The Odyssey
\nBy Homer<\/p>\n
Translated by Samuel Butler<\/p>\n
BOOK I<\/p>\n
Tell me, O muse, of that ingenious hero who travelled far and wide
\nafter he had sacked the famous town of Troy. Many cities did he visit,
\nand many were the nations with whose manners and customs he was acquainted;
\nmoreover he suffered much by sea while trying to save his own life
\nand bring his men safely home; but do what he might he could not save
\nhis men, for they perished through their own sheer folly in eating
\nthe cattle of the Sun-god Hyperion; so the god prevented them from
\never reaching home. Tell me, too, about all these things, O daughter
\nof Jove, from whatsoever source you may know them.<\/p>\n
So now all who escaped death in battle or by shipwreck had got safely
\nhome except Ulysses, and he, though he was longing to return to his
\nwife and country, was detained by the goddess Calypso, who had got
\nhim into a large cave and wanted to marry him. But as years went by,
\nthere came a time when the gods settled that he should go back to
\nIthaca; even then, however, when he was among his own people, his
\ntroubles were not yet over; nevertheless all the gods had now begun
\nto pity him except Neptune, who still persecuted him without ceasing
\nand would not let him get home.<\/p>\n
Now Neptune had gone off to the Ethiopians, who are at the world’s
\nend, and lie in two halves, the one looking West and the other East.
\nHe had gone there to accept a hecatomb of sheep and oxen, and was
\nenjoying himself at his festival; but the other gods met in the house
\nof Olympian Jove, and the sire of gods and men spoke first. At that
\nmoment he was thinking of Aegisthus, who had been killed by Agamemnon’s
\nson Orestes; so he said to the other gods:<\/p>\n
“See now, how men lay blame upon us gods for what is after all nothing
\nbut their own folly. Look at Aegisthus; he must needs make love to
\nAgamemnon’s wife unrighteously and then kill Agamemnon, though he
\nknew it would be the death of him; for I sent Mercury to warn him
\nnot to do either of these things, inasmuch as Orestes would be sure
\nto take his revenge when he grew up and wanted to return home. Mercury
\ntold him this in all good will but he would not listen, and now he
\nhas paid for everything in full.”<\/p>\n
Then Minerva said, “Father, son of Saturn, King of kings, it served
\nAegisthus right, and so it would any one else who does as he did;
\nbut Aegisthus is neither here nor there; it is for Ulysses that my
\nheart bleeds, when I think of his sufferings in that lonely sea-girt
\nisland, far away, poor man, from all his friends. It is an island
\ncovered with forest, in the very middle of the sea, and a goddess
\nlives there, daughter of the magician Atlas, who looks after the bottom
\nof the ocean, and carries the great columns that keep heaven and earth
\nasunder. This daughter of Atlas has got hold of poor unhappy Ulysses,
\nand keeps trying by every kind of blandishment to make him forget
\nhis home, so that he is tired of life, and thinks of nothing but how
\nhe may once more see the smoke of his own chimneys. You, sir, take
\nno heed of this, and yet when Ulysses was before Troy did he not propitiate
\nyou with many a burnt sacrifice? Why then should you keep on being
\nso angry with him?”<\/p>\n
And Jove said, “My child, what are you talking about? How can I forget
\nUlysses than whom there is no more capable man on earth, nor more
\nliberal in his offerings to the immortal gods that live in heaven?
\nBear in mind, however, that Neptune is still furious with Ulysses
\nfor having blinded an eye of Polyphemus king of the Cyclopes. Polyphemus
\nis son to Neptune by the nymph Thoosa, daughter to the sea-king Phorcys;
\ntherefore though he will not kill Ulysses outright, he torments him
\nby preventing him from getting home. Still, let us lay our heads together
\nand see how we can help him to return; Neptune will then be pacified,
\nfor if we are all of a mind he can hardly stand out against us.”<\/p>\n
And Minerva said, “Father, son of Saturn, King of kings, if, then,
\nthe gods now mean that Ulysses should get home, we should first send
\nMercury to the Ogygian island to tell Calypso that we have made up
\nour minds and that he is to return. In the meantime I will go to Ithaca,
\nto put heart into Ulysses’ son Telemachus; I will embolden him to
\ncall the Achaeans in assembly, and speak out to the suitors of his
\nmother Penelope, who persist in eating up any number of his sheep
\nand oxen; I will also conduct him to Sparta and to Pylos, to see if
\nhe can hear anything about the return of his dear father- for this
\nwill make people speak well of him.”<\/p>\n
So saying she bound on her glittering golden sandals, imperishable,
\nwith which she can fly like the wind over land or sea; she grasped
\nthe redoubtable bronze-shod spear, so stout and sturdy and strong,
\nwherewith she quells the ranks of heroes who have displeased her,
\nand down she darted from the topmost summits of Olympus, whereon forthwith
\nshe was in Ithaca, at the gateway of Ulysses’ house, disguised as
\na visitor, Mentes, chief of the Taphians, and she held a bronze spear
\nin her hand. There she found the lordly suitors seated on hides of
\nthe oxen which they had killed and eaten, and playing draughts in
\nfront of the house. Men-servants and pages were bustling about to
\nwait upon them, some mixing wine with water in the mixing-bowls, some
\ncleaning down the tables with wet sponges and laying them out again,
\nand some cutting up great quantities of meat.<\/p>\n
Telemachus saw her long before any one else did. He was sitting moodily
\namong the suitors thinking about his brave father, and how he would
\nsend them flying out of the house, if he were to come to his own again
\nand be honoured as in days gone by. Thus brooding as he sat among
\nthem, he caught sight of Minerva and went straight to the gate, for
\nhe was vexed that a stranger should be kept waiting for admittance.
\nHe took her right hand in his own, and bade her give him her spear.
\n“Welcome,” said he, “to our house, and when you have partaken of food
\nyou shall tell us what you have come for.”<\/p>\n
He led the way as he spoke, and Minerva followed him. When they were
\nwithin he took her spear and set it in the spear- stand against a
\nstrong bearing-post along with the many other spears of his unhappy
\nfather, and he conducted her to a richly decorated seat under which
\nhe threw a cloth of damask. There was a footstool also for her feet,
\nand he set another seat near her for himself, away from the suitors,
\nthat she might not be annoyed while eating by their noise and insolence,
\nand that he might ask her more freely about his father.<\/p>\n
A maid servant then brought them water in a beautiful golden ewer
\nand poured it into a silver basin for them to wash their hands, and
\nshe drew a clean table beside them. An upper servant brought them
\nbread, and offered them many good things of what there was in the
\nhouse, the carver fetched them plates of all manner of meats and set
\ncups of gold by their side, and a man-servant brought them wine and
\npoured it out for them.<\/p>\n
Then the suitors came in and took their places on the benches and
\nseats. Forthwith men servants poured water over their hands, maids
\nwent round with the bread-baskets, pages filled the mixing-bowls with
\nwine and water, and they laid their hands upon the good things that
\nwere before them. As soon as they had had enough to eat and drink
\nthey wanted music and dancing, which are the crowning embellishments
\nof a banquet, so a servant brought a lyre to Phemius, whom they compelled
\nperforce to sing to them. As soon as he touched his lyre and began
\nto sing Telemachus spoke low to Minerva, with his head close to hers
\nthat no man might hear.<\/p>\n
“I hope, sir,” said he, “that you will not be offended with what I
\nam going to say. Singing comes cheap to those who do not pay for it,
\nand all this is done at the cost of one whose bones lie rotting in
\nsome wilderness or grinding to powder in the surf. If these men were
\nto see my father come back to Ithaca they would pray for longer legs
\nrather than a longer purse, for money would not serve them; but he,
\nalas, has fallen on an ill fate, and even when people do sometimes
\nsay that he is coming, we no longer heed them; we shall never see
\nhim again. And now, sir, tell me and tell me true, who you are and
\nwhere you come from. Tell me of your town and parents, what manner
\nof ship you came in, how your crew brought you to Ithaca, and of what
\nnation they declared themselves to be- for you cannot have come by
\nland. Tell me also truly, for I want to know, are you a stranger to
\nthis house, or have you been here in my father’s time? In the old
\ndays we had many visitors for my father went about much himself.”<\/p>\n
And Minerva answered, “I will tell you truly and particularly all
\nabout it. I am Mentes, son of Anchialus, and I am King of the Taphians.
\nI have come here with my ship and crew, on a voyage to men of a foreign
\ntongue being bound for Temesa with a cargo of iron, and I shall bring
\nback copper. As for my ship, it lies over yonder off the open country
\naway from the town, in the harbour Rheithron under the wooded mountain
\nNeritum. Our fathers were friends before us, as old Laertes will tell
\nyou, if you will go and ask him. They say, however, that he never
\ncomes to town now, and lives by himself in the country, faring hardly,
\nwith an old woman to look after him and get his dinner for him, when
\nhe comes in tired from pottering about his vineyard. They told me
\nyour father was at home again, and that was why I came, but it seems
\nthe gods are still keeping him back, for he is not dead yet not on
\nthe mainland. It is more likely he is on some sea-girt island in mid
\nocean, or a prisoner among savages who are detaining him against his
\nwill I am no prophet, and know very little about omens, but I speak
\nas it is borne in upon me from heaven, and assure you that he will
\nnot be away much longer; for he is a man of such resource that even
\nthough he were in chains of iron he would find some means of getting
\nhome again. But tell me, and tell me true, can Ulysses really have
\nsuch a fine looking fellow for a son? You are indeed wonderfully like
\nhim about the head and eyes, for we were close friends before he set
\nsail for Troy where the flower of all the Argives went also. Since
\nthat time we have never either of us seen the other.”<\/p>\n
“My mother,” answered Telemachus, tells me I am son to Ulysses, but
\nit is a wise child that knows his own father. Would that I were son
\nto one who had grown old upon his own estates, for, since you ask
\nme, there is no more ill-starred man under heaven than he who they
\ntell me is my father.”<\/p>\n
And Minerva said, “There is no fear of your race dying out yet, while
\nPenelope has such a fine son as you are. But tell me, and tell me
\ntrue, what is the meaning of all this feasting, and who are these
\npeople? What is it all about? Have you some banquet, or is there a
\nwedding in the family- for no one seems to be bringing any provisions
\nof his own? And the guests- how atrociously they are behaving; what
\nriot they make over the whole house; it is enough to disgust any respectable
\nperson who comes near them.”<\/p>\n
“Sir,” said Telemachus, “as regards your question, so long as my father
\nwas here it was well with us and with the house, but the gods in their
\ndispleasure have willed it otherwise, and have hidden him away more
\nclosely than mortal man was ever yet hidden. I could have borne it
\nbetter even though he were dead, if he had fallen with his men before
\nTroy, or had died with friends around him when the days of his fighting
\nwere done; for then the Achaeans would have built a mound over his
\nashes, and I should myself have been heir to his renown; but now the
\nstorm-winds have spirited him away we know not wither; he is gone
\nwithout leaving so much as a trace behind him, and I inherit nothing
\nbut dismay. Nor does the matter end simply with grief for the loss
\nof my father; heaven has laid sorrows upon me of yet another kind;
\nfor the chiefs from all our islands, Dulichium, Same, and the woodland
\nisland of Zacynthus, as also all the principal men of Ithaca itself,
\nare eating up my house under the pretext of paying their court to
\nmy mother, who will neither point blank say that she will not marry,
\nnor yet bring matters to an end; so they are making havoc of my estate,
\nand before long will do so also with myself.”<\/p>\n
“Is that so?” exclaimed Minerva, “then you do indeed want Ulysses
\nhome again. Give him his helmet, shield, and a couple lances, and
\nif he is the man he was when I first knew him in our house, drinking
\nand making merry, he would soon lay his hands about these rascally
\nsuitors, were he to stand once more upon his own threshold. He was
\nthen coming from Ephyra, where he had been to beg poison for his arrows
\nfrom Ilus, son of Mermerus. Ilus feared the ever-living gods and would
\nnot give him any, but my father let him have some, for he was very
\nfond of him. If Ulysses is the man he then was these suitors will
\nhave a short shrift and a sorry wedding.<\/p>\n
“But there! It rests with heaven to determine whether he is to return,
\nand take his revenge in his own house or no; I would, however, urge
\nyou to set about trying to get rid of these suitors at once. Take
\nmy advice, call the Achaean heroes in assembly to-morrow -lay your
\ncase before them, and call heaven to bear you witness. Bid the suitors
\ntake themselves off, each to his own place, and if your mother’s mind
\nis set on marrying again, let her go back to her father, who will
\nfind her a husband and provide her with all the marriage gifts that
\nso dear a daughter may expect. As for yourself, let me prevail upon
\nyou to take the best ship you can get, with a crew of twenty men,
\nand go in quest of your father who has so long been missing. Some
\none may tell you something, or (and people often hear things in this
\nway) some heaven-sent message may direct you. First go to Pylos and
\nask Nestor; thence go on to Sparta and visit Menelaus, for he got
\nhome last of all the Achaeans; if you hear that your father is alive
\nand on his way home, you can put up with the waste these suitors will
\nmake for yet another twelve months. If on the other hand you hear
\nof his death, come home at once, celebrate his funeral rites with
\nall due pomp, build a barrow to his memory, and make your mother marry
\nagain. Then, having done all this, think it well over in your mind
\nhow, by fair means or foul, you may kill these suitors in your own
\nhouse. You are too old to plead infancy any longer; have you not heard
\nhow people are singing Orestes’ praises for having killed his father’s
\nmurderer Aegisthus? You are a fine, smart looking fellow; show your
\nmettle, then, and make yourself a name in story. Now, however, I must
\ngo back to my ship and to my crew, who will be impatient if I keep
\nthem waiting longer; think the matter over for yourself, and remember
\nwhat I have said to you.”<\/p>\n
“Sir,” answered Telemachus, “it has been very kind of you to talk
\nto me in this way, as though I were your own son, and I will do all
\nyou tell me; I know you want to be getting on with your voyage, but
\nstay a little longer till you have taken a bath and refreshed yourself.
