were left.
“Thence we sailed onward with sorrow in our hearts, but glad to have
escaped death though we had lost our comrades, nor did we leave till we
had thrice invoked each one of the poor fellows who had perished by the
hands of the Cicons. Then Jove raised the North wind against us till it blew
a hurricane, so that land and sky were hidden in thick clouds, and night
sprang forth out of the heavens. We let the ships run before the gale, but the
force of the wind tore our sails to tatters, so we took them down for fear of
shipwreck, and rowed our hardest towards the land. There we lay two days
and two nights suffering much alike from toil and distress of mind, but on
the morning of the third day we again raised our masts, set sail, and took
our places, letting the wind and steersmen direct our ship. I should have got
home at that time unharmed had not the North wind and the currents been
against me as I was doubling Cape Malea, and set me off my course hard by
the island of Cythera.
“I was driven thence by foul winds for a space of nine days upon the sea,
but on the tenth day we reached the land of the Lotus-eaters, who live on a

food that comes from a kind of flower. Here we landed to take in fresh
water, and our crews got their mid-day meal on the shore near the ships.
When they had eaten and drunk I sent two of my company to see what
manner of men the people of the place might be, and they had a third man
under them. They started at once, and went about among the Lotus-eaters,
who did them no hurt, but gave them to eat of the lotus, which was so
delicious that those who ate of it left off caring about home, and did not
even want to go back and say what had happened to them, but were for
staying and munching lotus[77] with the Lotus-eaters without thinking
further of their return; nevertheless, though they wept bitterly I forced them
back to the ships and made them fast under the benches. Then I told the rest
to go on board at once, lest any of them should taste of the lotus and leave
off wanting to get home, so they took their places and smote the grey sea
with their oars.
“We sailed hence, always in much distress, till we came to the land of the
lawless and inhuman Cyclopes. Now the Cyclopes neither plant nor plough,
but trust in providence, and live on such wheat, barley, and grapes as grow
wild without any kind of tillage, and their wild grapes yield them wine as
the sun and the rain may grow them. They have no laws nor assemblies of
the people, but live in caves on the tops of high mountains; each is lord and
master in his family, and they take no account of their neighbours.
“Now off their harbour there lies a wooded and fertile island not quite
close to the land of the Cyclopes, but still not far. It is over-run with wild
goats, that breed there in great numbers and are never disturbed by foot of
man; for sportsmen—who as a rule will suffer so much hardship in forest or
among mountain precipices—do not go there, nor yet again is it ever
ploughed or fed down, but it lies a wilderness untilled and unsown from
year to year, and has no living thing upon it but only goats. For the
Cyclopes have no ships, nor yet shipwrights who could make ships for
them; they cannot therefore go from city to city, or sail over the sea to one
another’s country as people who have ships can do; if they had had these
they would have colonised the island,[78] for it is a very good one, and would
yield everything in due season. There are meadows that in some places
come right down to the sea shore, well watered and full of luscious grass;
grapes would do there excellently; there is level land for ploughing, and it
would always yield heavily at harvest time, for the soil is deep. There is a
good harbour where no cables are wanted, nor yet anchors, nor need a ship

be moored, but all one has to do is to beach one’s vessel and stay there till
the wind becomes fair for putting out to sea again. At the head of the
harbour there is a spring of clear water coming out of a cave, and there are
poplars growing all round it.
“Here we entered, but so dark was the night that some god must have
brought us in, for there was nothing whatever to be seen. A thick mist hung
all round our ships;[79] the moon was hidden behind a mass of clouds so that
no one could have seen the island if he had looked for it, nor were there any
breakers to tell us we were close in shore before we found ourselves upon
the land itself; when, however, we had beached the ships, we took down the
sails, went ashore and camped upon the beach till daybreak.
“When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn appeared, we admired
the island and wandered all over it, while the nymphs Jove’s daughters
roused the wild goats that we might get some meat for our dinner. On this
we fetched our spears and bows and arrows from the ships, and dividing
ourselves into three bands began to shoot the goats. Heaven sent us
excellent sport; I had twelve ships with me, and each ship got nine goats,
while my own ship had ten; thus through the livelong day to the going
down of the sun we ate and drank our fill, and we had plenty of wine left,
for each one of us had taken many jars full when we sacked the city of the
Cicons, and this had not yet run out. While we were feasting we kept
turning our eyes towards the land of the Cyclopes, which was hard by, and
saw the smoke of their stubble fires. We could almost fancy we heard their
voices and the bleating of their sheep and goats, but when the sun went
down and it came on dark, we camped down upon the beach, and next
morning I called a council.
“‘Stay here, my brave fellows,’ said I, ‘all the rest of you, while I go with
my ship and exploit these people myself: I want to see if they are
uncivilised savages, or a hospitable and humane race.’
“I went on board, bidding my men to do so also and loose the hawsers; so
they took their places and smote the grey sea with their oars. When we got
to the land, which was not far, there, on the face of a cliff near the sea, we
saw a great cave overhung with laurels. It was a station for a great many
sheep and goats, and outside there was a large yard, with a high wall round
it made of stones built into the ground and of trees both pine and oak. This
was the abode of a huge monster who was then away from home

shepherding his flocks. He would have nothing to do with other people, but
led the life of an outlaw. He was a horrid creature, not like a human being at
all, but resembling rather some crag that stands out boldly against the sky
on the top of a high mountain.
“I told my men to draw the ship ashore, and stay where they were, all but
the twelve best among them, who were to go along with myself. I also took
a goatskin of sweet black wine which had been given me by Maron, son of
Euanthes, who was priest of Apollo the patron god of Ismarus, and lived
within the wooded precincts of the temple. When we were sacking the city
we respected him, and spared his life, as also his wife and child; so he made
me some presents of great value—seven talents of fine gold, and a bowl of
silver, with twelve jars of sweet wine, unblended, and of the most exquisite
flavour. Not a man nor maid in the house knew about it, but only himself,
his wife, and one housekeeper: when he drank it he mixed twenty parts of
water to one of wine, and yet the fragrance from the mixing-bowl was so
exquisite that it was impossible to refrain from drinking. I filled a large skin
with this wine, and took a wallet full of provisions with me, for my mind
misgave me that I might have to deal with some savage who would be of
great strength, and would respect neither right nor law.
“We soon reached his cave, but he was out shepherding, so we went
inside and took stock of all that we could see. His cheese-racks were loaded
with cheeses, and he had more lambs and kids than his pens could hold.
They were kept in separate flocks; first there were the hoggets, then the
oldest of the younger lambs and lastly the very young ones[80] all kept apart
from one another; as for his dairy, all the vessels, bowls, and milk pails into
which he milked, were swimming with whey. When they saw all this, my
men begged me to let them first steal some cheeses, and make off with them
to the ship; they would then return, drive down the lambs and kids, put
them on board and sail away with them. It would have been indeed better if
we had done so but I would not listen to them, for I wanted to see the owner
himself, in the hope that he might give me a present. When, however, we
saw him my poor men found him ill to deal with.
“We lit a fire, offered some of the cheeses in sacrifice, ate others of them,
and then sat waiting till the Cyclops should come in with his sheep. When
he came, he brought in with him a huge load of dry firewood to light the
fire for his supper, and this he flung with such a noise on to the floor of his

cave that we hid ourselves for fear at the far end of the cavern. Meanwhile
he drove all the ewes inside, as well as the she-goats that he was going to
milk, leaving the males, both rams and he-goats, outside in the yards. Then
he rolled a huge stone to the mouth of the cave—so huge that two and
twenty strong four-wheeled waggons would not be enough to draw it from
its place against the doorway. When he had so done he sat down and milked
his ewes and goats, all in due course, and then let each of them have her
own young. He curdled half the milk and set it aside in wicker strainers, but
the other half he poured into bowls that he might drink it for his supper.
When he had got through with all his work, he lit the fire, and then caught
sight of us, whereon he said:
“‘Strangers, who are you? Where do sail from? Are you traders, or do
you sail the sea as rovers, with your hands against every man, and every
man’s hand against you?’
“We were frightened out of our senses by his loud voice and monstrous
form, but I managed to say, ‘We are Achaeans on our way home from Troy,
but by the will of Jove, and stress of weather, we have been driven far out
of our course. We are the people of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, who has
won infinite renown throughout the whole world, by sacking so great a city
and killing so many people. We therefore humbly pray you to show us some
hospitality, and otherwise make us such presents as visitors may reasonably
expect. May your excellency fear the wrath of heaven, for we are your
suppliants, and Jove takes all respectable travellers under his protection, for
he is the avenger of all suppliants and foreigners in distress.’
“To this he gave me but a pitiless answer, ‘Stranger,’ said he, ‘you are a
fool, or else you know nothing of this country. Talk to me, indeed, about
fearing the gods or shunning their anger? We Cyclopes do not care about
Jove or any of your blessed gods, for we are ever so much stronger than
they. I shall not spare either yourself or your companions out of any regard
for Jove, unless I am in the humour for doing so. And now tell me where
you made your ship fast when you came on shore. Was it round the point, or
is she lying straight off the land?’
“He said this to draw me out, but I was too cunning to be caught in that
way, so I answered with a lie; ‘Neptune,’ said I, ‘sent my ship on to the
rocks at the far end of your country, and wrecked it. We were driven on to

them from the open sea, but I and those who are with me escaped the jaws
of death.’
“The cruel wretch vouchsafed me not one word of answer, but with a
sudden clutch he gripped up two of my men at once and dashed them down
upon the ground as though they had been puppies. Their brains were shed
upon the ground, and the earth was wet with their blood. Then he tore them
limb from limb and supped upon them. He gobbled them up like a lion in
the wilderness, flesh, bones, marrow, and entrails, without leaving anything
uneaten. As for us, we wept and lifted up our hands to heaven on seeing
such a horrid sight, for we did not know what else to do; but when the
Cyclops had filled his huge paunch, and had washed down his meal of
human flesh with a drink of neat milk, he stretched himself full length upon
the ground among his sheep, and went to sleep. I was at first inclined to
seize my sword, draw it, and drive it into his vitals, but I reflected that if I
did we should all certainly be lost, for we should never be able to shift the
stone which the monster had put in front of the door. So we stayed sobbing
and sighing where we were till morning came.
“When the child of morning, rosy-fingered dawn, appeared, he again lit
his fire, milked his goats and ewes, all quite rightly, and then let each have
her own young one; as soon as he had got through with all his work, he
clutched up two more of my men, and began eating them for his morning’s
meal. Presently, with the utmost ease, he rolled the stone away from the
door and drove out his sheep, but he at once put it back again—as easily as
though he were merely clapping the lid on to a quiver full of arrows. As
soon as he had done so he shouted, and cried ‘Shoo, shoo,’ after his sheep to
drive them on to the mountain; so I was left to scheme some way of taking
my revenge and covering myself with glory.
“In the end I deemed it would be the best plan to do as follows: The
Cyclops had a great club which was lying near one of the sheep pens; it was
of green olive wood, and he had cut it intending to use it for a staff as soon
as it should be dry. It was so huge that we could only compare it to the mast
of a twenty-oared merchant vessel of large burden, and able to venture out
into open sea. I went up to this club and cut off about six feet of it; I then
gave this piece to the men and told them to fine it evenly off at one end,
which they proceeded to do, and lastly I brought it to a point myself,
charring the end in the fire to make it harder. When I had done this I hid it

under dung, which was lying about all over the cave, and told the men to
cast lots which of them should venture along with myself to lift it and bore
it into the monster’s eye while he was asleep. The lot fell upon the very four
whom I should have chosen, and I myself made five. In the evening the
wretch came back from shepherding, and drove his flocks into the cave—
this time driving them all inside, and not leaving any in the yards; I suppose
some fancy must have taken him, or a god must have prompted him to do
so. As soon as he had put the stone back to its place against the door, he sat
down, milked his ewes and his goats all quite rightly, and then let each have
her own young one; when he had got through with all this work, he gripped
up two more of my men, and made his supper off them. So I went up to him
with an ivy-wood bowl of black wine in my hands:
“‘Look here, Cyclops,’ said I, you have been eating a great deal of man’s
flesh, so take this and drink some wine, that you may see what kind of
liquor we had on board my ship. I was bringing it to you as a drink-offering,
in the hope that you would take compassion upon me and further me on my
way home, whereas all you do is to go on ramping and raving most
intolerably. You ought to be ashamed of yourself; how can you expect
people to come see you any more if you treat them in this way?’
“He then took the cup and drank. He was so delighted with the taste of
the wine that he begged me for another bowl full. ‘Be so kind,’ he said, ‘as
to give me some more, and tell me your name at once. I want to make you a
present that you will be glad to have. We have wine even in this country, for
our soil grows grapes and the sun ripens them, but this drinks like Nectar
and Ambrosia all in one.’
“I then gave him some more; three times did I fill the bowl for him, and
three times did he drain it without thought or heed; then, when I saw that
the wine had got into his head, I said to him as plausibly as I could:
‘Cyclops, you ask my name and I will tell it you; give me, therefore, the
present you promised me; my name is Noman; this is what my father and
mother and my friends have always called me.’
“But the cruel wretch said, ‘Then I will eat all Noman’s comrades before
Noman himself, and will keep Noman for the last. This is the present that I
will make him.’
“As he spoke he reeled, and fell sprawling face upwards on the ground.
His great neck hung heavily backwards and a deep sleep took hold upon

him. Presently he turned sick, and threw up both wine and the gobbets of
human flesh on which he had been gorging, for he was very drunk. Then I
thrust the beam of wood far into the embers to heat it, and encouraged my
men lest any of them should turn faint-hearted. When the wood, green
though it was, was about to blaze, I drew it out of the fire glowing with
heat, and my men gathered round me, for heaven had filled their hearts with
courage. We drove the sharp end of the beam into the monster’s eye, and
bearing upon it with all my weight I kept turning it round and round as
though I were boring a hole in a ship’s plank with an auger, which two men
with a wheel and strap can keep on turning as long as they choose. Even
thus did we bore the red hot beam into his eye, till the boiling blood
bubbled all over it as we worked it round and round, so that the steam from
the burning eyeball scalded his eyelids and eyebrows, and the roots of the
eye sputtered in the fire. As a blacksmith plunges an axe or hatchet into cold
water to temper it—for it is this that gives strength to the iron—and it
makes a great hiss as he does so, even thus did the Cyclops’ eye hiss round
the beam of olive wood, and his hideous yells made the cave ring again. We
ran away in a fright, but he plucked the beam all besmirched with gore from
his eye, and hurled it from him in a frenzy of rage and pain, shouting as he
did so to the other Cyclopes who lived on the bleak headlands near him; so
they gathered from all quarters round his cave when they heard him crying,
and asked what was the matter with him.
“‘What ails you, Polyphemus,’ said they, ‘that you make such a noise,
breaking the stillness of the night, and preventing us from being able to
sleep? Surely no man is carrying off your sheep? Surely no man is trying to
kill you either by fraud or by force?’
“But Polyphemus shouted to them from inside the cave, ‘Noman is
killing me by fraud; no man is killing me by force.’
“‘Then,’ said they, ‘if no man is attacking you, you must be ill; when
Jove makes people ill, there is no help for it, and you had better pray to
your father Neptune.’
“Then they went away, and I laughed inwardly at the success of my
clever stratagem, but the Cyclops, groaning and in an agony of pain, felt
about with his hands till he found the stone and took it from the door; then
he sat in the doorway and stretched his hands in front of it to catch anyone

going out with the sheep, for he thought I might be foolish enough to
attempt this.
“As for myself I kept on puzzling to think how I could best save my own
life and those of my companions; I schemed and schemed, as one who
knows that his life depends upon it, for the danger was very great. In the
end I deemed that this plan would be the best; the male sheep were well
grown, and carried a heavy black fleece, so I bound them noiselessly in
threes together, with some of the withies on which the wicked monster used
to sleep. There was to be a man under the middle sheep, and the two on
either side were to cover him, so that there were three sheep to each man.
As for myself there was a ram finer than any of the others, so I caught hold
of him by the back, esconced myself in the thick wool under his belly, and
hung on patiently to his fleece, face upwards, keeping a firm hold on it all
the time.
“Thus, then, did we wait in great fear of mind till morning came, but
when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, the male sheep
hurried out to feed, while the ewes remained bleating about the pens
waiting to be milked, for their udders were full to bursting; but their master
in spite of all his pain felt the backs of all the sheep as they stood upright,
without being sharp enough to find out that the men were underneath their
bellies. As the ram was going out, last of all, heavy with its fleece and with
the weight of my crafty self, Polyphemus laid hold of it and said:
“‘My good ram, what is it that makes you the last to leave my cave this
morning? You are not wont to let the ewes go before you, but lead the mob
with a run whether to flowery mead or bubbling fountain, and are the first
to come home again at night; but now you lag last of all. Is it because you
know your master has lost his eye, and are sorry because that wicked
Noman and his horrid crew has got him down in his drink and blinded him?
But I will have his life yet. If you could understand and talk, you would tell
me where the wretch is hiding, and I would dash his brains upon the ground
till they flew all over the cave. I should thus have some satisfaction for the
harm this no-good Noman has done me.’
“As he spoke he drove the ram outside, but when we were a little way out
from the cave and yards, I first got from under the ram’s belly, and then
freed my comrades; as for the sheep, which were very fat, by constantly
heading them in the right direction we managed to drive them down to the

ship. The crew rejoiced greatly at seeing those of us who had escaped death,
but wept for the others whom the Cyclops had killed. However, I made
signs to them by nodding and frowning that they were to hush their crying,
and told them to get all the sheep on board at once and put out to sea; so
they went aboard, took their places, and smote the grey sea with their oars.
Then, when I had got as far out as my voice would reach, I began to jeer at
the Cyclops.
“‘Cyclops,’ said I, ‘you should have taken better measure of your man
before eating up his comrades in your cave. You wretch, eat up your visitors
in your own house? You might have known that your sin would find you
out, and now Jove and the other gods have punished you.’
“He got more and more furious as he heard me, so he tore the top from
off a high mountain, and flung it just in front of my ship so that it was
within a little of hitting the end of the rudder.[81] The sea quaked as the rock
fell into it, and the wash of the wave it raised carried us back towards the
mainland, and forced us towards the shore. But I snatched up a long pole
and kept the ship off, making signs to my men by nodding my head, that
they must row for their lives, whereon they laid out with a will. When we
had got twice as far as we were before, I was for jeering at the Cyclops
again, but the men begged and prayed of me to hold my tongue.
“‘Do not,’ they exclaimed, ‘be mad enough to provoke this savage
creature further; he has thrown one rock at us already which drove us back
again to the mainland, and we made sure it had been the death of us; if he
had then heard any further sound of voices he would have pounded our
heads and our ship’s timbers into a jelly with the rugged rocks he would
have heaved at us, for he can throw them a long way.’
“But I would not listen to them, and shouted out to him in my rage,
‘Cyclops, if any one asks you who it was that put your eye out and spoiled
your beauty, say it was the valiant warrior Ulysses, son of Laertes, who
lives in Ithaca.’
“On this he groaned, and cried out, ‘Alas, alas, then the old prophecy
about me is coming true. There was a prophet here, at one time, a man both
brave and of great stature, Telemus son of Eurymus, who was an excellent
seer, and did all the prophesying for the Cyclopes till he grew old; he told
me that all this would happen to me some day, and said I should lose my
sight by the hand of Ulysses. I have been all along expecting some one of

imposing presence and superhuman strength, whereas he turns out to be a
little insignificant weakling, who has managed to blind my eye by taking
advantage of me in my drink; come here, then, Ulysses, that I may make
you presents to show my hospitality, and urge Neptune to help you forward
on your journey—for Neptune and I are father and son. He, if he so will,
shall heal me, which no one else neither god nor man can do.’
“Then I said, ‘I wish I could be as sure of killing you outright and
sending you down to the house of Hades, as I am that it will take more than
Neptune to cure that eye of yours.’
“On this he lifted up his hands to the firmament of heaven and prayed,
saying, ‘Hear me, great Neptune; if I am indeed your own true begotten
son, grant that Ulysses may never reach his home alive; or if he must get
back to his friends at last, let him do so late and in sore plight after losing
all his men [let him reach his home in another man’s ship and find trouble
in his house.’[82]
“Thus did he pray, and Neptune heard his prayer. Then he picked up a
rock much larger than the first, swung it aloft and hurled it with prodigious
force. It fell just short of the ship, but was within a little of hitting the end of
the rudder. The sea quaked as the rock fell into it, and the wash of the wave
it raised drove us onwards on our way towards the shore of the island.
“When at last we got to the island where we had left the rest of our ships,
we found our comrades lamenting us, and anxiously awaiting our return.
We ran our vessel upon the sands and got out of her on to the sea shore; we
also landed the Cyclops’ sheep, and divided them equitably amongst us so
that none might have reason to complain. As for the ram, my companions
agreed that I should have it as an extra share; so I sacrificed it on the sea
shore, and burned its thigh bones to Jove, who is the lord of all. But he
heeded not my sacrifice, and only thought how he might destroy both my
ships and my comrades.
“Thus through the livelong day to the going down of the sun we feasted
our fill on meat and drink, but when the sun went down and it came on
dark, we camped upon the beach. When the child of morning rosy-fingered
Dawn appeared, I bade my men on board and loose the hawsers. Then they
took their places and smote the grey sea with their oars; so we sailed on
with sorrow in our hearts, but glad to have escaped death though we had
lost our comrades.

BOOK X

AEOLUS, THE LAESTRYGONES, CIRCE.

“Thence we went on to the Aeolian island where lives Aeolus son of
Hippotas, dear to the immortal gods. It is an island that floats (as it were)
upon the sea,[83] iron bound with a wall that girds it. Now, Aeolus has six
daughters and six lusty sons, so he made the sons marry the daughters, and
they all live with their dear father and mother, feasting and enjoying every
conceivable kind of luxury. All day long the atmosphere of the house is
loaded with the savour of roasting meats till it groans again, yard and all;
but by night they sleep on their well made bedsteads, each with his own
wife between the blankets. These were the people among whom we had
now come.
“Aeolus entertained me for a whole month asking me questions all the
time about Troy, the Argive fleet, and the return of the Achaeans. I told him
exactly how everything had happened, and when I said I must go, and asked
him to further me on my way, he made no sort of difficulty, but set about
doing so at once. Moreover, he flayed me a prime ox-hide to hold the ways
of the roaring winds, which he shut up in the hide as in a sack—for Jove
had made him captain over the winds, and he could stir or still each one of
them according to his own pleasure. He put the sack in the ship and bound
the mouth so tightly with a silver thread that not even a breath of a side-
wind could blow from any quarter. The West wind which was fair for us did
he alone let blow as it chose; but it all came to nothing, for we were lost
through our own folly.
“Nine days and nine nights did we sail, and on the tenth day our native
land showed on the horizon. We got so close in that we could see the
stubble fires burning, and I, being then dead beat, fell into a light sleep, for I
had never let the rudder out of my own hands, that we might get home the
faster. On this the men fell to talking among themselves, and said I was

bringing back gold and silver in the sack that Aeolus had given me. ‘Bless
my heart,’ would one turn to his neighbour, saying, ‘how this man gets
honoured and makes friends to whatever city or country he may go. See
what fine prizes he is taking home from Troy, while we, who have travelled
just as far as he has, come back with hands as empty as we set out with—
and now Aeolus has given him ever so much more. Quick—let us see what
it all is, and how much gold and silver there is in the sack he gave him.’
“Thus they talked and evil counsels prevailed. They loosed the sack,
whereupon the wind flew howling forth and raised a storm that carried us
weeping out to sea and away from our own country. Then I awoke, and
knew not whether to throw myself into the sea or to live on and make the
best of it; but I bore it, covered myself up, and lay down in the ship, while
the men lamented bitterly as the fierce winds bore our fleet back to the
Aeolian island.
“When we reached it we went ashore to take in water, and dined hard by
the ships. Immediately after dinner I took a herald and one of my men and
went straight to the house of Aeolus, where I found him feasting with his
wife and family; so we sat down as suppliants on the threshold. They were
astounded when they saw us and said, ‘Ulysses, what brings you here?
What god has been ill-treating you? We took great pains to further you on
your way home to Ithaca, or wherever it was that you wanted to go to.’
“Thus did they speak, but I answered sorrowfully, ‘My men have undone
me; they, and cruel sleep, have ruined me. My friends, mend me this
mischief, for you can if you will.’
“I spoke as movingly as I could, but they said nothing, till their father
answered, ‘Vilest of mankind, get you gone at once out of the island; him
whom heaven hates will I in no wise help. Be off, for you come here as one
abhorred of heaven.’ And with these words he sent me sorrowing from his
door.
“Thence we sailed sadly on till the men were worn out with long and
fruitless rowing, for there was no longer any wind to help them. Six days,
night and day did we toil, and on the seventh day we reached the rocky
stronghold of Lamus—Telepylus, the city of the Laestrygonians, where the
shepherd who is driving in his sheep and goats [to be milked] salutes him
who is driving out his flock [to feed] and this last answers the salute. In that
country a man who could do without sleep might earn double wages, one as

a herdsman of cattle, and another as a shepherd, for they work much the
same by night as they do by day.[84]
“When we reached the harbour we found it land-locked under steep
cliffs, with a narrow entrance between two headlands. My captains took all
their ships inside, and made them fast close to one another, for there was
never so much as a breath of wind inside, but it was always dead calm. I
kept my own ship outside, and moored it to a rock at the very end of the
point; then I climbed a high rock to reconnoitre, but could see no sign
neither of man nor cattle, only some smoke rising from the ground. So I
sent two of my company with an attendant to find out what sort of people
the inhabitants were.
“The men when they got on shore followed a level road by which the
people draw their firewood from the mountains into the town, till presently
they met a young woman who had come outside to fetch water, and who
was daughter to a Laestrygonian named Antiphates. She was going to the
fountain Artacia from which the people bring in their water, and when my
men had come close up to her, they asked her who the king of that country
might be, and over what kind of people he ruled; so she directed them to her
father’s house, but when they got there they found his wife to be a giantess
as huge as a mountain, and they were horrified at the sight of her.
“She at once called her husband Antiphates from the place of assembly,
and forthwith he set about killing my men. He snatched up one of them, and
began to make his dinner off him then and there, whereon the other two ran
back to the ships as fast as ever they could. But Antiphates raised a hue-
and-cry after them, and thousands of sturdy Laestrygonians sprang up from
every quarter—ogres, not men. They threw vast rocks at us from the cliffs
as though they had been mere stones, and I heard the horrid sound of the
ships crunching up against one another, and the death cries of my men, as
the Laestrygonians speared them like fishes and took them home to eat
them. While they were thus killing my men within the harbour I drew my
sword, cut the cable of my own ship, and told my men to row with all their
might if they too would not fare like the rest; so they laid out for their lives,
and we were thankful enough when we got into open water out of reach of
the rocks they hurled at us. As for the others there was not one of them left.
“Thence we sailed sadly on, glad to have escaped death, though we had
lost our comrades, and came to the Aeaean island, where Circe lives—a

great and cunning goddess who is own sister to the magician Aeetes—for
they are both children of the sun by Perse, who is daughter to Oceanus. We
brought our ship into a safe harbour without a word, for some god guided us
thither, and having landed we lay there for two days and two nights, worn
out in body and mind. When the morning of the third day came I took my
spear and my sword, and went away from the ship to reconnoitre, and see if
I could discover signs of human handiwork, or hear the sound of voices.
Climbing to the top of a high look-out I espied the smoke of Circe’s house
rising upwards amid a dense forest of trees, and when I saw this I doubted
whether, having seen the smoke, I would not go on at once and find out
more, but in the end I deemed it best to go back to the ship, give the men
their dinners, and send some of them instead of going myself.
“When I had nearly got back to the ship some god took pity upon my
solitude, and sent a fine antlered stag right into the middle of my path. He
was coming down his pasture in the forest to drink of the river, for the heat
of the sun drove him, and as he passed I struck him in the middle of the
back; the bronze point of the spear went clean through him, and he lay
groaning in the dust until the life went out of him. Then I set my foot upon
him, drew my spear from the wound, and laid it down; I also gathered
rough grass and rushes and twisted them into a fathom or so of good stout
rope, with which I bound the four feet of the noble creature together; having
so done I hung him round my neck and walked back to the ship leaning
upon my spear, for the stag was much too big for me to be able to carry him
on my shoulder, steadying him with one hand. As I threw him down in front
of the ship, I called the men and spoke cheeringly man by man to each of
them. ‘Look here my friends,’ said I, ‘we are not going to die so much
before our time after all, and at any rate we will not starve so long as we
have got something to eat and drink on board.’ On this they uncovered their
heads upon the sea shore and admired the stag, for he was indeed a splendid
fellow. Then, when they had feasted their eyes upon him sufficiently, they
washed their hands and began to cook him for dinner.
“Thus through the livelong day to the going down of the sun we stayed
there eating and drinking our fill, but when the sun went down and it came
on dark, we camped upon the sea shore. When the child of morning, rosy-
fingered Dawn, appeared, I called a council and said, ‘My friends, we are in
very great difficulties; listen therefore to me. We have no idea where the
sun either sets or rises,[85] so that we do not even know East from West. I see

