Odyssey by Homer

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 sea while trying to save his own life
and bring his men safely home; but do what he might he could not save
his men, for they perished through their own sheer folly in eating
the cattle of the Sun-god Hyperion; so the god prevented them from
ever reaching home. Tell me, too, about all these things, O daughter
of Jove, from whatsoever source you may know them.

So now all who escaped death in battle or by shipwreck had got safely
home except Ulysses, and he, though he was longing to return to his
wife and country, was detained by the goddess Calypso, who had got
him into a large cave and wanted to marry him. But as years went by,
there came a time when the gods settled that he should go back to
Ithaca; even then, however, when he was among his own people, his
troubles were not yet over; nevertheless all the gods had now begun
to pity him except Neptune, who still persecuted him without ceasing
and would not let him get home.

Now Neptune had gone off to the Ethiopians, who are at the world's
end, and lie in two halves, the one looking West and the other East.
He had gone there to accept a hecatomb of sheep and oxen, and was
enjoying himself at his festival; but the other gods met in the house
of Olympian Jove, and the sire of gods and men spoke first. At that
moment he was thinking of Aegisthus, who had been killed by Agamemnon's
son Orestes; so he said to the other gods:

"See now, how men lay blame upon us gods for what is after all nothing
but their own folly. Look at Aegisthus; he must needs make love to
Agamemnon's wife unrighteously and then kill Agamemnon, though he
knew it would be the death of him; for I sent Mercury to warn him
not to do either of these things, inasmuch as Orestes would be sure
to take his revenge when he grew up and wanted to return home. Mercury
told him this in all good will but he would not listen, and now he
has paid for everything in full."

Then Minerva said, "Father, son of Saturn, King of kings, it served
Aegisthus right, and so it would any one else who does as he did;
but Aegisthus is neither here nor there; it is for Ulysses that my
heart bleeds, when I think of his sufferings in that lonely sea-girt
island, far away, poor man, from all his friends. It is an island
covered with forest, in the very middle of the sea, and a goddess
lives there, daughter of the magician Atlas, who looks after the bottom
of the ocean, and carries the great columns that keep heaven and earth
asunder. This daughter of Atlas has got hold of poor unhappy Ulysses,
and keeps trying by every kind of blandishment to make him forget
his home, so that he is tired of life, and thinks of nothing but how
he may once more see the smoke of his own chimneys. You, sir, take
no heed of this, and yet when Ulysses was before Troy did he not propitiate
you with many a burnt sacrifice? Why then should you keep on being
so angry with him?"

And Jove said, "My child, what are you talking about? How can I forget
Ulysses than whom there is no more capable man on earth, nor more
liberal in his offerings to the immortal gods that live in heaven?
Bear in mind, however, that Neptune is still furious with Ulysses
for having blinded an eye of Polyphemus king of the Cyclopes. Polyphemus
is son to Neptune by the nymph Thoosa, daughter to the sea-king Phorcys;
therefore though he will not kill Ulysses outright, he torments him
by preventing him from getting home. Still, let us lay our heads together
and see how we can help him to return; Neptune will then be pacified,
for if we are all of a mind he can hardly stand out against us."

And Minerva said, "Father, son of Saturn, King of kings, if, then,
the gods now mean that Ulysses should get home, we should first send
Mercury to the Ogygian island to tell Calypso that we have made up
our minds and that he is to return. In the meantime I will go to Ithaca,
to put heart into Ulysses' son Telemachus; I will embolden him to
call the Achaeans in assembly, and speak out to the suitors of his
mother Penelope, who persist in eating up any number of his sheep
and oxen; I will also conduct him to Sparta and to Pylos, to see if
he can hear anything about the return of his dear father- for this
will make people speak well of him."

So saying she bound on her glittering golden sandals, imperishable,
with which she can fly like the wind over land or sea; she grasped
the redoubtable bronze-shod spear, so stout and sturdy and strong,
wherewith she quells the ranks of heroes who have displeased her,
and down she darted from the topmost summits of Olympus, whereon forthwith
she was in Ithaca, at the gateway of Ulysses' house, disguised as
a visitor, Mentes, chief of the Taphians, and she held a bronze spear
in her hand. There she found the lordly suitors seated on hides of
the oxen which they had killed and eaten, and playing draughts in
front of the house. Men-servants and pages were bustling about to
wait upon them, some mixing wine with water in the mixing-bowls, some
cleaning down the tables with wet sponges and laying them out again,
and some cutting up great quantities of meat.