\nI will then give you a present, and you shall go on your way rejoicing;
\nI will give you one of great beauty and value- a keepsake such as
\nonly dear friends give to one another.”<\/p>\n
Minerva answered, “Do not try to keep me, for I would be on my way
\nat once. As for any present you may be disposed to make me, keep it
\ntill I come again, and I will take it home with me. You shall give
\nme a very good one, and I will give you one of no less value in return.”<\/p>\n
With these words she flew away like a bird into the air, but she had
\ngiven Telemachus courage, and had made him think more than ever about
\nhis father. He felt the change, wondered at it, and knew that the
\nstranger had been a god, so he went straight to where the suitors
\nwere sitting.<\/p>\n
Phemius was still singing, and his hearers sat rapt in silence as
\nhe told the sad tale of the return from Troy, and the ills Minerva
\nhad laid upon the Achaeans. Penelope, daughter of Icarius, heard his
\nsong from her room upstairs, and came down by the great staircase,
\nnot alone, but attended by two of her handmaids. When she reached
\nthe suitors she stood by one of the bearing posts that supported the
\nroof of the cloisters with a staid maiden on either side of her. She
\nheld a veil, moreover, before her face, and was weeping bitterly.<\/p>\n
“Phemius,” she cried, “you know many another feat of gods and heroes,
\nsuch as poets love to celebrate. Sing the suitors some one of these,
\nand let them drink their wine in silence, but cease this sad tale,
\nfor it breaks my sorrowful heart, and reminds me of my lost husband
\nwhom I mourn ever without ceasing, and whose name was great over all
\nHellas and middle Argos.”<\/p>\n
“Mother,” answered Telemachus, “let the bard sing what he has a mind
\nto; bards do not make the ills they sing of; it is Jove, not they,
\nwho makes them, and who sends weal or woe upon mankind according to
\nhis own good pleasure. This fellow means no harm by singing the ill-fated
\nreturn of the Danaans, for people always applaud the latest songs
\nmost warmly. Make up your mind to it and bear it; Ulysses is not the
\nonly man who never came back from Troy, but many another went down
\nas well as he. Go, then, within the house and busy yourself with your
\ndaily duties, your loom, your distaff, and the ordering of your servants;
\nfor speech is man’s matter, and mine above all others- for it is I
\nwho am master here.”<\/p>\n
She went wondering back into the house, and laid her son’s saying
\nin her heart. Then, going upstairs with her handmaids into her room,
\nshe mourned her dear husband till Minerva shed sweet sleep over her
\neyes. But the suitors were clamorous throughout the covered cloisters,
\nand prayed each one that he might be her bed fellow.<\/p>\n
Then Telemachus spoke, “Shameless,” he cried, “and insolent suitors,
\nlet us feast at our pleasure now, and let there be no brawling, for
\nit is a rare thing to hear a man with such a divine voice as Phemius
\nhas; but in the morning meet me in full assembly that I may give you
\nformal notice to depart, and feast at one another’s houses, turn and
\nturn about, at your own cost. If on the other hand you choose to persist
\nin spunging upon one man, heaven help me, but Jove shall reckon with
\nyou in full, and when you fall in my father’s house there shall be
\nno man to avenge you.”<\/p>\n
The suitors bit their lips as they heard him, and marvelled at the
\nboldness of his speech. Then, Antinous, son of Eupeithes, said, “The
\ngods seem to have given you lessons in bluster and tall talking; may
\nJove never grant you to be chief in Ithaca as your father was before
\nyou.”<\/p>\n
Telemachus answered, “Antinous, do not chide with me, but, god willing,
\nI will be chief too if I can. Is this the worst fate you can think
\nof for me? It is no bad thing to be a chief, for it brings both riches
\nand honour. Still, now that Ulysses is dead there are many great men
\nin Ithaca both old and young, and some other may take the lead among
\nthem; nevertheless I will be chief in my own house, and will rule
\nthose whom Ulysses has won for me.”<\/p>\n
Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered, “It rests with heaven to
\ndecide who shall be chief among us, but you shall be master in your
\nown house and over your own possessions; no one while there is a man
\nin Ithaca shall do you violence nor rob you. And now, my good fellow,
\nI want to know about this stranger. What country does he come from?
\nOf what family is he, and where is his estate? Has he brought you
\nnews about the return of your father, or was he on business of his
\nown? He seemed a well-to-do man, but he hurried off so suddenly that
\nhe was gone in a moment before we could get to know him.”<\/p>\n
“My father is dead and gone,” answered Telemachus, “and even if some
\nrumour reaches me I put no more faith in it now. My mother does indeed
\nsometimes send for a soothsayer and question him, but I give his prophecyings
\nno heed. As for the stranger, he was Mentes, son of Anchialus, chief
\nof the Taphians, an old friend of my father’s.” But in his heart he
\nknew that it had been the goddess.<\/p>\n
The suitors then returned to their singing and dancing until the evening;
\nbut when night fell upon their pleasuring they went home to bed each
\nin his own abode. Telemachus’s room was high up in a tower that looked
\non to the outer court; hither, then, he hied, brooding and full of
\nthought. A good old woman, Euryclea, daughter of Ops, the son of Pisenor,
\nwent before him with a couple of blazing torches. Laertes had bought
\nher with his own money when she was quite young; he gave the worth
\nof twenty oxen for her, and shewed as much respect to her in his household
\nas he did to his own wedded wife, but he did not take her to his bed
\nfor he feared his wife’s resentment. She it was who now lighted Telemachus
\nto his room, and she loved him better than any of the other women
\nin the house did, for she had nursed him when he was a baby. He opened
\nthe door of his bed room and sat down upon the bed; as he took off
\nhis shirt he gave it to the good old woman, who folded it tidily up,
\nand hung it for him over a peg by his bed side, after which she went
\nout, pulled the door to by a silver catch, and drew the bolt home
\nby means of the strap. But Telemachus as he lay covered with a woollen
\nfleece kept thinking all night through of his intended voyage of the
\ncounsel that Minerva had given him.<\/p>\n
BOOK II<\/p>\n
Now when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, Telemachus
\nrose and dressed himself. He bound his sandals on to his comely feet,
\ngirded his sword about his shoulder, and left his room looking like
\nan immortal god. He at once sent the criers round to call the people
\nin assembly, so they called them and the people gathered thereon;
\nthen, when they were got together, he went to the place of assembly
\nspear in hand- not alone, for his two hounds went with him. Minerva
\nendowed him with a presence of such divine comeliness that all marvelled
\nat him as he went by, and when he took his place’ in his father’s
\nseat even the oldest councillors made way for him.<\/p>\n
Aegyptius, a man bent double with age, and of infinite experience,
\nthe first to speak His son Antiphus had gone with Ulysses to Ilius,
\nland of noble steeds, but the savage Cyclops had killed him when they
\nwere all shut up in the cave, and had cooked his last dinner for him,
\nHe had three sons left, of whom two still worked on their father’s
\nland, while the third, Eurynomus, was one of the suitors; nevertheless
\ntheir father could not get over the loss of Antiphus, and was still
\nweeping for him when he began his speech.<\/p>\n
“Men of Ithaca,” he said, “hear my words. From the day Ulysses left
\nus there has been no meeting of our councillors until now; who then
\ncan it be, whether old or young, that finds it so necessary to convene
\nus? Has he got wind of some host approaching, and does he wish to
\nwarn us, or would he speak upon some other matter of public moment?
\nI am sure he is an excellent person, and I hope Jove will grant him
\nhis heart’s desire.”<\/p>\n
Telemachus took this speech as of good omen and rose at once, for
\nhe was bursting with what he had to say. He stood in the middle of
\nthe assembly and the good herald Pisenor brought him his staff. Then,
\nturning to Aegyptius, “Sir,” said he, “it is I, as you will shortly
\nlearn, who have convened you, for it is I who am the most aggrieved.
\nI have not got wind of any host approaching about which I would warn
\nyou, nor is there any matter of public moment on which I would speak.
\nMy grieveance is purely personal, and turns on two great misfortunes
\nwhich have fallen upon my house. The first of these is the loss of
\nmy excellent father, who was chief among all you here present, and
\nwas like a father to every one of you; the second is much more serious,
\nand ere long will be the utter ruin of my estate. The sons of all
\nthe chief men among you are pestering my mother to marry them against
\nher will. They are afraid to go to her father Icarius, asking him
\nto choose the one he likes best, and to provide marriage gifts for
\nhis daughter, but day by day they keep hanging about my father’s house,
\nsacrificing our oxen, sheep, and fat goats for their banquets, and
\nnever giving so much as a thought to the quantity of wine they drink.
\nNo estate can stand such recklessness; we have now no Ulysses to ward
\noff harm from our doors, and I cannot hold my own against them. I
\nshall never all my days be as good a man as he was, still I would
\nindeed defend myself if I had power to do so, for I cannot stand such
\ntreatment any longer; my house is being disgraced and ruined. Have
\nrespect, therefore, to your own consciences and to public opinion.
\nFear, too, the wrath of heaven, lest the gods should be displeased
\nand turn upon you. I pray you by Jove and Themis, who is the beginning
\nand the end of councils, [do not] hold back, my friends, and leave
\nme singlehanded- unless it be that my brave father Ulysses did some
\nwrong to the Achaeans which you would now avenge on me, by aiding
\nand abetting these suitors. Moreover, if I am to be eaten out of house
\nand home at all, I had rather you did the eating yourselves, for I
\ncould then take action against you to some purpose, and serve you
\nwith notices from house to house till I got paid in full, whereas
\nnow I have no remedy.”<\/p>\n
With this Telemachus dashed his staff to the ground and burst into
\ntears. Every one was very sorry for him, but they all sat still and
\nno one ventured to make him an angry answer, save only Antinous, who
\nspoke thus:<\/p>\n
“Telemachus, insolent braggart that you are, how dare you try to throw
\nthe blame upon us suitors? It is your mother’s fault not ours, for
\nshe is a very artful woman. This three years past, and close on four,
\nshe has been driving us out of our minds, by encouraging each one
\nof us, and sending him messages without meaning one word of what she
\nsays. And then there was that other trick she played us. She set up
\na great tambour frame in her room, and began to work on an enormous
\npiece of fine needlework. ‘Sweet hearts,’ said she, ‘Ulysses is indeed
\ndead, still do not press me to marry again immediately, wait- for
\nI would not have skill in needlework perish unrecorded- till I have
\ncompleted a pall for the hero Laertes, to be in readiness against
\nthe time when death shall take him. He is very rich, and the women
\nof the place will talk if he is laid out without a pall.’<\/p>\n
“This was what she said, and we assented; whereon we could see her
\nworking on her great web all day long, but at night she would unpick
\nthe stitches again by torchlight. She fooled us in this way for three
\nyears and we never found her out, but as time wore on and she was
\nnow in her fourth year, one of her maids who knew what she was doing
\ntold us, and we caught her in the act of undoing her work, so she
\nhad to finish it whether she would or no. The suitors, therefore,
\nmake you this answer, that both you and the Achaeans may understand-‘Send
\nyour mother away, and bid her marry the man of her own and of her
\nfather’s choice’; for I do not know what will happen if she goes on
\nplaguing us much longer with the airs she gives herself on the score
\nof the accomplishments Minerva has taught her, and because she is
\nso clever. We never yet heard of such a woman; we know all about Tyro,
\nAlcmena, Mycene, and the famous women of old, but they were nothing
\nto your mother, any one of them. It was not fair of her to treat us
\nin that way, and as long as she continues in the mind with which heaven
\nhas now endowed her, so long shall we go on eating up your estate;
\nand I do not see why she should change, for she gets all the honour
\nand glory, and it is you who pay for it, not she. Understand, then,
\nthat we will not go back to our lands, neither here nor elsewhere,
\ntill she has made her choice and married some one or other of us.”<\/p>\n
Telemachus answered, “Antinous, how can I drive the mother who bore
\nme from my father’s house? My father is abroad and we do not know
\nwhether he is alive or dead. It will be hard on me if I have to pay
\nIcarius the large sum which I must give him if I insist on sending
\nhis daughter back to him. Not only will he deal rigorously with me,
\nbut heaven will also punish me; for my mother when she leaves the
\nhouse will calf on the Erinyes to avenge her; besides, it would not
\nbe a creditable thing to do, and I will have nothing to say to it.