no way out of it; nevertheless, we must try and find one. We are certainly on
an island, for I went as high as I could this morning, and saw the sea
reaching all round it to the horizon; it lies low, but towards the middle I saw
smoke rising from out of a thick forest of trees.’
“Their hearts sank as they heard me, for they remembered how they had
been treated by the Laestrygonian Antiphates, and by the savage ogre
Polyphemus. They wept bitterly in their dismay, but there was nothing to be
got by crying, so I divided them into two companies and set a captain over
each; I gave one company to Eurylochus, while I took command of the
other myself. Then we cast lots in a helmet, and the lot fell upon
Eurylochus; so he set out with his twenty-two men, and they wept, as also
did we who were left behind.
“When they reached Circe’s house they found it built of cut stones, on a
site that could be seen from far, in the middle of the forest. There were wild
mountain wolves and lions prowling all round it—poor bewitched creatures
whom she had tamed by her enchantments and drugged into subjection.
They did not attack my men, but wagged their great tails, fawned upon
them, and rubbed their noses lovingly against them.[86] As hounds crowd
round their master when they see him coming from dinner—for they know
he will bring them something—even so did these wolves and lions with
their great claws fawn upon my men, but the men were terribly frightened
at seeing such strange creatures. Presently they reached the gates of the
goddess’s house, and as they stood there they could hear Circe within,
singing most beautifully as she worked at her loom, making a web so fine,
so soft, and of such dazzling colours as no one but a goddess could weave.
On this Polites, whom I valued and trusted more than any other of my men,
said, ‘There is some one inside working at a loom and singing most
beautifully; the whole place resounds with it, let us call her and see whether
she is woman or goddess.’
“They called her and she came down, unfastened the door, and bade them
enter. They, thinking no evil, followed her, all except Eurylochus, who
suspected mischief and staid outside. When she had got them into her
house, she set them upon benches and seats and mixed them a mess with
cheese, honey, meal, and Pramnian wine, but she drugged it with wicked
poisons to make them forget their homes, and when they had drunk she
turned them into pigs by a stroke of her wand, and shut them up in her pig-

styes. They were like pigs—head, hair, and all, and they grunted just as pigs
do; but their senses were the same as before, and they remembered
everything.
“Thus then were they shut up squealing, and Circe threw them some
acorns and beech masts such as pigs eat, but Eurylochus hurried back to tell
me about the sad fate of our comrades. He was so overcome with dismay
that though he tried to speak he could find no words to do so; his eyes filled
with tears and he could only sob and sigh, till at last we forced his story out
of him, and he told us what had happened to the others.
“‘We went,’ said he, ‘as you told us, through the forest, and in the middle
of it there was a fine house built with cut stones in a place that could be
seen from far. There we found a woman, or else she was a goddess, working
at her loom and singing sweetly; so the men shouted to her and called her,
whereon she at once came down, opened the door, and invited us in. The
others did not suspect any mischief so they followed her into the house, but
I staid where I was, for I thought there might be some treachery. From that
moment I saw them no more, for not one of them ever came out, though I
sat a long time watching for them.’
“Then I took my sword of bronze and slung it over my shoulders; I also
took my bow, and told Eurylochus to come back with me and shew me the
way. But he laid hold of me with both his hands and spoke piteously,
saying, ‘Sir, do not force me to go with you, but let me stay here, for I know
you will not bring one of them back with you, nor even return alive
yourself; let us rather see if we cannot escape at any rate with the few that
are left us, for we may still save our lives.’
“‘Stay where you are, then,’ answered I, ‘eating and drinking at the ship,
but I must go, for I am most urgently bound to do so.’
“With this I left the ship and went up inland. When I got through the
charmed grove, and was near the great house of the enchantress Circe, I met
Mercury with his golden wand, disguised as a young man in the hey-day of
his youth and beauty with the down just coming upon his face. He came up
to me and took my hand within his own, saying, ‘My poor unhappy man,
whither are you going over this mountain top, alone and without knowing
the way? Your men are shut up in Circe’s pigstyes, like so many wild boars
in their lairs. You surely do not fancy that you can set them free? I can tell
you that you will never get back and will have to stay there with the rest of

them. But never mind, I will protect you and get you out of your difficulty.
Take this herb, which is one of great virtue, and keep it about you when you
go to Circe’s house, it will be a talisman to you against every kind of
mischief.
“‘And I will tell you of all the wicked witchcraft that Circe will try to
practice upon you. She will mix a mess for you to drink, and she will drug
the meal with which she makes it, but she will not be able to charm you, for
the virtue of the herb that I shall give you will prevent her spells from
working. I will tell you all about it. When Circe strikes you with her wand,
draw your sword and spring upon her as though you were going to kill her.
She will then be frightened, and will desire you to go to bed with her; on
this you must not point blank refuse her, for you want her to set your
companions free, and to take good care also of yourself, but you must make
her swear solemnly by all the blessed gods that she will plot no further
mischief against you, or else when she has got you naked she will unman
you and make you fit for nothing.’
“As he spoke he pulled the herb out of the ground and shewed me what it
was like. The root was black, while the flower was as white as milk; the
gods call it Moly, and mortal men cannot uproot it, but the gods can do
whatever they like.
“Then Mercury went back to high Olympus passing over the wooded
island; but I fared onward to the house of Circe, and my heart was clouded
with care as I walked along. When I got to the gates I stood there and called
the goddess, and as soon as she heard me she came down, opened the door,
and asked me to come in; so I followed her—much troubled in my mind.
She set me on a richly decorated seat inlaid with silver, there was a
footstool also under my feet, and she mixed a mess in a golden goblet for
me to drink; but she drugged it, for she meant me mischief. When she had
given it me, and I had drunk it without its charming me, she struck me with
her wand. ‘There now,’ she cried, ‘be off to the pigstye, and make your lair
with the rest of them.’
“But I rushed at her with my sword drawn as though I would kill her,
whereon she fell with a loud scream, clasped my knees, and spoke
piteously, saying, ‘Who and whence are you? from what place and people
have you come? How can it be that my drugs have no power to charm you?
Never yet was any man able to stand so much as a taste of the herb I gave

you; you must be spell-proof; surely you can be none other than the bold
hero Ulysses, who Mercury always said would come here some day with
his ship while on his way home from Troy; so be it then; sheathe your
sword and let us go to bed, that we may make friends and learn to trust each
other.’
“And I answered, ‘Circe, how can you expect me to be friendly with you
when you have just been turning all my men into pigs? And now that you
have got me here myself, you mean me mischief when you ask me to go to
bed with you, and will unman me and make me fit for nothing. I shall
certainly not consent to go to bed with you unless you will first take your
solemn oath to plot no further harm against me.’
“So she swore at once as I had told her, and when she had completed her
oath then I went to bed with her.
“Meanwhile her four servants, who are her housemaids, set about their
work. They are the children of the groves and fountains, and of the holy
waters that run down into the sea. One of them spread a fair purple cloth
over a seat, and laid a carpet underneath it. Another brought tables of silver
up to the seats, and set them with baskets of gold. A third mixed some sweet
wine with water in a silver bowl and put golden cups upon the tables, while
the fourth brought in water and set it to boil in a large cauldron over a good
fire which she had lighted. When the water in the cauldron was boiling,[87]
she poured cold into it till it was just as I liked it, and then she set me in a
bath and began washing me from the cauldron about the head and
shoulders, to take the tire and stiffness out of my limbs. As soon as she had
done washing me and anointing me with oil, she arrayed me in a good cloak
and shirt and led me to a richly decorated seat inlaid with silver; there was a
footstool also under my feet. A maid servant then brought me water in a
beautiful golden ewer and poured it into a silver basin for me to wash my
hands, and she drew a clean table beside me; an upper servant brought me
bread and offered me many things of what there was in the house, and then
Circe bade me eat, but I would not, and sat without heeding what was
before me, still moody and suspicious.
“When Circe saw me sitting there without eating, and in great grief, she
came to me and said, ‘Ulysses, why do you sit like that as though you were
dumb, gnawing at your own heart, and refusing both meat and drink? Is it

that you are still suspicious? You ought not to be, for I have already sworn
solemnly that I will not hurt you.’
“And I said, ‘Circe, no man with any sense of what is right can think of
either eating or drinking in your house until you have set his friends free
and let him see them. If you want me to eat and drink, you must free my
men and bring them to me that I may see them with my own eyes.’
“When I had said this she went straight through the court with her wand
in her hand and opened the pigstye doors. My men came out like so many
prime hogs and stood looking at her, but she went about among them and
anointed each with a second drug, whereon the bristles that the bad drug
had given them fell off, and they became men again, younger than they
were before, and much taller and better looking. They knew me at once,
seized me each of them by the hand, and wept for joy till the whole house
was filled with the sound of their halloa-ballooing, and Circe herself was so
sorry for them that she came up to me and said, ‘Ulysses, noble son of
Laertes, go back at once to the sea where you have left your ship, and first
draw it on to the land. Then, hide all your ship’s gear and property in some
cave, and come back here with your men.’
“I agreed to this, so I went back to the sea shore, and found the men at
the ship weeping and wailing most piteously. When they saw me the silly
blubbering fellows began frisking round me as calves break out and gambol
round their mothers, when they see them coming home to be milked after
they have been feeding all day, and the homestead resounds with their
lowing. They seemed as glad to see me as though they had got back to their
own rugged Ithaca, where they had been born and bred. ‘Sir,’ said the
affectionate creatures, ‘we are as glad to see you back as though we had got
safe home to Ithaca; but tell us all about the fate of our comrades.’
“I spoke comfortingly to them and said, ‘We must draw our ship on to the
land, and hide the ship’s gear with all our property in some cave; then come
with me all of you as fast as you can to Circe’s house, where you will find
your comrades eating and drinking in the midst of great abundance.’
“On this the men would have come with me at once, but Eurylochus tried
to hold them back and said, ‘Alas, poor wretches that we are, what will
become of us? Rush not on your ruin by going to the house of Circe, who
will turn us all into pigs or wolves or lions, and we shall have to keep guard
over her house. Remember how the Cyclops treated us when our comrades

went inside his cave, and Ulysses with them. It was all through his sheer
folly that those men lost their lives.’
“When I heard him I was in two minds whether or no to draw the keen
blade that hung by my sturdy thigh and cut his head off in spite of his being
a near relation of my own; but the men interceded for him and said, ‘Sir, if
it may so be, let this fellow stay here and mind the ship, but take the rest of
us with you to Circe’s house.’
“On this we all went inland, and Eurylochus was not left behind after all,
but came on too, for he was frightened by the severe reprimand that I had
given him.
“Meanwhile Circe had been seeing that the men who had been left
behind were washed and anointed with olive oil; she had also given them
woollen cloaks and shirts, and when we came we found them all
comfortably at dinner in her house. As soon as the men saw each other face
to face and knew one another, they wept for joy and cried aloud till the
whole palace rang again. Thereon Circe came up to me and said, ‘Ulysses,
noble son of Laertes, tell your men to leave off crying; I know how much
you have all of you suffered at sea, and how ill you have fared among cruel
savages on the mainland, but that is over now, so stay here, and eat and
drink till you are once more as strong and hearty as you were when you left
Ithaca; for at present you are weakened both in body and mind; you keep all
the time thinking of the hardships you have suffered during your travels, so
that you have no more cheerfulness left in you.’
“Thus did she speak and we assented. We stayed with Circe for a whole
twelvemonth feasting upon an untold quantity both of meat and wine. But
when the year had passed in the waning of moons and the long days had
come round, my men called me apart and said, ‘Sir, it is time you began to
think about going home, if so be you are to be spared to see your house and
native country at all.’
“Thus did they speak and I assented. Thereon through the livelong day to
the going down of the sun we feasted our fill on meat and wine, but when
the sun went down and it came on dark the men laid themselves down to
sleep in the covered cloisters. I, however, after I had got into bed with
Circe, besought her by her knees, and the goddess listened to what I had got
to say. ‘Circe,’ said I, ‘please to keep the promise you made me about
furthering me on my homeward voyage. I want to get back and so do my

men, they are always pestering me with their complaints as soon as ever
your back is turned.’
“And the goddess answered, ‘Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, you shall
none of you stay here any longer if you do not want to, but there is another
journey which you have got to take before you can sail homewards. You
must go to the house of Hades and of dread Proserpine to consult the ghost
of the blind Theban prophet Teiresias, whose reason is still unshaken. To
him alone has Proserpine left his understanding even in death, but the other
ghosts flit about aimlessly.’
“I was dismayed when I heard this. I sat up in bed and wept, and would
gladly have lived no longer to see the light of the sun, but presently when I
was tired of weeping and tossing myself about, I said, ‘And who shall guide
me upon this voyage—for the house of Hades is a port that no ship can
reach.’
“‘You will want no guide,’ she answered; ‘raise your mast, set your white
sails, sit quite still, and the North Wind will blow you there of itself. When
your ship has traversed the waters of Oceanus, you will reach the fertile
shore of Proserpine’s country with its groves of tall poplars and willows
that shed their fruit untimely; here beach your ship upon the shore of
Oceanus, and go straight on to the dark abode of Hades. You will find it
near the place where the rivers Pyriphlegethon and Cocytus (which is a
branch of the river Styx) flow into Acheron, and you will see a rock near it,
just where the two roaring rivers run into one another.
“‘When you have reached this spot, as I now tell you, dig a trench a cubit
or so in length, breadth, and depth, and pour into it as a drink-offering to all
the dead, first, honey mixed with milk, then wine, and in the third place
water—sprinkling white barley meal over the whole. Moreover you must
offer many prayers to the poor feeble ghosts, and promise them that when
you get back to Ithaca you will sacrifice a barren heifer to them, the best
you have, and will load the pyre with good things. More particularly you
must promise that Teiresias shall have a black sheep all to himself, the
finest in all your flocks.
“‘When you shall have thus besought the ghosts with your prayers, offer
them a ram and a black ewe, bending their heads towards Erebus; but
yourself turn away from them as though you would make towards the river.
On this, many dead men’s ghosts will come to you, and you must tell your

men to skin the two sheep that you have just killed, and offer them as a
burnt sacrifice with prayers to Hades and to Proserpine. Then draw your
sword and sit there, so as to prevent any other poor ghost from coming near
the spilt blood before Teiresias shall have answered your questions. The
seer will presently come to you, and will tell you about your voyage—what
stages you are to make, and how you are to sail the sea so as to reach your
home.’
“It was day-break by the time she had done speaking, so she dressed me
in my shirt and cloak. As for herself she threw a beautiful light gossamer
fabric over her shoulders, fastening it with a golden girdle round her waist,
and she covered her head with a mantle. Then I went about among the men
everywhere all over the house, and spoke kindly to each of them man by
man: ‘You must not lie sleeping here any longer,’ said I to them, ‘we must
be going, for Circe has told me all about it.’ And on this they did as I bade
them.
“Even so, however, I did not get them away without misadventure. We
had with us a certain youth named Elpenor, not very remarkable for sense
or courage, who had got drunk and was lying on the house-top away from
the rest of the men, to sleep off his liquor in the cool. When he heard the
noise of the men bustling about, he jumped up on a sudden and forgot all
about coming down by the main staircase, so he tumbled right off the roof
and broke his neck, and his soul went down to the house of Hades.
“When I had got the men together I said to them, ‘You think you are
about to start home again, but Circe has explained to me that instead of this,
we have got to go to the house of Hades and Proserpine to consult the ghost
of the Theban prophet Teiresias.’
“The men were broken-hearted as they heard me, and threw themselves
on the ground groaning and tearing their hair, but they did not mend matters
by crying. When we reached the sea shore, weeping and lamenting our fate,
Circe brought the ram and the ewe, and we made them fast hard by the ship.
She passed through the midst of us without our knowing it, for who can see
the comings and goings of a god, if the god does not wish to be seen?

BOOK XI

THE VISIT TO THE DEAD.[88]

“Then, when we had got down to the sea shore we drew our ship into the
water and got her mast and sails into her; we also put the sheep on board
and took our places, weeping and in great distress of mind. Circe, that great
and cunning goddess, sent us a fair wind that blew dead aft and staid
steadily with us keeping our sails all the time well filled; so we did
whatever wanted doing to the ship’s gear and let her go as the wind and
helmsman headed her. All day long her sails were full as she held her course
over the sea, but when the sun went down and darkness was over all the
earth, we got into the deep waters of the river Oceanus, where lie the land
and city of the Cimmerians who live enshrouded in mist and darkness
which the rays of the sun never pierce neither at his rising nor as he goes
down again out of the heavens, but the poor wretches live in one long
melancholy night. When we got there we beached the ship, took the sheep
out of her, and went along by the waters of Oceanus till we came to the
place of which Circe had told us.
“Here Perimedes and Eurylochus held the victims, while I drew my
sword and dug the trench a cubit each way. I made a drink-offering to all
the dead, first with honey and milk, then with wine, and thirdly with water,
and I sprinkled white barley meal over the whole, praying earnestly to the
poor feckless ghosts, and promising them that when I got back to Ithaca I
would sacrifice a barren heifer for them, the best I had, and would load the
pyre with good things. I also particularly promised that Teiresias should
have a black sheep to himself, the best in all my flocks. When I had prayed
sufficiently to the dead, I cut the throats of the two sheep and let the blood
run into the trench, whereon the ghosts came trooping up from Erebus—
brides,[89] young bachelors, old men worn out with toil, maids who had been
crossed in love, and brave men who had been killed in battle, with their

armour still smirched with blood; they came from every quarter and flitted
round the trench with a strange kind of screaming sound that made me turn
pale with fear. When I saw them coming I told the men to be quick and flay
the carcasses of the two dead sheep and make burnt offerings of them, and
at the same time to repeat prayers to Hades and to Proserpine; but I sat
where I was with my sword drawn and would not let the poor feckless
ghosts come near the blood till Teiresias should have answered my
questions.
“The first ghost that came was that of my comrade Elpenor, for he had
not yet been laid beneath the earth. We had left his body unwaked and
unburied in Circe’s house, for we had had too much else to do. I was very
sorry for him, and cried when I saw him: ‘Elpenor,’ said I, ‘how did you
come down here into this gloom and darkness? You have got here on foot
quicker than I have with my ship.’
“‘Sir,’ he answered with a groan, ‘it was all bad luck, and my own
unspeakable drunkenness. I was lying asleep on the top of Circe’s house,
and never thought of coming down again by the great staircase but fell right
off the roof and broke my neck, so my soul came down to the house of
Hades. And now I beseech you by all those whom you have left behind you,
though they are not here, by your wife, by the father who brought you up
when you were a child, and by Telemachus who is the one hope of your
house, do what I shall now ask you. I know that when you leave this limbo
you will again hold your ship for the Aeaean island. Do not go thence
leaving me unwaked and unburied behind you, or I may bring heaven’s
anger upon you; but burn me with whatever armour I have, build a barrow
for me on the sea shore, that may tell people in days to come what a poor
unlucky fellow I was, and plant over my grave the oar I used to row with
when I was yet alive and with my messmates.’ And I said, ‘My poor fellow,
I will do all that you have asked of me.’
“Thus, then, did we sit and hold sad talk with one another, I on the one
side of the trench with my sword held over the blood, and the ghost of my
comrade saying all this to me from the other side. Then came the ghost of
my dead mother Anticlea, daughter to Autolycus. I had left her alive when I
set out for Troy and was moved to tears when I saw her, but even so, for all
my sorrow I would not let her come near the blood till I had asked my
questions of Teiresias.

“Then came also the ghost of Theban Teiresias, with his golden sceptre in
his hand. He knew me and said, ‘Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, why, poor
man, have you left the light of day and come down to visit the dead in this
sad place? Stand back from the trench and withdraw your sword that I may
drink of the blood and answer your questions truly.’
“So I drew back, and sheathed my sword, whereon when he had drank of
the blood he began with his prophecy.
“‘You want to know,’ said he, ‘about your return home, but heaven will
make this hard for you. I do not think that you will escape the eye of
Neptune, who still nurses his bitter grudge against you for having blinded
his son. Still, after much suffering you may get home if you can restrain
yourself and your companions when your ship reaches the Thrinacian
island, where you will find the sheep and cattle belonging to the sun, who
sees and gives ear to everything. If you leave these flocks unharmed and
think of nothing but of getting home, you may yet after much hardship
reach Ithaca; but if you harm them, then I forewarn you of the destruction
both of your ship and of your men. Even though you may yourself escape,
you will return in bad plight after losing all your men, [in another man’s
ship, and you will find trouble in your house, which will be overrun by
high-handed people, who are devouring your substance under the pretext of
paying court and making presents to your wife.
“‘When you get home you will take your revenge on these suitors; and
after you have killed them by force or fraud in your own house, you must
take a well made oar and carry it on and on, till you come to a country
where the people have never heard of the sea and do not even mix salt with
their food, nor do they know anything about ships, and oars that are as the
wings of a ship. I will give you this certain token which cannot escape your
notice. A wayfarer will meet you and will say it must be a winnowing
shovel that you have got upon your shoulder; on this you must fix the oar in
the ground and sacrifice a ram, a bull, and a boar to Neptune.[90] Then go
home and offer hecatombs to all the gods in heaven one after the other. As
for yourself, death shall come to you from the sea, and your life shall ebb
away very gently when you are full of years and peace of mind, and your
people shall bless you. All that I have said will come true].’[91]
“‘This,’ I answered, ‘must be as it may please heaven, but tell me and tell
me and tell me true, I see my poor mother’s ghost close by us; she is sitting

by the blood without saying a word, and though I am her own son she does
not remember me and speak to me; tell me, Sir, how I can make her know
me.’
“‘That,’ said he, ‘I can soon do. Any ghost that you let taste of the blood
will talk with you like a reasonable being, but if you do not let them have
any blood they will go away again.’
“On this the ghost of Teiresias went back to the house of Hades, for his
prophecyings had now been spoken, but I sat still where I was until my
mother came up and tasted the blood. Then she knew me at once and spoke
fondly to me, saying, ‘My son, how did you come down to this abode of
darkness while you are still alive? It is a hard thing for the living to see
these places, for between us and them there are great and terrible waters,
and there is Oceanus, which no man can cross on foot, but he must have a
good ship to take him. Are you all this time trying to find your way home
from Troy, and have you never yet got back to Ithaca nor seen your wife in
your own house?’
“‘Mother,’ said I, ‘I was forced to come here to consult the ghost of the
Theban prophet Teiresias. I have never yet been near the Achaean land nor
set foot on my native country, and I have had nothing but one long series of
misfortunes from the very first day that I set out with Agamemnon for Ilius,
the land of noble steeds, to fight the Trojans. But tell me, and tell me true,
in what way did you die? Did you have a long illness, or did heaven
vouchsafe you a gentle easy passage to eternity? Tell me also about my
father, and the son whom I left behind me, is my property still in their
hands, or has some one else got hold of it, who thinks that I shall not return
to claim it? Tell me again what my wife intends doing, and in what mind
she is; does she live with my son and guard my estate securely, or has she
made the best match she could and married again?’
“My mother answered, ‘Your wife still remains in your house, but she is
in great distress of mind and spends her whole time in tears both night and
day. No one as yet has got possession of your fine property, and Telemachus
still holds your lands undisturbed. He has to entertain largely, as of course
he must, considering his position as a magistrate,[92] and how every one
invites him; your father remains at his old place in the country and never
goes near the town. He has no comfortable bed nor bedding; in the winter
he sleeps on the floor in front of the fire with the men and goes about all in

rags, but in summer, when the warm weather comes on again, he lies out in
the vineyard on a bed of vine leaves thrown any how upon the ground. He
grieves continually about your never having come home, and suffers more
and more as he grows older. As for my own end it was in this wise: heaven
did not take me swiftly and painlessly in my own house, nor was I attacked
by any illness such as those that generally wear people out and kill them,
but my longing to know what you were doing and the force of my affection
for you—this it was that was the death of me.’[93]
“Then I tried to find some way of embracing my poor mother’s ghost.
Thrice I sprang towards her and tried to clasp her in my arms, but each time
she flitted from my embrace as it were a dream or phantom, and being
touched to the quick I said to her, ‘Mother, why do you not stay still when I
would embrace you? If we could throw our arms around one another we
might find sad comfort in the sharing of our sorrows even in the house of
Hades; does Proserpine want to lay a still further load of grief upon me by
mocking me with a phantom only?’
“‘My son,’ she answered, ‘most ill-fated of all mankind, it is not
Proserpine that is beguiling you, but all people are like this when they are
dead. The sinews no longer hold the flesh and bones together; these perish
in the fierceness of consuming fire as soon as life has left the body, and the
soul flits away as though it were a dream. Now, however, go back to the
light of day as soon as you can, and note all these things that you may tell
them to your wife hereafter.’
“Thus did we converse, and anon Proserpine sent up the ghosts of the
wives and daughters of all the most famous men. They gathered in crowds
about the blood, and I considered how I might question them severally. In
the end I deemed that it would be best to draw the keen blade that hung by
my sturdy thigh, and keep them from all drinking the blood at once. So they
came up one after the other, and each one as I questioned her told me her
race and lineage.
“The first I saw was Tyro. She was daughter of Salmoneus and wife of
Cretheus the son of Aeolus.[94] She fell in love with the river Enipeus who is
much the most beautiful river in the whole world. Once when she was
taking a walk by his side as usual, Neptune, disguised as her lover, lay with
her at the mouth of the river, and a huge blue wave arched itself like a
mountain over them to hide both woman and god, whereon he loosed her

virgin girdle and laid her in a deep slumber. When the god had
accomplished the deed of love, he took her hand in his own and said, ‘Tyro,
rejoice in all good will; the embraces of the gods are not fruitless, and you
will have fine twins about this time twelve months. Take great care of them.
I am Neptune, so now go home, but hold your tongue and do not tell any
one.’
“Then he dived under the sea, and she in due course bore Pelias and
Neleus, who both of them served Jove with all their might. Pelias was a
great breeder of sheep and lived in Iolcus, but the other lived in Pylos. The
rest of her children were by Cretheus, namely, Aeson, Pheres, and
Amythaon, who was a mighty warrior and charioteer.
“Next to her I saw Antiope, daughter to Asopus, who could boast of
having slept in the arms of even Jove himself, and who bore him two sons
Amphion and Zethus. These founded Thebes with its seven gates, and built
a wall all round it; for strong though they were they could not hold Thebes
till they had walled it.
“Then I saw Alcmena, the wife of Amphitryon, who also bore to Jove
indomitable Hercules; and Megara who was daughter to great King Creon,
and married the redoubtable son of Amphitryon.
“I also saw fair Epicaste mother of king Oedipodes whose awful lot it
was to marry her own son without suspecting it. He married her after
having killed his father, but the gods proclaimed the whole story to the
world; whereon he remained king of Thebes, in great grief for the spite the
gods had borne him; but Epicaste went to the house of the mighty jailor
Hades, having hanged herself for grief, and the avenging spirits haunted
him as for an outraged mother—to his ruing bitterly thereafter.
“Then I saw Chloris, whom Neleus married for her beauty, having given
priceless presents for her. She was youngest daughter to Amphion son of
Iasus and king of Minyan Orchomenus, and was Queen in Pylos. She bore
Nestor, Chromius, and Periclymenus, and she also bore that marvellously
lovely woman Pero, who was wooed by all the country round; but Neleus
would only give her to him who should raid the cattle of Iphicles from the
grazing grounds of Phylace, and this was a hard task. The only man who
would undertake to raid them was a certain excellent seer,[95] but the will of
heaven was against him, for the rangers of the cattle caught him and put
him in prison; nevertheless when a full year had passed and the same season

came round again, Iphicles set him at liberty, after he had expounded all the
oracles of heaven. Thus, then, was the will of Jove accomplished.
“And I saw Leda the wife of Tyndarus, who bore him two famous sons,
Castor breaker of horses, and Pollux the mighty boxer. Both these heroes
are lying under the earth, though they are still alive, for by a special
dispensation of Jove, they die and come to life again, each one of them
every other day throughout all time, and they have the rank of gods.
“After her I saw Iphimedeia wife of Aloeus who boasted the embrace of
Neptune. She bore two sons Otus and Ephialtes, but both were short lived.
They were the finest children that were ever born in this world, and the best
looking, Orion only excepted; for at nine years old they were nine fathoms
high, and measured nine cubits round the chest. They threatened to make
war with the gods in Olympus, and tried to set Mount Ossa on the top of
Mount Olympus, and Mount Pelion on the top of Ossa, that they might
scale heaven itself, and they would have done it too if they had been grown
up, but Apollo, son of Leto, killed both of them, before they had got so
much as a sign of hair upon their cheeks or chin.
“Then I saw Phaedra, and Procris, and fair Ariadne daughter of the
magician Minos, whom Theseus was carrying off from Crete to Athens, but
he did not enjoy her, for before he could do so Diana killed her in the island
of Dia on account of what Bacchus had said against her.
“I also saw Maera and Clymene and hateful Eriphyle, who sold her own
husband for gold. But it would take me all night if I were to name every
single one of the wives and daughters of heroes whom I saw, and it is time
for me to go to bed, either on board ship with my crew, or here. As for my
escort, heaven and yourselves will see to it.”
Here he ended, and the guests sat all of them enthralled and speechless
throughout the covered cloister. Then Arete said to them:—
“What do you think of this man, O Phaeacians? Is he not tall and good
looking, and is he not clever? True, he is my own guest, but all of you share
in the distinction. Do not be in a hurry to send him away, nor niggardly in
the presents you make to one who is in such great need, for heaven has
blessed all of you with great abundance.”
Then spoke the aged hero Echeneus who was one of the oldest men
among them, “My friends,” said he, “what our august queen has just said to

us is both reasonable and to the purpose, therefore be persuaded by it; but
the decision whether in word or deed rests ultimately with King Alcinous.”
“The thing shall be done,” exclaimed Alcinous, “as surely as I still live
and reign over the Phaeacians. Our guest is indeed very anxious to get
home, still we must persuade him to remain with us until to-morrow, by
which time I shall be able to get together the whole sum that I mean to give
him. As regards his escort it will be a matter for you all, and mine above all
others as the chief person among you.”
And Ulysses answered, “King Alcinous, if you were to bid me to stay
here for a whole twelve months, and then speed me on my way, loaded with
your noble gifts, I should obey you gladly and it would redound greatly to
my advantage, for I should return fuller-handed to my own people, and
should thus be more respected and beloved by all who see me when I get
back to Ithaca.”
“Ulysses,” replied Alcinous, “not one of us who sees you has any idea
that you are a charlatan or a swindler. I know there are many people going
about who tell such plausible stories that it is very hard to see through them,
but there is a style about your language which assures me of your good
disposition. Moreover you have told the story of your own misfortunes, and
those of the Argives, as though you were a practiced bard; but tell me, and
tell me true, whether you saw any of the mighty heroes who went to Troy at
the same time with yourself, and perished there. The evenings are still at
their longest, and it is not yet bed time—go on, therefore, with your divine
story, for I could stay here listening till tomorrow morning, so long as you
will continue to tell us of your adventures.”
“Alcinous,” answered Ulysses, “there is a time for making speeches, and
a time for going to bed; nevertheless, since you so desire, I will not refrain
from telling you the still sadder tale of those of my comrades who did not
fall fighting with the Trojans, but perished on their return, through the
treachery of a wicked woman.
“When Proserpine had dismissed the female ghosts in all directions, the
ghost of Agamemnon son of Atreus came sadly up to me, surrounded by
those who had perished with him in the house of Aegisthus. As soon as he
had tasted the blood, he knew me, and weeping bitterly stretched out his
arms towards me to embrace me; but he had no strength nor substance any
more, and I too wept and pitied him as I beheld him. ‘How did you come by