\nIf you choose to take offence at this, leave the house and feast elsewhere
\nat one another’s houses at your own cost turn and turn about. If,
\non the other hand, you elect to persist in spunging upon one man,
\nheaven help me, but Jove shall reckon with you in full, and when you
\nfall in my father’s house there shall be no man to avenge you.”<\/p>\n
As he spoke Jove sent two eagles from the top of the mountain, and
\nthey flew on and on with the wind, sailing side by side in their own
\nlordly flight. When they were right over the middle of the assembly
\nthey wheeled and circled about, beating the air with their wings and
\nglaring death into the eyes of them that were below; then, fighting
\nfiercely and tearing at one another, they flew off towards the right
\nover the town. The people wondered as they saw them, and asked each
\nother what an this might be; whereon Halitherses, who was the best
\nprophet and reader of omens among them, spoke to them plainly and
\nin all honesty, saying:<\/p>\n
“Hear me, men of Ithaca, and I speak more particularly to the suitors,
\nfor I see mischief brewing for them. Ulysses is not going to be away
\nmuch longer; indeed he is close at hand to deal out death and destruction,
\nnot on them alone, but on many another of us who live in Ithaca. Let
\nus then be wise in time, and put a stop to this wickedness before
\nhe comes. Let the suitors do so of their own accord; it will be better
\nfor them, for I am not prophesying without due knowledge; everything
\nhas happened to Ulysses as I foretold when the Argives set out for
\nTroy, and he with them. I said that after going through much hardship
\nand losing all his men he should come home again in the twentieth
\nyear and that no one would know him; and now all this is coming true.”<\/p>\n
Eurymachus son of Polybus then said, “Go home, old man, and prophesy
\nto your own children, or it may be worse for them. I can read these
\nomens myself much better than you can; birds are always flying about
\nin the sunshine somewhere or other, but they seldom mean anything.
\nUlysses has died in a far country, and it is a pity you are not dead
\nalong with him, instead of prating here about omens and adding fuel
\nto the anger of Telemachus which is fierce enough as it is. I suppose
\nyou think he will give you something for your family, but I tell you-
\nand it shall surely be- when an old man like you, who should know
\nbetter, talks a young one over till he becomes troublesome, in the
\nfirst place his young friend will only fare so much the worse- he
\nwill take nothing by it, for the suitors will prevent this- and in
\nthe next, we will lay a heavier fine, sir, upon yourself than you
\nwill at all like paying, for it will bear hardly upon you. As for
\nTelemachus, I warn him in the presence of you all to send his mother
\nback to her father, who will find her a husband and provide her with
\nall the marriage gifts so dear a daughter may expect. Till we shall
\ngo on harassing him with our suit; for we fear no man, and care neither
\nfor him, with all his fine speeches, nor for any fortune-telling of
\nyours. You may preach as much as you please, but we shall only hate
\nyou the more. We shall go back and continue to eat up Telemachus’s
\nestate without paying him, till such time as his mother leaves off
\ntormenting us by keeping us day after day on the tiptoe of expectation,
\neach vying with the other in his suit for a prize of such rare perfection.
\nBesides we cannot go after the other women whom we should marry in
\ndue course, but for the way in which she treats us.”<\/p>\n
Then Telemachus said, “Eurymachus, and you other suitors, I shall
\nsay no more, and entreat you no further, for the gods and the people
\nof Ithaca now know my story. Give me, then, a ship and a crew of twenty
\nmen to take me hither and thither, and I will go to Sparta and to
\nPylos in quest of my father who has so long been missing. Some one
\nmay tell me something, or (and people often hear things in this way)
\nsome heaven-sent message may direct me. If I can hear of him as alive
\nand on his way home I will put up with the waste you suitors will
\nmake for yet another twelve months. If on the other hand I hear of
\nhis death, I will return at once, celebrate his funeral rites with
\nall due pomp, build a barrow to his memory, and make my mother marry
\nagain.”<\/p>\n
With these words he sat down, and Mentor who had been a friend of
\nUlysses, and had been left in charge of everything with full authority
\nover the servants, rose to speak. He, then, plainly and in all honesty
\naddressed them thus:<\/p>\n
“Hear me, men of Ithaca, I hope that you may never have a kind and
\nwell-disposed ruler any more, nor one who will govern you equitably;
\nI hope that all your chiefs henceforward may be cruel and unjust,
\nfor there is not one of you but has forgotten Ulysses, who ruled you
\nas though he were your father. I am not half so angry with the suitors,
\nfor if they choose to do violence in the naughtiness of their hearts,
\nand wager their heads that Ulysses will not return, they can take
\nthe high hand and eat up his estate, but as for you others I am shocked
\nat the way in which you all sit still without even trying to stop
\nsuch scandalous goings on-which you could do if you chose, for you
\nare many and they are few.”<\/p>\n
Leiocritus, son of Evenor, answered him saying, “Mentor, what folly
\nis all this, that you should set the people to stay us? It is a hard
\nthing for one man to fight with many about his victuals. Even though
\nUlysses himself were to set upon us while we are feasting in his house,
\nand do his best to oust us, his wife, who wants him back so very badly,
\nwould have small cause for rejoicing, and his blood would be upon
\nhis own head if he fought against such great odds. There is no sense
\nin what you have been saying. Now, therefore, do you people go about
\nyour business, and let his father’s old friends, Mentor and Halitherses,
\nspeed this boy on his journey, if he goes at all- which I do not think
\nhe will, for he is more likely to stay where he is till some one comes
\nand tells him something.”<\/p>\n
On this he broke up the assembly, and every man went back to his own
\nabode, while the suitors returned to the house of Ulysses.<\/p>\n
Then Telemachus went all alone by the sea side, washed his hands in
\nthe grey waves, and prayed to Minerva.<\/p>\n
“Hear me,” he cried, “you god who visited me yesterday, and bade me
\nsail the seas in search of my father who has so long been missing.
\nI would obey you, but the Achaeans, and more particularly the wicked
\nsuitors, are hindering me that I cannot do so.”<\/p>\n
As he thus prayed, Minerva came close up to him in the likeness and
\nwith the voice of Mentor. “Telemachus,” said she, “if you are made
\nof the same stuff as your father you will be neither fool nor coward
\nhenceforward, for Ulysses never broke his word nor left his work half
\ndone. If, then, you take after him, your voyage will not be fruitless,
\nbut unless you have the blood of Ulysses and of Penelope in your veins
\nI see no likelihood of your succeeding. Sons are seldom as good men
\nas their fathers; they are generally worse, not better; still, as
\nyou are not going to be either fool or coward henceforward, and are
\nnot entirely without some share of your father’s wise discernment,
\nI look with hope upon your undertaking. But mind you never make common
\ncause with any of those foolish suitors, for they have neither sense
\nnor virtue, and give no thought to death and to the doom that will
\nshortly fall on one and all of them, so that they shall perish on
\nthe same day. As for your voyage, it shall not be long delayed; your
\nfather was such an old friend of mine that I will find you a ship,
\nand will come with you myself. Now, however, return home, and go about
\namong the suitors; begin getting provisions ready for your voyage;
\nsee everything well stowed, the wine in jars, and the barley meal,
\nwhich is the staff of life, in leathern bags, while I go round the
\ntown and beat up volunteers at once. There are many ships in Ithaca
\nboth old and new; I will run my eye over them for you and will choose
\nthe best; we will get her ready and will put out to sea without delay.”<\/p>\n
Thus spoke Minerva daughter of Jove, and Telemachus lost no time in
\ndoing as the goddess told him. He went moodily and found the suitors
\nflaying goats and singeing pigs in the outer court. Antinous came
\nup to him at once and laughed as he took his hand in his own, saying,
\n“Telemachus, my fine fire-eater, bear no more ill blood neither in
\nword nor deed, but eat and drink with us as you used to do. The Achaeans
\nwill find you in everything- a ship and a picked crew to boot- so
\nthat you can set sail for Pylos at once and get news of your noble
\nfather.”<\/p>\n
“Antinous,” answered Telemachus, “I cannot eat in peace, nor take
\npleasure of any kind with such men as you are. Was it not enough that
\nyou should waste so much good property of mine while I was yet a boy?
\nNow that I am older and know more about it, I am also stronger, and
\nwhether here among this people, or by going to Pylos, I will do you
\nall the harm I can. I shall go, and my going will not be in vain though,
\nthanks to you suitors, I have neither ship nor crew of my own, and
\nmust be passenger not captain.”<\/p>\n
As he spoke he snatched his hand from that of Antinous. Meanwhile
\nthe others went on getting dinner ready about the buildings, jeering
\nat him tauntingly as they did so.<\/p>\n
“Telemachus,” said one youngster, “means to be the death of us; I
\nsuppose he thinks he can bring friends to help him from Pylos, or
\nagain from Sparta, where he seems bent on going. Or will he go to
\nEphyra as well, for poison to put in our wine and kill us?”<\/p>\n
Another said, “Perhaps if Telemachus goes on board ship, he will be
\nlike his father and perish far from his friends. In this case we should
\nhave plenty to do, for we could then divide up his property amongst
\nus: as for the house we can let his mother and the man who marries
\nher have that.”<\/p>\n
This was how they talked. But Telemachus went down into the lofty
\nand spacious store-room where his father’s treasure of gold and bronze
\nlay heaped up upon the floor, and where the linen and spare clothes
\nwere kept in open chests. Here, too, there was a store of fragrant
\nolive oil, while casks of old, well-ripened wine, unblended and fit
\nfor a god to drink, were ranged against the wall in case Ulysses should
\ncome home again after all. The room was closed with well-made doors
\nopening in the middle; moreover the faithful old house-keeper Euryclea,
\ndaughter of Ops the son of Pisenor, was in charge of everything both
\nnight and day. Telemachus called her to the store-room and said:<\/p>\n
“Nurse, draw me off some of the best wine you have, after what you
\nare keeping for my father’s own drinking, in case, poor man, he should
\nescape death, and find his way home again after all. Let me have twelve
\njars, and see that they all have lids; also fill me some well-sewn
\nleathern bags with barley meal- about twenty measures in all. Get
\nthese things put together at once, and say nothing about it. I will
\ntake everything away this evening as soon as my mother has gone upstairs
\nfor the night. I am going to Sparta and to Pylos to see if I can hear
\nanything about the return of my dear father.<\/p>\n
When Euryclea heard this she began to cry, and spoke fondly to him,
\nsaying, “My dear child, what ever can have put such notion as that
\ninto your head? Where in the world do you want to go to- you, who
\nare the one hope of the house? Your poor father is dead and gone in
\nsome foreign country nobody knows where, and as soon as your back
\nis turned these wicked ones here will be scheming to get you put out
\nof the way, and will share all your possessions among themselves;
\nstay where you are among your own people, and do not go wandering
\nand worrying your life out on the barren ocean.”<\/p>\n
“Fear not, nurse,” answered Telemachus, “my scheme is not without
\nheaven’s sanction; but swear that you will say nothing about all this
\nto my mother, till I have been away some ten or twelve days, unless
\nshe hears of my having gone, and asks you; for I do not want her to
\nspoil her beauty by crying.”<\/p>\n
The old woman swore most solemnly that she would not, and when she
\nhad completed her oath, she began drawing off the wine into jars,
\nand getting the barley meal into the bags, while Telemachus went back
\nto the suitors.<\/p>\n
Then Minerva bethought her of another matter. She took his shape,
\nand went round the town to each one of the crew, telling them to meet
\nat the ship by sundown. She went also to Noemon son of Phronius, and
\nasked him to let her have a ship- which he was very ready to do. When
\nthe sun had set and darkness was over all the land, she got the ship
\ninto the water, put all the tackle on board her that ships generally
\ncarry, and stationed her at the end of the harbour. Presently the
\ncrew came up, and the goddess spoke encouragingly to each of them.<\/p>\n
Furthermore she went to the house of Ulysses, and threw the suitors
\ninto a deep slumber. She caused their drink to fuddle them, and made
\nthem drop their cups from their hands, so that instead of sitting
\nover their wine, they went back into the town to sleep, with their
\neyes heavy and full of drowsiness. Then she took the form and voice
\nof Mentor, and called Telemachus to come outside.<\/p>\n
“Telemachus,” said she, “the men are on board and at their oars, waiting
\nfor you to give your orders, so make haste and let us be off.”<\/p>\n
On this she led the way, while Telemachus followed in her steps. When
\nthey got to the ship they found the crew waiting by the water side,
\nand Telemachus said, “Now my men, help me to get the stores on board;
\nthey are all put together in the cloister, and my mother does not
\nknow anything about it, nor any of the maid servants except one.”<\/p>\n
With these words he led the way and the others followed after. When
\nthey had brought the things as he told them, Telemachus went on board,
\nMinerva going before him and taking her seat in the stern of the vessel,
\nwhile Telemachus sat beside her. Then the men loosed the hawsers and
\ntook their places on the benches. Minerva sent them a fair wind from
\nthe West, that whistled over the deep blue waves whereon Telemachus
\ntold them to catch hold of the ropes and hoist sail, and they did
\nas he told them. They set the mast in its socket in the cross plank,
\nraised it, and made it fast with the forestays; then they hoisted
\ntheir white sails aloft with ropes of twisted ox hide. As the sail
\nbellied out with the wind, the ship flew through the deep blue water,
\nand the foam hissed against her bows as she sped onward. Then they
\nmade all fast throughout the ship, filled the mixing-bowls to the
\nbrim, and made drink offerings to the immortal gods that are from
\neverlasting, but more particularly to the grey-eyed daughter of Jove.<\/p>\n
Thus, then, the ship sped on her way through the watches of the night
\nfrom dark till dawn.<\/p>\n
BOOK III<\/p>\n
But as the sun was rising from the fair sea into the firmament of
\nheaven to shed light on mortals and immortals, they reached Pylos
\nthe city of Neleus. Now the people of Pylos were gathered on the sea
\nshore to offer sacrifice of black bulls to Neptune lord of the Earthquake.
\nThere were nine guilds with five hundred men in each, and there were
\nnine bulls to each guild. As they were eating the inward meats and
\nburning the thigh bones [on the embers] in the name of Neptune, Telemachus
\nand his crew arrived, furled their sails, brought their ship to anchor,
\nand went ashore.<\/p>\n
Minerva led the way and Telemachus followed her. Presently she said,
\n“Telemachus, you must not be in the least shy or nervous; you have
\ntaken this voyage to try and find out where your father is buried
\nand how he came by his end; so go straight up to Nestor that we may
\nsee what he has got to tell us. Beg of him to speak the truth, and
\nhe will tell no lies, for he is an excellent person.”<\/p>\n
“But how, Mentor,” replied Telemachus, “dare I go up to Nestor, and
\nhow am I to address him? I have never yet been used to holding long
\nconversations with people, and am ashamed to begin questioning one
\nwho is so much older than myself.”<\/p>\n
“Some things, Telemachus,” answered Minerva, “will be suggested to
\nyou by your own instinct, and heaven will prompt you further; for
\nI am assured that the gods have been with you from the time of your
\nbirth until now.”<\/p>\n
She then went quickly on, and Telemachus followed in her steps till
\nthey reached the place where the guilds of the Pylian people were
\nassembled. There they found Nestor sitting with his sons, while his
\ncompany round him were busy getting dinner ready, and putting pieces
\nof meat on to the spits while other pieces were cooking. When they
\nsaw the strangers they crowded round them, took them by the hand and
\nbade them take their places. Nestor’s son Pisistratus at once offered
\nhis hand to each of them, and seated them on some soft sheepskins
\nthat were lying on the sands near his father and his brother Thrasymedes.
\nThen he gave them their portions of the inward meats and poured wine
\nfor them into a golden cup, handing it to Minerva first, and saluting
\nher at the same time.<\/p>\n
“Offer a prayer, sir,” said he, “to King Neptune, for it is his feast
\nthat you are joining; when you have duly prayed and made your drink-offering,
\npass the cup to your friend that he may do so also. I doubt not that
\nhe too lifts his hands in prayer, for man cannot live without God
\nin the world. Still he is younger than you are, and is much of an
\nage with myself, so I he handed I will give you the precedence.”<\/p>\n
As he spoke he handed her the cup. Minerva thought it very right and
\nproper of him to have given it to herself first; she accordingly began
\npraying heartily to Neptune. “O thou,” she cried, “that encirclest
\nthe earth, vouchsafe to grant the prayers of thy servants that call
\nupon thee. More especially we pray thee send down thy grace on Nestor
\nand on his sons; thereafter also make the rest of the Pylian people
\nsome handsome return for the goodly hecatomb they are offering you.
\nLastly, grant Telemachus and myself a happy issue, in respect of the
\nmatter that has brought us in our to Pylos.”<\/p>\n
When she had thus made an end of praying, she handed the cup to Telemachus
\nand he prayed likewise. By and by, when the outer meats were roasted
\nand had been taken off the spits, the carvers gave every man his portion
\nand they all made an excellent dinner. As soon as they had had enough
\nto eat and drink, Nestor, knight of Gerene, began to speak.<\/p>\n
“Now,” said he, “that our guests have done their dinner, it will be
\nbest to ask them who they are. Who, then, sir strangers, are you,
\nand from what port have you sailed? Are you traders? or do you sail
\nthe seas as rovers with your hand against every man, and every man’s
\nhand against you?”<\/p>\n
Telemachus answered boldly, for Minerva had given him courage to ask
\nabout his father and get himself a good name.<\/p>\n
“Nestor,” said he, “son of Neleus, honour to the Achaean name, you
\nask whence we come, and I will tell you. We come from Ithaca under
\nNeritum, and the matter about which I would speak is of private not
\npublic import. I seek news of my unhappy father Ulysses, who is said
\nto have sacked the town of Troy in company with yourself. We know
\nwhat fate befell each one of the other heroes who fought at Troy,
\nbut as regards Ulysses heaven has hidden from us the knowledge even
\nthat he is dead at all, for no one can certify us in what place he
\nperished, nor say whether he fell in battle on the mainland, or was
\nlost at sea amid the waves of Amphitrite. Therefore I am suppliant
\nat your knees, if haply you may be pleased to tell me of his melancholy
\nend, whether you saw it with your own eyes, or heard it from some
\nother traveller, for he was a man born to trouble. Do not soften things
\nout of any pity for me, but tell me in all plainness exactly what
\nyou saw. If my brave father Ulysses ever did you loyal service, either
\nby word or deed, when you Achaeans were harassed among the Trojans,
\nbear it in mind now as in my favour and tell me truly all.”<\/p>\n
“My friend,” answered Nestor, “you recall a time of much sorrow to
\nmy mind, for the brave Achaeans suffered much both at sea, while privateering
\nunder Achilles, and when fighting before the great city of king Priam.
\nOur best men all of them fell there- Ajax, Achilles, Patroclus peer
\nof gods in counsel, and my own dear son Antilochus, a man singularly
\nfleet of foot and in fight valiant. But we suffered much more than
\nthis; what mortal tongue indeed could tell the whole story? Though
\nyou were to stay here and question me for five years, or even six,
\nI could not tell you all that the Achaeans suffered, and you would
\nturn homeward weary of my tale before it ended. Nine long years did
\nwe try every kind of stratagem, but the hand of heaven was against
\nus; during all this time there was no one who could compare with your
\nfather in subtlety- if indeed you are his son- I can hardly believe
\nmy eyes- and you talk just like him too- no one would say that people
\nof such different ages could speak so much alike. He and I never had
\nany kind of difference from first to last neither in camp nor council,
\nbut in singleness of heart and purpose we advised the Argives how
\nall might be ordered for the best.<\/p>\n
“When however, we had sacked the city of Priam, and were setting sail
\nin our ships as heaven had dispersed us, then Jove saw fit to vex
\nthe Argives on their homeward voyage; for they had Not all been either
\nwise or understanding, and hence many came to a bad end through the
\ndispleasure of Jove’s daughter Minerva, who brought about a quarrel
\nbetween the two sons of Atreus.<\/p>\n
“The sons of Atreus called a meeting which was not as it should be,
\nfor it was sunset and the Achaeans were heavy with wine. When they
\nexplained why they had called- the people together, it seemed that
\nMenelaus was for sailing homeward at once, and this displeased Agamemnon,
\nwho thought that we should wait till we had offered hecatombs to appease
\nthe anger of Minerva. Fool that he was, he might have known that he
\nwould not prevail with her, for when the gods have made up their minds
\nthey do not change them lightly. So the two stood bandying hard words,
\nwhereon the Achaeans sprang to their feet with a cry that rent the
\nair, and were of two minds as to what they should do.<\/p>\n
“That night we rested and nursed our anger, for Jove was hatching
\nmischief against us. But in the morning some of us drew our ships
\ninto the water and put our goods with our women on board, while the
\nrest, about half in number, stayed behind with Agamemnon. We- the
\nother half- embarked and sailed; and the ships went well, for heaven
\nhad smoothed the sea. When we reached Tenedos we offered sacrifices
\nto the gods, for we were longing to get home; cruel Jove, however,
\ndid not yet mean that we should do so, and raised a second quarrel
\nin the course of which some among us turned their ships back again,
\nand sailed away under Ulysses to make their peace with Agamemnon;
\nbut I, and all the ships that were with me pressed forward, for I
\nsaw that mischief was brewing. The son of Tydeus went on also with
\nme, and his crews with him. Later on Menelaus joined us at Lesbos,
\nand found us making up our minds about our course- for we did not
\nknow whether to go outside Chios by the island of Psyra, keeping this
\nto our left, or inside Chios, over against the stormy headland of
\nMimas. So we asked heaven for a sign, and were shown one to the effect
\nthat we should be soonest out of danger if we headed our ships across
\nthe open sea to Euboea. This we therefore did, and a fair wind sprang
\nup which gave us a quick passage during the night to Geraestus, where
\nwe offered many sacrifices to Neptune for having helped us so far
\non our way. Four days later Diomed and his men stationed their ships
\nin Argos, but I held on for Pylos, and the wind never fell light from
\nthe day when heaven first made it fair for me.<\/p>\n
“Therefore, my dear young friend, I returned without hearing anything
\nabout the others. I know neither who got home safely nor who were
\nlost but, as in duty bound, I will give you without reserve the reports
\nthat have reached me since I have been here in my own house. They
\nsay the Myrmidons returned home safely under Achilles’ son Neoptolemus;
\nso also did the valiant son of Poias, Philoctetes. Idomeneus, again,
\nlost no men at sea, and all his followers who escaped death in the
\nfield got safe home with him to Crete. No matter how far out of the
\nworld you live, you will have heard of Agamemnon and the bad end he
\ncame to at the hands of Aegisthus- and a fearful reckoning did Aegisthus
\npresently pay. See what a good thing it is for a man to leave a son
\nbehind him to do as Orestes did, who killed false Aegisthus the murderer
\nof his noble father. You too, then- for you are a tall, smart-looking
\nfellow- show your mettle and make yourself a name in story.”<\/p>\n
“Nestor son of Neleus,” answered Telemachus, “honour to the Achaean
\nname, the Achaeans applaud Orestes and his name will live through
\nall time for he has avenged his father nobly. Would that heaven might
\ngrant me to do like vengeance on the insolence of the wicked suitors,
\nwho are ill treating me and plotting my ruin; but the gods have no
\nsuch happiness in store for me and for my father, so we must bear
\nit as best we may.”<\/p>\n
“My friend,” said Nestor, “now that you remind me, I remember to have
\nheard that your mother has many suitors, who are ill disposed towards
\nyou and are making havoc of your estate. Do you submit to this tamely,
\nor are public feeling and the voice of heaven against you? Who knows
\nbut what Ulysses may come back after all, and pay these scoundrels
\nin full, either single-handed or with a force of Achaeans behind him?
\nIf Minerva were to take as great a liking to you as she did to Ulysses
\nwhen we were fighting before Troy (for I never yet saw the gods so
\nopenly fond of any one as Minerva then was of your father), if she
\nwould take as good care of you as she did of him, these wooers would
\nsoon some of them him, forget their wooing.”<\/p>\n
Telemachus answered, “I can expect nothing of the kind; it would be
\nfar too much to hope for. I dare not let myself think of it. Even
\nthough the gods themselves willed it no such good fortune could befall
\nme.”<\/p>\n
On this Minerva said, “Telemachus, what are you talking about? Heaven
\nhas a long arm if it is minded to save a man; and if it were me, I
\nshould not care how much I suffered before getting home, provided
\nI could be safe when I was once there. I would rather this, than get
\nhome quickly, and then be killed in my own house as Agamemnon was
\nby the treachery of Aegisthus and his wife. Still, death is certain,
\nand when a man’s hour is come, not even the gods can save him, no
\nmatter how fond they are of him.”<\/p>\n
“Mentor,” answered Telemachus, “do not let us talk about it any more.