your death,’ said I, ‘King Agamemnon? Did Neptune raise his winds and
waves against you when you were at sea, or did your enemies make an end
of you on the main land when you were cattle-lifting or sheep-stealing, or
while they were fighting in defence of their wives and city?’
“‘Ulysses,’ he answered, ‘noble son of Laertes, I was not lost at sea in
any storm of Neptune’s raising, nor did my foes despatch me upon the
mainland, but Aegisthus and my wicked wife were the death of me between
them. He asked me to his house, feasted me, and then butchered me most
miserably as though I were a fat beast in a slaughter house, while all around
me my comrades were slain like sheep or pigs for the wedding breakfast, or
picnic, or gorgeous banquet of some great nobleman. You must have seen
numbers of men killed either in a general engagement, or in single combat,
but you never saw anything so truly pitiable as the way in which we fell in
that cloister, with the mixing bowl and the loaded tables lying all about, and
the ground reeking with our blood. I heard Priam’s daughter Cassandra
scream as Clytemnestra killed her close beside me. I lay dying upon the
earth with the sword in my body, and raised my hands to kill the slut of a
murderess, but she slipped away from me; she would not even close my lips
nor my eyes when I was dying, for there is nothing in this world so cruel
and so shameless as a woman when she has fallen into such guilt as hers
was. Fancy murdering her own husband! I thought I was going to be
welcomed home by my children and my servants, but her abominable crime
has brought disgrace on herself and all women who shall come after—even
on the good ones.’
“And I said, ‘In truth Jove has hated the house of Atreus from first to last
in the matter of their women’s counsels. See how many of us fell for
Helen’s sake, and now it seems that Clytemnestra hatched mischief against
you too during your absence.’
“‘Be sure, therefore,’ continued Agamemnon, ‘and not be too friendly
even with your own wife. Do not tell her all that you know perfectly well
yourself. Tell her a part only, and keep your own counsel about the rest. Not
that your wife, Ulysses, is likely to murder you, for Penelope is a very
admirable woman, and has an excellent nature. We left her a young bride
with an infant at her breast when we set out for Troy. This child no doubt is
now grown up happily to man’s estate,[96] and he and his father will have a
joyful meeting and embrace one another as it is right they should do,

whereas my wicked wife did not even allow me the happiness of looking
upon my son, but killed me ere I could do so. Furthermore I say—and lay
my saying to your heart—do not tell people when you are bringing your
ship to Ithaca, but steal a march upon them, for after all this there is no
trusting women. But now tell me, and tell me true, can you give me any
news of my son Orestes? Is he in Orchomenus, or at Pylos, or is he at
Sparta with Menelaus—for I presume that he is still living.’
“And I said, ‘Agamemnon, why do you ask me? I do not know whether
your son is alive or dead, and it is not right to talk when one does not
know.’
“As we two sat weeping and talking thus sadly with one another the
ghost of Achilles came up to us with Patroclus, Antilochus, and Ajax who
was the finest and goodliest man of all the Danaans after the son of Peleus.
The fleet descendant of Aeacus knew me and spoke piteously, saying,
‘Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, what deed of daring will you undertake next,
that you venture down to the house of Hades among us silly dead, who are
but the ghosts of them that can labour no more?’
“And I said, ‘Achilles, son of Peleus, foremost champion of the
Achaeans, I came to consult Teiresias, and see if he could advise me about
my return home to Ithaca, for I have never yet been able to get near the
Achaean land, nor to set foot in my own country, but have been in trouble
all the time. As for you, Achilles, no one was ever yet so fortunate as you
have been, nor ever will be, for you were adored by all us Argives as long
as you were alive, and now that you are here you are a great prince among
the dead. Do not, therefore, take it so much to heart even if you are dead.’
“‘Say not a word,’ he answered, ‘in death’s favour; I would rather be a
paid servant in a poor man’s house and be above ground than king of kings
among the dead. But give me news about my son; is he gone to the wars
and will he be a great soldier, or is this not so? Tell me also if you have
heard anything about my father Peleus—does he still rule among the
Myrmidons, or do they show him no respect throughout Hellas and Phthia
now that he is old and his limbs fail him? Could I but stand by his side, in
the light of day, with the same strength that I had when I killed the bravest
of our foes upon the plain of Troy—could I but be as I then was and go
even for a short time to my father’s house, any one who tried to do him
violence or supersede him would soon rue it.’

“‘I have heard nothing,’ I answered, ‘of Peleus, but I can tell you all
about your son Neoptolemus, for I took him in my own ship from Scyros
with the Achaeans. In our councils of war before Troy he was always first to
speak, and his judgement was unerring. Nestor and I were the only two who
could surpass him; and when it came to fighting on the plain of Troy, he
would never remain with the body of his men, but would dash on far in
front, foremost of them all in valour. Many a man did he kill in battle—I
cannot name every single one of those whom he slew while fighting on the
side of the Argives, but will only say how he killed that valiant hero
Eurypylus son of Telephus, who was the handsomest man I ever saw except
Memnon; many others also of the Ceteians fell around him by reason of a
woman’s bribes. Moreover, when all the bravest of the Argives went inside
the horse that Epeus had made, and it was left to me to settle when we
should either open the door of our ambuscade, or close it, though all the
other leaders and chief men among the Danaans were drying their eyes and
quaking in every limb, I never once saw him turn pale nor wipe a tear from
his cheek; he was all the time urging me to break out from the horse—
grasping the handle of his sword and his bronze-shod spear, and breathing
fury against the foe. Yet when we had sacked the city of Priam he got his
handsome share of the prize money and went on board (such is the fortune
of war) without a wound upon him, neither from a thrown spear nor in close
combat, for the rage of Mars is a matter of great chance.’
“When I had told him this, the ghost of Achilles strode off across a
meadow full of asphodel, exulting over what I had said concerning the
prowess of his son.
“The ghosts of other dead men stood near me and told me each his own
melancholy tale; but that of Ajax son of Telamon alone held aloof—still
angry with me for having won the cause in our dispute about the armour of
Achilles. Thetis had offered it as a prize, but the Trojan prisoners and
Minerva were the judges. Would that I had never gained the day in such a
contest, for it cost the life of Ajax, who was foremost of all the Danaans
after the son of Peleus, alike in stature and prowess.
“When I saw him I tried to pacify him and said, ‘Ajax, will you not
forget and forgive even in death, but must the judgement about that hateful
armour still rankle with you? It cost us Argives dear enough to lose such a
tower of strength as you were to us. We mourned you as much as we

mourned Achilles son of Peleus himself, nor can the blame be laid on
anything but on the spite which Jove bore against the Danaans, for it was
this that made him counsel your destruction—come hither, therefore, bring
your proud spirit into subjection, and hear what I can tell you.’
“He would not answer, but turned away to Erebus and to the other ghosts;
nevertheless, I should have made him talk to me in spite of his being so
angry, or I should have gone on talking to him,[97] only that there were still
others among the dead whom I desired to see.
“Then I saw Minos son of Jove with his golden sceptre in his hand sitting
in judgement on the dead, and the ghosts were gathered sitting and standing
round him in the spacious house of Hades, to learn his sentences upon them.
“After him I saw huge Orion in a meadow full of asphodel driving the
ghosts of the wild beasts that he had killed upon the mountains, and he had
a great bronze club in his hand, unbreakable for ever and ever.
“And I saw Tityus son of Gaia stretched upon the plain and covering
some nine acres of ground. Two vultures on either side of him were digging
their beaks into his liver, and he kept on trying to beat them off with his
hands, but could not; for he had violated Jove’s mistress Leto as she was
going through Panopeus on her way to Pytho.
“I saw also the dreadful fate of Tantalus, who stood in a lake that reached
his chin; he was dying to quench his thirst, but could never reach the water,
for whenever the poor creature stooped to drink, it dried up and vanished,
so that there was nothing but dry ground—parched by the spite of heaven.
There were tall trees, moreover, that shed their fruit over his head—pears,
pomegranates, apples, sweet figs and juicy olives, but whenever the poor
creature stretched out his hand to take some, the wind tossed the branches
back again to the clouds.
“And I saw Sisyphus at his endless task raising his prodigious stone with
both his hands. With hands and feet he tried to roll it up to the top of the
hill, but always, just before he could roll it over on to the other side, its
weight would be too much for him, and the pitiless stone[98] would come
thundering down again on to the plain. Then he would begin trying to push
it up hill again, and the sweat ran off him and the steam rose after him.
“After him I saw mighty Hercules, but it was his phantom only, for he is
feasting ever with the immortal gods, and has lovely Hebe to wife, who is
daughter of Jove and Juno. The ghosts were screaming round him like

scared birds flying all whithers. He looked black as night with his bare bow
in his hands and his arrow on the string, glaring around as though ever on
the point of taking aim. About his breast there was a wondrous golden belt
adorned in the most marvellous fashion with bears, wild boars, and lions
with gleaming eyes; there was also war, battle, and death. The man who
made that belt, do what he might, would never be able to make another like
it. Hercules knew me at once when he saw me, and spoke piteously, saying,
‘My poor Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, are you too leading the same sorry
kind of life that I did when I was above ground? I was son of Jove, but I
went through an infinity of suffering, for I became bondsman to one who
was far beneath me—a low fellow who set me all manner of labours. He
once sent me here to fetch the hell-hound—for he did not think he could
find anything harder for me than this, but I got the hound out of Hades and
brought him to him, for Mercury and Minerva helped me.’
“On this Hercules went down again into the house of Hades, but I stayed
where I was in case some other of the mighty dead should come to me. And
I should have seen still other of them that are gone before, whom I would
fain have seen—Theseus and Pirithous—glorious children of the gods, but
so many thousands of ghosts came round me and uttered such appalling
cries, that I was panic stricken lest Proserpine should send up from the
house of Hades the head of that awful monster Gorgon. On this I hastened
back to my ship and ordered my men to go on board at once and loose the
hawsers; so they embarked and took their places, whereon the ship went
down the stream of the river Oceanus. We had to row at first, but presently a
fair wind sprang up.

BOOK XII

THE SIRENS, SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS, THE
CATTLE OF THE SUN.

“After we were clear of the river Oceanus, and had got out into the open
sea, we went on till we reached the Aeaean island where there is dawn and
sun-rise as in other places. We then drew our ship on to the sands and got
out of her on to the shore, where we went to sleep and waited till day should
break.
“Then, when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, I sent
some men to Circe’s house to fetch the body of Elpenor. We cut firewood
from a wood where the headland jutted out into the sea, and after we had
wept over him and lamented him we performed his funeral rites. When his
body and armour had been burned to ashes, we raised a cairn, set a stone
over it, and at the top of the cairn we fixed the oar that he had been used to
row with.
“While we were doing all this, Circe, who knew that we had got back
from the house of Hades, dressed herself and came to us as fast as she
could; and her maid servants came with her bringing us bread, meat, and
wine. Then she stood in the midst of us and said, ‘You have done a bold
thing in going down alive to the house of Hades, and you will have died
twice, to other people’s once; now, then, stay here for the rest of the day,
feast your fill, and go on with your voyage at daybreak tomorrow morning.
In the meantime I will tell Ulysses about your course, and will explain
everything to him so as to prevent your suffering from misadventure either
by land or sea.’
“We agreed to do as she had said, and feasted through the livelong day to
the going down of the sun, but when the sun had set and it came on dark,
the men laid themselves down to sleep by the stern cables of the ship. Then

Circe took me by the hand and bade me be seated away from the others,
while she reclined by my side and asked me all about our adventures.
“‘So far so good,’ said she, when I had ended my story, ‘and now pay
attention to what I am about to tell you—heaven itself, indeed, will recall it
to your recollection. First you will come to the Sirens who enchant all who
come near them. If any one unwarily draws in too close and hears the
singing of the Sirens, his wife and children will never welcome him home
again, for they sit in a green field and warble him to death with the
sweetness of their song. There is a great heap of dead men’s bones lying all
around, with the flesh still rotting off them. Therefore pass these Sirens by,
and stop your men’s ears with wax that none of them may hear; but if you
like you can listen yourself, for you may get the men to bind you as you
stand upright on a cross piece half way up the mast,[99] and they must lash
the rope’s ends to the mast itself, that you may have the pleasure of
listening. If you beg and pray the men to unloose you, then they must bind
you faster.
“‘When your crew have taken you past these Sirens, I cannot give you
coherent directions[100] as to which of two courses you are to take; I will lay
the two alternatives before you, and you must consider them for yourself.
On the one hand there are some overhanging rocks against which the deep
blue waves of Amphitrite beat with terrific fury; the blessed gods call these
rocks the Wanderers. Here not even a bird may pass, no, not even the timid
doves that bring ambrosia to Father Jove, but the sheer rock always carries
off one of them, and Father Jove has to send another to make up their
number; no ship that ever yet came to these rocks has got away again, but
the waves and whirlwinds of fire are freighted with wreckage and with the
bodies of dead men. The only vessel that ever sailed and got through, was
the famous Argo on her way from the house of Aetes, and she too would
have gone against these great rocks, only that Juno piloted her past them for
the love she bore to Jason.
“‘Of these two rocks the one reaches heaven and its peak is lost in a dark
cloud. This never leaves it, so that the top is never clear not even in summer
and early autumn. No man though he had twenty hands and twenty feet
could get a foothold on it and climb it, for it runs sheer up, as smooth as
though it had been polished. In the middle of it there is a large cavern,
looking West and turned towards Erebus; you must take your ship this way,

but the cave is so high up that not even the stoutest archer could send an
arrow into it. Inside it Scylla sits and yelps with a voice that you might take
to be that of a young hound, but in truth she is a dreadful monster and no
one—not even a god—could face her without being terror-struck. She has
twelve mis-shapen feet, and six necks of the most prodigious length; and at
the end of each neck she has a frightful head with three rows of teeth in
each, all set very close together, so that they would crunch any one to death
in a moment, and she sits deep within her shady cell thrusting out her heads
and peering all round the rock, fishing for dolphins or dogfish or any larger
monster that she can catch, of the thousands with which Amphitrite teems.
No ship ever yet got past her without losing some men, for she shoots out
all her heads at once, and carries off a man in each mouth.
“‘You will find the other rock lie lower, but they are so close together
that there is not more than a bow-shot between them. [A large fig tree in full
leaf[101] grows upon it], and under it lies the sucking whirlpool of Charybdis.
Three times in the day does she vomit forth her waters, and three times she
sucks them down again; see that you be not there when she is sucking, for if
you are, Neptune himself could not save you; you must hug the Scylla side
and drive ship by as fast as you can, for you had better lose six men than
your whole crew.’
“‘Is there no way,’ said I, ‘of escaping Charybdis, and at the same time
keeping Scylla off when she is trying to harm my men?’
“‘You dare devil,’ replied the goddess, ‘you are always wanting to fight
somebody or something; you will not let yourself be beaten even by the
immortals. For Scylla is not mortal; moreover she is savage, extreme, rude,
cruel and invincible. There is no help for it; your best chance will be to get
by her as fast as ever you can, for if you dawdle about her rock while you
are putting on your armour, she may catch you with a second cast of her six
heads, and snap up another half dozen of your men; so drive your ship past
her at full speed, and roar out lustily to Crataiis who is Scylla’s dam, bad
luck to her; she will then stop her from making a second raid upon you.’
“‘You will now come to the Thrinacian island, and here you will see
many herds of cattle and flocks of sheep belonging to the sun-god—seven
herds of cattle and seven flocks of sheep, with fifty head in each flock. They
do not breed, nor do they become fewer in number, and they are tended by
the goddesses Phaethusa and Lampetie, who are children of the sun-god

Hyperion by Neaera. Their mother when she had borne them and had done
suckling them sent them to the Thrinacian island, which was a long way off,
to live there and look after their father’s flocks and herds. If you leave these
flocks unharmed, and think of nothing but getting home, you may yet after
much hardship reach Ithaca; but if you harm them, then I forewarn you of
the destruction both of your ship and of your comrades; and even though
you may yourself escape, you will return late, in bad plight, after losing all
your men.’
“Here she ended, and dawn enthroned in gold began to show in heaven,
whereon she returned inland. I then went on board and told my men to loose
the ship from her moorings; so they at once got into her, took their places,
and began to smite the grey sea with their oars. Presently the great and
cunning goddess Circe befriended us with a fair wind that blew dead aft,
and staid steadily with us, keeping our sails well filled, so we did whatever
wanted doing to the ship’s gear, and let her go as wind and helmsman
headed her.
“Then, being much troubled in mind, I said to my men, ‘My friends, it is
not right that one or two of us alone should know the prophecies that Circe
has made me, I will therefore tell you about them, so that whether we live
or die we may do so with our eyes open. First she said we were to keep
clear of the Sirens, who sit and sing most beautifully in a field of flowers;
but she said I might hear them myself so long as no one else did. Therefore,
take me and bind me to the crosspiece half way up the mast; bind me as I
stand upright, with a bond so fast that I cannot possibly break away, and
lash the rope’s ends to the mast itself. If I beg and pray you to set me free,
then bind me more tightly still.’
“I had hardly finished telling everything to the men before we reached
the island of the two Sirens,[102] for the wind had been very favourable. Then
all of a sudden it fell dead calm; there was not a breath of wind nor a ripple
upon the water, so the men furled the sails and stowed them; then taking to
their oars they whitened the water with the foam they raised in rowing.
Meanwhile I look a large wheel of wax and cut it up small with my sword.
Then I kneaded the wax in my strong hands till it became soft, which it
soon did between the kneading and the rays of the sun-god son of Hyperion.
Then I stopped the ears of all my men, and they bound me hands and feet to
the mast as I stood upright on the cross piece; but they went on rowing

themselves. When we had got within earshot of the land, and the ship was
going at a good rate, the Sirens saw that we were getting in shore and began
with their singing.
“‘Come here,’ they sang, ‘renowned Ulysses, honour to the Achaean
name, and listen to our two voices. No one ever sailed past us without
staying to hear the enchanting sweetness of our song—and he who listens
will go on his way not only charmed, but wiser, for we know all the ills that
the gods laid upon the Argives and Trojans before Troy, and can tell you
everything that is going to happen over the whole world.’
“They sang these words most musically, and as I longed to hear them
further I made signs by frowning to my men that they should set me free;
but they quickened their stroke, and Eurylochus and Perimedes bound me
with still stronger bonds till we had got out of hearing of the Sirens’ voices.
Then my men took the wax from their ears and unbound me.
“Immediately after we had got past the island I saw a great wave from
which spray was rising, and I heard a loud roaring sound. The men were so
frightened that they loosed hold of their oars, for the whole sea resounded
with the rushing of the waters,[103] but the ship stayed where it was, for the
men had left off rowing. I went round, therefore, and exhorted them man by
man not to lose heart.
“‘My friends,’ said I, ‘this is not the first time that we have been in
danger, and we are in nothing like so bad a case as when the Cyclops shut
us up in his cave; nevertheless, my courage and wise counsel saved us then,
and we shall live to look back on all this as well. Now, therefore, let us all
do as I say, trust in Jove and row on with might and main. As for you,
coxswain, these are your orders; attend to them, for the ship is in your
hands; turn her head away from these steaming rapids and hug the rock, or
she will give you the slip and be over yonder before you know where you
are, and you will be the death of us.’
“So they did as I told them; but I said nothing about the awful monster
Scylla, for I knew the men would not go on rowing if I did, but would
huddle together in the hold. In one thing only did I disobey Circe’s strict
instructions—I put on my armour. Then seizing two strong spears I took my
stand on the ship’s bows, for it was there that I expected first to see the
monster of the rock, who was to do my men so much harm; but I could not

make her out anywhere, though I strained my eyes with looking the gloomy
rock all over and over.
“Then we entered the Straits in great fear of mind, for on the one hand
was Scylla, and on the other dread Charybdis kept sucking up the salt water.
As she vomited it up, it was like the water in a cauldron when it is boiling
over upon a great fire, and the spray reached the top of the rocks on either
side. When she began to suck again, we could see the water all inside
whirling round and round, and it made a deafening sound as it broke against
the rocks. We could see the bottom of the whirlpool all black with sand and
mud, and the men were at their wits ends for fear. While we were taken up
with this, and were expecting each moment to be our last, Scylla pounced
down suddenly upon us and snatched up my six best men. I was looking at
once after both ship and men, and in a moment I saw their hands and feet
ever so high above me, struggling in the air as Scylla was carrying them off,
and I heard them call out my name in one last despairing cry. As a
fisherman, seated, spear in hand, upon some jutting rock[104] throws bait into
the water to deceive the poor little fishes, and spears them with the ox’s
horn with which his spear is shod, throwing them gasping on to the land as
he catches them one by one—even so did Scylla land these panting
creatures on her rock and munch them up at the mouth of her den, while
they screamed and stretched out their hands to me in their mortal agony.
This was the most sickening sight that I saw throughout all my voyages.
“When we had passed the [Wandering] rocks, with Scylla and terrible
Charybdis, we reached the noble island of the sun-god, where were the
goodly cattle and sheep belonging to the sun Hyperion. While still at sea in
my ship I could bear the cattle lowing as they came home to the yards, and
the sheep bleating. Then I remembered what the blind Theban prophet
Teiresias had told me, and how carefully Aeaean Circe had warned me to
shun the island of the blessed sun-god. So being much troubled I said to the
men, ‘My men, I know you are hard pressed, but listen while I tell you the
prophecy that Teiresias made me, and how carefully Aeaean Circe warned
me to shun the island of the blessed sun-god, for it was here, she said, that
our worst danger would lie. Head the ship, therefore, away from the island.’
“The men were in despair at this, and Eurylochus at once gave me an
insolent answer. ‘Ulysses,’ said he, ‘you are cruel; you are very strong
yourself and never get worn out; you seem to be made of iron, and now,

though your men are exhausted with toil and want of sleep, you will not let
them land and cook themselves a good supper upon this island, but bid
them put out to sea and go faring fruitlessly on through the watches of the
flying night. It is by night that the winds blow hardest and do so much
damage; how can we escape should one of those sudden squalls spring up
from South West or West, which so often wreck a vessel when our lords the
gods are unpropitious? Now, therefore, let us obey the behests of night and
prepare our supper here hard by the ship; to-morrow morning we will go on
board again and put out to sea.’
“Thus spoke Eurylochus, and the men approved his words. I saw that
heaven meant us a mischief and said, ‘You force me to yield, for you are
many against one, but at any rate each one of you must take his solemn oath
that if he meet with a herd of cattle or a large flock of sheep, he will not be
so mad as to kill a single head of either, but will be satisfied with the food
that Circe has given us.’
“They all swore as I bade them, and when they had completed their oath
we made the ship fast in a harbour that was near a stream of fresh water,
and the men went ashore and cooked their suppers. As soon as they had had
enough to eat and drink, they began talking about their poor comrades
whom Scylla had snatched up and eaten; this set them weeping and they
went on crying till they fell off into a sound sleep.
“In the third watch of the night when the stars had shifted their places,
Jove raised a great gale of wind that flew a hurricane so that land and sea
were covered with thick clouds, and night sprang forth out of the heavens.
When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, we brought the
ship to land and drew her into a cave wherein the sea-nymphs hold their
courts and dances, and I called the men together in council.
“‘My friends,’ said I, ‘we have meat and drink in the ship, let us mind,
therefore, and not touch the cattle, or we shall suffer for it; for these cattle
and sheep belong to the mighty sun, who sees and gives ear to everything.’
And again they promised that they would obey.
“For a whole month the wind blew steadily from the South, and there
was no other wind, but only South and East.[105] As long as corn and wine
held out the men did not touch the cattle when they were hungry; when,
however, they had eaten all there was in the ship, they were forced to go
further afield, with hook and line, catching birds, and taking whatever they

could lay their hands on; for they were starving. One day, therefore, I went
up inland that I might pray heaven to show me some means of getting away.
When I had gone far enough to be clear of all my men, and had found a
place that was well sheltered from the wind, I washed my hands and prayed
to all the gods in Olympus till by and by they sent me off into a sweet sleep.
“Meanwhile Eurylochus had been giving evil counsel to the men, ‘Listen
to me,’ said he, ‘my poor comrades. All deaths are bad enough but there is
none so bad as famine. Why should not we drive in the best of these cows
and offer them in sacrifice to the immortal gods? If we ever get back to
Ithaca, we can build a fine temple to the sun-god and enrich it with every
kind of ornament; if, however, he is determined to sink our ship out of
revenge for these horned cattle, and the other gods are of the same mind, I
for one would rather drink salt water once for all and have done with it,
than be starved to death by inches in such a desert island as this is.’
“Thus spoke Eurylochus, and the men approved his words. Now the
cattle, so fair and goodly, were feeding not far from the ship; the men,
therefore, drove in the best of them, and they all stood round them saying
their prayers, and using young oak-shoots instead of barley-meal, for there
was no barley left. When they had done praying they killed the cows and
dressed their carcasses; they cut out the thigh bones, wrapped them round in
two layers of fat, and set some pieces of raw meat on top of them. They had
no wine with which to make drink-offerings over the sacrifice while it was
cooking, so they kept pouring on a little water from time to time while the
inward meats were being grilled; then, when the thigh bones were burned
and they had tasted the inward meats, they cut the rest up small and put the
pieces upon the spits.
“By this time my deep sleep had left me, and I turned back to the ship
and to the sea shore. As I drew near I began to smell hot roast meat, so I
groaned out a prayer to the immortal gods. ‘Father Jove,’ I exclaimed, ‘and
all you other gods who live in everlasting bliss, you have done me a cruel
mischief by the sleep into which you have sent me; see what fine work
these men of mine have been making in my absence.’
“Meanwhile Lampetie went straight off to the sun and told him we had
been killing his cows, whereon he flew into a great rage, and said to the
immortals, ‘Father Jove, and all you other gods who live in everlasting
bliss, I must have vengeance on the crew of Ulysses’ ship: they have had

the insolence to kill my cows, which were the one thing I loved to look
upon, whether I was going up heaven or down again. If they do not square
accounts with me about my cows, I will go down to Hades and shine there
among the dead.’
“‘Sun,’ said Jove, ‘go on shining upon us gods and upon mankind over
the fruitful earth. I will shiver their ship into little pieces with a bolt of
white lightning as soon as they get out to sea.’
“I was told all this by Calypso, who said she had heard it from the mouth
of Mercury.
“As soon as I got down to my ship and to the sea shore I rebuked each
one of the men separately, but we could see no way out of it, for the cows
were dead already. And indeed the gods began at once to show signs and
wonders among us, for the hides of the cattle crawled about, and the joints
upon the spits began to low like cows, and the meat, whether cooked or raw,
kept on making a noise just as cows do.
“For six days my men kept driving in the best cows and feasting upon
them, but when Jove the son of Saturn had added a seventh day, the fury of
the gale abated; we therefore went on board, raised our masts, spread sail,
and put out to sea. As soon as we were well away from the island, and could
see nothing but sky and sea, the son of Saturn raised a black cloud over our
ship, and the sea grew dark beneath it. We did not get on much further, for
in another moment we were caught by a terrific squall from the West that
snapped the forestays of the mast so that it fell aft, while all the ship’s gear
tumbled about at the bottom of the vessel. The mast fell upon the head of
the helmsman in the ship’s stern, so that the bones of his head were crushed
to pieces, and he fell overboard as though he were diving, with no more life
left in him.
“Then Jove let fly with his thunderbolts, and the ship went round and
round, and was filled with fire and brimstone as the lightning struck it. The
men all fell into the sea; they were carried about in the water round the ship,
looking like so many sea-gulls, but the god presently deprived them of all
chance of getting home again.
“I stuck to the ship till the sea knocked her sides from her keel (which
drifted about by itself) and struck the mast out of her in the direction of the
keel; but there was a backstay of stout ox-thong still hanging about it, and

with this I lashed the mast and keel together, and getting astride of them
was carried wherever the winds chose to take me.
“[The gale from the West had now spent its force, and the wind got into
the South again, which frightened me lest I should be taken back to the
terrible whirlpool of Charybdis. This indeed was what actually happened,
for I was borne along by the waves all night, and by sunrise had reached the
rock of Scylla, and the whirlpool. She was then sucking down the salt sea
water,[106] but I was carried aloft toward the fig tree, which I caught hold of
and clung on to like a bat. I could not plant my feet anywhere so as to stand
securely, for the roots were a long way off and the boughs that
overshadowed the whole pool were too high, too vast, and too far apart for
me to reach them; so I hung patiently on, waiting till the pool should
discharge my mast and raft again—and a very long while it seemed. A jury-
man is not more glad to get home to supper, after having been long detained
in court by troublesome cases, than I was to see my raft beginning to work
its way out of the whirlpool again. At last I let go with my hands and feet,
and fell heavily into the sea, hard by my raft on to which I then got, and
began to row with my hands. As for Scylla, the father of gods and men
would not let her get further sight of me—otherwise I should have certainly
been lost.[107]
“Hence I was carried along for nine days till on the tenth night the gods
stranded me on the Ogygian island, where dwells the great and powerful
goddess Calypso. She took me in and was kind to me, but I need say no
more about this, for I told you and your noble wife all about it yesterday,
and I hate saying the same thing over and over again.”

BOOK XIII

ULYSSES LEAVES SCHERIA AND RETURNS TO
ITHACA.