\nThere is no chance of my father’s ever coming back; the gods have
\nlong since counselled his destruction. There is something else, however,
\nabout which I should like to ask Nestor, for he knows much more than
\nany one else does. They say he has reigned for three generations so
\nthat it is like talking to an immortal. Tell me, therefore, Nestor,
\nand tell me true; how did Agamemnon come to die in that way? What
\nwas Menelaus doing? And how came false Aegisthus to kill so far better
\na man than himself? Was Menelaus away from Achaean Argos, voyaging
\nelsewhither among mankind, that Aegisthus took heart and killed Agamemnon?”<\/p>\n
“I will tell you truly,” answered Nestor, “and indeed you have yourself
\ndivined how it all happened. If Menelaus when he got back from Troy
\nhad found Aegisthus still alive in his house, there would have been
\nno barrow heaped up for him, not even when he was dead, but he would
\nhave been thrown outside the city to dogs and vultures, and not a
\nwoman would have mourned him, for he had done a deed of great wickedness;
\nbut we were over there, fighting hard at Troy, and Aegisthus who was
\ntaking his ease quietly in the heart of Argos, cajoled Agamemnon’s
\nwife Clytemnestra with incessant flattery.<\/p>\n
“At first she would have nothing to do with his wicked scheme, for
\nshe was of a good natural disposition; moreover there was a bard with
\nher, to whom Agamemnon had given strict orders on setting out for
\nTroy, that he was to keep guard over his wife; but when heaven had
\ncounselled her destruction, Aegisthus thus this bard off to a desert
\nisland and left him there for crows and seagulls to batten upon- after
\nwhich she went willingly enough to the house of Aegisthus. Then he
\noffered many burnt sacrifices to the gods, and decorated many temples
\nwith tapestries and gilding, for he had succeeded far beyond his expectations.<\/p>\n
“Meanwhile Menelaus and I were on our way home from Troy, on good
\nterms with one another. When we got to Sunium, which is the point
\nof Athens, Apollo with his painless shafts killed Phrontis the steersman
\nof Menelaus’ ship (and never man knew better how to handle a vessel
\nin rough weather) so that he died then and there with the helm in
\nhis hand, and Menelaus, though very anxious to press forward, had
\nto wait in order to bury his comrade and give him his due funeral
\nrites. Presently, when he too could put to sea again, and had sailed
\non as far as the Malean heads, Jove counselled evil against him and
\nmade it it blow hard till the waves ran mountains high. Here he divided
\nhis fleet and took the one half towards Crete where the Cydonians
\ndwell round about the waters of the river Iardanus. There is a high
\nheadland hereabouts stretching out into the sea from a place called
\nGortyn, and all along this part of the coast as far as Phaestus the
\nsea runs high when there is a south wind blowing, but arter Phaestus
\nthe coast is more protected, for a small headland can make a great
\nshelter. Here this part of the fleet was driven on to the rocks and
\nwrecked; but the crews just managed to save themselves. As for the
\nother five ships, they were taken by winds and seas to Egypt, where
\nMenelaus gathered much gold and substance among people of an alien
\nspeech. Meanwhile Aegisthus here at home plotted his evil deed. For
\nseven years after he had killed Agamemnon he ruled in Mycene, and
\nthe people were obedient under him, but in the eighth year Orestes
\ncame back from Athens to be his bane, and killed the murderer of his
\nfather. Then he celebrated the funeral rites of his mother and of
\nfalse Aegisthus by a banquet to the people of Argos, and on that very
\nday Menelaus came home, with as much treasure as his ships could carry.<\/p>\n
“Take my advice then, and do not go travelling about for long so far
\nfrom home, nor leave your property with such dangerous people in your
\nhouse; they will eat up everything you have among them, and you will
\nhave been on a fool’s errand. Still, I should advise you by all means
\nto go and visit Menelaus, who has lately come off a voyage among such
\ndistant peoples as no man could ever hope to get back from, when the
\nwinds had once carried him so far out of his reckoning; even birds
\ncannot fly the distance in a twelvemonth, so vast and terrible are
\nthe seas that they must cross. Go to him, therefore, by sea, and take
\nyour own men with you; or if you would rather travel by land you can
\nhave a chariot, you can have horses, and here are my sons who can
\nescort you to Lacedaemon where Menelaus lives. Beg of him to speak
\nthe truth, and he will tell you no lies, for he is an excellent person.”<\/p>\n
As he spoke the sun set and it came on dark, whereon Minerva said,
\n“Sir, all that you have said is well; now, however, order the tongues
\nof the victims to be cut, and mix wine that we may make drink-offerings
\nto Neptune, and the other immortals, and then go to bed, for it is
\nbed time. People should go away early and not keep late hours at a
\nreligious festival.”<\/p>\n
Thus spoke the daughter of Jove, and they obeyed her saying. Men servants
\npoured water over the hands of the guests, while pages filled the
\nmixing-bowls with wine and water, and handed it round after giving
\nevery man his drink-offering; then they threw the tongues of the victims
\ninto the fire, and stood up to make their drink-offerings. When they
\nhad made their offerings and had drunk each as much as he was minded,
\nMinerva and Telemachus were forgoing on board their ship, but Nestor
\ncaught them up at once and stayed them.<\/p>\n
“Heaven and the immortal gods,” he exclaimed, “forbid that you should
\nleave my house to go on board of a ship. Do you think I am so poor
\nand short of clothes, or that I have so few cloaks and as to be unable
\nto find comfortable beds both for myself and for my guests? Let me
\ntell you I have store both of rugs and cloaks, and shall not permit
\nthe son of my old friend Ulysses to camp down on the deck of a ship-
\nnot while I live- nor yet will my sons after me, but they will keep
\nopen house as have done.”<\/p>\n
Then Minerva answered, “Sir, you have spoken well, and it will be
\nmuch better that Telemachus should do as you have said; he, therefore,
\nshall return with you and sleep at your house, but I must go back
\nto give orders to my crew, and keep them in good heart. I am the only
\nolder person among them; the rest are all young men of Telemachus’
\nown age, who have taken this voyage out of friendship; so I must return
\nto the ship and sleep there. Moreover to-morrow I must go to the Cauconians
\nwhere I have a large sum of money long owing to me. As for Telemachus,
\nnow that he is your guest, send him to Lacedaemon in a chariot, and
\nlet one of your sons go with him. Be pleased also to provide him with
\nyour best and fleetest horses.”<\/p>\n
When she had thus spoken, she flew away in the form of an eagle, and
\nall marvelled as they beheld it. Nestor was astonished, and took Telemachus
\nby the hand. “My friend,” said he, “I see that you are going to be
\na great hero some day, since the gods wait upon you thus while you
\nare still so young. This can have been none other of those who dwell
\nin heaven than Jove’s redoubtable daughter, the Trito-born, who showed
\nsuch favour towards your brave father among the Argives.” “Holy queen,”
\nhe continued, “vouchsafe to send down thy grace upon myself, my good
\nwife, and my children. In return, I will offer you in sacrifice a
\nbroad-browed heifer of a year old, unbroken, and never yet brought
\nby man under the yoke. I will gild her horns, and will offer her up
\nto you in sacrifice.”<\/p>\n
Thus did he pray, and Minerva heard his prayer. He then led the way
\nto his own house, followed by his sons and sons-in-law. When they
\nhad got there and had taken their places on the benches and seats,
\nhe mixed them a bowl of sweet wine that was eleven years old when
\nthe housekeeper took the lid off the jar that held it. As he mixed
\nthe wine, he prayed much and made drink-offerings to Minerva, daughter
\nof Aegis-bearing Jove. Then, when they had made their drink-offerings
\nand had drunk each as much as he was minded, the others went home
\nto bed each in his own abode; but Nestor put Telemachus to sleep in
\nthe room that was over the gateway along with Pisistratus, who was
\nthe only unmarried son now left him. As for himself, he slept in an
\ninner room of the house, with the queen his wife by his side.<\/p>\n
Now when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, Nestor
\nleft his couch and took his seat on the benches of white and polished
\nmarble that stood in front of his house. Here aforetime sat Neleus,
\npeer of gods in counsel, but he was now dead, and had gone to the
\nhouse of Hades; so Nestor sat in his seat, sceptre in hand, as guardian
\nof the public weal. His sons as they left their rooms gathered round
\nhim, Echephron, Stratius, Perseus, Aretus, and Thrasymedes; the sixth
\nson was Pisistratus, and when Telemachus joined them they made him
\nsit with them. Nestor then addressed them.<\/p>\n
“My sons,” said he, “make haste to do as I shall bid you. I wish first
\nand foremost to propitiate the great goddess Minerva, who manifested
\nherself visibly to me during yesterday’s festivities. Go, then, one
\nor other of you to the plain, tell the stockman to look me out a heifer,
\nand come on here with it at once. Another must go to Telemachus’s
\nship, and invite all the crew, leaving two men only in charge of the
\nvessel. Some one else will run and fetch Laerceus the goldsmith to
\ngild the horns of the heifer. The rest, stay all of you where you
\nare; tell the maids in the house to prepare an excellent dinner, and
\nto fetch seats, and logs of wood for a burnt offering. Tell them also-
\nto bring me some clear spring water.”<\/p>\n
On this they hurried off on their several errands. The heifer was
\nbrought in from the plain, and Telemachus’s crew came from the ship;
\nthe goldsmith brought the anvil, hammer, and tongs, with which he
\nworked his gold, and Minerva herself came to the sacrifice. Nestor
\ngave out the gold, and the smith gilded the horns of the heifer that
\nthe goddess might have pleasure in their beauty. Then Stratius and
\nEchephron brought her in by the horns; Aretus fetched water from the
\nhouse in a ewer that had a flower pattern on it, and in his other
\nhand he held a basket of barley meal; sturdy Thrasymedes stood by
\nwith a sharp axe, ready to strike the heifer, while Perseus held a
\nbucket. Then Nestor began with washing his hands and sprinkling the
\nbarley meal, and he offered many a prayer to Minerva as he threw a
\nlock from the heifer’s head upon the fire.<\/p>\n
When they had done praying and sprinkling the barley meal Thrasymedes
\ndealt his blow, and brought the heifer down with a stroke that cut
\nthrough the tendons at the base of her neck, whereon the daughters
\nand daughters-in-law of Nestor, and his venerable wife Eurydice (she
\nwas eldest daughter to Clymenus) screamed with delight. Then they
\nlifted the heifer’s head from off the ground, and Pisistratus cut
\nher throat. When she had done bleeding and was quite dead, they cut
\nher up. They cut out the thigh bones all in due course, wrapped them
\nround in two layers of fat, and set some pieces of raw meat on the
\ntop of them; then Nestor laid them upon the wood fire and poured wine
\nover them, while the young men stood near him with five-pronged spits
\nin their hands. When the thighs were burned and they had tasted the
\ninward meats, they cut the rest of the meat up small, put the pieces
\non the spits and toasted them over the fire.<\/p>\n
Meanwhile lovely Polycaste, Nestor’s youngest daughter, washed Telemachus.
\nWhen she had washed him and anointed him with oil, she brought him
\na fair mantle and shirt, and he looked like a god as he came from
\nthe bath and took his seat by the side of Nestor. When the outer meats
\nwere done they drew them off the spits and sat down to dinner where
\nthey were waited upon by some worthy henchmen, who kept pouring them
\nout their wine in cups of gold. As soon as they had had had enough
\nto eat and drink Nestor said, “Sons, put Telemachus’s horses to the
\nchariot that he may start at once.”<\/p>\n
Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said, and yoked the
\nfleet horses to the chariot. The housekeeper packed them up a provision
\nof bread, wine, and sweetmeats fit for the sons of princes. Then Telemachus
\ngot into the chariot, while Pisistratus gathered up the reins and
\ntook his seat beside him. He lashed the horses on and they flew forward
\nnothing loth into the open country, leaving the high citadel of Pylos
\nbehind them. All that day did they travel, swaying the yoke upon their
\nnecks till the sun went down and darkness was over all the land. Then
\nthey reached Pherae where Diocles lived, who was son to Ortilochus
\nand grandson to Alpheus. Here they passed the night and Diocles entertained
\nthem hospitably. When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn; appeared,
\nthey again yoked their horses and drove out through the gateway under
\nthe echoing gatehouse. Pisistratus lashed the horses on and they flew
\nforward nothing loth; presently they came to the corn lands Of the
\nopen country, and in the course of time completed their journey, so
\nwell did their steeds take them.<\/p>\n
Now when the sun had set and darkness was over the land,<\/p>\n
BOOK IV<\/p>\n
They reached the low lying city of Lacedaemon them where they drove
\nstraight to the of abode Menelaus [and found him in his own house,
\nfeasting with his many clansmen in honour of the wedding of his son,
\nand also of his daughter, whom he was marrying to the son of that
\nvaliant warrior Achilles. He had given his consent and promised her
\nto him while he was still at Troy, and now the gods were bringing
\nthe marriage about; so he was sending her with chariots and horses
\nto the city of the Myrmidons over whom Achilles’ son was reigning.
\nFor his only son he had found a bride from Sparta, daughter of Alector.
\nThis son, Megapenthes, was born to him of a bondwoman, for heaven
\nvouchsafed Helen no more children after she had borne Hermione, who
\nwas fair as golden Venus herself.<\/p>\n
So the neighbours and kinsmen of Menelaus were feasting and making
\nmerry in his house. There was a bard also to sing to them and play
\nhis lyre, while two tumblers went about performing in the midst of
\nthem when the man struck up with his tune.]<\/p>\n
Telemachus and the son of Nestor stayed their horses at the gate,
\nwhereon Eteoneus servant to Menelaus came out, and as soon as he saw
\nthem ran hurrying back into the house to tell his Master. He went
\nclose up to him and said, “Menelaus, there are some strangers come
\nhere, two men, who look like sons of Jove. What are we to do? Shall
\nwe take their horses out, or tell them to find friends elsewhere as
\nthey best can?”<\/p>\n
Menelaus was very angry and said, “Eteoneus, son of Boethous, you
\nnever used to be a fool, but now you talk like a simpleton. Take their
\nhorses out, of course, and show the strangers in that they may have
\nsupper; you and I have stayed often enough at other people’s houses
\nbefore we got back here, where heaven grant that we may rest in peace
\nhenceforward.”<\/p>\n
So Eteoneus bustled back and bade other servants come with him. They
\ntook their sweating hands from under the yoke, made them fast to the
\nmangers, and gave them a feed of oats and barley mixed. Then they
\nleaned the chariot against the end wall of the courtyard, and led
\nthe way into the house. Telemachus and Pisistratus were astonished
\nwhen they saw it, for its splendour was as that of the sun and moon;
\nthen, when they had admired everything to their heart’s content, they
\nwent into the bath room and washed themselves.<\/p>\n
When the servants had washed them and anointed them with oil, they
\nbrought them woollen cloaks and shirts, and the two took their seats
\nby the side of Menelaus. A maidservant brought them water in a beautiful
\ngolden ewer, and poured it into a silver basin for them to wash their
\nhands; and she drew a clean table beside them. An upper servant brought
\nthem bread, and offered them many good things of what there was in
\nthe house, while the carver fetched them plates of all manner of meats
\nand set cups of gold by their side.<\/p>\n
Menelaus then greeted them saying, “Fall to, and welcome; when you
\nhave done supper I shall ask who you are, for the lineage of such
\nmen as you cannot have been lost. You must be descended from a line
\nof sceptre-bearing kings, for poor people do not have such sons as
\nyou are.”<\/p>\n
On this he handed them a piece of fat roast loin, which had been set
\nnear him as being a prime part, and they laid their hands on the good
\nthings that were before them; as soon as they had had enough to eat
\nand drink, Telemachus said to the son of Nestor, with his head so
\nclose that no one might hear, “Look, Pisistratus, man after my own
\nheart, see the gleam of bronze and gold- of amber, ivory, and silver.
\nEverything is so splendid that it is like seeing the palace of Olympian
\nJove. I am lost in admiration.”<\/p>\n
Menelaus overheard him and said, “No one, my sons, can hold his own
\nwith Jove, for his house and everything about him is immortal; but
\namong mortal men- well, there may be another who has as much wealth
\nas I have, or there may not; but at all events I have travelled much
\nand have undergone much hardship, for it was nearly eight years before
\nI could get home with my fleet. I went to Cyprus, Phoenicia and the
\nEgyptians; I went also to the Ethiopians, the Sidonians, and the Erembians,
\nand to Libya where the lambs have horns as soon as they are born,
\nand the sheep lamb down three times a year. Every one in that country,
\nwhether master or man, has plenty of cheese, meat, and good milk,
\nfor the ewes yield all the year round. But while I was travelling
\nand getting great riches among these people, my brother was secretly
\nand shockingly murdered through the perfidy of his wicked wife, so
\nthat I have no pleasure in being lord of all this wealth. Whoever
\nyour parents may be they must have told you about all this, and of
\nmy heavy loss in the ruin of a stately mansion fully and magnificently
\nfurnished. Would that I had only a third of what I now have so that
\nI had stayed at home, and all those were living who perished on the
\nplain of Troy, far from Argos. I of grieve, as I sit here in my house,
\nfor one and all of them. At times I cry aloud for sorrow, but presently
\nI leave off again, for crying is cold comfort and one soon tires of
\nit. Yet grieve for these as I may, I do so for one man more than for
\nthem all. I cannot even think of him without loathing both food and
\nsleep, so miserable does he make me, for no one of all the Achaeans
\nworked so hard or risked so much as he did. He took nothing by it,
\nand has left a legacy of sorrow to myself, for he has been gone a
\nlong time, and we know not whether he is alive or dead. His old father,
\nhis long-suffering wife Penelope, and his son Telemachus, whom he
\nleft behind him an infant in arms, are plunged in grief on his account.”<\/p>\n
Thus spoke Menelaus, and the heart of Telemachus yearned as he bethought
\nhim of his father. Tears fell from his eyes as he heard him thus mentioned,
\nso that he held his cloak before his face with both hands. When Menelaus
\nsaw this he doubted whether to let him choose his own time for speaking,
\nor to ask him at once and find what it was all about.<\/p>\n
While he was thus in two minds Helen came down from her high vaulted
\nand perfumed room, looking as lovely as Diana herself. Adraste brought
\nher a seat, Alcippe a soft woollen rug while Phylo fetched her the
\nsilver work-box which Alcandra wife of Polybus had given her. Polybus
\nlived in Egyptian Thebes, which is the richest city in the whole world;
\nhe gave Menelaus two baths, both of pure silver, two tripods, and
\nten talents of gold; besides all this, his wife gave Helen some beautiful
\npresents, to wit, a golden distaff, and a silver work-box that ran
\non wheels, with a gold band round the top of it. Phylo now placed
\nthis by her side, full of fine spun yarn, and a distaff charged with
\nviolet coloured wool was laid upon the top of it. Then Helen took
\nher seat, put her feet upon the footstool, and began to question her
\nhusband.<\/p>\n
“Do we know, Menelaus,” said she, “the names of these strangers who
\nhave come to visit us? Shall I guess right or wrong?-but I cannot
\nhelp saying what I think. Never yet have I seen either man or woman
\nso like somebody else (indeed when I look at him I hardly know what
\nto think) as this young man is like Telemachus, whom Ulysses left
\nas a baby behind him, when you Achaeans went to Troy with battle in
\nyour hearts, on account of my most shameless self.”<\/p>\n
“My dear wife,” replied Menelaus, “I see the likeness just as you
\ndo. His hands and feet are just like Ulysses’; so is his hair, with
\nthe shape of his head and the expression of his eyes. Moreover, when
\nI was talking about Ulysses, and saying how much he had suffered on
\nmy account, tears fell from his eyes, and he hid his face in his mantle.”<\/p>\n
Then Pisistratus said, “Menelaus, son of Atreus, you are right in
\nthinking that this young man is Telemachus, but he is very modest,
\nand is ashamed to come here and begin opening up discourse with one
\nwhose conversation is so divinely interesting as your own. My father,
\nNestor, sent me to escort him hither, for he wanted to know whether
\nyou could give him any counsel or suggestion. A son has always trouble
\nat home when his father has gone away leaving him without supporters;
\nand this is how Telemachus is now placed, for his father is absent,
\nand there is no one among his own people to stand by him.”<\/p>\n
“Bless my heart,” replied Menelaus, “then I am receiving a visit from
\nthe son of a very dear friend, who suffered much hardship for my sake.
\nI had always hoped to entertain him with most marked distinction when
\nheaven had granted us a safe return from beyond the seas. I should
\nhave founded a city for him in Argos, and built him a house. I should
\nhave made him leave Ithaca with his goods, his son, and all his people,
\nand should have sacked for them some one of the neighbouring cities
\nthat are subject to me. We should thus have seen one another continually,
\nand nothing but death could have interrupted so close and happy an
\nintercourse. I suppose, however, that heaven grudged us such great
\ngood fortune, for it has prevented the poor fellow from ever getting
\nhome at all.”<\/p>\n
Thus did he speak, and his words set them all a weeping. Helen wept,
\nTelemachus wept, and so did Menelaus, nor could Pisistratus keep his
\neyes from filling, when he remembered his dear brother Antilochus
\nwhom the son of bright Dawn had killed. Thereon he said to Menelaus,<\/p>\n
“Sir, my father Nestor, when we used to talk about you at home, told
\nme you were a person of rare and excellent understanding. If, then,
\nit be possible, do as I would urge you. I am not fond of crying while
\nI am getting my supper. Morning will come in due course, and in the
\nforenoon I care not how much I cry for those that are dead and gone.
\nThis is all we can do for the poor things. We can only shave our heads
\nfor them and wring the tears from our cheeks. I had a brother who
\ndied at Troy; he was by no means the worst man there; you are sure
\nto have known him- his name was Antilochus; I never set eyes upon
\nhim myself, but they say that he was singularly fleet of foot and
\nin fight valiant.”<\/p>\n
“Your discretion, my friend,” answered Menelaus, “is beyond your years.
\nIt is plain you take after your father. One can soon see when a man
\nis son to one whom heaven has blessed both as regards wife and offspring-
\nand it has blessed Nestor from first to last all his days, giving
\nhim a green old age in his own house, with sons about him who are
\nboth we disposed and valiant. We will put an end therefore to all
\nthis weeping, and attend to our supper again. Let water be poured
\nover our hands. Telemachus and I can talk with one another fully in
\nthe morning.”<\/p>\n
On this Asphalion, one of the servants, poured water over their hands
\nand they laid their hands on the good things that were before them.<\/p>\n
Then Jove’s daughter Helen bethought her of another matter. She drugged
\nthe wine with an herb that banishes all care, sorrow, and ill humour.
\nWhoever drinks wine thus drugged cannot shed a single tear all the
\nrest of the day, not even though his father and mother both of them
\ndrop down dead, or he sees a brother or a son hewn in pieces before
\nhis very eyes. This drug, of such sovereign power and virtue, had
\nbeen given to Helen by Polydamna wife of Thon, a woman of Egypt, where
\nthere grow all sorts of herbs, some good to put into the mixing-bowl
\nand others poisonous. Moreover, every one in the whole country is
\na skilled physician, for they are of the race of Paeeon. When Helen
\nhad put this drug in the bowl, and had told the servants to serve
\nthe wine round, she said:<\/p>\n
“Menelaus, son of Atreus, and you my good friends, sons of honourable
\nmen (which is as Jove wills, for he is the giver both of good and
\nevil, and can do what he chooses), feast here as you will, and listen
\nwhile I tell you a tale in season. I cannot indeed name every single
\none of the exploits of Ulysses, but I can say what he did when he
\nwas before Troy, and you Achaeans were in all sorts of difficulties.
\nHe covered himself with wounds and bruises, dressed himself all in
\nrags, and entered the enemy’s city looking like a menial or a beggar.
\nand quite different from what he did when he was among his own people.