Thus did he speak, and they all held their peace throughout the covered
cloister, enthralled by the charm of his story, till presently Alcinous began
to speak.
“Ulysses,” said he, “now that you have reached my house I doubt not you
will get home without further misadventure no matter how much you have
suffered in the past. To you others, however, who come here night after
night to drink my choicest wine and listen to my bard, I would insist as
follows. Our guest has already packed up the clothes, wrought gold,[108] and
other valuables which you have brought for his acceptance; let us now,
therefore, present him further, each one of us, with a large tripod and a
cauldron. We will recoup ourselves by the levy of a general rate; for private
individuals cannot be expected to bear the burden of such a handsome
present.”
Every one approved of this, and then they went home to bed each in his
own abode. When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared they
hurried down to the ship and brought their cauldrons with them. Alcinous
went on board and saw everything so securely stowed under the ship’s
benches that nothing could break adrift and injure the rowers. Then they
went to the house of Alcinous to get dinner, and he sacrificed a bull for
them in honour of Jove who is the lord of all. They set the steaks to grill and
made an excellent dinner, after which the inspired bard, Demodocus, who
was a favourite with every one, sang to them; but Ulysses kept on turning
his eyes towards the sun, as though to hasten his setting, for he was longing
to be on his way. As one who has been all day ploughing a fallow field with
a couple of oxen keeps thinking about his supper and is glad when night
comes that he may go and get it, for it is all his legs can do to carry him,

even so did Ulysses rejoice when the sun went down, and he at once said to
the Phaeacians, addressing himself more particularly to King Alcinous:
“Sir, and all of you, farewell. Make your drink-offerings and send me on
my way rejoicing, for you have fulfilled my heart’s desire by giving me an
escort, and making me presents, which heaven grant that I may turn to good
account; may I find my admirable wife living in peace among friends,[109]
and may you whom I leave behind me give satisfaction to your wives and
children;[110] may heaven vouchsafe you every good grace, and may no evil
thing come among your people.”
Thus did he speak. His hearers all of them approved his saying and
agreed that he should have his escort inasmuch as he had spoken
reasonably. Alcinous therefore said to his servant, “Pontonous, mix some
wine and hand it round to everybody, that we may offer a prayer to father
Jove, and speed our guest upon his way.”
Pontonous mixed the wine and handed it to every one in turn; the others
each from his own seat made a drink-offering to the blessed gods that live
in heaven, but Ulysses rose and placed the double cup in the hands of queen
Arete.
“Farewell, queen,” said he, “henceforward and for ever, till age and
death, the common lot of mankind, lay their hands upon you. I now take my
leave; be happy in this house with your children, your people, and with king
Alcinous.”
As he spoke he crossed the threshold, and Alcinous sent a man to conduct
him to his ship and to the sea shore. Arete also sent some maidservants with
him—one with a clean shirt and cloak, another to carry his strong box, and
a third with corn and wine. When they got to the water side the crew took
these things and put them on board, with all the meat and drink; but for
Ulysses they spread a rug and a linen sheet on deck that he might sleep
soundly in the stern of the ship. Then he too went on board and lay down
without a word, but the crew took every man his place and loosed the
hawser from the pierced stone to which it had been bound. Thereon, when
they began rowing out to sea, Ulysses fell into a deep, sweet, and almost
deathlike slumber.[111]
The ship bounded forward on her way as a four in hand chariot flies over
the course when the horses feel the whip. Her prow curvetted as it were the
neck of a stallion, and a great wave of dark blue water seethed in her wake.

She held steadily on her course, and even a falcon, swiftest of all birds,
could not have kept pace with her. Thus, then, she cut her way through the
water, carrying one who was as cunning as the gods, but who was now
sleeping peacefully, forgetful of all that he had suffered both on the field of
battle and by the waves of the weary sea.
When the bright star that heralds the approach of dawn began to show,
the ship drew near to land.[112] Now there is in Ithaca a haven of the old
merman Phorcys, which lies between two points that break the line of the
sea and shut the harbour in. These shelter it from the storms of wind and sea
that rage outside, so that, when once within it, a ship may lie without being
even moored. At the head of this harbour there is a large olive tree, and at
no great distance a fine overarching cavern sacred to the nymphs who are
called Naiads.[113] There are mixing bowls within it and wine-jars of stone,
and the bees hive there. Moreover, there are great looms of stone on which
the nymphs weave their robes of sea purple—very curious to see—and at
all times there is water within it. It has two entrances, one facing North by
which mortals can go down into the cave, while the other comes from the
South and is more mysterious; mortals cannot possibly get in by it, it is the
way taken by the gods.
Into this harbour, then, they took their ship, for they knew the place.[114]
She had so much way upon her that she ran half her own length on to the
shore;[115] when, however, they had landed, the first thing they did was to lift
Ulysses with his rug and linen sheet out of the ship, and lay him down upon
the sand still fast asleep. Then they took out the presents which Minerva
had persuaded the Phaeacians to give him when he was setting out on his
voyage homewards. They put these all together by the root of the olive tree,
away from the road, for fear some passer by[116] might come and steal them
before Ulysses awoke; and then they made the best of their way home
again.
But Neptune did not forget the threats with which he had already
threatened Ulysses, so he took counsel with Jove. “Father Jove,” said he, “I
shall no longer be held in any sort of respect among you gods, if mortals
like the Phaeacians, who are my own flesh and blood, show such small
regard for me. I said I would let Ulysses get home when he had suffered
sufficiently. I did not say that he should never get home at all, for I knew
you had already nodded your head about it, and promised that he should do

so; but now they have brought him in a ship fast asleep and have landed
him in Ithaca after loading him with more magnificent presents of bronze,
gold, and raiment than he would ever have brought back from Troy, if he
had had his share of the spoil and got home without misadventure.”
And Jove answered, “What, O Lord of the Earthquake, are you talking
about? The gods are by no means wanting in respect for you. It would be
monstrous were they to insult one so old and honoured as you are. As
regards mortals, however, if any of them is indulging in insolence and
treating you disrespectfully, it will always rest with yourself to deal with
him as you may think proper, so do just as you please.”
“I should have done so at once,” replied Neptune, “if I were not anxious
to avoid anything that might displease you; now, therefore, I should like to
wreck the Phaeacian ship as it is returning from its escort. This will stop
them from escorting people in future; and I should also like to bury their
city under a huge mountain.”
“My good friend,” answered Jove, “I should recommend you at the very
moment when the people from the city are watching the ship on her way, to
turn it into a rock near the land and looking like a ship. This will astonish
everybody, and you can then bury their city under the mountain.”
When earth-encircling Neptune heard this he went to Scheria where the
Phaeacians live, and stayed there till the ship, which was making rapid way,
had got close in. Then he went up to it, turned it into stone, and drove it
down with the flat of his hand so as to root it in the ground. After this he
went away.
The Phaeacians then began talking among themselves, and one would
turn towards his neighbour, saying, “Bless my heart, who is it that can have
rooted the ship in the sea just as she was getting into port? We could see the
whole of her only a moment ago.”
This was how they talked, but they knew nothing about it; and Alcinous
said, “I remember now the old prophecy of my father. He said that Neptune
would be angry with us for taking every one so safely over the sea, and
would one day wreck a Phaeacian ship as it was returning from an escort,
and bury our city under a high mountain. This was what my old father used
to say, and now it is all coming true.[117] Now therefore let us all do as I say;
in the first place we must leave off giving people escorts when they come
here, and in the next let us sacrifice twelve picked bulls to Neptune that he

may have mercy upon us, and not bury our city under the high mountain.”
When the people heard this they were afraid and got ready the bulls.
Thus did the chiefs and rulers of the Phaeacians pray to king Neptune,
standing round his altar; and at the same time[118] Ulysses woke up once
more upon his own soil. He had been so long away that he did not know it
again; moreover, Jove’s daughter Minerva had made it a foggy day, so that
people might not know of his having come, and that she might tell him
everything without either his wife or his fellow citizens and friends
recognising him[119] until he had taken his revenge upon the wicked suitors.
Everything, therefore, seemed quite different to him—the long straight
tracks, the harbours, the precipices, and the goodly trees, appeared all
changed as he started up and looked upon his native land. So he smote his
thighs with the flat of his hands and cried aloud despairingly.
“Alas,” he exclaimed, “among what manner of people am I fallen? Are
they savage and uncivilised or hospitable and humane? Where shall I put all
this treasure, and which way shall I go? I wish I had staid over there with
the Phaeacians; or I could have gone to some other great chief who would
have been good to me and given me an escort. As it is I do not know where
to put my treasure, and I cannot leave it here for fear somebody else should
get hold of it. In good truth the chiefs and rulers of the Phaeacians have not
been dealing fairly by me, and have left me in the wrong country; they said
they would take me back to Ithaca and they have not done so: may Jove the
protector of suppliants chastise them, for he watches over everybody and
punishes those who do wrong. Still, I suppose I must count my goods and
see if the crew have gone off with any of them.”
He counted his goodly coppers and cauldrons, his gold and all his
clothes, but there was nothing missing; still he kept grieving about not
being in his own country, and wandered up and down by the shore of the
sounding sea bewailing his hard fate. Then Minerva came up to him
disguised as a young shepherd of delicate and princely mien, with a good
cloak folded double about her shoulders; she had sandals on her comely feet
and held a javelin in her hand. Ulysses was glad when he saw her, and went
straight up to her.
“My friend,” said he, “you are the first person whom I have met with in
this country; I salute you, therefore, and beg you to be well disposed
towards me. Protect these my goods, and myself too, for I embrace your

knees and pray to you as though you were a god. Tell me, then, and tell me
truly, what land and country is this? Who are its inhabitants? Am I on an
island, or is this the sea board of some continent?”
Minerva answered, “Stranger, you must be very simple, or must have
come from somewhere a long way off, not to know what country this is. It
is a very celebrated place, and everybody knows it East and West. It is
rugged and not a good driving country, but it is by no means a bad island
for what there is of it. It grows any quantity of corn and also wine, for it is
watered both by rain and dew; it breeds cattle also and goats; all kinds of
timber grow here, and there are watering places where the water never runs
dry; so, sir, the name of Ithaca is known even as far as Troy, which I
understand to be a long way off from this Achaean country.”
Ulysses was glad at finding himself, as Minerva told him, in his own
country, and he began to answer, but he did not speak the truth, and made
up a lying story in the instinctive wiliness of his heart.
“I heard of Ithaca,” said he, “when I was in Crete beyond the seas, and
now it seems I have reached it with all these treasures. I have left as much
more behind me for my children, but am flying because I killed Orsilochus
son of Idomeneus, the fleetest runner in Crete. I killed him because he
wanted to rob me of the spoils I had got from Troy with so much trouble
and danger both on the field of battle and by the waves of the weary sea; he
said I had not served his father loyally at Troy as vassal, but had set myself
up as an independent ruler, so I lay in wait for him with one of my
followers by the road side, and speared him as he was coming into town
from the country. It was a very dark night and nobody saw us; it was not
known, therefore, that I had killed him, but as soon as I had done so I went
to a ship and besought the owners, who were Phoenicians, to take me on
board and set me in Pylos or in Elis where the Epeans rule, giving them as
much spoil as satisfied them. They meant no guile, but the wind drove them
off their course, and we sailed on till we came hither by night. It was all we
could do to get inside the harbour, and none of us said a word about supper
though we wanted it badly, but we all went on shore and lay down just as
we were. I was very tired and fell asleep directly, so they took my goods out
of the ship, and placed them beside me where I was lying upon the sand.
Then they sailed away to Sidonia, and I was left here in great distress of
mind.”

Such was his story, but Minerva smiled and caressed him with her hand.
Then she took the form of a woman, fair, stately, and wise, “He must be
indeed a shifty lying fellow,” said she, “who could surpass you in all
manner of craft even though you had a god for your antagonist. Dare devil
that you are, full of guile, unwearying in deceit, can you not drop your
tricks and your instinctive falsehood, even now that you are in your own
country again? We will say no more, however, about this, for we can both
of us deceive upon occasion—you are the most accomplished counsellor
and orator among all mankind, while I for diplomacy and subtlety have no
equal among the gods. Did you not know Jove’s daughter Minerva—me,
who have been ever with you, who kept watch over you in all your troubles,
and who made the Phaeacians take so great a liking to you? And now,
again, I am come here to talk things over with you, and help you to hide the
treasure I made the Phaeacians give you; I want to tell you about the
troubles that await you in your own house; you have got to face them, but
tell no one, neither man nor woman, that you have come home again. Bear
everything, and put up with every man’s insolence, without a word.”
And Ulysses answered, “A man, goddess, may know a great deal, but you
are so constantly changing your appearance that when he meets you it is a
hard matter for him to know whether it is you or not. This much, however, I
know exceedingly well; you were very kind to me as long as we Achaeans
were fighting before Troy, but from the day on which we went on board
ship after having sacked the city of Priam, and heaven dispersed us—from
that day, Minerva, I saw no more of you, and cannot ever remember your
coming to my ship to help me in a difficulty; I had to wander on sick and
sorry till the gods delivered me from evil and I reached the city of the
Phaeacians, where you encouraged me and took me into the town.[120] And
now, I beseech you in your father’s name, tell me the truth, for I do not
believe I am really back in Ithaca. I am in some other country and you are
mocking me and deceiving me in all you have been saying. Tell me then
truly, have I really got back to my own country?”
“You are always taking something of that sort in your head,” replied
Minerva, “and that is why I cannot desert you in your afflictions; you are so
plausible, shrewd and shifty. Any one but yourself on returning from so
long a voyage would at once have gone home to see his wife and children,
but you do not seem to care about asking after them or hearing any news
about them till you have exploited your wife, who remains at home vainly

grieving for you, and having no peace night or day for the tears she sheds
on your behalf. As for my not coming near you, I was never uneasy about
you, for I was certain you would get back safely though you would lose all
your men, and I did not wish to quarrel with my uncle Neptune, who never
forgave you for having blinded his son.[121] I will now, however, point out to
you the lie of the land, and you will then perhaps believe me. This is the
haven of the old merman Phorcys, and here is the olive tree that grows at
the head of it; [near it is the cave sacred to the Naiads;[122] here too is the
overarching cavern in which you have offered many an acceptable
hecatomb to the nymphs, and this is the wooded mountain Neritum.”
As she spoke the goddess dispersed the mist and the land appeared. Then
Ulysses rejoiced at finding himself again in his own land, and kissed the
bounteous soil; he lifted up his hands and prayed to the nymphs, saying,
“Naiad nymphs, daughters of Jove, I made sure that I was never again to
see you, now therefore I greet you with all loving salutations, and I will
bring you offerings as in the old days, if Jove’s redoubtable daughter will
grant me life, and bring my son to manhood.”
“Take heart, and do not trouble yourself about that,” rejoined Minerva,
“let us rather set about stowing your things at once in the cave, where they
will be quite safe. Let us see how we can best manage it all.”
Therewith she went down into the cave to look for the safest hiding
places, while Ulysses brought up all the treasure of gold, bronze, and good
clothing which the Phaeacians had given him. They stowed everything
carefully away, and Minerva set a stone against the door of the cave. Then
the two sat down by the root of the great olive, and consulted how to
compass the destruction of the wicked suitors.
“Ulysses,” said Minerva, “noble son of Laertes, think how you can lay
hands on these disreputable people who have been lording it in your house
these three years, courting your wife and making wedding presents to her,
while she does nothing but lament your absence, giving hope and sending
encouraging messages[123] to every one of them, but meaning the very
opposite of all she says.”
And Ulysses answered, “In good truth, goddess, it seems I should have
come to much the same bad end in my own house as Agamemnon did, if
you had not given me such timely information. Advise me how I shall best
avenge myself. Stand by my side and put your courage into my heart as on

the day when we loosed Troy’s fair diadem from her brow. Help me now as
you did then, and I will fight three hundred men, if you, goddess, will be
with me.”
“Trust me for that,” said she, “I will not lose sight of you when once we
set about it, and I imagine that some of those who are devouring your
substance will then bespatter the pavement with their blood and brains. I
will begin by disguising you so that no human being shall know you; I will
cover your body with wrinkles; you shall lose all your yellow hair; I will
clothe you in a garment that shall fill all who see it with loathing; I will
blear your fine eyes for you, and make you an unseemly object in the sight
of the suitors, of your wife, and of the son whom you left behind you. Then
go at once to the swineherd who is in charge of your pigs; he has been
always well affected towards you, and is devoted to Penelope and your son;
you will find him feeding his pigs near the rock that is called Raven[124] by
the fountain Arethusa, where they are fattening on beechmast and spring
water after their manner. Stay with him and find out how things are going,
while I proceed to Sparta and see your son, who is with Menelaus at
Lacedaemon, where he has gone to try and find out whether you are still
alive.”[125]
“But why,” said Ulysses, “did you not tell him, for you knew all about it?
Did you want him too to go sailing about amid all kinds of hardship while
others are eating up his estate?”
Minerva answered, “Never mind about him, I sent him that he might be
well spoken of for having gone. He is in no sort of difficulty, but is staying
quite comfortably with Menelaus, and is surrounded with abundance of
every kind. The suitors have put out to sea and are lying in wait for him, for
they mean to kill him before he can get home. I do not much think they will
succeed, but rather that some of those who are now eating up your estate
will first find a grave themselves.”
As she spoke Minerva touched him with her wand and covered him with
wrinkles, took away all his yellow hair, and withered the flesh over his
whole body; she bleared his eyes, which were naturally very fine ones; she
changed his clothes and threw an old rag of a wrap about him, and a tunic,
tattered, filthy, and begrimed with smoke; she also gave him an undressed
deer skin as an outer garment, and furnished him with a staff and a wallet
all in holes, with a twisted thong for him to sling it over his shoulder.

When the pair had thus laid their plans they parted, and the goddess went
straight to Lacedaemon to fetch Telemachus.

BOOK XIV

ULYSSES IN THE HUT WITH EUMAEUS.

Ulysses now left the haven, and took the rough track up through the
wooded country and over the crest of the mountain till he reached the place
where Minerva had said that he would find the swineherd, who was the
most thrifty servant he had. He found him sitting in front of his hut, which
was by the yards that he had built on a site which could be seen from far.
He had made them spacious[126] and fair to see, with a free run for the pigs
all round them; he had built them during his master’s absence, of stones
which he had gathered out of the ground, without saying anything to
Penelope or Laertes, and he had fenced them on top with thorn bushes.
Outside the yard he had run a strong fence of oaken posts, split, and set
pretty close together, while inside he had built twelve styes near one another
for the sows to lie in. There were fifty pigs wallowing in each stye, all of
them breeding sows; but the boars slept outside and were much fewer in
number, for the suitors kept on eating them, and the swineherd had to send
them the best he had continually. There were three hundred and sixty boar
pigs, and the herdsman’s four hounds, which were as fierce as wolves, slept
always with them. The swineherd was at that moment cutting out a pair of
sandals[127] from a good stout ox hide. Three of his men were out herding
the pigs in one place or another, and he had sent the fourth to town with a
boar that he had been forced to send the suitors that they might sacrifice it
and have their fill of meat.
When the hounds saw Ulysses they set up a furious barking and flew at
him, but Ulysses was cunning enough to sit down and loose his hold of the
stick that he had in his hand: still, he would have been torn by them in his
own homestead had not the swineherd dropped his ox hide, rushed full
speed through the gate of the yard and driven the dogs off by shouting and
throwing stones at them. Then he said to Ulysses, “Old man, the dogs were

likely to have made short work of you, and then you would have got me
into trouble. The gods have given me quite enough worries without that, for
I have lost the best of masters, and am in continual grief on his account. I
have to attend swine for other people to eat, while he, if he yet lives to see
the light of day, is starving in some distant land. But come inside, and when
you have had your fill of bread and wine, tell me where you come from, and
all about your misfortunes.”
On this the swineherd led the way into the hut and bade him sit down. He
strewed a good thick bed of rushes upon the floor, and on the top of this he
threw the shaggy chamois skin—a great thick one—on which he used to
sleep by night. Ulysses was pleased at being made thus welcome, and said
“May Jove, sir, and the rest of the gods grant you your heart’s desire in
return for the kind way in which you have received me.”
To this you answered, O swineherd Eumaeus, “Stranger, though a still
poorer man should come here, it would not be right for me to insult him, for
all strangers and beggars are from Jove. You must take what you can get
and be thankful, for servants live in fear when they have young lords for
their masters; and this is my misfortune now, for heaven has hindered the
return of him who would have been always good to me and given me
something of my own—a house, a piece of land, a good looking wife, and
all else that a liberal master allows a servant who has worked hard for him,
and whose labour the gods have prospered as they have mine in the
situation which I hold. If my master had grown old here he would have
done great things by me, but he is gone, and I wish that Helen’s whole race
were utterly destroyed, for she has been the death of many a good man. It
was this matter that took my master to Ilius, the land of noble steeds, to
fight the Trojans in the cause of king Agamemnon.”
As he spoke he bound his girdle round him and went to the styes where
the young sucking pigs were penned. He picked out two which he brought
back with him and sacrificed. He singed them, cut them up, and spitted
them; when the meat was cooked he brought it all in and set it before
Ulysses, hot and still on the spit, whereon Ulysses sprinkled it over with
white barley meal. The swineherd then mixed wine in a bowl of ivy-wood,
and taking a seat opposite Ulysses told him to begin.
“Fall to, stranger,” said he, “on a dish of servant’s pork. The fat pigs have
to go to the suitors, who eat them up without shame or scruple; but the

blessed gods love not such shameful doings, and respect those who do what
is lawful and right. Even the fierce freebooters who go raiding on other
people’s land, and Jove gives them their spoil—even they, when they have
filled their ships and got home again live conscience-stricken, and look
fearfully for judgement; but some god seems to have told these people that
Ulysses is dead and gone; they will not, therefore, go back to their own
homes and make their offers of marriage in the usual way, but waste his
estate by force, without fear or stint. Not a day or night comes out of
heaven, but they sacrifice not one victim nor two only, and they take the run
of his wine, for he was exceedingly rich. No other great man either in Ithaca
or on the mainland is as rich as he was; he had as much as twenty men put
together. I will tell you what he had. There are twelve herds of cattle upon
the main land, and as many flocks of sheep, there are also twelve droves of
pigs, while his own men and hired strangers feed him twelve widely
spreading herds of goats. Here in Ithaca he runs even large flocks of goats
on the far end of the island, and they are in the charge of excellent goat
herds. Each one of these sends the suitors the best goat in the flock every
day. As for myself, I am in charge of the pigs that you see here, and I have
to keep picking out the best I have and sending it to them.”
This was his story, but Ulysses went on eating and drinking ravenously
without a word, brooding his revenge. When he had eaten enough and was
satisfied, the swineherd took the bowl from which he usually drank, filled it
with wine, and gave it to Ulysses, who was pleased, and said as he took it in
his hands, “My friend, who was this master of yours that bought you and
paid for you, so rich and so powerful as you tell me? You say he perished in
the cause of King Agamemnon; tell me who he was, in case I may have met
with such a person. Jove and the other gods know, but I may be able to give
you news of him, for I have travelled much.”
Eumaeus answered, “Old man, no traveller who comes here with news
will get Ulysses’ wife and son to believe his story. Nevertheless, tramps in
want of a lodging keep coming with their mouths full of lies, and not a
word of truth; every one who finds his way to Ithaca goes to my mistress
and tells her falsehoods, whereon she takes them in, makes much of them,
and asks them all manner of questions, crying all the time as women will
when they have lost their husbands. And you too, old man, for a shirt and a
cloak would doubtless make up a very pretty story. But the wolves and
birds of prey have long since torn Ulysses to pieces, or the fishes of the sea

have eaten him, and his bones are lying buried deep in sand upon some
foreign shore; he is dead and gone, and a bad business it is for all his friends
—for me especially; go where I may I shall never find so good a master, not
even if I were to go home to my mother and father where I was bred and
born. I do not so much care, however, about my parents now, though I
should dearly like to see them again in my own country; it is the loss of
Ulysses that grieves me most; I cannot speak of him without reverence
though he is here no longer, for he was very fond of me, and took such care
of me that wherever he may be I shall always honour his memory.”
“My friend,” replied Ulysses, “you are very positive, and very hard of
belief about your master’s coming home again, nevertheless I will not
merely say, but will swear, that he is coming. Do not give me anything for
my news till he has actually come, you may then give me a shirt and cloak
of good wear if you will. I am in great want, but I will not take anything at
all till then, for I hate a man, even as I hate hell fire, who lets his poverty
tempt him into lying. I swear by king Jove, by the rites of hospitality, and
by that hearth of Ulysses to which I have now come, that all will surely
happen as I have said it will. Ulysses will return in this self same year; with
the end of this moon and the beginning of the next he will be here to do
vengeance on all those who are ill treating his wife and son.”
To this you answered, O swineherd Eumaeus, “Old man, you will neither
get paid for bringing good news, nor will Ulysses ever come home; drink
your wine in peace, and let us talk about something else. Do not keep on
reminding me of all this; it always pains me when any one speaks about my
honoured master. As for your oath we will let it alone, but I only wish he
may come, as do Penelope, his old father Laertes, and his son Telemachus. I
am terribly unhappy too about this same boy of his; he was running up fast
into manhood, and bade fare to be no worse man, face and figure, than his
father, but some one, either god or man, has been unsettling his mind, so he
has gone off to Pylos to try and get news of his father, and the suitors are
lying in wait for him as he is coming home, in the hope of leaving the house
of Arceisius without a name in Ithaca. But let us say no more about him,
and leave him to be taken, or else to escape if the son of Saturn holds his
hand over him to protect him. And now, old man, tell me your own story;
tell me also, for I want to know, who you are and where you come from.
Tell me of your town and parents, what manner of ship you came in, how

crew brought you to Ithaca, and from what country they professed to come
—for you cannot have come by land.”
And Ulysses answered, “I will tell you all about it. If there were meat and
wine enough, and we could stay here in the hut with nothing to do but to eat
and drink while the others go to their work, I could easily talk on for a
whole twelve months without ever finishing the story of the sorrows with
which it has pleased heaven to visit me.
“I am by birth a Cretan; my father was a well to do man, who had many
sons born in marriage, whereas I was the son of a slave whom he had
purchased for a concubine; nevertheless, my father Castor son of Hylax
(whose lineage I claim, and who was held in the highest honour among the
Cretans for his wealth, prosperity, and the valour of his sons) put me on the
same level with my brothers who had been born in wedlock. When,
however, death took him to the house of Hades, his sons divided his estate
and cast lots for their shares, but to me they gave a holding and little else;
nevertheless, my valour enabled me to marry into a rich family, for I was
not given to bragging, or shirking on the field of battle. It is all over now;
still, if you look at the straw you can see what the ear was, for I have had
trouble enough and to spare. Mars and Minerva made me doughty in war;
when I had picked my men to surprise the enemy with an ambuscade I
never gave death so much as a thought, but was the first to leap forward and
spear all whom I could overtake. Such was I in battle, but I did not care
about farm work, nor the frugal home life of those who would bring up
children. My delight was in ships, fighting, javelins, and arrows—things
that most men shudder to think of; but one man likes one thing and another
another, and this was what I was most naturally inclined to. Before the
Achaeans went to Troy, nine times was I in command of men and ships on
foreign service, and I amassed much wealth. I had my pick of the spoil in
the first instance, and much more was allotted to me later on.
“My house grew apace and I became a great man among the Cretans, but
when Jove counselled that terrible expedition, in which so many perished,
the people required me and Idomeneus to lead their ships to Troy, and there
was no way out of it, for they insisted on our doing so. There we fought for
nine whole years, but in the tenth we sacked the city of Priam and sailed
home again as heaven dispersed us. Then it was that Jove devised evil
against me. I spent but one month happily with my children, wife, and

property, and then I conceived the idea of making a descent on Egypt, so I
fitted out a fine fleet and manned it. I had nine ships, and the people flocked
to fill them. For six days I and my men made feast, and I found them many
victims both for sacrifice to the gods and for themselves, but on the seventh
day we went on board and set sail from Crete with a fair North wind behind
us though we were going down a river. Nothing went ill with any of our
ships, and we had no sickness on board, but sat where we were and let the
ships go as the wind and steersmen took them. On the fifth day we reached
the river Aegyptus; there I stationed my ships in the river, bidding my men
stay by them and keep guard over them while I sent out scouts to
reconnoitre from every point of vantage.
“But the men disobeyed my orders, took to their own devices, and
ravaged the land of the Egyptians, killing the men, and taking their wives
and children captive. The alarm was soon carried to the city, and when they
heard the war cry, the people came out at daybreak till the plain was filled
with horsemen and foot soldiers and with the gleam of armour. Then Jove
spread panic among my men, and they would no longer face the enemy, for
they found themselves surrounded. The Egyptians killed many of us, and
took the rest alive to do forced labour for them. Jove, however, put it in my
mind to do thus—and I wish I had died then and there in Egypt instead, for
there was much sorrow in store for me—I took off my helmet and shield
and dropped my spear from my hand; then I went straight up to the king’s
chariot, clasped his knees and kissed them, whereon he spared my life, bade
me get into his chariot, and took me weeping to his own home. Many made
at me with their ashen spears and tried to kill me in their fury, but the king
protected me, for he feared the wrath of Jove the protector of strangers, who
punishes those who do evil.
“I stayed there for seven years and got together much money among the
Egyptians, for they all gave me something; but when it was now going on
for eight years there came a certain Phoenician, a cunning rascal, who had
already committed all sorts of villainy, and this man talked me over into
going with him to Phoenicia, where his house and his possessions lay. I
stayed there for a whole twelve months, but at the end of that time when
months and days had gone by till the same season had come round again, he
set me on board a ship bound for Libya, on a pretence that I was to take a
cargo along with him to that place, but really that he might sell me as a

slave and take the money I fetched. I suspected his intention, but went on
board with him, for I could not help it.
“The ship ran before a fresh North wind till we had reached the sea that
lies between Crete and Libya; there, however, Jove counselled their
destruction, for as soon as we were well out from Crete and could see
nothing but sea and sky, he raised a black cloud over our ship and the sea
grew dark beneath it. Then Jove let fly with his thunderbolts and the ship
went round and round and was filled with fire and brimstone as the
lightning struck it. The men fell all into the sea; they were carried about in
the water round the ship looking like so many sea-gulls, but the god
presently deprived them of all chance of getting home again. I was all
dismayed. Jove, however, sent the ship’s mast within my reach, which
saved my life, for I clung to it, and drifted before the fury of the gale. Nine
days did I drift but in the darkness of the tenth night a great wave bore me
on to the Thesprotian coast. There Pheidon king of the Thesprotians
entertained me hospitably without charging me anything at all—for his son
found me when I was nearly dead with cold and fatigue, whereon he raised
me by the hand, took me to his father’s house and gave me clothes to wear.
“There it was that I heard news of Ulysses, for the king told me he had
entertained him, and shown him much hospitality while he was on his
homeward journey. He showed me also the treasure of gold, and wrought
iron that Ulysses had got together. There was enough to keep his family for
ten generations, so much had he left in the house of king Pheidon. But the
king said Ulysses had gone to Dodona that he might learn Jove’s mind from
the god’s high oak tree, and know whether after so long an absence he
should return to Ithaca openly, or in secret. Moreover the king swore in my
presence, making drink-offerings in his own house as he did so, that the
ship was by the water side, and the crew found, that should take him to his
own country. He sent me off however before Ulysses returned, for there
happened to be a Thesprotian ship sailing for the wheat-growing island of
Dulichium, and he told those in charge of her to be sure and take me safely
to King Acastus.
“These men hatched a plot against me that would have reduced me to the
very extreme of misery, for when the ship had got some way out from land
they resolved on selling me as a slave. They stripped me of the shirt and
cloak that I was wearing, and gave me instead the tattered old clouts in

which you now see me; then, towards nightfall, they reached the tilled lands
of Ithaca, and there they bound me with a strong rope fast in the ship, while
they went on shore to get supper by the sea side. But the gods soon undid
my bonds for me, and having drawn my rags over my head I slid down the
rudder into the sea, where I struck out and swam till I was well clear of
them, and came ashore near a thick wood in which I lay concealed. They
were very angry at my having escaped and went searching about for me, till
at last they thought it was no further use and went back to their ship. The
gods, having hidden me thus easily, then took me to a good man’s door—
for it seems that I am not to die yet awhile.”
To this you answered, O swineherd Eumaeus, “Poor unhappy stranger, I
have found the story of your misfortunes extremely interesting, but that part
about Ulysses is not right; and you will never get me to believe it. Why
should a man like you go about telling lies in this way? I know all about the
return of my master. The gods one and all of them detest him, or they would
have taken him before Troy, or let him die with friends around him when
the days of his fighting were done; for then the Achaeans would have built a
mound over his ashes and his son would have been heir to his renown, but
now the storm winds have spirited him away we know not whither.
“As for me I live out of the way here with the pigs, and never go to the
town unless when Penelope sends for me on the arrival of some news about
Ulysses. Then they all sit round and ask questions, both those who grieve
over the king’s absence, and those who rejoice at it because they can eat up
his property without paying for it. For my own part I have never cared
about asking anyone else since the time when I was taken in by an Aetolian,
who had killed a man and come a long way till at last he reached my
station, and I was very kind to him. He said he had seen Ulysses with
Idomeneus among the Cretans, refitting his ships which had been damaged
in a gale. He said Ulysses would return in the following summer or autumn
with his men, and that he would bring back much wealth. And now you,
you unfortunate old man, since fate has brought you to my door, do not try
to flatter me in this way with vain hopes. It is not for any such reason that I
shall treat you kindly, but only out of respect for Jove the god of hospitality,
as fearing him and pitying you.”
Ulysses answered, “I see that you are of an unbelieving mind; I have
given you my oath, and yet you will not credit me; let us then make a

bargain, and call all the gods in heaven to witness it. If your master comes
home, give me a cloak and shirt of good wear, and send me to Dulichium
where I want to go; but if he does not come as I say he will, set your men
on to me, and tell them to throw me from yonder precipice, as a warning to
tramps not to go about the country telling lies.”
“And a pretty figure I should cut then,” replied Eumaeus, “both now and
hereafter, if I were to kill you after receiving you into my hut and showing
you hospitality. I should have to say my prayers in good earnest if I did; but
it is just supper time and I hope my men will come in directly, that we may
cook something savoury for supper.”
Thus did they converse, and presently the swineherds came up with the
pigs, which were then shut up for the night in their styes, and a tremendous
squealing they made as they were being driven into them. But Eumaeus
called to his men and said, “Bring in the best pig you have, that I may
sacrifice him for this stranger, and we will take toll of him ourselves. We
have had trouble enough this long time feeding pigs, while others reap the
fruit of our labour.”
On this he began chopping firewood, while the others brought in a fine
fat five year old boar pig, and set it at the altar. Eumaeus did not forget the
gods, for he was a man of good principles, so the first thing he did was to
cut bristles from the pig’s face and throw them into the fire, praying to all
the gods as he did so that Ulysses might return home again. Then he
clubbed the pig with a billet of oak which he had kept back when he was
chopping the firewood, and stunned it, while the others slaughtered and
singed it. Then they cut it up, and Eumaeus began by putting raw pieces
from each joint on to some of the fat; these he sprinkled with barley meal,
and laid upon the embers; they cut the rest of the meat up small, put the
pieces upon the spits and roasted them till they were done; when they had
taken them off the spits they threw them on to the dresser in a heap. The
swineherd, who was a most equitable man, then stood up to give every one
his share. He made seven portions; one of these he set apart for Mercury the
son of Maia and the nymphs, praying to them as he did so; the others he
dealt out to the men man by man. He gave Ulysses some slices cut
lengthways down the loin as a mark of especial honour, and Ulysses was
much pleased. “I hope, Eumaeus,” said he, “that Jove will be as well

disposed towards you as I am, for the respect you are showing to an outcast
like myself.”
To this you answered, O swineherd Eumaeus, “Eat, my good fellow, and
enjoy your supper, such as it is. God grants this, and withholds that, just as
he thinks right, for he can do whatever he chooses.”
As he spoke he cut off the first piece and offered it as a burnt sacrifice to
the immortal gods; then he made them a drink-offering, put the cup in the
hands of Ulysses, and sat down to his own portion. Mesaulius brought them
their bread; the swineherd had brought this man on his own account from
among the Taphians during his master’s absence, and had paid for him with
his own money without saying anything either to his mistress or Laertes.
They then laid their hands upon the good things that were before them, and
when they had had enough to eat and drink, Mesaulius took away what was
left of the bread, and they all went to bed after having made a hearty supper.
Now the night came on stormy and very dark, for there was no moon. It
poured without ceasing, and the wind blew strong from the West, which is a
wet quarter, so Ulysses thought he would see whether Eumaeus, in the
excellent care he took of him, would take off his own cloak and give it him,
or make one of his men give him one. “Listen to me,” said he, “Eumaeus
and the rest of you; when I have said a prayer I will tell you something. It is
the wine that makes me talk in this way; wine will make even a wise man
fall to singing; it will make him chuckle and dance and say many a word
that he had better leave unspoken; still, as I have begun, I will go on. Would
that I were still young and strong as when we got up an ambuscade before
Troy. Menelaus and Ulysses were the leaders, but I was in command also,
for the other two would have it so. When we had come up to the wall of the
city we crouched down beneath our armour and lay there under cover of the
reeds and thick brushwood that grew about the swamp. It came on to freeze
with a North wind blowing; the snow fell small and fine like hoar frost, and
our shields were coated thick with rime. The others had all got cloaks and
shirts, and slept comfortably enough with their shields about their
shoulders, but I had carelessly left my cloak behind me, not thinking that I
should be too cold, and had gone off in nothing but my shirt and shield.
When the night was two-thirds through and the stars had shifted their
places, I nudged Ulysses who was close to me with my elbow, and he at
once gave me his ear.

“‘Ulysses,’ said I, ‘this cold will be the death of me, for I have no cloak;
some god fooled me into setting off with nothing on but my shirt, and I do
not know what to do.’
“Ulysses, who was as crafty as he was valiant, hit upon the following
plan:
“‘Keep still,’ said he in a low voice, ‘or the others will hear you.’ Then he
raised his head on his elbow.
“‘My friends,’ said he, ‘I have had a dream from heaven in my sleep. We
are a long way from the ships; I wish some one would go down and tell
Agamemnon to send us up more men at once.’
“On this Thoas son of Andraemon threw off his cloak and set out running
to the ships, whereon I took the cloak and lay in it comfortably enough till
morning. Would that I were still young and strong as I was in those days,
for then some one of you swineherds would give me a cloak both out of
good will and for the respect due to a brave soldier; but now people look
down upon me because my clothes are shabby.”
And Eumaeus answered, “Old man, you have told us an excellent story,
and have said nothing so far but what is quite satisfactory; for the present,
therefore, you shall want neither clothing nor anything else that a stranger
in distress may reasonably expect, but to-morrow morning you have to
shake your own old rags about your body again, for we have not many
spare cloaks nor shirts up here, but every man has only one. When Ulysses’
son comes home again he will give you both cloak and shirt, and send you
wherever you may want to go.”
With this he got up and made a bed for Ulysses by throwing some
goatskins and sheepskins on the ground in front of the fire. Here Ulysses
lay down, and Eumaeus covered him over with a great heavy cloak that he
kept for a change in case of extraordinarily bad weather.
Thus did Ulysses sleep, and the young men slept beside him. But the
swineherd did not like sleeping away from his pigs, so he got ready to go
outside, and Ulysses was glad to see that he looked after his property during
his master’s absence. First he slung his sword over his brawny shoulders
and put on a thick cloak to keep out the wind. He also took the skin of a
large and well fed goat, and a javelin in case of attack from men or dogs.
Thus equipped he went to his rest where the pigs were camping under an
overhanging rock that gave them shelter from the North wind.

BOOK XV

MINERVA SUMMONS TELEMACHUS FROM
LACEDAEMON—HE MEETS WITH THEOCLYMENUS
AT PYLOS AND BRINGS HIM TO ITHACA—ON
LANDING HE GOES TO THE HUT OF EUMAEUS.

But Minerva went to the fair city of Lacedaemon to tell Ulysses’ son that
he was to return at once. She found him and Pisistratus sleeping in the
forecourt of Menelaus’s house; Pisistratus was fast asleep, but Telemachus
could get no rest all night for thinking of his unhappy father, so Minerva
went close up to him and said:
“Telemachus, you should not remain so far away from home any longer,
nor leave your property with such dangerous people in your house; they
will eat up everything you have among them, and you will have been on a
fool’s errand. Ask Menelaus to send you home at once if you wish to find
your excellent mother still there when you get back. Her father and brothers
are already urging her to marry Eurymachus, who has given her more than
any of the others, and has been greatly increasing his wedding presents. I
hope nothing valuable may have been taken from the house in spite of you,
but you know what women are—they always want to do the best they can
for the man who marries them, and never give another thought to the
children of their first husband, nor to their father either when he is dead and
done with. Go home, therefore, and put everything in charge of the most
respectable woman servant that you have, until it shall please heaven to
send you a wife of your own. Let me tell you also of another matter which
you had better attend to. The chief men among the suitors are lying in wait
for you in the Strait[128] between Ithaca and Samos, and they mean to kill
you before you can reach home. I do not much think they will succeed; it is
more likely that some of those who are now eating up your property will
find a grave themselves. Sail night and day, and keep your ship well away

from the islands; the god who watches over you and protects you will send
you a fair wind. As soon as you get to Ithaca send your ship and men on to
the town, but yourself go straight to the swineherd who has charge of your
pigs; he is well disposed towards you, stay with him, therefore, for the
night, and then send him to Penelope to tell her that you have got back safe
from Pylos.”
Then she went back to Olympus; but Telemachus stirred Pisistratus with
his heel to rouse him, and said, “Wake up Pisistratus, and yoke the horses to
the chariot, for we must set off home.”[129]
But Pisistratus said, “No matter what hurry we are in we cannot drive in
the dark. It will be morning soon; wait till Menelaus has brought his
presents and put them in the chariot for us; and let him say good bye to us
in the usual way. So long as he lives a guest should never forget a host who
has shown him kindness.”
As he spoke day began to break, and Menelaus, who had already risen,
leaving Helen in bed, came towards them. When Telemachus saw him he
put on his shirt as fast as he could, threw a great cloak over his shoulders,
and went out to meet him. “Menelaus,” said he, “let me go back now to my
own country, for I want to get home.”
And Menelaus answered, “Telemachus, if you insist on going I will not
detain you. I do not like to see a host either too fond of his guest or too rude
to him. Moderation is best in all things, and not letting a man go when he
wants to do so is as bad as telling him to go if he would like to stay. One
should treat a guest well as long as he is in the house and speed him when
he wants to leave it. Wait, then, till I can get your beautiful presents into
your chariot, and till you have yourself seen them. I will tell the women to
prepare a sufficient dinner for you of what there may be in the house; it will
be at once more proper and cheaper for you to get your dinner before
setting out on such a long journey. If, moreover, you have a fancy for
making a tour in Hellas or in the Peloponnese, I will yoke my horses, and
will conduct you myself through all our principal cities. No one will send us
away empty handed; every one will give us something—a bronze tripod, a
couple of mules, or a gold cup.”
“Menelaus,” replied Telemachus, “I want to go home at once, for when I
came away I left my property without protection, and fear that while

looking for my father I shall come to ruin myself, or find that something
valuable has been stolen during my absence.”
When Menelaus heard this he immediately told his wife and servants to
prepare a sufficient dinner from what there might be in the house. At this
moment Eteoneus joined him, for he lived close by and had just got up; so
Menelaus told him to light the fire and cook some meat, which he at once
did. Then Menelaus went down into his fragrant store room,[130] not alone,
but Helen went too, with Megapenthes. When he reached the place where
the treasures of his house were kept, he selected a double cup, and told his
son Megapenthes to bring also a silver mixing bowl. Meanwhile Helen
went to the chest where she kept the lovely dresses which she had made
with her own hands, and took out one that was largest and most beautifully
enriched with embroidery; it glittered like a star, and lay at the very bottom
of the chest. [131] Then they all came back through the house again till they
got to Telemachus, and Menelaus said, “Telemachus, may Jove, the mighty
husband of Juno, bring you safely home according to your desire. I will
now present you with the finest and most precious piece of plate in all my
house. It is a mixing bowl of pure silver, except the rim, which is inlaid
with gold, and it is the work of Vulcan. Phaedimus king of the Sidonians
made me a present of it in the course of a visit that I paid him while I was
on my return home. I should like to give it to you.”
With these words he placed the double cup in the hands of Telemachus,
while Megapenthes brought the beautiful mixing bowl and set it before him.
Hard by stood lovely Helen with the robe ready in her hand.
“I too, my son,” said she, “have something for you as a keepsake from
the hand of Helen; it is for your bride to wear upon her wedding day. Till
then, get your dear mother to keep it for you; thus may you go back
rejoicing to your own country and to your home.”
So saying she gave the robe over to him and he received it gladly. Then
Pisistratus put the presents into the chariot, and admired them all as he did
so. Presently Menelaus took Telemachus and Pisistratus into the house, and
they both of them sat down to table. A maid servant brought them water in a
beautiful golden ewer, and poured it into a silver basin for them to wash
their hands, and she drew a clean table beside them; an upper servant
brought them bread and offered them many good things of what there was
in the house. Eteoneus carved the meat and gave them each their portions,

while Megapenthes poured out the wine. Then they laid their hands upon
the good things that were before them, but as soon as they had had enough
to eat and drink Telemachus and Pisistratus yoked the horses, and took their
places in the chariot. They drove out through the inner gateway and under
the echoing gatehouse of the outer court, and Menelaus came after them
with a golden goblet of wine in his right hand that they might make a drink-
offering before they set out. He stood in front of the horses and pledged
them, saying, “Farewell to both of you; see that you tell Nestor how I have
treated you, for he was as kind to me as any father could be while we
Achaeans were fighting before Troy.”
“We will be sure, sir,” answered Telemachus, “to tell him everything as
soon as we see him. I wish I were as certain of finding Ulysses returned
when I get back to Ithaca, that I might tell him of the very great kindness
you have shown me and of the many beautiful presents I am taking with
me.”
As he was thus speaking a bird flew on his right hand—an eagle with a
great white goose in its talons which it had carried off from the farm yard—
and all the men and women were running after it and shouting. It came
quite close up to them and flew away on their right hands in front of the
horses. When they saw it they were glad, and their hearts took comfort
within them, whereon Pisistratus said, “Tell me, Menelaus, has heaven sent
this omen for us or for you?”
Menelaus was thinking what would be the most proper answer for him to
make, but Helen was too quick for him and said, “I will read this matter as
heaven has put it in my heart, and as I doubt not that it will come to pass.
The eagle came from the mountain where it was bred and has its nest, and
in like manner Ulysses, after having travelled far and suffered much, will
return to take his revenge—if indeed he is not back already and hatching
mischief for the suitors.”
“May Jove so grant it,” replied Telemachus, “if it should prove to be so, I
will make vows to you as though you were a god, even when I am at
home.”
As he spoke he lashed his horses and they started off at full speed
through the town towards the open country. They swayed the yoke upon
their necks and travelled the whole day long till the sun set and darkness
was over all the land. Then they reached Pherae, where Diocles lived who

was son of Ortilochus, the son of Alpheus. There they passed the night and
were treated hospitably. When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn,
appeared, they again yoked their horses and their places in the chariot. They
drove out through the inner gateway and under the echoing gatehouse of the
outer court. Then Pisistratus lashed his horses on and they flew forward
nothing loath; ere long they came to Pylos, and then Telemachus said:
“Pisistratus, I hope you will promise to do what I am going to ask you.
You know our fathers were old friends before us; moreover, we are both of
an age, and this journey has brought us together still more closely; do not,
therefore, take me past my ship, but leave me there, for if I go to your
father’s house he will try to keep me in the warmth of his good will towards
me, and I must go home at once.”
Pisistratus thought how he should do as he was asked, and in the end he
deemed it best to turn his horses towards the ship, and put Menelaus’s
beautiful presents of gold and raiment in the stern of the vessel. Then he
said, “Go on board at once and tell your men to do so also before I can
reach home to tell my father. I know how obstinate he is, and am sure he
will not let you go; he will come down here to fetch you, and he will not go
back without you. But he will be very angry.”
With this he drove his goodly steeds back to the city of the Pylians and
soon reached his home, but Telemachus called the men together and gave
his orders. “Now, my men,” said he, “get everything in order on board the
ship, and let us set out home.”
Thus did he speak, and they went on board even as he had said. But as
Telemachus was thus busied, praying also and sacrificing to Minerva in the
ship’s stern, there came to him a man from a distant country, a seer, who
was flying from Argos because he had killed a man. He was descended
from Melampus, who used to live in Pylos, the land of sheep; he was rich
and owned a great house, but he was driven into exile by the great and
powerful king Neleus. Neleus seized his goods and held them for a whole
year, during which he was a close prisoner in the house of king Phylacus,
and in much distress of mind both on account of the daughter of Neleus and
because he was haunted by a great sorrow that dread Erinys had laid upon
him. In the end, however, he escaped with his life, drove the cattle from
Phylace to Pylos, avenged the wrong that had been done him, and gave the
daughter of Neleus to his brother. Then he left the country and went to

Argos, where it was ordained that he should reign over much people. There
he married, established himself, and had two famous sons Antiphates and
Mantius. Antiphates became father of Oicleus, and Oicleus of Amphiaraus,
who was dearly loved both by Jove and by Apollo, but he did not live to old
age, for he was killed in Thebes by reason of a woman’s gifts. His sons
were Alcmaeon and Amphilochus. Mantius, the other son of Melampus,
was father to Polypheides and Cleitus. Aurora, throned in gold, carried off
Cleitus for his beauty’s sake, that he might dwell among the immortals, but
Apollo made Polypheides the greatest seer in the whole world now that
Amphiaraus was dead. He quarrelled with his father and went to live in
Hyperesia, where he remained and prophesied for all men.
His son, Theoclymenus, it was who now came up to Telemachus as he
was making drink-offerings and praying in his ship. “Friend,” said he, “now
that I find you sacrificing in this place, I beseech you by your sacrifices
themselves, and by the god to whom you make them, I pray you also by
your own head and by those of your followers tell me the truth and nothing
but the truth. Who and whence are you? Tell me also of your town and
parents.”
Telemachus said, “I will answer you quite truly. I am from Ithaca, and my
father is Ulysses, as surely as that he ever lived. But he has come to some
miserable end. Therefore I have taken this ship and got my crew together to
see if I can hear any news of him, for he has been away a long time.”
“I too,” answered Theoclymenus, “am an exile, for I have killed a man of
my own race. He has many brothers and kinsmen in Argos, and they have
great power among the Argives. I am flying to escape death at their hands,
and am thus doomed to be a wanderer on the face of the earth. I am your
suppliant; take me, therefore, on board your ship that they may not kill me,
for I know they are in pursuit.”
“I will not refuse you,” replied Telemachus, “if you wish to join us.
Come, therefore, and in Ithaca we will treat you hospitably according to
what we have.”
On this he received Theoclymenus’ spear and laid it down on the deck of
the ship. He went on board and sat in the stern, bidding Theoclymenus sit
beside him; then the men let go the hawsers. Telemachus told them to catch
hold of the ropes, and they made all haste to do so. They set the mast in its
socket in the cross plank, raised it and made it fast with the forestays, and

they hoisted their white sails with sheets of twisted ox hide. Minerva sent
them a fair wind that blew fresh and strong to take the ship on her course as
fast as possible. Thus then they passed by Crouni and Chalcis.
Presently the sun set and darkness was over all the land. The vessel made
a quick passage to Pheae and thence on to Elis, where the Epeans rule.
Telemachus then headed her for the flying islands,[132] wondering within
himself whether he should escape death or should be taken prisoner.
Meanwhile Ulysses and the swineherd were eating their supper in the
hut, and the men supped with them. As soon as they had had to eat and
drink, Ulysses began trying to prove the swineherd and see whether he
would continue to treat him kindly, and ask him to stay on at the station or
pack him off to the city; so he said:
“Eumaeus, and all of you, to-morrow I want to go away and begin
begging about the town, so as to be no more trouble to you or to your men.
Give me your advice therefore, and let me have a good guide to go with me
and show me the way. I will go the round of the city begging as I needs
must, to see if any one will give me a drink and a piece of bread. I should
like also to go to the house of Ulysses and bring news of her husband to
Queen Penelope. I could then go about among the suitors and see if out of
all their abundance they will give me a dinner. I should soon make them an
excellent servant in all sorts of ways. Listen and believe when I tell you that
by the blessing of Mercury who gives grace and good name to the works of
all men, there is no one living who would make a more handy servant than I
should—to put fresh wood on the fire, chop fuel, carve, cook, pour out
wine, and do all those services that poor men have to do for their betters.”
The swineherd was very much disturbed when he heard this. “Heaven
help me,” he exclaimed, “what ever can have put such a notion as that into
your head? If you go near the suitors you will be undone to a certainty, for
their pride and insolence reach the very heavens. They would never think of
taking a man like you for a servant. Their servants are all young men, well
dressed, wearing good cloaks and shirts, with well looking faces and their
hair always tidy, the tables are kept quite clean and are loaded with bread,
meat, and wine. Stay where you are, then; you are not in anybody’s way; I
do not mind your being here, no more do any of the others, and when
Telemachus comes home he will give you a shirt and cloak and will send
you wherever you want to go.”

Ulysses answered, “I hope you may be as dear to the gods as you are to
me, for having saved me from going about and getting into trouble; there is
nothing worse than being always on the tramp; still, when men have once
got low down in the world they will go through a great deal on behalf of
their miserable bellies. Since, however, you press me to stay here and await
the return of Telemachus, tell me about Ulysses’ mother, and his father
whom he left on the threshold of old age when he set out for Troy. Are they
still living or are they already dead and in the house of Hades?”
“I will tell you all about them,” replied Eumaeus, “Laertes is still living
and prays heaven to let him depart peacefully in his own house, for he is
terribly distressed about the absence of his son, and also about the death of
his wife, which grieved him greatly and aged him more than anything else
did. She came to an unhappy end[133] through sorrow for her son: may no
friend or neighbour who has dealt kindly by me come to such an end as she
did. As long as she was still living, though she was always grieving, I used
to like seeing her and asking her how she did, for she brought me up along
with her daughter Ctimene, the youngest of her children; we were boy and
girl together, and she made little difference between us. When, however, we
both grew up, they sent Ctimene to Same and received a splendid dowry for
her. As for me, my mistress gave me a good shirt and cloak with a pair of
sandals for my feet, and sent me off into the country, but she was just as
fond of me as ever. This is all over now. Still it has pleased heaven to
prosper my work in the situation which I now hold. I have enough to eat
and drink, and can find something for any respectable stranger who comes
here; but there is no getting a kind word or deed out of my mistress, for the
house has fallen into the hands of wicked people. Servants want sometimes
to see their mistress and have a talk with her; they like to have something to
eat and drink at the house, and something too to take back with them into
the country. This is what will keep servants in a good humour.”
Ulysses answered, “Then you must have been a very little fellow,
Eumaeus, when you were taken so far away from your home and parents.
Tell me, and tell me true, was the city in which your father and mother lived
sacked and pillaged, or did some enemies carry you off when you were
alone tending sheep or cattle, ship you off here, and sell you for whatever
your master gave them?”

“Stranger,” replied Eumaeus, “as regards your question: sit still, make
yourself comfortable, drink your wine, and listen to me. The nights are now
at their longest; there is plenty of time both for sleeping and sitting up
talking together; you ought not to go to bed till bed time, too much sleep is
as bad as too little; if any one of the others wishes to go to bed let him leave
us and do so; he can then take my master’s pigs out when he has done
breakfast in the morning. We too will sit here eating and drinking in the hut,
and telling one another stories about our misfortunes; for when a man has
suffered much, and been buffeted about in the world, he takes pleasure in
recalling the memory of sorrows that have long gone by. As regards your
question, then, my tale is as follows:
“You may have heard of an island called Syra that lies over above
Ortygia,[134] where the land begins to turn round and look in another
direction.[135] It is not very thickly peopled, but the soil is good, with much
pasture fit for cattle and sheep, and it abounds with wine and wheat. Dearth
never comes there, nor are the people plagued by any sickness, but when
they grow old Apollo comes with Diana and kills them with his painless
shafts. It contains two communities, and the whole country is divided
between these two. My father Ctesius son of Ormenus, a man comparable
to the gods, reigned over both.
“Now to this place there came some cunning traders from Phoenicia (for
the Phoenicians are great mariners) in a ship which they had freighted with
gewgaws of all kinds. There happened to be a Phoenician woman in my
father’s house, very tall and comely, and an excellent servant; these
scoundrels got hold of her one day when she was washing near their ship,
seduced her, and cajoled her in ways that no woman can resist, no matter
how good she may be by nature. The man who had seduced her asked her
who she was and where she came from, and on this she told him her father’s
name. ‘I come from Sidon,’ said she, ‘and am daughter to Arybas, a man
rolling in wealth. One day as I was coming into the town from the country,
some Taphian pirates seized me and took me here over the sea, where they
sold me to the man who owns this house, and he gave them their price for
me.’
“The man who had seduced her then said, ‘Would you like to come along
with us to see the house of your parents and your parents themselves? They
are both alive and are said to be well off.’

“‘I will do so gladly,’ answered she, ‘if you men will first swear me a
solemn oath that you will do me no harm by the way.’
“They all swore as she told them, and when they had completed their
oath the woman said, ‘Hush; and if any of your men meets me in the street
or at the well, do not let him speak to me, for fear some one should go and
tell my master, in which case he would suspect something. He would put
me in prison, and would have all of you murdered; keep your own counsel
therefore; buy your merchandise as fast as you can, and send me word when
you have done loading. I will bring as much gold as I can lay my hands on,
and there is something else also that I can do towards paying my fare. I am
nurse to the son of the good man of the house, a funny little fellow just able
to run about. I will carry him off in your ship, and you will get a great deal
of money for him if you take him and sell him in foreign parts.’
“On this she went back to the house. The Phoenicians stayed a whole
year till they had loaded their ship with much precious merchandise, and
then, when they had got freight enough, they sent to tell the woman. Their
messenger, a very cunning fellow, came to my father’s house bringing a
necklace of gold with amber beads strung among it; and while my mother
and the servants had it in their hands admiring it and bargaining about it, he
made a sign quietly to the woman and then went back to the ship, whereon
she took me by the hand and led me out of the house. In the fore part of the
house she saw the tables set with the cups of guests who had been feasting
with my father, as being in attendance on him; these were now all gone to a
meeting of the public assembly, so she snatched up three cups and carried
them off in the bosom of her dress, while I followed her, for I knew no
better. The sun was now set, and darkness was over all the land, so we
hurried on as fast as we could till we reached the harbour, where the
Phoenician ship was lying. When they had got on board they sailed their
ways over the sea, taking us with them, and Jove sent then a fair wind; six
days did we sail both night and day, but on the seventh day Diana struck the
woman and she fell heavily down into the ship’s hold as though she were a
sea gull alighting on the water; so they threw her overboard to the seals and
fishes, and I was left all sorrowful and alone. Presently the winds and waves
took the ship to Ithaca, where Laertes gave sundry of his chattels for me,
and thus it was that ever I came to set eyes upon this country.”