\nIn this disguise he entered the city of Troy, and no one said anything
\nto him. I alone recognized him and began to question him, but he was
\ntoo cunning for me. When, however, I had washed and anointed him and
\nhad given him clothes, and after I had sworn a solemn oath not to
\nbetray him to the Trojans till he had got safely back to his own camp
\nand to the ships, he told me all that the Achaeans meant to do. He
\nkilled many Trojans and got much information before he reached the
\nArgive camp, for all which things the Trojan women made lamentation,
\nbut for my own part I was glad, for my heart was beginning to oam
\nafter my home, and I was unhappy about wrong that Venus had done me
\nin taking me over there, away from my country, my girl, and my lawful
\nwedded husband, who is indeed by no means deficient either in person
\nor understanding.”<\/p>\n
Then Menelaus said, “All that you have been saying, my dear wife,
\nis true. I have travelled much, and have had much to do with heroes,
\nbut I have never seen such another man as Ulysses. What endurance
\ntoo, and what courage he displayed within the wooden horse, wherein
\nall the bravest of the Argives were lying in wait to bring death and
\ndestruction upon the Trojans. At that moment you came up to us; some
\ngod who wished well to the Trojans must have set you on to it and
\nyou had Deiphobus with you. Three times did you go all round our hiding
\nplace and pat it; you called our chiefs each by his own name, and
\nmimicked all our wives -Diomed, Ulysses, and I from our seats inside
\nheard what a noise you made. Diomed and I could not make up our minds
\nwhether to spring out then and there, or to answer you from inside,
\nbut Ulysses held us all in check, so we sat quite still, all except
\nAnticlus, who was beginning to answer you, when Ulysses clapped his
\ntwo brawny hands over his mouth, and kept them there. It was this
\nthat saved us all, for he muzzled Anticlus till Minerva took you away
\nagain.”<\/p>\n
“How sad,” exclaimed Telemachus, “that all this was of no avail to
\nsave him, nor yet his own iron courage. But now, sir, be pleased to
\nsend us all to bed, that we may lie down and enjoy the blessed boon
\nof sleep.”<\/p>\n
On this Helen told the maid servants to set beds in the room that
\nwas in the gatehouse, and to make them with good red rugs, and spread
\ncoverlets on the top of them with woollen cloaks for the guests to
\nwear. So the maids went out, carrying a torch, and made the beds,
\nto which a man-servant presently conducted the strangers. Thus, then,
\ndid Telemachus and Pisistratus sleep there in the forecourt, while
\nthe son of Atreus lay in an inner room with lovely Helen by his side.<\/p>\n
When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, Menelaus
\nrose and dressed himself. He bound his sandals on to his comely feet,
\ngirded his sword about his shoulders, and left his room looking like
\nan immortal god. Then, taking a seat near Telemachus he said:<\/p>\n
“And what, Telemachus, has led you to take this long sea voyage to
\nLacedaemon? Are you on public or private business? Tell me all about
\nit.”<\/p>\n
“I have come, sir replied Telemachus, “to see if you can tell me anything
\nabout my father. I am being eaten out of house and home; my fair estate
\nis being wasted, and my house is full of miscreants who keep killing
\ngreat numbers of my sheep and oxen, on the pretence of paying their
\naddresses to my mother. Therefore, I am suppliant at your knees if
\nhaply you may tell me about my father’s melancholy end, whether you
\nsaw it with your own eyes, or heard it from some other traveller;
\nfor he was a man born to trouble. Do not soften things out of any
\npity for myself, but tell me in all plainness exactly what you saw.
\nIf my brave father Ulysses ever did you loyal service either by word
\nor deed, when you Achaeans were harassed by the Trojans, bear it in
\nmind now as in my favour and tell me truly all.”<\/p>\n
Menelaus on hearing this was very much shocked. “So,” he exclaimed,
\n“these cowards would usurp a brave man’s bed? A hind might as well
\nlay her new born young in the lair of a lion, and then go off to feed
\nin the forest or in some grassy dell: the lion when he comes back
\nto his lair will make short work with the pair of them- and so will
\nUlysses with these suitors. By father Jove, Minerva, and Apollo, if
\nUlysses is still the man that he was when he wrestled with Philomeleides
\nin Lesbos, and threw him so heavily that all the Achaeans cheered
\nhim- if he is still such and were to come near these suitors, they
\nwould have a short shrift and a sorry wedding. As regards your questions,
\nhowever, I will not prevaricate nor deceive you, but will tell you
\nwithout concealment all that the old man of the sea told me.<\/p>\n
“I was trying to come on here, but the gods detained me in Egypt,
\nfor my hecatombs had not given them full satisfaction, and the gods
\nare very strict about having their dues. Now off Egypt, about as far
\nas a ship can sail in a day with a good stiff breeze behind her, there
\nis an island called Pharos- it has a good harbour from which vessels
\ncan get out into open sea when they have taken in water- and the gods
\nbecalmed me twenty days without so much as a breath of fair wind to
\nhelp me forward. We should have run clean out of provisions and my
\nmen would have starved, if a goddess had not taken pity upon me and
\nsaved me in the person of Idothea, daughter to Proteus, the old man
\nof the sea, for she had taken a great fancy to me.<\/p>\n
“She came to me one day when I was by myself, as I often was, for
\nthe men used to go with their barbed hooks, all over the island in
\nthe hope of catching a fish or two to save them from the pangs of
\nhunger. ‘Stranger,’ said she, ‘it seems to me that you like starving
\nin this way- at any rate it does not greatly trouble you, for you
\nstick here day after day, without even trying to get away though your
\nmen are dying by inches.’<\/p>\n
“‘Let me tell you,’ said I, ‘whichever of the goddesses you may happen
\nto be, that I am not staying here of my own accord, but must have
\noffended the gods that live in heaven. Tell me, therefore, for the
\ngods know everything. which of the immortals it is that is hindering
\nme in this way, and tell me also how I may sail the sea so as to reach
\nmy home.’<\/p>\n
“‘Stranger,’ replied she, ‘I will make it all quite clear to you.
\nThere is an old immortal who lives under the sea hereabouts and whose
\nname is Proteus. He is an Egyptian, and people say he is my father;
\nhe is Neptune’s head man and knows every inch of ground all over the
\nbottom of the sea. If you can snare him and hold him tight, he will
\ntell you about your voyage, what courses you are to take, and how
\nyou are to sail the sea so as to reach your home. He will also tell
\nyou, if you so will, all that has been going on at your house both
\ngood and bad, while you have been away on your long and dangerous
\njourney.’<\/p>\n
“‘Can you show me,’ said I, ‘some stratagem by means of which I may
\ncatch this old god without his suspecting it and finding me out? For
\na god is not easily caught- not by a mortal man.’<\/p>\n
“‘Stranger,’ said she, ‘I will make it all quite clear to you. About
\nthe time when the sun shall have reached mid heaven, the old man of
\nthe sea comes up from under the waves, heralded by the West wind that
\nfurs the water over his head. As soon as he has come up he lies down,
\nand goes to sleep in a great sea cave, where the seals- Halosydne’s
\nchickens as they call them- come up also from the grey sea, and go
\nto sleep in shoals all round him; and a very strong and fish-like
\nsmell do they bring with them. Early to-morrow morning I will take
\nyou to this place and will lay you in ambush. Pick out, therefore,
\nthe three best men you have in your fleet, and I will tell you all
\nthe tricks that the old man will play you.<\/p>\n
“‘First he will look over all his seals, and count them; then, when
\nhe has seen them and tallied them on his five fingers, he will go
\nto sleep among them, as a shepherd among his sheep. The moment you
\nsee that he is asleep seize him; put forth all your strength and hold
\nhim fast, for he will do his very utmost to get away from you. He
\nwill turn himself into every kind of creature that goes upon the earth,
\nand will become also both fire and water; but you must hold him fast
\nand grip him tighter and tighter, till he begins to talk to you and
\ncomes back to what he was when you saw him go to sleep; then you may
\nslacken your hold and let him go; and you can ask him which of the
\ngods it is that is angry with you, and what you must do to reach your
\nhome over the seas.’<\/p>\n
“Having so said she dived under the waves, whereon I turned back to
\nthe place where my ships were ranged upon the shore; and my heart
\nwas clouded with care as I went along. When I reached my ship we got
\nsupper ready, for night was falling, and camped down upon the beach.<\/p>\n
“When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, I took the
\nthree men on whose prowess of all kinds I could most rely, and went
\nalong by the sea-side, praying heartily to heaven. Meanwhile the goddess
\nfetched me up four seal skins from the bottom of the sea, all of them
\njust skinned, for she meant playing a trick upon her father. Then
\nshe dug four pits for us to lie in, and sat down to wait till we should
\ncome up. When we were close to her, she made us lie down in the pits
\none after the other, and threw a seal skin over each of us. Our ambuscade
\nwould have been intolerable, for the stench of the fishy seals was
\nmost distressing- who would go to bed with a sea monster if he could
\nhelp it?-but here, too, the goddess helped us, and thought of something
\nthat gave us great relief, for she put some ambrosia under each man’s
\nnostrils, which was so fragrant that it killed the smell of the seals.<\/p>\n
“We waited the whole morning and made the best of it, watching the
\nseals come up in hundreds to bask upon the sea shore, till at noon
\nthe old man of the sea came up too, and when he had found his fat
\nseals he went over them and counted them. We were among the first
\nhe counted, and he never suspected any guile, but laid himself down
\nto sleep as soon as he had done counting. Then we rushed upon him
\nwith a shout and seized him; on which he began at once with his old
\ntricks, and changed himself first into a lion with a great mane; then
\nall of a sudden he became a dragon, a leopard, a wild boar; the next
\nmoment he was running water, and then again directly he was a tree,
\nbut we stuck to him and never lost hold, till at last the cunning
\nold creature became distressed, and said, Which of the gods was it,
\nSon of Atreus, that hatched this plot with you for snaring me and
\nseizing me against my will? What do you want?’<\/p>\n
“‘You know that yourself, old man,’ I answered, ‘you will gain nothing
\nby trying to put me off. It is because I have been kept so long in
\nthis island, and see no sign of my being able to get away. I am losing
\nall heart; tell me, then, for you gods know everything, which of the
\nimmortals it is that is hindering me, and tell me also how I may sail
\nthe sea so as to reach my home?’<\/p>\n
“Then,’ he said, ‘if you would finish your voyage and get home quickly,
\nyou must offer sacrifices to Jove and to the rest of the gods before
\nembarking; for it is decreed that you shall not get back to your friends,
\nand to your own house, till you have returned to the heaven fed stream
\nof Egypt, and offered holy hecatombs to the immortal gods that reign
\nin heaven. When you have done this they will let you finish your voyage.’<\/p>\n
“I was broken hearted when I heard that I must go back all that long
\nand terrible voyage to Egypt; nevertheless, I answered, ‘I will do
\nall, old man, that you have laid upon me; but now tell me, and tell
\nme true, whether all the Achaeans whom Nestor and I left behind us
\nwhen we set sail from Troy have got home safely, or whether any one
\nof them came to a bad end either on board his own ship or among his
\nfriends when the days of his fighting were done.’<\/p>\n
“‘Son of Atreus,’ he answered, ‘why ask me? You had better not know
\nwhat I can tell you, for your eyes will surely fill when you have
\nheard my story. Many of those about whom you ask are dead and gone,
\nbut many still remain, and only two of the chief men among the Achaeans
\nperished during their return home. As for what happened on the field
\nof battle- you were there yourself. A third Achaean leader is still
\nat sea, alive, but hindered from returning. Ajax was wrecked, for
\nNeptune drove him on to the great rocks of Gyrae; nevertheless, he
\nlet him get safe out of the water, and in spite of all Minerva’s hatred
\nhe would have escaped death, if he had not ruined himself by boasting.
\nHe said the gods could not drown him even though they had tried to
\ndo so, and when Neptune heard this large talk, he seized his trident
\nin his two brawny hands, and split the rock of Gyrae in two pieces.
\nThe base remained where it was, but the part on which Ajax was sitting
\nfell headlong into the sea and carried Ajax with it; so he drank salt
\nwater and was drowned.<\/p>\n
“‘Your brother and his ships escaped, for Juno protected him, but
\nwhen he was just about to reach the high promontory of Malea, he was
\ncaught by a heavy gale which carried him out to sea again sorely against
\nhis will, and drove him to the foreland where Thyestes used to dwell,
\nbut where Aegisthus was then living. By and by, however, it seemed
\nas though he was to return safely after all, for the gods backed the
\nwind into its old quarter and they reached home; whereon Agamemnon
\nkissed his native soil, and shed tears of joy at finding himself in
\nhis own country.<\/p>\n
“‘Now there was a watchman whom Aegisthus kept always on the watch,
\nand to whom he had promised two talents of gold. This man had been
\nlooking out for a whole year to make sure that Agamemnon did not give
\nhim the slip and prepare war; when, therefore, this man saw Agamemnon
\ngo by, he went and told Aegisthus who at once began to lay a plot
\nfor him. He picked twenty of his bravest warriors and placed them
\nin ambuscade on one side the cloister, while on the opposite side
\nhe prepared a banquet. Then he sent his chariots and horsemen to Agamemnon,
\nand invited him to the feast, but he meant foul play. He got him there,
\nall unsuspicious of the doom that was awaiting him, and killed him
\nwhen the banquet was over as though he were butchering an ox in the
\nshambles; not one of Agamemnon’s followers was left alive, nor yet
\none of Aegisthus’, but they were all killed there in the cloisters.’<\/p>\n
“Thus spoke Proteus, and I was broken hearted as I heard him. I sat
\ndown upon the sands and wept; I felt as though I could no longer bear
\nto live nor look upon the light of the sun. Presently, when I had
\nhad my fill of weeping and writhing upon the ground, the old man of
\nthe sea said, ‘Son of Atreus, do not waste any more time in crying
\nso bitterly; it can do no manner of good; find your way home as fast
\nas ever you can, for Aegisthus be still alive, and even though Orestes
\nhas beforehand with you in kilting him, you may yet come in for his
\nfuneral.’<\/p>\n
“On this I took comfort in spite of all my sorrow, and said, ‘I know,
\nthen, about these two; tell me, therefore, about the third man of
\nwhom you spoke; is he still alive, but at sea, and unable to get home?