Ulysses answered, “Eumaeus, I have heard the story of your misfortunes
with the most lively interest and pity, but Jove has given you good as well
as evil, for in spite of everything you have a good master, who sees that you
always have enough to eat and drink; and you lead a good life, whereas I
am still going about begging my way from city to city.”
Thus did they converse, and they had only a very little time left for sleep,
for it was soon daybreak. In the mean time Telemachus and his crew were
nearing land, so they loosed the sails, took down the mast, and rowed the
ship into the harbour.[136] They cast out their mooring stones and made fast
the hawsers; they then got out upon the sea shore, mixed their wine, and got
dinner ready. As soon as they had had enough to eat and drink Telemachus
said, “Take the ship on to the town, but leave me here, for I want to look
after the herdsmen on one of my farms. In the evening, when I have seen all
I want, I will come down to the city, and to-morrow morning in return for
your trouble I will give you all a good dinner with meat and wine.” [137]
Then Theoclymenus said, “And what, my dear young friend, is to
become of me? To whose house, among all your chief men, am I to repair?
or shall I go straight to your own house and to your mother?”
“At any other time,” replied Telemachus, “I should have bidden you go to
my own house, for you would find no want of hospitality; at the present
moment, however, you would not be comfortable there, for I shall be away,
and my mother will not see you; she does not often show herself even to the
suitors, but sits at her loom weaving in an upper chamber, out of their way;
but I can tell you a man whose house you can go to—I mean Eurymachus
the son of Polybus, who is held in the highest estimation by every one in
Ithaca. He is much the best man and the most persistent wooer, of all those
who are paying court to my mother and trying to take Ulysses’ place. Jove,
however, in heaven alone knows whether or no they will come to a bad end
before the marriage takes place.”
As he was speaking a bird flew by upon his right hand—a hawk, Apollo’s
messenger. It held a dove in its talons, and the feathers, as it tore them off,
[138]
fell to the ground midway between Telemachus and the ship. On this
Theoclymenus called him apart and caught him by the hand. “Telemachus,”
said he, “that bird did not fly on your right hand without having been sent
there by some god. As soon as I saw it I knew it was an omen; it means that

you will remain powerful and that there will be no house in Ithaca more
royal than your own.”
“I wish it may prove so,” answered Telemachus. “If it does, I will show
you so much good will and give you so many presents that all who meet
you will congratulate you.”
Then he said to his friend Piraeus, “Piraeus, son of Clytius, you have
throughout shown yourself the most willing to serve me of all those who
have accompanied me to Pylos; I wish you would take this stranger to your
own house and entertain him hospitably till I can come for him.”
And Piraeus answered, “Telemachus, you may stay away as long as you
please, but I will look after him for you, and he shall find no lack of
hospitality.”
As he spoke he went on board, and bade the others do so also and loose
the hawsers, so they took their places in the ship. But Telemachus bound on
his sandals, and took a long and doughty spear with a head of sharpened
bronze from the deck of the ship. Then they loosed the hawsers, thrust the
ship off from land, and made on towards the city as they had been told to
do, while Telemachus strode on as fast as he could, till he reached the
homestead where his countless herds of swine were feeding, and where
dwelt the excellent swineherd, who was so devoted a servant to his master.

BOOK XVI

ULYSSES REVEALS HIMSELF TO TELEMACHUS.

Meanwhile Ulysses and the swineherd had lit a fire in the hut and were
were getting breakfast ready at daybreak, for they had sent the men out with
the pigs. When Telemachus came up, the dogs did not bark but fawned upon
him, so Ulysses, hearing the sound of feet and noticing that the dogs did not
bark, said to Eumaeus:
“Eumaeus, I hear footsteps; I suppose one of your men or some one of
your acquaintance is coming here, for the dogs are fawning upon him and
not barking.”
The words were hardly out of his mouth before his son stood at the door.
Eumaeus sprang to his feet, and the bowls in which he was mixing wine fell
from his hands, as he made towards his master. He kissed his head and both
his beautiful eyes, and wept for joy. A father could not be more delighted at
the return of an only son, the child of his old age, after ten years’ absence in
a foreign country and after having gone through much hardship. He
embraced him, kissed him all over as though he had come back from the
dead, and spoke fondly to him saying:
“So you are come, Telemachus, light of my eyes that you are. When I
heard you had gone to Pylos I made sure I was never going to see you any
more. Come in, my dear child, and sit down, that I may have a good look at
you now you are home again; it is not very often you come into the country
to see us herdsmen; you stick pretty close to the town generally. I suppose
you think it better to keep an eye on what the suitors are doing.”
“So be it, old friend,” answered Telemachus, “but I am come now
because I want to see you, and to learn whether my mother is still at her old
home or whether some one else has married her, so that the bed of Ulysses
is without bedding and covered with cobwebs.”

“She is still at the house,” replied Eumaeus, “grieving and breaking her
heart, and doing nothing but weep, both night and day continually.”
As he spoke he took Telemachus’ spear, whereon he crossed the stone
threshold and came inside. Ulysses rose from his seat to give him place as
he entered, but Telemachus checked him; “Sit down, stranger,” said he, “I
can easily find another seat, and there is one here who will lay it for me.”
Ulysses went back to his own place, and Eumaeus strewed some green
brushwood on the floor and threw a sheepskin on top of it for Telemachus
to sit upon. Then the swineherd brought them platters of cold meat, the
remains from what they had eaten the day before, and he filled the bread
baskets with bread as fast as he could. He mixed wine also in bowls of ivy-
wood, and took his seat facing Ulysses. Then they laid their hands on the
good things that were before them, and as soon as they had had enough to
eat and drink Telemachus said to Eumaeus, “Old friend, where does this
stranger come from? How did his crew bring him to Ithaca, and who were
they?—for assuredly he did not come here by land.”
To this you answered, O swineherd Eumaeus, “My son, I will tell you the
real truth. He says he is a Cretan, and that he has been a great traveller. At
this moment he is running away from a Thesprotian ship, and has taken
refuge at my station, so I will put him into your hands. Do whatever you
like with him, only remember that he is your suppliant.”
“I am very much distressed,” said Telemachus, “by what you have just
told me. How can I take this stranger into my house? I am as yet young, and
am not strong enough to hold my own if any man attacks me. My mother
cannot make up her mind whether to stay where she is and look after the
house out of respect for public opinion and the memory of her husband, or
whether the time is now come for her to take the best man of those who are
wooing her, and the one who will make her the most advantageous offer;
still, as the stranger has come to your station I will find him a cloak and
shirt of good wear, with a sword and sandals, and will send him wherever
he wants to go. Or if you like you can keep him here at the station, and I
will send him clothes and food that he may be no burden on you and on
your men; but I will not have him go near the suitors, for they are very
insolent, and are sure to ill treat him in a way that would greatly grieve me;
no matter how valiant a man may be he can do nothing against numbers, for
they will be too strong for him.”

Then Ulysses said, “Sir, it is right that I should say something myself. I
am much shocked about what you have said about the insolent way in
which the suitors are behaving in despite of such a man as you are. Tell me,
do you submit to such treatment tamely, or has some god set your people
against you? May you not complain of your brothers—for it is to these that
a man may look for support, however great his quarrel may be? I wish I
were as young as you are and in my present mind; if I were son to Ulysses,
or, indeed, Ulysses himself, I would rather some one came and cut my head
off, but I would go to the house and be the bane of every one of these men.
[139]
If they were too many for me—I being single-handed—I would rather
die fighting in my own house than see such disgraceful sights day after day,
strangers grossly maltreated, and men dragging the women servants about
the house in an unseemly way, wine drawn recklessly, and bread wasted all
to no purpose for an end that shall never be accomplished.”
And Telemachus answered, “I will tell you truly everything. There is no
enmity between me and my people, nor can I complain of brothers, to
whom a man may look for support however great his quarrel may be. Jove
has made us a race of only sons. Laertes was the only son of Arceisius, and
Ulysses only son of Laertes. I am myself the only son of Ulysses who left
me behind him when he went away, so that I have never been of any use to
him. Hence it comes that my house is in the hands of numberless
marauders; for the chiefs from all the neighbouring islands, Dulichium,
Same, Zacynthus, as also all the principal men of Ithaca itself, are eating up
my house under the pretext of paying court to my mother, who will neither
say point blank that she will not marry, nor yet bring matters to an end, so
they are making havoc of my estate, and before long will do so with myself
into the bargain. The issue, however, rests with heaven. But do you, old
friend Eumaeus, go at once and tell Penelope that I am safe and have
returned from Pylos. Tell it to herself alone, and then come back here
without letting any one else know, for there are many who are plotting
mischief against me.”
“I understand and heed you,” replied Eumaeus; “you need instruct me no
further, only as I am going that way say whether I had not better let poor
Laertes know that you are returned. He used to superintend the work on his
farm in spite of his bitter sorrow about Ulysses, and he would eat and drink
at will along with his servants; but they tell me that from the day on which
you set out for Pylos he has neither eaten nor drunk as he ought to do, nor

does he look after his farm, but sits weeping and wasting the flesh from off
his bones.”
“More’s the pity,” answered Telemachus, “I am sorry for him, but we
must leave him to himself just now. If people could have everything their
own way, the first thing I should choose would be the return of my father;
but go, and give your message; then make haste back again, and do not turn
out of your way to tell Laertes. Tell my mother to send one of her women
secretly with the news at once, and let him hear it from her.”
Thus did he urge the swineherd; Eumaeus, therefore, took his sandals,
bound them to his feet, and started for the town. Minerva watched him well
off the station, and then came up to it in the form of a woman—fair, stately,
and wise. She stood against the side of the entry, and revealed herself to
Ulysses, but Telemachus could not see her, and knew not that she was there,
for the gods do not let themselves be seen by everybody. Ulysses saw her,
and so did the dogs, for they did not bark, but went scared and whining off
to the other side of the yards. She nodded her head and motioned to Ulysses
with her eyebrows; whereon he left the hut and stood before her outside the
main wall of the yards. Then she said to him:
“Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, it is now time for you to tell your son: do
not keep him in the dark any longer, but lay your plans for the destruction
of the suitors, and then make for the town. I will not be long in joining you,
for I too am eager for the fray.”
As she spoke she touched him with her golden wand. First she threw a
fair clean shirt and cloak about his shoulders; then she made him younger
and of more imposing presence; she gave him back his colour, filled out his
cheeks, and let his beard become dark again. Then she went away and
Ulysses came back inside the hut. His son was astounded when he saw him,
and turned his eyes away for fear he might be looking upon a god.
“Stranger,” said he, “how suddenly you have changed from what you
were a moment or two ago. You are dressed differently and your colour is
not the same. Are you some one or other of the gods that live in heaven? If
so, be propitious to me till I can make you due sacrifice and offerings of
wrought gold. Have mercy upon me.”
And Ulysses said, “I am no god, why should you take me for one? I am
your father, on whose account you grieve and suffer so much at the hands of
lawless men.”

As he spoke he kissed his son, and a tear fell from his cheek on to the
ground, for he had restrained all tears till now. But Telemachus could not
yet believe that it was his father, and said:
“You are not my father, but some god is flattering me with vain hopes
that I may grieve the more hereafter; no mortal man could of himself
contrive to do as you have been doing, and make yourself old and young at
a moment’s notice, unless a god were with him. A second ago you were old
and all in rags, and now you are like some god come down from heaven.”
Ulysses answered, “Telemachus, you ought not to be so immeasurably
astonished at my being really here. There is no other Ulysses who will come
hereafter. Such as I am, it is I, who after long wandering and much hardship
have got home in the twentieth year to my own country. What you wonder
at is the work of the redoubtable goddess Minerva, who does with me
whatever she will, for she can do what she pleases. At one moment she
makes me like a beggar, and the next I am a young man with good clothes
on my back; it is an easy matter for the gods who live in heaven to make
any man look either rich or poor.”
As he spoke he sat down, and Telemachus threw his arms about his father
and wept. They were both so much moved that they cried aloud like eagles
or vultures with crooked talons that have been robbed of their half fledged
young by peasants. Thus piteously did they weep, and the sun would have
gone down upon their mourning if Telemachus had not suddenly said, “In
what ship, my dear father, did your crew bring you to Ithaca? Of what
nation did they declare themselves to be—for you cannot have come by
land?”
“I will tell you the truth, my son,” replied Ulysses. “It was the Phaeacians
who brought me here. They are great sailors, and are in the habit of giving
escorts to any one who reaches their coasts. They took me over the sea
while I was fast asleep, and landed me in Ithaca, after giving me many
presents in bronze, gold, and raiment. These things by heaven’s mercy are
lying concealed in a cave, and I am now come here on the suggestion of
Minerva that we may consult about killing our enemies. First, therefore,
give me a list of the suitors, with their number, that I may learn who, and
how many, they are. I can then turn the matter over in my mind, and see
whether we two can fight the whole body of them ourselves, or whether we
must find others to help us.”

To this Telemachus answered, “Father, I have always heard of your
renown both in the field and in council, but the task you talk of is a very
great one: I am awed at the mere thought of it; two men cannot stand
against many and brave ones. There are not ten suitors only, nor twice ten,
but ten many times over; you shall learn their number at once. There are
fifty-two chosen youths from Dulichium, and they have six servants; from
Same there are twenty-four; twenty young Achaeans from Zacynthus, and
twelve from Ithaca itself, all of them well born. They have with them a
servant Medon, a bard, and two men who can carve at table. If we face such
numbers as this, you may have bitter cause to rue your coming, and your
revenge. See whether you cannot think of some one who would be willing
to come and help us.”
“Listen to me,” replied Ulysses, “and think whether Minerva and her
father Jove may seem sufficient, or whether I am to try and find some one
else as well.”
“Those whom you have named,” answered Telemachus, “are a couple of
good allies, for though they dwell high up among the clouds they have
power over both gods and men.”
“These two,” continued Ulysses, “will not keep long out of the fray,
when the suitors and we join fight in my house. Now, therefore, return
home early to-morrow morning, and go about among the suitors as before.
Later on the swineherd will bring me to the city disguised as a miserable
old beggar. If you see them ill treating me, steel your heart against my
sufferings; even though they drag me feet foremost out of the house, or
throw things at me, look on and do nothing beyond gently trying to make
them behave more reasonably; but they will not listen to you, for the day of
their reckoning is at hand. Furthermore I say, and lay my saying to your
heart; when Minerva shall put it in my mind, I will nod my head to you, and
on seeing me do this you must collect all the armour that is in the house and
hide it in the strong store room. Make some excuse when the suitors ask
you why you are removing it; say that you have taken it to be out of the way
of the smoke, inasmuch as it is no longer what it was when Ulysses went
away, but has become soiled and begrimed with soot. Add to this more
particularly that you are afraid Jove may set them on to quarrel over their
wine, and that they may do each other some harm which may disgrace both
banquet and wooing, for the sight of arms sometimes tempts people to use

them. But leave a sword and a spear apiece for yourself and me, and a
couple of oxhide shields so that we can snatch them up at any moment;
Jove and Minerva will then soon quiet these people. There is also another
matter; if you are indeed my son and my blood runs in your veins, let no
one know that Ulysses is within the house—neither Laertes, nor yet the
swineherd, nor any of the servants, nor even Penelope herself. Let you and
me exploit the women alone, and let us also make trial of some other of the
men servants, to see who is on our side and whose hand is against us.”
“Father,” replied Telemachus, “you will come to know me by and by, and
when you do you will find that I can keep your counsel. I do not think,
however, the plan you propose will turn out well for either of us. Think it
over. It will take us a long time to go the round of the farms and exploit the
men, and all the time the suitors will be wasting your estate with impunity
and without compunction. Prove the women by all means, to see who are
disloyal and who guiltless, but I am not in favour of going round and trying
the men. We can attend to that later on, if you really have some sign from
Jove that he will support you.”
Thus did they converse, and meanwhile the ship which had brought
Telemachus and his crew from Pylos had reached the town of Ithaca. When
they had come inside the harbour they drew the ship on to the land; their
servants came and took their armour from them, and they left all the
presents at the house of Clytius. Then they sent a servant to tell Penelope
that Telemachus had gone into the country, but had sent the ship to the town
to prevent her from being alarmed and made unhappy. This servant and
Eumaeus happened to meet when they were both on the same errand of
going to tell Penelope. When they reached the House, the servant stood up
and said to the queen in the presence of the waiting women, “Your son,
Madam, is now returned from Pylos”; but Eumaeus went close up to
Penelope, and said privately all that her son had bidden him tell her. When
he had given his message he left the house with its outbuildings and went
back to his pigs again.
The suitors were surprised and angry at what had happened, so they went
outside the great wall that ran round the outer court, and held a council near
the main entrance. Eurymachus, son of Polybus, was the first to speak.
“My friends,” said he, “this voyage of Telemachus’s is a very serious
matter; we had made sure that it would come to nothing. Now, however, let

us draw a ship into the water, and get a crew together to send after the
others and tell them to come back as fast as they can.”
He had hardly done speaking when Amphinomus turned in his place and
saw the ship inside the harbour, with the crew lowering her sails, and
putting by their oars; so he laughed, and said to the others, “We need not
send them any message, for they are here. Some god must have told them,
or else they saw the ship go by, and could not overtake her.”
On this they rose and went to the water side. The crew then drew the ship
on shore; their servants took their armour from them, and they went up in a
body to the place of assembly, but they would not let any one old or young
sit along with them, and Antinous, son of Eupeithes, spoke first.
“Good heavens,” said he, “see how the gods have saved this man from
destruction. We kept a succession of scouts upon the headlands all day long,
and when the sun was down we never went on shore to sleep, but waited in
the ship all night till morning in the hope of capturing and killing him; but
some god has conveyed him home in spite of us. Let us consider how we
can make an end of him. He must not escape us; our affair is never likely to
come off while he is alive, for he is very shrewd, and public feeling is by no
means all on our side. We must make haste before he can call the Achaeans
in assembly; he will lose no time in doing so, for he will be furious with us,
and will tell all the world how we plotted to kill him, but failed to take him.
The people will not like this when they come to know of it; we must see
that they do us no hurt, nor drive us from our own country into exile. Let us
try and lay hold of him either on his farm away from the town, or on the
road hither. Then we can divide up his property amongst us, and let his
mother and the man who marries her have the house. If this does not please
you, and you wish Telemachus to live on and hold his father’s property,
then we must not gather here and eat up his goods in this way, but must
make our offers to Penelope each from his own house, and she can marry
the man who will give the most for her, and whose lot it is to win her.”
They all held their peace until Amphinomus rose to speak. He was the
son of Nisus, who was son to king Aretias, and he was foremost among all
the suitors from the wheat-growing and well grassed island of Dulichium;
his conversation, moreover, was more agreeable to Penelope than that of
any of the other suitors, for he was a man of good natural disposition. “My
friends,” said he, speaking to them plainly and in all honestly, “I am not in

favour of killing Telemachus. It is a heinous thing to kill one who is of
noble blood. Let us first take counsel of the gods, and if the oracles of Jove
advise it, I will both help to kill him myself, and will urge everyone else to
do so; but if they dissuade us, I would have you hold your hands.”
Thus did he speak, and his words pleased them well, so they rose
forthwith and went to the house of Ulysses, where they took their
accustomed seats.
Then Penelope resolved that she would show herself to the suitors. She
knew of the plot against Telemachus, for the servant Medon had overheard
their counsels and had told her; she went down therefore to the court
attended by her maidens, and when she reached the suitors she stood by one
of the bearing-posts supporting the roof of the cloister holding a veil before
her face, and rebuked Antinous saying:
“Antinous, insolent and wicked schemer, they say you are the best
speaker and counsellor of any man your own age in Ithaca, but you are
nothing of the kind. Madman, why should you try to compass the death of
Telemachus, and take no heed of suppliants, whose witness is Jove himself?
It is not right for you to plot thus against one another. Do you not remember
how your father fled to this house in fear of the people, who were enraged
against him for having gone with some Taphian pirates and plundered the
Thesprotians who were at peace with us? They wanted to tear him in pieces
and eat up everything he had, but Ulysses stayed their hands although they
were infuriated, and now you devour his property without paying for it, and
break my heart by wooing his wife and trying to kill his son. Leave off
doing so, and stop the others also.”
To this Eurymachus son of Polybus answered, “Take heart, Queen
Penelope daughter of Icarius, and do not trouble yourself about these
matters. The man is not yet born, nor never will be, who shall lay hands
upon your son Telemachus, while I yet live to look upon the face of the
earth. I say—and it shall surely be—that my spear shall be reddened with
his blood; for many a time has Ulysses taken me on his knees, held wine up
to my lips to drink, and put pieces of meat into my hands. Therefore
Telemachus is much the dearest friend I have, and has nothing to fear from
the hands of us suitors. Of course, if death comes to him from the gods, he
cannot escape it.” He said this to quiet her, but in reality he was plotting
against Telemachus.

Then Penelope went upstairs again and mourned her husband till
Minerva shed sleep over her eyes. In the evening Eumaeus got back to
Ulysses and his son, who had just sacrificed a young pig of a year old and
were helping one another to get supper ready; Minerva therefore came up to
Ulysses, turned him into an old man with a stroke of her wand, and clad
him in his old clothes again, for fear that the swineherd might recognise
him and not keep the secret, but go and tell Penelope.
Telemachus was the first to speak. “So you have got back, Eumaeus,”
said he. “What is the news of the town? Have the suitors returned, or are
they still waiting over yonder, to take me on my way home?”
“I did not think of asking about that,” replied Eumaeus, “when I was in
the town. I thought I would give my message and come back as soon as I
could. I met a man sent by those who had gone with you to Pylos, and he
was the first to tell the news to your mother, but I can say what I saw with
my own eyes; I had just got on to the crest of the hill of Mercury above the
town when I saw a ship coming into harbour with a number of men in her.
They had many shields and spears, and I thought it was the suitors, but I
cannot be sure.”
On hearing this Telemachus smiled to his father, but so that Eumaeus
could not see him.
Then, when they had finished their work and the meal was ready, they ate
it, and every man had his full share so that all were satisfied. As soon as
they had had enough to eat and drink, they laid down to rest and enjoyed
the boon of sleep.

BOOK XVII

TELEMACHUS AND HIS MOTHER MEET—ULYSSES
AND EUMAEUS COME DOWN TO THE TOWN, AND
ULYSSES IS INSULTED BY MELANTHIUS—HE IS
RECOGNISED BY THE DOG ARGOS—HE IS
INSULTED AND PRESENTLY STRUCK BY ANTINOUS
WITH A STOOL—PENELOPE DESIRES THAT HE
SHALL BE SENT TO HER.

When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, Telemachus
bound on his sandals and took a strong spear that suited his hands, for he
wanted to go into the city. “Old friend,” said he to the swineherd, “I will
now go to the town and show myself to my mother, for she will never leave
off grieving till she has seen me. As for this unfortunate stranger, take him
to the town and let him beg there of any one who will give him a drink and
a piece of bread. I have trouble enough of my own, and cannot be burdened
with other people. If this makes him angry so much the worse for him, but I
like to say what I mean.”
Then Ulysses said, “Sir, I do not want to stay here; a beggar can always
do better in town than country, for any one who likes can give him
something. I am too old to care about remaining here at the beck and call of
a master. Therefore let this man do as you have just told him, and take me to
the town as soon as I have had a warm by the fire, and the day has got a
little heat in it. My clothes are wretchedly thin, and this frosty morning I
shall be perished with cold, for you say the city is some way off.”
On this Telemachus strode off through the yards, brooding his revenge
upon the suitors. When he reached home he stood his spear against a
bearing-post of the cloister, crossed the stone floor of the cloister itself, and
went inside.

Nurse Euryclea saw him long before any one else did. She was putting
the fleeces on to the seats, and she burst out crying as she ran up to him; all
the other maids came up too, and covered his head and shoulders with their
kisses. Penelope came out of her room looking like Diana or Venus, and
wept as she flung her arms about her son. She kissed his forehead and both
his beautiful eyes, “Light of my eyes,” she cried as she spoke fondly to him,
“so you are come home again; I made sure I was never going to see you any
more. To think of your having gone off to Pylos without saying anything
about it or obtaining my consent. But come, tell me what you saw.”
“Do not scold me, mother,” answered Telemachus, “nor vex me, seeing
what a narrow escape I have had, but wash your face, change your dress, go
upstairs with your maids, and promise full and sufficient hecatombs to all
the gods if Jove will only grant us our revenge upon the suitors. I must now
go to the place of assembly to invite a stranger who has come back with me
from Pylos. I sent him on with my crew, and told Piraeus to take him home
and look after him till I could come for him myself.”
She heeded her son’s words, washed her face, changed her dress, and
vowed full and sufficient hecatombs to all the gods if they would only
vouchsafe her revenge upon the suitors.
Telemachus went through, and out of, the cloisters spear in hand—not
alone, for his two fleet dogs went with him. Minerva endowed him with a
presence of such divine comeliness that all marvelled at him as he went by,
and the suitors gathered round him with fair words in their mouths and
malice in their hearts; but he avoided them, and went to sit with Mentor,
Antiphus, and Halitherses, old friends of his father’s house, and they made
him tell them all that had happened to him. Then Piraeus came up with
Theoclymenus, whom he had escorted through the town to the place of
assembly, whereon Telemachus at once joined them. Piraeus was first to
speak: “Telemachus,” said he, “I wish you would send some of your women
to my house to take away the presents Menelaus gave you.”
“We do not know, Piraeus,” answered Telemachus, “what may happen. If
the suitors kill me in my own house and divide my property among them, I
would rather you had the presents than that any of those people should get
hold of them. If on the other hand I managed to kill them, I shall be much
obliged if you will kindly bring me my presents.”

With these words he took Theoclymenus to his own house. When they
got there they laid their cloaks on the benches and seats, went into the
baths, and washed themselves. When the maids had washed and anointed
them, and had given them cloaks and shirts, they took their seats at table. A
maid servant then brought them water in a beautiful golden ewer, and
poured it into a silver basin for them to wash their hands; and she drew a
clean table beside them. An upper servant brought them bread and offered
them many good things of what there was in the house. Opposite them sat
Penelope, reclining on a couch by one of the bearing-posts of the cloister,
and spinning. Then they laid their hands on the good things that were before
them, and as soon as they had had enough to eat and drink Penelope said:
“Telemachus, I shall go upstairs and lie down on that sad couch, which I
have not ceased to water with my tears, from the day Ulysses set out for
Troy with the sons of Atreus. You failed, however, to make it clear to me
before the suitors came back to the house, whether or no you had been able
to hear anything about the return of your father.”
“I will tell you then truth,” replied her son. “We went to Pylos and saw
Nestor, who took me to his house and treated me as hospitably as though I
were a son of his own who had just returned after a long absence; so also
did his sons; but he said he had not heard a word from any human being
about Ulysses, whether he was alive or dead. He sent me, therefore, with a
chariot and horses to Menelaus. There I saw Helen, for whose sake so
many, both Argives and Trojans, were in heaven’s wisdom doomed to
suffer. Menelaus asked me what it was that had brought me to Lacedaemon,
and I told him the whole truth, whereon he said, ‘So, then, these cowards
would usurp a brave man’s bed? A hind might as well lay her new-born
young in the lair of a lion, and then go off to feed in the forest or in some
grassy dell. The lion, when he comes back to his lair, will make short work
with the pair of them, and so will Ulysses with these suitors. By father Jove,
Minerva, and Apollo, if Ulysses is still the man that he was when he
wrestled with Philomeleides in Lesbos, and threw him so heavily that all the
Greeks cheered him—if he is still such, and were to come near these
suitors, they would have a short shrift and a sorry wedding. As regards your
question, however, I will not prevaricate nor deceive you, but what the old
man of the sea told me, so much will I tell you in full. He said he could see
Ulysses on an island sorrowing bitterly in the house of the nymph Calypso,
who was keeping him prisoner, and he could not reach his home, for he had

no ships nor sailors to take him over the sea.’ This was what Menelaus told
me, and when I had heard his story I came away; the gods then gave me a
fair wind and soon brought me safe home again.”
With these words he moved the heart of Penelope. Then Theoclymenus
said to her:
“Madam, wife of Ulysses, Telemachus does not understand these things;
listen therefore to me, for I can divine them surely, and will hide nothing
from you. May Jove the king of heaven be my witness, and the rites of
hospitality, with that hearth of Ulysses to which I now come, that Ulysses
himself is even now in Ithaca, and, either going about the country or staying
in one place, is enquiring into all these evil deeds and preparing a day of
reckoning for the suitors. I saw an omen when I was on the ship which
meant this, and I told Telemachus about it.”
“May it be even so,” answered Penelope; “if your words come true, you
shall have such gifts and such good will from me that all who see you shall
congratulate you.”
Thus did they converse. Meanwhile the suitors were throwing discs, or
aiming with spears at a mark on the levelled ground in front of the house,
and behaving with all their old insolence. But when it was now time for
dinner, and the flock of sheep and goats had come into the town from all the
country round, [140] with their shepherds as usual, then Medon, who was
their favourite servant, and who waited upon them at table, said, “Now
then, my young masters, you have had enough sport, so come inside that we
may get dinner ready. Dinner is not a bad thing, at dinner time.”
They left their sports as he told them, and when they were within the
house, they laid their cloaks on the benches and seats inside, and then
sacrificed some sheep, goats, pigs, and a heifer, all of them fat and well
grown.[141] Thus they made ready for their meal. In the meantime Ulysses
and the swineherd were about starting for the town, and the swineherd said,
“Stranger, I suppose you still want to go to town to-day, as my master said
you were to do; for my own part I should have liked you to stay here as a
station hand, but I must do as my master tells me, or he will scold me later
on, and a scolding from one’s master is a very serious thing. Let us then be
off, for it is now broad day; it will be night again directly and then you will
find it colder.”[142]

“I know, and understand you,” replied Ulysses; “you need say no more.
Let us be going, but if you have a stick ready cut, let me have it to walk
with, for you say the road is a very rough one.”
As he spoke he threw his shabby old tattered wallet over his shoulders,
by the cord from which it hung, and Eumaeus gave him a stick to his liking.
The two then started, leaving the station in charge of the dogs and herdsmen
who remained behind; the swineherd led the way and his master followed
after, looking like some broken down old tramp as he leaned upon his staff,
and his clothes were all in rags. When they had got over the rough steep
ground and were nearing the city, they reached the fountain from which the
citizens drew their water. This had been made by Ithacus, Neritus, and
Polyctor. There was a grove of water-loving poplars planted in a circle all
round it, and the clear cold water came down to it from a rock high up,[143]
while above the fountain there was an altar to the nymphs, at which all
wayfarers used to sacrifice. Here Melanthius son of Dolius overtook them
as he was driving down some goats, the best in his flock, for the suitors’
dinner, and there were two shepherds with him. When he saw Eumaeus and
Ulysses he reviled them with outrageous and unseemly language, which
made Ulysses very angry.
“There you go,” cried he, “and a precious pair you are. See how heaven
brings birds of the same feather to one another. Where, pray, master
swineherd, are you taking this poor miserable object? It would make any
one sick to see such a creature at table. A fellow like this never won a prize
for anything in his life, but will go about rubbing his shoulders against
every man’s door post, and begging, not for swords and cauldrons[144] like a
man, but only for a few scraps not worth begging for. If you would give him
to me for a hand on my station, he might do to clean out the folds, or bring
a bit of sweet feed to the kids, and he could fatten his thighs as much as he
pleased on whey; but he has taken to bad ways and will not go about any
kind of work; he will do nothing but beg victuals all the town over, to feed
his insatiable belly. I say, therefore—and it shall surely be—if he goes near
Ulysses’ house he will get his head broken by the stools they will fling at
him, till they turn him out.”
On this, as he passed, he gave Ulysses a kick on the hip out of pure
wantonness, but Ulysses stood firm, and did not budge from the path. For a
moment he doubted whether or no to fly at Melanthius and kill him with his

staff, or fling him to the ground and beat his brains out; he resolved,
however, to endure it and keep himself in check, but the swineherd looked
straight at Melanthius and rebuked him, lifting up his hands and praying to
heaven as he did so.
“Fountain nymphs,” he cried, “children of Jove, if ever Ulysses burned
you thigh bones covered with fat whether of lambs or kids, grant my prayer
that heaven may send him home. He would soon put an end to the
swaggering threats with which such men as you go about insulting people—
gadding all over the town while your flocks are going to ruin through bad
shepherding.”
Then Melanthius the goatherd answered, “You ill conditioned cur, what
are you talking about? Some day or other I will put you on board ship and
take you to a foreign country, where I can sell you and pocket the money
you will fetch. I wish I were as sure that Apollo would strike Telemachus
dead this very day, or that the suitors would kill him, as I am that Ulysses
will never come home again.”
With this he left them to come on at their leisure, while he went quickly
forward and soon reached the house of his master. When he got there he
went in and took his seat among the suitors opposite Eurymachus, who
liked him better than any of the others. The servants brought him a portion
of meat, and an upper woman servant set bread before him that he might
eat. Presently Ulysses and the swineherd came up to the house and stood by
it, amid a sound of music, for Phemius was just beginning to sing to the
suitors. Then Ulysses took hold of the swineherd’s hand, and said:
“Eumaeus, this house of Ulysses is a very fine place. No matter how far
you go, you will find few like it. One building keeps following on after
another. The outer court has a wall with battlements all round it; the doors
are double folding, and of good workmanship; it would be a hard matter to
take it by force of arms. I perceive, too, that there are many people
banqueting within it, for there is a smell of roast meat, and I hear a sound of
music, which the gods have made to go along with feasting.”
Then Eumaeus said, “You have perceived aright, as indeed you generally
do; but let us think what will be our best course. Will you go inside first and
join the suitors, leaving me here behind you, or will you wait here and let
me go in first? But do not wait long, or some one may see you loitering

about outside, and throw something at you. Consider this matter I pray
you.”
And Ulysses answered, “I understand and heed. Go in first and leave me
here where I am. I am quite used to being beaten and having things thrown
at me. I have been so much buffeted about in war and by sea that I am case-
hardened, and this too may go with the rest. But a man cannot hide away
the cravings of a hungry belly; this is an enemy which gives much trouble
to all men; it is because of this that ships are fitted out to sail the seas, and
to make war upon other people.”
As they were thus talking, a dog that had been lying asleep raised his
head and pricked up his ears. This was Argos, whom Ulysses had bred
before setting out for Troy, but he had never had any work out of him. In
the old days he used to be taken out by the young men when they went
hunting wild goats, or deer, or hares, but now that his master was gone he
was lying neglected on the heaps of mule and cow dung that lay in front of
the stable doors till the men should come and draw it away to manure the
great close; and he was full of fleas. As soon as he saw Ulysses standing
there, he dropped his ears and wagged his tail, but he could not get close up
to his master. When Ulysses saw the dog on the other side of the yard, he
dashed a tear from his eyes without Eumaeus seeing it, and said:
“Eumaeus, what a noble hound that is over yonder on the manure heap:
his build is splendid; is he as fine a fellow as he looks, or is he only one of
those dogs that come begging about a table, and are kept merely for show?”
“This hound,” answered Eumaeus, “belonged to him who has died in a
far country. If he were what he was when Ulysses left for Troy, he would
soon show you what he could do. There was not a wild beast in the forest
that could get away from him when he was once on its tracks. But now he
has fallen on evil times, for his master is dead and gone, and the women
take no care of him. Servants never do their work when their master’s hand
is no longer over them, for Jove takes half the goodness out of a man when
he makes a slave of him.”
As he spoke he went inside the buildings to the cloister where the suitors
were, but Argos died as soon as he had recognised his master.
Telemachus saw Eumaeus long before any one else did, and beckoned
him to come and sit beside him; so he looked about and saw a seat lying
near where the carver sat serving out their portions to the suitors; he picked

it up, brought it to Telemachus’s table, and sat down opposite him. Then the
servant brought him his portion, and gave him bread from the bread-basket.
Immediately afterwards Ulysses came inside, looking like a poor
miserable old beggar, leaning on his staff and with his clothes all in rags.
He sat down upon the threshold of ash-wood just inside the doors leading
from the outer to the inner court, and against a bearing-post of cypress-
wood which the carpenter had skilfully planed, and had made to join truly
with rule and line. Telemachus took a whole loaf from the bread-basket,
with as much meat as he could hold in his two hands, and said to Eumaeus,
“Take this to the stranger, and tell him to go the round of the suitors, and
beg from them; a beggar must not be shamefaced.”
So Eumaeus went up to him and said, “Stranger, Telemachus sends you
this, and says you are to go the round of the suitors begging, for beggars
must not be shamefaced.”
Ulysses answered, “May King Jove grant all happiness to Telemachus,
and fulfil the desire of his heart.”
Then with both hands he took what Telemachus had sent him, and laid it
on the dirty old wallet at his feet. He went on eating it while the bard was
singing, and had just finished his dinner as he left off. The suitors
applauded the bard, whereon Minerva went up to Ulysses and prompted
him to beg pieces of bread from each one of the suitors, that he might see
what kind of people they were, and tell the good from the bad; but come
what might she was not going to save a single one of them. Ulysses,
therefore, went on his round, going from left to right, and stretched out his
hands to beg as though he were a real beggar. Some of them pitied him, and
were curious about him, asking one another who he was and where he came
from; whereon the goatherd Melanthius said, “Suitors of my noble mistress,
I can tell you something about him, for I have seen him before. The
swineherd brought him here, but I know nothing about the man himself, nor
where he comes from.”
On this Antinous began to abuse the swineherd. “You precious idiot,” he
cried, “what have you brought this man to town for? Have we not tramps
and beggars enough already to pester us as we sit at meat? Do you think it a
small thing that such people gather here to waste your master’s property—
and must you needs bring this man as well?”

And Eumaeus answered, “Antinous, your birth is good but your words
evil. It was no doing of mine that he came here. Who is likely to invite a
stranger from a foreign country, unless it be one of those who can do public
service as a seer, a healer of hurts, a carpenter, or a bard who can charm us
with his singing? Such men are welcome all the world over, but no one is
likely to ask a beggar who will only worry him. You are always harder on
Ulysses’ servants than any of the other suitors are, and above all on me, but
I do not care so long as Telemachus and Penelope are alive and here.”
But Telemachus said, “Hush, do not answer him; Antinous has the
bitterest tongue of all the suitors, and he makes the others worse.”
Then turning to Antinous he said, “Antinous, you take as much care of
my interests as though I were your son. Why should you want to see this
stranger turned out of the house? Heaven forbid; take something and give it
him yourself; I do not grudge it; I bid you take it. Never mind my mother,
nor any of the other servants in the house; but I know you will not do what I
say, for you are more fond of eating things yourself than of giving them to
other people.”
“What do you mean, Telemachus,” replied Antinous, “by this swaggering
talk? If all the suitors were to give him as much as I will, he would not
come here again for another three months.”
As he spoke he drew the stool on which he rested his dainty feet from
under the table, and made as though he would throw it at Ulysses, but the
other suitors all gave him something, and filled his wallet with bread and
meat; he was about, therefore, to go back to the threshold and eat what the
suitors had given him, but he first went up to Antinous and said:
“Sir, give me something; you are not, surely, the poorest man here; you
seem to be a chief, foremost among them all; therefore you should be the
better giver, and I will tell far and wide of your bounty. I too was a rich man
once, and had a fine house of my own; in those days I gave to many a tramp
such as I now am, no matter who he might be nor what he wanted. I had any
number of servants, and all the other things which people have who live
well and are accounted wealthy, but it pleased Jove to take all away from
me. He sent me with a band of roving robbers to Egypt; it was a long
voyage and I was undone by it. I stationed my ships in the river Aegyptus,
and bade my men stay by them and keep guard over them, while I sent out
scouts to reconnoitre from every point of vantage.

“But the men disobeyed my orders, took to their own devices, and
ravaged the land of the Egyptians, killing the men, and taking their wives
and children captives. The alarm was soon carried to the city, and when
they heard the war-cry, the people came out at daybreak till the plain was
filled with soldiers horse and foot, and with the gleam of armour. Then Jove
spread panic among my men, and they would no longer face the enemy, for
they found themselves surrounded. The Egyptians killed many of us, and
took the rest alive to do forced labour for them; as for myself, they gave me
to a friend who met them, to take to Cyprus, Dmetor by name, son of Iasus,
who was a great man in Cyprus. Thence I am come hither in a state of great
misery.”
Then Antinous said, “What god can have sent such a pestilence to plague
us during our dinner? Get out, into the open part of the court,[145] or I will
give you Egypt and Cyprus over again for your insolence and importunity;
you have begged of all the others, and they have given you lavishly, for
they have abundance round them, and it is easy to be free with other
people’s property when there is plenty of it.”
On this Ulysses began to move off, and said, “Your looks, my fine sir, are
better than your breeding; if you were in your own house you would not
spare a poor man so much as a pinch of salt, for though you are in another
man’s, and surrounded with abundance, you cannot find it in you to give
him even a piece of bread.”
This made Antinous very angry, and he scowled at him saying, “You
shall pay for this before you get clear of the court.” With these words he
threw a footstool at him, and hit him on the right shoulder blade near the
top of his back. Ulysses stood firm as a rock and the blow did not even
stagger him, but he shook his head in silence as he brooded on his revenge.
Then he went back to the threshold and sat down there, laying his well
filled wallet at his feet.
“Listen to me,” he cried, “you suitors of Queen Penelope, that I may
speak even as I am minded. A man knows neither ache nor pain if he gets
hit while fighting for his money, or for his sheep or his cattle; and even so
Antinous has hit me while in the service of my miserable belly, which is
always getting people into trouble. Still, if the poor have gods and avenging
deities at all, I pray them that Antinous may come to a bad end before his
marriage.”

“Sit where you are, and eat your victuals in silence, or be off elsewhere,”
shouted Antinous. “If you say more I will have you dragged hand and foot
through the courts, and the servants shall flay you alive.”
The other suitors were much displeased at this, and one of the young men
said, “Antinous, you did ill in striking that poor wretch of a tramp: it will be
worse for you if he should turn out to be some god—and we know the gods
go about disguised in all sorts of ways as people from foreign countries, and
travel about the world to see who do amiss and who righteously.”[146]
Thus said the suitors, but Antinous paid them no heed. Meanwhile
Telemachus was furious about the blow that had been given to his father,
and though no tear fell from him, he shook his head in silence and brooded
on his revenge.
Now when Penelope heard that the beggar had been struck in the
banqueting-cloister, she said before her maids, “Would that Apollo would
so strike you, Antinous,” and her waiting woman Eurynome answered, “If
our prayers were answered not one of the suitors would ever again see the
sun rise.” Then Penelope said, “Nurse,[147] I hate every single one of them,
for they mean nothing but mischief, but I hate Antinous like the darkness of
death itself. A poor unfortunate tramp has come begging about the house for
sheer want. Every one else has given him something to put in his wallet, but
Antinous has hit him on the right shoulder-blade with a footstool.”
Thus did she talk with her maids as she sat in her own room, and in the
meantime Ulysses was getting his dinner. Then she called for the swineherd
and said, “Eumaeus, go and tell the stranger to come here, I want to see him
and ask him some questions. He seems to have travelled much, and he may
have seen or heard something of my unhappy husband.”
To this you answered, O swineherd Eumaeus, “If these Achaeans,
Madam, would only keep quiet, you would be charmed with the history of
his adventures. I had him three days and three nights with me in my hut,
which was the first place he reached after running away from his ship, and
he has not yet completed the story of his misfortunes. If he had been the
most heaven-taught minstrel in the whole world, on whose lips all hearers
hang entranced, I could not have been more charmed as I sat in my hut and
listened to him. He says there is an old friendship between his house and
that of Ulysses, and that he comes from Crete where the descendants of
Minos live, after having been driven hither and thither by every kind of

misfortune; he also declares that he has heard of Ulysses as being alive and
near at hand among the Thesprotians, and that he is bringing great wealth
home with him.”
“Call him here, then,” said Penelope, “that I too may hear his story. As
for the suitors, let them take their pleasure indoors or out as they will, for
they have nothing to fret about. Their corn and wine remain unwasted in
their houses with none but servants to consume them, while they keep
hanging about our house day after day sacrificing our oxen, sheep, and fat
goats for their banquets, and never giving so much as a thought to the
quantity of wine they drink. No estate can stand such recklessness, for we
have now no Ulysses to protect us. If he were to come again, he and his son
would soon have their revenge.”
As she spoke Telemachus sneezed so loudly that the whole house
resounded with it. Penelope laughed when she heard this, and said to
Eumaeus, “Go and call the stranger; did you not hear how my son sneezed
just as I was speaking? This can only mean that all the suitors are going to
be killed, and that not one of them shall escape. Furthermore I say, and lay
my saying to your heart: if I am satisfied that the stranger is speaking the
truth I shall give him a shirt and cloak of good wear.”
When Eumaeus heard this he went straight to Ulysses and said, “Father
stranger, my mistress Penelope, mother of Telemachus, has sent for you; she
is in great grief, but she wishes to hear anything you can tell her about her
husband, and if she is satisfied that you are speaking the truth, she will give
you a shirt and cloak, which are the very things that you are most in want
of. As for bread, you can get enough of that to fill your belly, by begging
about the town, and letting those give that will.”
“I will tell Penelope,” answered Ulysses, “nothing but what is strictly
true. I know all about her husband, and have been partner with him in
affliction, but I am afraid of passing through this crowd of cruel suitors, for
their pride and insolence reach heaven. Just now, moreover, as I was going
about the house without doing any harm, a man gave me a blow that hurt
me very much, but neither Telemachus nor any one else defended me. Tell
Penelope, therefore, to be patient and wait till sundown. Let her give me a
seat close up to the fire, for my clothes are worn very thin—you know they
are, for you have seen them ever since I first asked you to help me—she can
then ask me about the return of her husband.”

The swineherd went back when he heard this, and Penelope said as she
saw him cross the threshold, “Why do you not bring him here, Eumaeus? Is
he afraid that some one will ill-treat him, or is he shy of coming inside the
house at all? Beggars should not be shamefaced.”
To this you answered, O swineherd Eumaeus, “The stranger is quite
reasonable. He is avoiding the suitors, and is only doing what any one else
would do. He asks you to wait till sundown, and it will be much better,
madam, that you should have him all to yourself, when you can hear him
and talk to him as you will.”
“The man is no fool,” answered Penelope, “it would very likely be as he
says, for there are no such abominable people in the whole world as these
men are.”
When she had done speaking Eumaeus went back to the suitors, for he
had explained everything. Then he went up to Telemachus and said in his
ear so that none could overhear him, “My dear sir, I will now go back to the
pigs, to see after your property and my own business. You will look to what
is going on here, but above all be careful to keep out of danger, for there are
many who bear you ill will. May Jove bring them to a bad end before they
do us a mischief.”
“Very well,” replied Telemachus, “go home when you have had your
dinner, and in the morning come here with the victims we are to sacrifice
for the day. Leave the rest to heaven and me.”
On this Eumaeus took his seat again, and when he had finished his dinner
he left the courts and the cloister with the men at table, and went back to his
pigs. As for the suitors, they presently began to amuse themselves with
singing and dancing, for it was now getting on towards evening.

BOOK XVIII

THE FIGHT WITH IRUS—ULYSSES WARNS
AMPHINOMUS—PENELOPE GETS PRESENTS FROM
THE SUITORS—THE BRAZIERS—ULYSSES REBUKES
EURYMACHUS.

Now there came a certain common tramp who used to go begging all
over the city of Ithaca, and was notorious as an incorrigible glutton and
drunkard. This man had no strength nor stay in him, but he was a great
hulking fellow to look at; his real name, the one his mother gave him, was
Arnaeus, but the young men of the place called him Irus,[148] because he
used to run errands for any one who would send him. As soon as he came
he began to insult Ulysses, and to try and drive him out of his own house.
“Be off, old man,” he cried, “from the doorway, or you shall be dragged
out neck and heels. Do you not see that they are all giving me the wink, and
wanting me to turn you out by force, only I do not like to do so? Get up
then, and go of yourself, or we shall come to blows.”
Ulysses frowned on him and said, “My friend, I do you no manner of
harm; people give you a great deal, but I am not jealous. There is room
enough in this doorway for the pair of us, and you need not grudge me
things that are not yours to give. You seem to be just such another tramp as
myself, but perhaps the gods will give us better luck by and by. Do not,
however, talk too much about fighting or you will incense me, and old
though I am, I shall cover your mouth and chest with blood. I shall have
more peace tomorrow if I do, for you will not come to the house of Ulysses
any more.”
Irus was very angry and answered, “You filthy glutton, you run on
trippingly like an old fish-fag. I have a good mind to lay both hands about
you, and knock your teeth out of your head like so many boar’s tusks. Get

ready, therefore, and let these people here stand by and look on. You will
never be able to fight one who is so much younger than yourself.”
Thus roundly did they rate one another on the smooth pavement in front
of the doorway,[149] and when Antinous saw what was going on he laughed
heartily and said to the others, “This is the finest sport that you ever saw;
heaven never yet sent anything like it into this house. The stranger and Irus
have quarreled and are going to fight, let us set them on to do so at once.”
The suitors all came up laughing, and gathered round the two ragged
tramps. “Listen to me,” said Antinous, “there are some goats’ paunches
down at the fire, which we have filled with blood and fat, and set aside for
supper; he who is victorious and proves himself to be the better man shall
have his pick of the lot; he shall be free of our table and we will not allow
any other beggar about the house at all.”
The others all agreed, but Ulysses, to throw them off the scent, said,
“Sirs, an old man like myself, worn out with suffering, cannot hold his own
against a young one; but my irrepressible belly urges me on, though I know
it can only end in my getting a drubbing. You must swear, however that
none of you will give me a foul blow to favour Irus and secure him the
victory.”
They swore as he told them, and when they had completed their oath
Telemachus put in a word and said, “Stranger, if you have a mind to settle
with this fellow, you need not be afraid of any one here. Whoever strikes
you will have to fight more than one. I am host, and the other chiefs,
Antinous and Eurymachus, both of them men of understanding, are of the
same mind as I am.”
Every one assented, and Ulysses girded his old rags about his loins, thus
baring his stalwart thighs, his broad chest and shoulders, and his mighty
arms; but Minerva came up to him and made his limbs even stronger still.
The suitors were beyond measure astonished, and one would turn towards
his neighbour saying, “The stranger has brought such a thigh out of his old
rags that there will soon be nothing left of Irus.”
Irus began to be very uneasy as he heard them, but the servants girded
him by force, and brought him [into the open part of the court] in such a
fright that his limbs were all of a tremble. Antinous scolded him and said,
“You swaggering bully, you ought never to have been born at all if you are
afraid of such an old broken down creature as this tramp is. I say, therefore

—and it shall surely be—if he beats you and proves himself the better man,
I shall pack you off on board ship to the mainland and send you to king
Echetus, who kills every one that comes near him. He will cut off your nose
and ears, and draw out your entrails for the dogs to eat.”
This frightened Irus still more, but they brought him into the middle of
the court, and the two men raised their hands to fight. Then Ulysses
considered whether he should let drive so hard at him as to make an end of
him then and there, or whether he should give him a lighter blow that
should only knock him down; in the end he deemed it best to give the
lighter blow for fear the Achaeans should begin to suspect who he was.
Then they began to fight, and Irus hit Ulysses on the right shoulder; but
Ulysses gave Irus a blow on the neck under the ear that broke in the bones
of his skull, and the blood came gushing out of his mouth; he fell groaning
in the dust, gnashing his teeth and kicking on the ground, but the suitors
threw up their hands and nearly died of laughter, as Ulysses caught hold of
him by the foot and dragged him into the outer court as far as the gate-
house. There he propped him up against the wall and put his staff in his
hands. “Sit here,” said he, “and keep the dogs and pigs off; you are a pitiful
creature, and if you try to make yourself king of the beggars any more you
shall fare still worse.”
Then he threw his dirty old wallet, all tattered and torn over his shoulder
with the cord by which it hung, and went back to sit down upon the
threshold; but the suitors went within the cloisters, laughing and saluting
him, “May Jove, and all the other gods,” said they, “grant you whatever you
want for having put an end to the importunity of this insatiable tramp. We
will take him over to the mainland presently, to king Echetus, who kills
every one that comes near him.”
Ulysses hailed this as of good omen, and Antinous set a great goat’s
paunch before him filled with blood and fat. Amphinomus took two loaves
out of the bread-basket and brought them to him, pledging him as he did so
in a golden goblet of wine. “Good luck to you,” he said, “father stranger,
you are very badly off at present, but I hope you will have better times by
and by.”
To this Ulysses answered, “Amphinomus, you seem to be a man of good
understanding, as indeed you may well be, seeing whose son you are. I have
heard your father well spoken of; he is Nisus of Dulichium, a man both

brave and wealthy. They tell me you are his son, and you appear to be a
considerable person; listen, therefore, and take heed to what I am saying.
Man is the vainest of all creatures that have their being upon earth. As long
as heaven vouchsafes him health and strength, he thinks that he shall come
to no harm hereafter, and even when the blessed gods bring sorrow upon
him, he bears it as he needs must, and makes the best of it; for God
almighty gives men their daily minds day by day. I know all about it, for I
was a rich man once, and did much wrong in the stubbornness of my pride,
and in the confidence that my father and my brothers would support me;
therefore let a man fear God in all things always, and take the good that
heaven may see fit to send him without vain glory. Consider the infamy of
what these suitors are doing; see how they are wasting the estate, and doing
dishonour to the wife, of one who is certain to return some day, and that,
too, not long hence. Nay, he will be here soon; may heaven send you home
quietly first that you may not meet with him in the day of his coming, for
once he is here the suitors and he will not part bloodlessly.”
With these words he made a drink-offering, and when he had drunk he
put the gold cup again into the hands of Amphinomus, who walked away
serious and bowing his head, for he foreboded evil. But even so he did not
escape destruction, for Minerva had doomed him to fall by the hand of
Telemachus. So he took his seat again at the place from which he had come.
Then Minerva put it into the mind of Penelope to show herself to the
suitors, that she might make them still more enamoured of her, and win still
further honour from her son and husband. So she feigned a mocking laugh
and said, “Eurynome, I have changed my mind, and have a fancy to show
myself to the suitors although I detest them. I should like also to give my
son a hint that he had better not have anything more to do with them. They
speak fairly enough but they mean mischief.”
“My dear child,” answered Eurynome, “all that you have said is true, go
and tell your son about it, but first wash yourself and anoint your face. Do
not go about with your cheeks all covered with tears; it is not right that you
should grieve so incessantly; for Telemachus, whom you always prayed that
you might live to see with a beard, is already grown up.”
“I know, Eurynome,” replied Penelope, “that you mean well, but do not
try and persuade me to wash and to anoint myself, for heaven robbed me of
all my beauty on the day my husband sailed; nevertheless, tell Autonoe and

Hippodamia that I want them. They must be with me when I am in the
cloister; I am not going among the men alone; it would not be proper for me
to do so.”
On this the old woman[150] went out of the room to bid the maids go to
their mistress. In the meantime Minerva bethought her of another matter,
and sent Penelope off into a sweet slumber; so she lay down on her couch
and her limbs became heavy with sleep. Then the goddess shed grace and
beauty over her that all the Achaeans might admire her. She washed her
face with the ambrosial loveliness that Venus wears when she goes dancing
with the Graces; she made her taller and of a more commanding figure,
while as for her complexion it was whiter than sawn ivory. When Minerva
had done all this she went away, whereon the maids came in from the
women’s room and woke Penelope with the sound of their talking.
“What an exquisitely delicious sleep I have been having,” said she, as she
passed her hands over her face, “in spite of all my misery. I wish Diana
would let me die so sweetly now at this very moment, that I might no
longer waste in despair for the loss of my dear husband, who possessed
every kind of good quality and was the most distinguished man among the
Achaeans.”
With these words she came down from her upper room, not alone but
attended by two of her maidens, and when she reached the suitors she stood
by one of the bearing-posts supporting the roof of the cloister, holding a veil
before her face, and with a staid maid servant on either side of her. As they
beheld her the suitors were so overpowered and became so desperately
enamoured of her, that each one prayed he might win her for his own bed
fellow.
“Telemachus,” said she, addressing her son, “I fear you are no longer so
discreet and well conducted as you used to be. When you were younger you
had a greater sense of propriety; now, however, that you are grown up,
though a stranger to look at you would take you for the son of a well to do
father as far as size and good looks go, your conduct is by no means what it
should be. What is all this disturbance that has been going on, and how
came you to allow a stranger to be so disgracefully ill-treated? What would
have happened if he had suffered serious injury while a suppliant in our
house? Surely this would have been very discreditable to you.”