\nor is he dead? Tell me, no matter how much it may grieve me.’<\/p>\n
“‘The third man,’ he answered, ‘is Ulysses who dwells in Ithaca. I
\ncan see him in an island sorrowing bitterly in the house of the nymph
\nCalypso, who is keeping him prisoner, and he cannot reach his home
\nfor he has no ships nor sailors to take him over the sea. As for your
\nown end, Menelaus, you shall not die in Argos, but the gods will take
\nyou to the Elysian plain, which is at the ends of the world. There
\nfair-haired Rhadamanthus reigns, and men lead an easier life than
\nany where else in the world, for in Elysium there falls not rain,
\nnor hail, nor snow, but Oceanus breathes ever with a West wind that
\nsings softly from the sea, and gives fresh life to all men. This will
\nhappen to you because you have married Helen, and are Jove’s son-in-law.’<\/p>\n
“As he spoke he dived under the waves, whereon I turned back to the
\nships with my companions, and my heart was clouded with care as I
\nwent along. When we reached the ships we got supper ready, for night
\nwas falling, and camped down upon the beach. When the child of morning,
\nrosy-fingered Dawn appeared, we drew our ships into the water, and
\nput our masts and sails within them; then we went on board ourselves,
\ntook our seats on the benches, and smote the grey sea with our oars.
\nI again stationed my ships in the heaven-fed stream of Egypt, and
\noffered hecatombs that were full and sufficient. When I had thus appeased
\nheaven’s anger, I raised a barrow to the memory of Agamemnon that
\nhis name might live for ever, after which I had a quick passage home,
\nfor the gods sent me a fair wind.<\/p>\n
“And now for yourself- stay here some ten or twelve days longer, and
\nI will then speed you on your way. I will make you a noble present
\nof a chariot and three horses. I will also give you a beautiful chalice
\nthat so long as you live you may think of me whenever you make a drink-offering
\nto the immortal gods.”<\/p>\n
“Son of Atreus,” replied Telemachus, “do not press me to stay longer;
\nI should be contented to remain with you for another twelve months;
\nI find your conversation so delightful that I should never once wish
\nmyself at home with my parents; but my crew whom I have left at Pylos
\nare already impatient, and you are detaining me from them. As for
\nany present you may be disposed to make me, I had rather that it should
\nhe a piece of plate. I will take no horses back with me to Ithaca,
\nbut will leave them to adorn your own stables, for you have much flat
\nground in your kingdom where lotus thrives, as also meadowsweet and
\nwheat and barley, and oats with their white and spreading ears; whereas
\nin Ithaca we have neither open fields nor racecourses, and the country
\nis more fit for goats than horses, and I like it the better for that.
\nNone of our islands have much level ground, suitable for horses, and
\nIthaca least of all.”<\/p>\n
Menelaus smiled and took Telemachus’s hand within his own. “What you
\nsay,” said he, “shows that you come of good family. I both can, and
\nwill, make this exchange for you, by giving you the finest and most
\nprecious piece of plate in all my house. It is a mixing-bowl by Vulcan’s
\nown hand, of pure silver, except the rim, which is inlaid with gold.
\nPhaedimus, king of the Sidonians, gave it me in the course of a visit
\nwhich I paid him when I returned thither on my homeward journey. I
\nwill make you a present of it.”<\/p>\n
Thus did they converse [and guests kept coming to the king’s house.
\nThey brought sheep and wine, while their wives had put up bread for
\nthem to take with them; so they were busy cooking their dinners in
\nthe courts].<\/p>\n
Meanwhile the suitors were throwing discs or aiming with spears at
\na mark on the levelled ground in front of Ulysses’ house, and were
\nbehaving with all their old insolence. Antinous and Eurymachus, who
\nwere their ringleaders and much the foremost among them all, were
\nsitting together when Noemon son of Phronius came up and said to Antinous,<\/p>\n
“Have we any idea, Antinous, on what day Telemachus returns from Pylos?
\nHe has a ship of mine, and I want it, to cross over to Elis: I have
\ntwelve brood mares there with yearling mule foals by their side not
\nyet broken in, and I want to bring one of them over here and break
\nhim.”<\/p>\n
They were astounded when they heard this, for they had made sure that
\nTelemachus had not gone to the city of Neleus. They thought he was
\nonly away somewhere on the farms, and was with the sheep, or with
\nthe swineherd; so Antinous said, “When did he go? Tell me truly, and
\nwhat young men did he take with him? Were they freemen or his own
\nbondsmen- for he might manage that too? Tell me also, did you let
\nhim have the ship of your own free will because he asked you, or did
\nhe take it without yourleave?”<\/p>\n
“I lent it him,” answered Noemon, “what else could I do when a man
\nof his position said he was in a difficulty, and asked me to oblige
\nhim? I could not possibly refuse. As for those who went with him they
\nwere the best young men we have, and I saw Mentor go on board as captain-
\nor some god who was exactly like him. I cannot understand it, for
\nI saw Mentor here myself yesterday morning, and yet he was then setting
\nout for Pylos.”<\/p>\n
Noemon then went back to his father’s house, but Antinous and Eurymachus
\nwere very angry. They told the others to leave off playing, and to
\ncome and sit down along with themselves. When they came, Antinous
\nson of Eupeithes spoke in anger. His heart was black with rage, and
\nhis eyes flashed fire as he said:<\/p>\n
“Good heavens, this voyage of Telemachus is a very serious matter;
\nwe had made sure that it would come to nothing, but the young fellow
\nhas got away in spite of us, and with a picked crew too. He will be
\ngiving us trouble presently; may Jove take him before he is full grown.
\nFind me a ship, therefore, with a crew of twenty men, and I will lie
\nin wait for him in the straits between Ithaca and Samos; he will then
\nrue the day that he set out to try and get news of his father.”<\/p>\n
Thus did he speak, and the others applauded his saying; they then
\nall of them went inside the buildings.<\/p>\n
It was not long ere Penelope came to know what the suitors were plotting;
\nfor a man servant, Medon, overheard them from outside the outer court
\nas they were laying their schemes within, and went to tell his mistress.
\nAs he crossed the threshold of her room Penelope said: “Medon, what
\nhave the suitors sent you here for? Is it to tell the maids to leave
\ntheir master’s business and cook dinner for them? I wish they may
\nneither woo nor dine henceforward, neither here nor anywhere else,
\nbut let this be the very last time, for the waste you all make of
\nmy son’s estate. Did not your fathers tell you when you were children
\nhow good Ulysses had been to them- never doing anything high-handed,
\nnor speaking harshly to anybody? Kings may say things sometimes, and
\nthey may take a fancy to one man and dislike another, but Ulysses
\nnever did an unjust thing by anybody- which shows what bad hearts
\nyou have, and that there is no such thing as gratitude left in this
\nworld.”<\/p>\n
Then Medon said, “I wish, Madam, that this were all; but they are
\nplotting something much more dreadful now- may heaven frustrate their
\ndesign. They are going to try and murder Telemachus as he is coming
\nhome from Pylos and Lacedaemon, where he has been to get news of his
\nfather.”<\/p>\n
Then Penelope’s heart sank within her, and for a long time she was
\nspeechless; her eyes filled with tears, and she could find no utterance.
\nAt last, however, she said, “Why did my son leave me? What business
\nhad he to go sailing off in ships that make long voyages over the
\nocean like sea-horses? Does he want to die without leaving any one
\nbehind him to keep up his name?”<\/p>\n
“I do not know,” answered Medon, “whether some god set him on to it,
\nor whether he went on his own impulse to see if he could find out
\nif his father was dead, or alive and on his way home.”<\/p>\n
Then he went downstairs again, leaving Penelope in an agony of grief.
\nThere were plenty of seats in the house, but she. had no heart for
\nsitting on any one of them; she could only fling herself on the floor
\nof her own room and cry; whereon all the maids in the house, both
\nold and young, gathered round her and began to cry too, till at last
\nin a transport of sorrow she exclaimed,<\/p>\n
“My dears, heaven has been pleased to try me with more affliction
\nthan any other woman of my age and country. First I lost my brave
\nand lion-hearted husband, who had every good quality under heaven,
\nand whose name was great over all Hellas and middle Argos, and now
\nmy darling son is at the mercy of the winds and waves, without my
\nhaving heard one word about his leaving home. You hussies, there was
\nnot one of you would so much as think of giving me a call out of my
\nbed, though you all of you very well knew when he was starting. If
\nI had known he meant taking this voyage, he would have had to give
\nit up, no matter how much he was bent upon it, or leave me a corpse
\nbehind him- one or other. Now, however, go some of you and call old
\nDolius, who was given me by my father on my marriage, and who is my
\ngardener. Bid him go at once and tell everything to Laertes, who may
\nbe able to hit on some plan for enlisting public sympathy on our side,
\nas against those who are trying to exterminate his own race and that
\nof Ulysses.”<\/p>\n
Then the dear old nurse Euryclea said, “You may kill me, Madam, or
\nlet me live on in your house, whichever you please, but I will tell
\nyou the real truth. I knew all about it, and gave him everything he
\nwanted in the way of bread and wine, but he made me take my solemn
\noath that I would not tell you anything for some ten or twelve days,
\nunless you asked or happened to hear of his having gone, for he did
\nnot want you to spoil your beauty by crying. And now, Madam, wash
\nyour face, change your dress, and go upstairs with your maids to offer
\nprayers to Minerva, daughter of Aegis-bearing Jove, for she can save
\nhim even though he be in the jaws of death. Do not trouble Laertes:
\nhe has trouble enough already. Besides, I cannot think that the gods
\nhate die race of the race of the son of Arceisius so much, but there
\nwill be a son left to come up after him, and inherit both the house
\nand the fair fields that lie far all round it.”<\/p>\n
With these words she made her mistress leave off crying, and dried
\nthe tears from her eyes. Penelope washed her face, changed her dress,
\nand went upstairs with her maids. She then put some bruised barley
\ninto a basket and began praying to Minerva.<\/p>\n
“Hear me,” she cried, “Daughter of Aegis-bearing Jove, unweariable.
\nIf ever Ulysses while he was here burned you fat thigh bones of sheep
\nor heifer, bear it in mind now as in my favour, and save my darling
\nson from the villainy of the suitors.”<\/p>\n
She cried aloud as she spoke, and the goddess heard her prayer; meanwhile
\nthe suitors were clamorous throughout the covered cloister, and one
\nof them said:<\/p>\n
“The queen is preparing for her marriage with one or other of us.
\nLittle does she dream that her son has now been doomed to die.”<\/p>\n
This was what they said, but they did not know what was going to happen.
\nThen Antinous said, “Comrades, let there be no loud talking, lest
\nsome of it get carried inside. Let us be up and do that in silence,
\nabout which we are all of a mind.”<\/p>\n
He then chose twenty men, and they went down to their. ship and to
\nthe sea side; they drew the vessel into the water and got her mast
\nand sails inside her; they bound the oars to the thole-pins with twisted
\nthongs of leather, all in due course, and spread the white sails aloft,
\nwhile their fine servants brought them their armour. Then they made
\nthe ship fast a little way out, came on shore again, got their suppers,
\nand waited till night should fall.<\/p>\n
But Penelope lay in her own room upstairs unable to eat or drink,
\nand wondering whether her brave son would escape, or be overpowered
\nby the wicked suitors. Like a lioness caught in the toils with huntsmen
\nhemming her in on every side she thought and thought till she sank
\ninto a slumber, and lay on her bed bereft of thought and motion.<\/p>\n
Then Minerva bethought her of another matter, and made a vision in
\nthe likeness of Penelope’s sister Iphthime daughter of Icarius who
\nhad married Eumelus and lived in Pherae. She told the vision to go
\nto the house of Ulysses, and to make Penelope leave off crying, so
\nit came into her room by the hole through which the thong went for
\npulling the door to, and hovered over her head, saying,<\/p>\n
“You are asleep, Penelope: the gods who live at ease will not suffer
\nyou to weep and be so sad. Your son has done them no wrong, so he
\nwill yet come back to you.”<\/p>\n
Penelope, who was sleeping sweetly at the<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The Odyssey By Homer Translated by Samuel Butler BOOK I 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 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"advanced_seo_description":"","jetpack_seo_html_title":"","jetpack_seo_noindex":false,"jetpack_seo_schema_type":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-40037","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/erickimphotography.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/40037","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/erickimphotography.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/erickimphotography.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/erickimphotography.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/erickimphotography.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=40037"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/erickimphotography.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/40037\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/erickimphotography.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=40037"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}