“I am not surprised, my dear mother, at your displeasure,” replied
Telemachus, “I understand all about it and know when things are not as they
should be, which I could not do when I was younger; I cannot, however,
behave with perfect propriety at all times. First one and then another of
these wicked people here keeps driving me out of my mind, and I have no
one to stand by me. After all, however, this fight between Irus and the
stranger did not turn out as the suitors meant it to do, for the stranger got the
best of it. I wish Father Jove, Minerva, and Apollo would break the neck of
every one of these wooers of yours, some inside the house and some out;
and I wish they might all be as limp as Irus is over yonder in the gate of the
outer court. See how he nods his head like a drunken man; he has had such
a thrashing that he cannot stand on his feet nor get back to his home,
wherever that may be, for he has no strength left in him.”
Thus did they converse. Eurymachus then came up and said, “Queen
Penelope, daughter of Icarius, if all the Achaeans in Iasian Argos could see
you at this moment, you would have still more suitors in your house by
tomorrow morning, for you are the most admirable woman in the whole
world both as regards personal beauty and strength of understanding.”
To this Penelope replied, “Eurymachus, heaven robbed me of all my
beauty whether of face or figure when the Argives set sail for Troy and my
dear husband with them. If he were to return and look after my affairs, I
should both be more respected and show a better presence to the world. As
it is, I am oppressed with care, and with the afflictions which heaven has
seen fit to heap upon me. My husband foresaw it all, and when he was
leaving home he took my right wrist in his hand—‘Wife,’ he said, ‘we shall
not all of us come safe home from Troy, for the Trojans fight well both with
bow and spear. They are excellent also at fighting from chariots, and
nothing decides the issue of a fight sooner than this. I know not, therefore,
whether heaven will send me back to you, or whether I may not fall over
there at Troy. In the meantime do you look after things here. Take care of
my father and mother as at present, and even more so during my absence,
but when you see our son growing a beard, then marry whom you will, and
leave this your present home.’ This is what he said and now it is all coming
true. A night will come when I shall have to yield myself to a marriage
which I detest, for Jove has taken from me all hope of happiness. This
further grief, moreover, cuts me to the very heart. You suitors are not
wooing me after the custom of my country. When men are courting a

woman who they think will be a good wife to them and who is of noble
birth, and when they are each trying to win her for himself, they usually
bring oxen and sheep to feast the friends of the lady, and they make her
magnificent presents, instead of eating up other people’s property without
paying for it.”
This was what she said, and Ulysses was glad when he heard her trying
to get presents out of the suitors, and flattering them with fair words which
he knew she did not mean.
Then Antinous said, “Queen Penelope, daughter of Icarius, take as many
presents as you please from any one who will give them to you; it is not
well to refuse a present; but we will not go about our business nor stir from
where we are, till you have married the best man among us whoever he may
be.”
The others applauded what Antinous had said, and each one sent his
servant to bring his present. Antinous’s man returned with a large and
lovely dress most exquisitely embroidered. It had twelve beautifully made
brooch pins of pure gold with which to fasten it. Eurymachus immediately
brought her a magnificent chain of gold and amber beads that gleamed like
sunlight. Eurydamas’s two men returned with some earrings fashioned into
three brilliant pendants which glistened most beautifully; while king
Pisander son of Polyctor gave her a necklace of the rarest workmanship,
and every one else brought her a beautiful present of some kind.
Then the queen went back to her room upstairs, and her maids brought
the presents after her. Meanwhile the suitors took to singing and dancing,
and stayed till evening came. They danced and sang till it grew dark; they
then brought in three braziers[151] to give light, and piled them up with
chopped firewood very old and dry, and they lit torches from them, which
the maids held up turn and turn about. Then Ulysses said:
“Maids, servants of Ulysses who has so long been absent, go to the queen
inside the house; sit with her and amuse her, or spin, and pick wool. I will
hold the light for all these people. They may stay till morning, but shall not
beat me, for I can stand a great deal.”
The maids looked at one another and laughed, while pretty Melantho
began to gibe at him contemptuously. She was daughter to Dolius, but had
been brought up by Penelope, who used to give her toys to play with, and
looked after her when she was a child; but in spite of all this she showed no

consideration for the sorrows of her mistress, and used to misconduct
herself with Eurymachus, with whom she was in love.
“Poor wretch,” said she, “are you gone clean out of your mind? Go and
sleep in some smithy, or place of public gossips, instead of chattering here.
Are you not ashamed of opening your mouth before your betters—so many
of them too? Has the wine been getting into your head, or do you always
babble in this way? You seem to have lost your wits because you beat the
tramp Irus; take care that a better man than he does not come and cudgel
you about the head till he pack you bleeding out of the house.”
“Vixen,” replied Ulysses, scowling at her, “I will go and tell Telemachus
what you have been saying, and he will have you torn limb from limb.”
With these words he scared the women, and they went off into the body
of the house. They trembled all over, for they thought he would do as he
said. But Ulysses took his stand near the burning braziers, holding up
torches and looking at the people—brooding the while on things that should
surely come to pass.
But Minerva would not let the suitors for one moment cease their
insolence, for she wanted Ulysses to become even more bitter against them;
she therefore set Eurymachus son of Polybus on to gibe at him, which made
the others laugh. “Listen to me,” said he, “you suitors of Queen Penelope,
that I may speak even as I am minded. It is not for nothing that this man has
come to the house of Ulysses; I believe the light has not been coming from
the torches, but from his own head—for his hair is all gone, every bit of it.”
Then turning to Ulysses he said, “Stranger, will you work as a servant, if
I send you to the wolds and see that you are well paid? Can you build a
stone fence, or plant trees? I will have you fed all the year round, and will
find you in shoes and clothing. Will you go, then? Not you; for you have
got into bad ways, and do not want to work; you had rather fill your belly
by going round the country begging.”
“Eurymachus,” answered Ulysses, “if you and I were to work one against
the other in early summer when the days are at their longest—give me a
good scythe, and take another yourself, and let us see which will last the
longer or mow the stronger, from dawn till dark when the mowing grass is
about. Or if you will plough against me, let us each take a yoke of tawny
oxen, well-mated and of great strength and endurance: turn me into a four
acre field, and see whether you or I can drive the straighter furrow. If, again,

war were to break out this day, give me a shield, a couple of spears and a
helmet fitting well upon my temples—you would find me foremost in the
fray, and would cease your gibes about my belly. You are insolent and cruel,
and think yourself a great man because you live in a little world, and that a
bad one. If Ulysses comes to his own again, the doors of his house are wide,
but you will find them narrow when you try to fly through them.”
Eurymachus was furious at all this. He scowled at him and cried, “You
wretch, I will soon pay you out for daring to say such things to me, and in
public too. Has the wine been getting into your head or do you always
babble in this way? You seem to have lost your wits because you beat the
tramp Irus.” With this he caught hold of a footstool, but Ulysses sought
protection at the knees of Amphinomus of Dulichium, for he was afraid.
The stool hit the cupbearer on his right hand and knocked him down: the
man fell with a cry flat on his back, and his wine-jug fell ringing to the
ground. The suitors in the covered cloister were now in an uproar, and one
would turn towards his neighbour, saying, “I wish the stranger had gone
somewhere else, bad luck to him, for all the trouble he gives us. We cannot
permit such disturbance about a beggar; if such ill counsels are to prevail
we shall have no more pleasure at our banquet.”
On this Telemachus came forward and said, “Sirs, are you mad? Can you
not carry your meat and your liquor decently? Some evil spirit has
possessed you. I do not wish to drive any of you away, but you have had
your suppers, and the sooner you all go home to bed the better.”
The suitors bit their lips and marvelled at the boldness of his speech; but
Amphinomus the son of Nisus, who was son to Aretias, said, “Do not let us
take offence; it is reasonable, so let us make no answer. Neither let us do
violence to the stranger nor to any of Ulysses’ servants. Let the cupbearer
go round with the drink-offerings, that we may make them and go home to
our rest. As for the stranger, let us leave Telemachus to deal with him, for it
is to his house that he has come.”
Thus did he speak, and his saying pleased them well, so Mulius of
Dulichium, servant to Amphinomus, mixed them a bowl of wine and water
and handed it round to each of them man by man, whereon they made their
drink-offerings to the blessed gods: Then, when they had made their drink-
offerings and had drunk each one as he was minded, they took their several
ways each of them to his own abode.

BOOK XIX

TELEMACHUS AND ULYSSES REMOVE THE
ARMOUR—ULYSSES INTERVIEWS PENELOPE—
EURYCLEA WASHES HIS FEET AND RECOGNISES
THE SCAR ON HIS LEG—PENELOPE TELLS HER
DREAM TO ULYSSES.

Ulysses was left in the cloister, pondering on the means whereby with
Minerva’s help he might be able to kill the suitors. Presently he said to
Telemachus, “Telemachus, we must get the armour together and take it
down inside. Make some excuse when the suitors ask you why you have
removed it. Say that you have taken it to be out of the way of the smoke,
inasmuch as it is no longer what it was when Ulysses went away, but has
become soiled and begrimed with soot. Add to this more particularly that
you are afraid Jove may set them on to quarrel over their wine, and that
they may do each other some harm which may disgrace both banquet and
wooing, for the sight of arms sometimes tempts people to use them.”
Telemachus approved of what his father had said, so he called nurse
Euryclea and said, “Nurse, shut the women up in their room, while I take
the armour that my father left behind him down into the store room. No one
looks after it now my father is gone, and it has got all smirched with soot
during my own boyhood. I want to take it down where the smoke cannot
reach it.”
“I wish, child,” answered Euryclea, “that you would take the
management of the house into your own hands altogether, and look after all
the property yourself. But who is to go with you and light you to the store-
room? The maids would have done so, but you would not let them.”
“The stranger,” said Telemachus, “shall show me a light; when people eat
my bread they must earn it, no matter where they come from.”

Euryclea did as she was told, and bolted the women inside their room.
Then Ulysses and his son made all haste to take the helmets, shields, and
spears inside; and Minerva went before them with a gold lamp in her hand
that shed a soft and brilliant radiance, whereon Telemachus said, “Father,
my eyes behold a great marvel: the walls, with the rafters, crossbeams, and
the supports on which they rest are all aglow as with a flaming fire. Surely
there is some god here who has come down from heaven.”
“Hush,” answered Ulysses, “hold your peace and ask no questions, for
this is the manner of the gods. Get you to your bed, and leave me here to
talk with your mother and the maids. Your mother in her grief will ask me
all sorts of questions.”
On this Telemachus went by torch-light to the other side of the inner
court, to the room in which he always slept. There he lay in his bed till
morning, while Ulysses was left in the cloister pondering on the means
whereby with Minerva’s help he might be able to kill the suitors.
Then Penelope came down from her room looking like Venus or Diana,
and they set her a seat inlaid with scrolls of silver and ivory near the fire in
her accustomed place. It had been made by Icmalius and had a footstool all
in one piece with the seat itself; and it was covered with a thick fleece: on
this she now sat, and the maids came from the women’s room to join her.
They set about removing the tables at which the wicked suitors had been
dining, and took away the bread that was left, with the cups from which
they had drunk. They emptied the embers out of the braziers, and heaped
much wood upon them to give both light and heat; but Melantho began to
rail at Ulysses a second time and said, “Stranger, do you mean to plague us
by hanging about the house all night and spying upon the women? Be off,
you wretch, outside, and eat your supper there, or you shall be driven out
with a firebrand.”
Ulysses scowled at her and answered, “My good woman, why should you
be so angry with me? Is it because I am not clean, and my clothes are all in
rags, and because I am obliged to go begging about after the manner of
tramps and beggars generally? I too was a rich man once, and had a fine
house of my own; in those days I gave to many a tramp such as I now am,
no matter who he might be nor what he wanted. I had any number of
servants, and all the other things which people have who live well and are
accounted wealthy, but it pleased Jove to take all away from me; therefore,

woman, beware lest you too come to lose that pride and place in which you
now wanton above your fellows; have a care lest you get out of favour with
your mistress, and lest Ulysses should come home, for there is still a chance
that he may do so. Moreover, though he be dead as you think he is, yet by
Apollo’s will he has left a son behind him, Telemachus, who will note
anything done amiss by the maids in the house, for he is now no longer in
his boyhood.”
Penelope heard what he was saying and scolded the maid, “Impudent
baggage,” said she, “I see how abominably you are behaving, and you shall
smart for it. You knew perfectly well, for I told you myself, that I was going
to see the stranger and ask him about my husband, for whose sake I am in
such continual sorrow.”
Then she said to her head waiting woman Eurynome, “Bring a seat with a
fleece upon it, for the stranger to sit upon while he tells his story, and listens
to what I have to say. I wish to ask him some questions.”
Eurynome brought the seat at once and set a fleece upon it, and as soon
as Ulysses had sat down Penelope began by saying, “Stranger, I shall first
ask you who and whence are you? Tell me of your town and parents.”
“Madam,” answered Ulysses, “who on the face of the whole earth can
dare to chide with you? Your fame reaches the firmament of heaven itself;
you are like some blameless king, who upholds righteousness, as the
monarch over a great and valiant nation: the earth yields its wheat and
barley, the trees are loaded with fruit, the ewes bring forth lambs, and the
sea abounds with fish by reason of his virtues, and his people do good deeds
under him. Nevertheless, as I sit here in your house, ask me some other
question and do not seek to know my race and family, or you will recall
memories that will yet more increase my sorrow. I am full of heaviness, but
I ought not to sit weeping and wailing in another person’s house, nor is it
well to be thus grieving continually. I shall have one of the servants or even
yourself complaining of me, and saying that my eyes swim with tears
because I am heavy with wine.”
Then Penelope answered, “Stranger, heaven robbed me of all beauty,
whether of face or figure, when the Argives set sail for Troy and my dear
husband with them. If he were to return and look after my affairs I should
be both more respected and should show a better presence to the world. As
it is, I am oppressed with care, and with the afflictions which heaven has

seen fit to heap upon me. The chiefs from all our islands—Dulichium,
Same, and Zacynthus, as also from Ithaca itself, are wooing me against my
will and are wasting my estate. I can therefore show no attention to
strangers, nor suppliants, nor to people who say that they are skilled
artisans, but am all the time broken-hearted about Ulysses. They want me to
marry again at once, and I have to invent stratagems in order to deceive
them. In the first place heaven put it in my mind to set up a great tambour-
frame in my room, and to begin working upon an enormous piece of fine
needlework. Then I said to them, ‘Sweethearts, Ulysses is indeed dead, still,
do not press me to marry again immediately; wait—for I would not have
my skill in needlework perish unrecorded—till I have finished making a
pall for the hero Laertes, to be ready against the time when death shall take
him. He is very rich, and the women of the place will talk if he is laid out
without a pall.’ This was what I said, and they assented; whereon I used to
keep working at my great web all day long, but at night I would unpick the
stitches again by torch light. I fooled them in this way for three years
without their finding it out, but as time wore on and I was now in my fourth
year, in the waning of moons, and many days had been accomplished, those
good for nothing hussies my maids betrayed me to the suitors, who broke in
upon me and caught me; they were very angry with me, so I was forced to
finish my work whether I would or no. And now I do not see how I can find
any further shift for getting out of this marriage. My parents are putting
great pressure upon me, and my son chafes at the ravages the suitors are
making upon his estate, for he is now old enough to understand all about it
and is perfectly able to look after his own affairs, for heaven has blessed
him with an excellent disposition. Still, notwithstanding all this, tell me
who you are and where you come from—for you must have had father and
mother of some sort; you cannot be the son of an oak or of a rock.”
Then Ulysses answered, “Madam, wife of Ulysses, since you persist in
asking me about my family, I will answer, no matter what it costs me:
people must expect to be pained when they have been exiles as long as I
have, and suffered as much among as many peoples. Nevertheless, as
regards your question I will tell you all you ask. There is a fair and fruitful
island in mid-ocean called Crete; it is thickly peopled and there are ninety
cities in it: the people speak many different languages which overlap one
another, for there are Achaeans, brave Eteocretans, Dorians of three-fold
race, and noble Pelasgi. There is a great town there, Cnossus, where Minos

reigned who every nine years had a conference with Jove himself.[152] Minos
was father to Deucalion, whose son I am, for Deucalion had two sons
Idomeneus and myself. Idomeneus sailed for Troy, and I, who am the
younger, am called Aethon; my brother, however, was at once the older and
the more valiant of the two; hence it was in Crete that I saw Ulysses and
showed him hospitality, for the winds took him there as he was on his way
to Troy, carrying him out of his course from cape Malea and leaving him in
Amnisus off the cave of Ilithuia, where the harbours are difficult to enter
and he could hardly find shelter from the winds that were then raging. As
soon as he got there he went into the town and asked for Idomeneus,
claiming to be his old and valued friend, but Idomeneus had already set sail
for Troy some ten or twelve days earlier, so I took him to my own house
and showed him every kind of hospitality, for I had abundance of
everything. Moreover, I fed the men who were with him with barley meal
from the public store, and got subscriptions of wine and oxen for them to
sacrifice to their heart’s content. They stayed with me twelve days, for there
was a gale blowing from the North so strong that one could hardly keep
one’s feet on land. I suppose some unfriendly god had raised it for them, but
on the thirteenth day the wind dropped, and they got away.”
Many a plausible tale did Ulysses further tell her, and Penelope wept as
she listened, for her heart was melted. As the snow wastes upon the
mountain tops when the winds from South East and West have breathed
upon it and thawed it till the rivers run bank full with water, even so did her
cheeks overflow with tears for the husband who was all the time sitting by
her side. Ulysses felt for her and was sorry for her, but he kept his eyes as
hard as horn or iron without letting them so much as quiver, so cunningly
did he restrain his tears. Then, when she had relieved herself by weeping,
she turned to him again and said: “Now, stranger, I shall put you to the test
and see whether or no you really did entertain my husband and his men, as
you say you did. Tell me, then, how he was dressed, what kind of a man he
was to look at, and so also with his companions.”
“Madam,” answered Ulysses, “it is such a long time ago that I can hardly
say. Twenty years are come and gone since he left my home, and went
elsewhither; but I will tell you as well as I can recollect. Ulysses wore a
mantle of purple wool, double lined, and it was fastened by a gold brooch
with two catches for the pin. On the face of this there was a device that
shewed a dog holding a spotted fawn between his fore paws, and watching

it as it lay panting upon the ground. Every one marvelled at the way in
which these things had been done in gold, the dog looking at the fawn, and
strangling it, while the fawn was struggling convulsively to escape.[153] As
for the shirt that he wore next his skin, it was so soft that it fitted him like
the skin of an onion, and glistened in the sunlight to the admiration of all
the women who beheld it. Furthermore I say, and lay my saying to your
heart, that I do not know whether Ulysses wore these clothes when he left
home, or whether one of his companions had given them to him while he
was on his voyage; or possibly some one at whose house he was staying
made him a present of them, for he was a man of many friends and had few
equals among the Achaeans. I myself gave him a sword of bronze and a
beautiful purple mantle, double lined, with a shirt that went down to his
feet, and I sent him on board his ship with every mark of honour. He had a
servant with him, a little older than himself, and I can tell you what he was
like; his shoulders were hunched,[154] he was dark, and he had thick curly
hair. His name was Eurybates, and Ulysses treated him with greater
familiarity than he did any of the others, as being the most like-minded with
himself.”
Penelope was moved still more deeply as she heard the indisputable
proofs that Ulysses laid before her; and when she had again found relief in
tears she said to him, “Stranger, I was already disposed to pity you, but
henceforth you shall be honoured and made welcome in my house. It was I
who gave Ulysses the clothes you speak of. I took them out of the store
room and folded them up myself, and I gave him also the gold brooch to
wear as an ornament. Alas! I shall never welcome him home again. It was
by an ill fate that he ever set out for that detested city whose very name I
cannot bring myself even to mention.”
Then Ulysses answered, “Madam, wife of Ulysses, do not disfigure
yourself further by grieving thus bitterly for your loss, though I can hardly
blame you for doing so. A woman who has loved her husband and borne
him children, would naturally be grieved at losing him, even though he
were a worse man than Ulysses, who they say was like a god. Still, cease
your tears and listen to what I can tell you. I will hide nothing from you,
and can say with perfect truth that I have lately heard of Ulysses as being
alive and on his way home; he is among the Thesprotians, and is bringing
back much valuable treasure that he has begged from one and another of
them; but his ship and all his crew were lost as they were leaving the

Thrinacian island, for Jove and the sun-god were angry with him because
his men had slaughtered the sun-god’s cattle, and they were all drowned to
a man. But Ulysses stuck to the keel of the ship and was drifted on to the
land of the Phaeacians, who are near of kin to the immortals, and who
treated him as though he had been a god, giving him many presents, and
wishing to escort him home safe and sound. In fact Ulysses would have
been here long ago, had he not thought better to go from land to land
gathering wealth; for there is no man living who is so wily as he is; there is
no one can compare with him. Pheidon king of the Thesprotians told me all
this, and he swore to me—making drink-offerings in his house as he did so
—that the ship was by the water side and the crew found who would take
Ulysses to his own country. He sent me off first, for there happened to be a
Thesprotian ship sailing for the wheat-growing island of Dulichium, but he
showed me all the treasure Ulysses had got together, and he had enough
lying in the house of king Pheidon to keep his family for ten generations;
but the king said Ulysses had gone to Dodona that he might learn Jove’s
mind from the high oak tree, and know whether after so long an absence he
should return to Ithaca openly or in secret. So you may know he is safe and
will be here shortly; he is close at hand and cannot remain away from home
much longer; nevertheless I will confirm my words with an oath, and call
Jove who is the first and mightiest of all gods to witness, as also that hearth
of Ulysses to which I have now come, that all I have spoken shall surely
come to pass. Ulysses will return in this self same year; with the end of this
moon and the beginning of the next he will be here.”
“May it be even so,” answered Penelope; “if your words come true you
shall have such gifts and such good will from me that all who see you shall
congratulate you; but I know very well how it will be. Ulysses will not
return, neither will you get your escort hence, for so surely as that Ulysses
ever was, there are now no longer any such masters in the house as he was,
to receive honourable strangers or to further them on their way home. And
now, you maids, wash his feet for him, and make him a bed on a couch with
rugs and blankets, that he may be warm and quiet till morning. Then, at day
break wash him and anoint him again, that he may sit in the cloister and
take his meals with Telemachus. It shall be the worse for any one of these
hateful people who is uncivil to him; like it or not, he shall have no more to
do in this house. For how, sir, shall you be able to learn whether or no I am
superior to others of my sex both in goodness of heart and understanding, if

I let you dine in my cloisters squalid and ill clad? Men live but for a little
season; if they are hard, and deal hardly, people wish them ill so long as
they are alive, and speak contemptuously of them when they are dead, but
he that is righteous and deals righteously, the people tell of his praise
among all lands, and many shall call him blessed.”
Ulysses answered, “Madam, I have foresworn rugs and blankets from the
day that I left the snowy ranges of Crete to go on shipboard. I will lie as I
have lain on many a sleepless night hitherto. Night after night have I passed
in any rough sleeping place, and waited for morning. Nor, again, do I like
having my feet washed; I shall not let any of the young hussies about your
house touch my feet; but, if you have any old and respectable woman who
has gone through as much trouble as I have, I will allow her to wash them.”
To this Penelope said, “My dear sir, of all the guests who ever yet came
to my house there never was one who spoke in all things with such
admirable propriety as you do. There happens to be in the house a most
respectable old woman—the same who received my poor dear husband in
her arms the night he was born, and nursed him in infancy. She is very
feeble now, but she shall wash your feet.” “Come here,” said she,
“Euryclea, and wash your master’s age-mate; I suppose Ulysses’ hands and
feet are very much the same now as his are, for trouble ages all of us
dreadfully fast.”
On these words the old woman covered her face with her hands; she
began to weep and made lamentation saying, “My dear child, I cannot think
whatever I am to do with you. I am certain no one was ever more god-
fearing than yourself, and yet Jove hates you. No one in the whole world
ever burned him more thigh bones, nor gave him finer hecatombs when you
prayed you might come to a green old age yourself and see your son grow
up to take after you: yet see how he has prevented you alone from ever
getting back to your own home. I have no doubt the women in some foreign
palace which Ulysses has got to are gibing at him as all these sluts here
have been gibing at you. I do not wonder at your not choosing to let them
wash you after the manner in which they have insulted you; I will wash
your feet myself gladly enough, as Penelope has said that I am to do so; I
will wash them both for Penelope’s sake and for your own, for you have
raised the most lively feelings of compassion in my mind; and let me say
this moreover, which pray attend to; we have had all kinds of strangers in

distress come here before now, but I make bold to say that no one ever yet
came who was so like Ulysses in figure, voice, and feet as you are.”
“Those who have seen us both,” answered Ulysses, “have always said we
were wonderfully like each other, and now you have noticed it too.”
Then the old woman took the cauldron in which she was going to wash
his feet, and poured plenty of cold water into it, adding hot till the bath was
warm enough. Ulysses sat by the fire, but ere long he turned away from the
light, for it occurred to him that when the old woman had hold of his leg she
would recognise a certain scar which it bore, whereon the whole truth
would come out. And indeed as soon as she began washing her master, she
at once knew the scar as one that had been given him by a wild boar when
he was hunting on Mt. Parnassus with his excellent grandfather Autolycus
—who was the most accomplished thief and perjurer in the whole world—
and with the sons of Autolycus. Mercury himself had endowed him with
this gift, for he used to burn the thigh bones of goats and kids to him, so he
took pleasure in his companionship. It happened once that Autolycus had
gone to Ithaca and had found the child of his daughter just born. As soon as
he had done supper Euryclea set the infant upon his knees and said,
“Autolycus, you must find a name for your grandson; you greatly wished
that you might have one.”
“Son-in-law and daughter,” replied Autolycus, “call the child thus: I am
highly displeased with a large number of people in one place and another,
both men and women; so name the child ‘Ulysses,’ or the child of anger.
When he grows up and comes to visit his mother’s family on Mt. Parnassus,
where my possessions lie, I will make him a present and will send him on
his way rejoicing.”
Ulysses, therefore, went to Parnassus to get the presents from Autolycus,
who with his sons shook hands with him and gave him welcome. His
grandmother Amphithea threw her arms about him, and kissed his head, and
both his beautiful eyes, while Autolycus desired his sons to get dinner
ready, and they did as he told them. They brought in a five year old bull,
flayed it, made it ready and divided it into joints; these they then cut
carefully up into smaller pieces and spitted them; they roasted them
sufficiently and served the portions round. Thus through the livelong day to
the going down of the sun they feasted, and every man had his full share so

that all were satisfied; but when the sun set and it came on dark, they went
to bed and enjoyed the boon of sleep.
When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, the sons of
Autolycus went out with their hounds hunting, and Ulysses went too. They
climbed the wooded slopes of Parnassus and soon reached its breezy upland
valleys; but as the sun was beginning to beat upon the fields, fresh-risen
from the slow still currents of Oceanus, they came to a mountain dell. The
dogs were in front searching for the tracks of the beast they were chasing,
and after them came the sons of Autolycus, among whom was Ulysses,
close behind the dogs, and he had a long spear in his hand. Here was the lair
of a huge boar among some thick brushwood, so dense that the wind and
rain could not get through it, nor could the sun’s rays pierce it, and the
ground underneath lay thick with fallen leaves. The boar heard the noise of
the men’s feet, and the hounds baying on every side as the huntsmen came
up to him, so he rushed from his lair, raised the bristles on his neck, and
stood at bay with fire flashing from his eyes. Ulysses was the first to raise
his spear and try to drive it into the brute, but the boar was too quick for
him, and charged him sideways, ripping him above the knee with a gash
that tore deep though it did not reach the bone. As for the boar, Ulysses hit
him on the right shoulder, and the point of the spear went right through him,
so that he fell groaning in the dust until the life went out of him. The sons of
Autolycus busied themselves with the carcass of the boar, and bound
Ulysses’ wound; then, after saying a spell to stop the bleeding, they went
home as fast as they could. But when Autolycus and his sons had
thoroughly healed Ulysses, they made him some splendid presents, and sent
him back to Ithaca with much mutual good will. When he got back, his
father and mother were rejoiced to see him, and asked him all about it, and
how he had hurt himself to get the scar; so he told them how the boar had
ripped him when he was out hunting with Autolycus and his sons on Mt.
Parnassus.
As soon as Euryclea had got the scarred limb in her hands and had well
hold of it, she recognised it and dropped the foot at once. The leg fell into
the bath, which rang out and was overturned, so that all the water was spilt
on the ground; Euryclea’s eyes between her joy and her grief filled with
tears, and she could not speak, but she caught Ulysses by the beard and
said, “My dear child, I am sure you must be Ulysses himself, only I did not
know you till I had actually touched and handled you.”

As she spoke she looked towards Penelope, as though wanting to tell her
that her dear husband was in the house, but Penelope was unable to look in
that direction and observe what was going on, for Minerva had diverted her
attention; so Ulysses caught Euryclea by the throat with his right hand and
with his left drew her close to him, and said, “Nurse, do you wish to be the
ruin of me, you who nursed me at your own breast, now that after twenty
years of wandering I am at last come to my own home again? Since it has
been borne in upon you by heaven to recognise me, hold your tongue, and
do not say a word about it to any one else in the house, for if you do I tell
you—and it shall surely be—that if heaven grants me to take the lives of
these suitors, I will not spare you, though you are my own nurse, when I am
killing the other women.”
“My child,” answered Euryclea, “what are you talking about? You know
very well that nothing can either bend or break me. I will hold my tongue
like a stone or a piece of iron; furthermore let me say, and lay my saying to
your heart, when heaven has delivered the suitors into your hand, I will give
you a list of the women in the house who have been ill-behaved, and of
those who are guiltless.”
And Ulysses answered, “Nurse, you ought not to speak in that way; I am
well able to form my own opinion about one and all of them; hold your
tongue and leave everything to heaven.”
As he said this Euryclea left the cloister to fetch some more water, for the
first had been all spilt; and when she had washed him and anointed him
with oil, Ulysses drew his seat nearer to the fire to warm himself, and hid
the scar under his rags. Then Penelope began talking to him and said:
“Stranger, I should like to speak with you briefly about another matter. It
is indeed nearly bed time—for those, at least, who can sleep in spite of
sorrow. As for myself, heaven has given me a life of such unmeasurable
woe, that even by day when I am attending to my duties and looking after
the servants, I am still weeping and lamenting during the whole time; then,
when night comes, and we all of us go to bed, I lie awake thinking, and my
heart becomes a prey to the most incessant and cruel tortures. As the dun
nightingale, daughter of Pandareus, sings in the early spring from her seat
in shadiest covert hid, and with many a plaintive trill pours out the tale how
by mishap she killed her own child Itylus, son of king Zethus, even so does
my mind toss and turn in its uncertainty whether I ought to stay with my

son here, and safeguard my substance, my bondsmen, and the greatness of
my house, out of regard to public opinion and the memory of my late
husband, or whether it is not now time for me to go with the best of these
suitors who are wooing me and making me such magnificent presents. As
long as my son was still young, and unable to understand, he would not
hear of my leaving my husband’s house, but now that he is full grown he
begs and prays me to do so, being incensed at the way in which the suitors
are eating up his property. Listen, then, to a dream that I have had and
interpret it for me if you can. I have twenty geese about the house that eat
mash out of a trough,[155] and of which I am exceedingly fond. I dreamed
that a great eagle came swooping down from a mountain, and dug his
curved beak into the neck of each of them till he had killed them all.
Presently he soared off into the sky, and left them lying dead about the yard;
whereon I wept in my dream till all my maids gathered round me, so
piteously was I grieving because the eagle had killed my geese. Then he
came back again, and perching on a projecting rafter spoke to me with
human voice, and told me to leave off crying. ‘Be of good courage,’ he said,
‘daughter of Icarius; this is no dream, but a vision of good omen that shall
surely come to pass. The geese are the suitors, and I am no longer an eagle,
but your own husband, who am come back to you, and who will bring these
suitors to a disgraceful end.’ On this I woke, and when I looked out I saw
my geese at the trough eating their mash as usual.”
“This dream, Madam,” replied Ulysses, “can admit but of one
interpretation, for had not Ulysses himself told you how it shall be fulfilled?
The death of the suitors is portended, and not one single one of them will
escape.”
And Penelope answered, “Stranger, dreams are very curious and
unaccountable things, and they do not by any means invariably come true.
There are two gates through which these unsubstantial fancies proceed; the
one is of horn, and the other ivory. Those that come through the gate of
ivory are fatuous, but those from the gate of horn mean something to those
that see them. I do not think, however, that my own dream came through the
gate of horn, though I and my son should be most thankful if it proves to
have done so. Furthermore I say—and lay my saying to your heart—the
coming dawn will usher in the ill-omened day that is to sever me from the
house of Ulysses, for I am about to hold a tournament of axes. My husband
used to set up twelve axes in the court, one in front of the other, like the

stays upon which a ship is built; he would then go back from them and
shoot an arrow through the whole twelve. I shall make the suitors try to do
the same thing, and whichever of them can string the bow most easily, and
send his arrow through all the twelve axes, him will I follow, and quit this
house of my lawful husband, so goodly and so abounding in wealth. But
even so, I doubt not that I shall remember it in my dreams.”
Then Ulysses answered, “Madam, wife of Ulysses, you need not defer
your tournament, for Ulysses will return ere ever they can string the bow,
handle it how they will, and send their arrows through the iron.”
To this Penelope said, “As long, sir, as you will sit here and talk to me, I
can have no desire to go to bed. Still, people cannot do permanently without
sleep, and heaven has appointed us dwellers on earth a time for all things. I
will therefore go upstairs and recline upon that couch which I have never
ceased to flood with my tears from the day Ulysses set out for the city with
a hateful name.”
She then went upstairs to her own room, not alone, but attended by her
maidens, and when there, she lamented her dear husband till Minerva shed
sweet sleep over her eyelids.