Telemachus saw her long before any one else did. He was sitting moodily
among the suitors thinking about his brave father, and how he would
send them flying out of the house, if he were to come to his own again
and be honoured as in days gone by. Thus brooding as he sat among
them, he caught sight of Minerva and went straight to the gate, for
he was vexed that a stranger should be kept waiting for admittance.
He took her right hand in his own, and bade her give him her spear.
"Welcome," said he, "to our house, and when you have partaken of food
you shall tell us what you have come for."

He led the way as he spoke, and Minerva followed him. When they were
within he took her spear and set it in the spear- stand against a
strong bearing-post along with the many other spears of his unhappy
father, and he conducted her to a richly decorated seat under which
he threw a cloth of damask. There was a footstool also for her feet,
and he set another seat near her for himself, away from the suitors,
that she might not be annoyed while eating by their noise and insolence,
and that he might ask her more freely about his father.

A maid servant then brought them water in a beautiful golden ewer
and poured it into a silver basin for them to wash their hands, and
she drew a clean table beside them. An upper servant brought them
bread, and offered them many good things of what there was in the
house, the carver fetched them plates of all manner of meats and set
cups of gold by their side, and a man-servant brought them wine and
poured it out for them.

Then the suitors came in and took their places on the benches and
seats. Forthwith men servants poured water over their hands, maids
went round with the bread-baskets, pages filled the mixing-bowls with
wine and water, and they laid their hands upon the good things that
were before them. As soon as they had had enough to eat and drink
they wanted music and dancing, which are the crowning embellishments
of a banquet, so a servant brought a lyre to Phemius, whom they compelled
perforce to sing to them. As soon as he touched his lyre and began
to sing Telemachus spoke low to Minerva, with his head close to hers
that no man might hear.

"I hope, sir," said he, "that you will not be offended with what I
am going to say. Singing comes cheap to those who do not pay for it,
and all this is done at the cost of one whose bones lie rotting in
some wilderness or grinding to powder in the surf. If these men were
to see my father come back to Ithaca they would pray for longer legs
rather than a longer purse, for money would not serve them; but he,
alas, has fallen on an ill fate, and even when people do sometimes
say that he is coming, we no longer heed them; we shall never see
him again. And now, sir, tell me and tell me true, who you are and
where you come from. Tell me of your town and parents, what manner
of ship you came in, how your crew brought you to Ithaca, and of what
nation they declared themselves to be- for you cannot have come by
land. Tell me also truly, for I want to know, are you a stranger to
this house, or have you been here in my father's time? In the old
days we had many visitors for my father went about much himself."

And Minerva answered, "I will tell you truly and particularly all
about it. I am Mentes, son of Anchialus, and I am King of the Taphians.
I have come here with my ship and crew, on a voyage to men of a foreign
tongue being bound for Temesa with a cargo of iron, and I shall bring
back copper. As for my ship, it lies over yonder off the open country
away from the town, in the harbour Rheithron under the wooded mountain
Neritum. Our fathers were friends before us, as old Laertes will tell
you, if you will go and ask him. They say, however, that he never
comes to town now, and lives by himself in the country, faring hardly,
with an old woman to look after him and get his dinner for him, when
he comes in tired from pottering about his vineyard. They told me
your father was at home again, and that was why I came, but it seems
the gods are still keeping him back, for he is not dead yet not on
the mainland. It is more likely he is on some sea-girt island in mid
ocean, or a prisoner among savages who are detaining him against his
will I am no prophet, and know very little about omens, but I speak
as it is borne in upon me from heaven, and assure you that he will
not be away much longer; for he is a man of such resource that even
though he were in chains of iron he would find some means of getting
home again. But tell me, and tell me true, can Ulysses really have
such a fine looking fellow for a son? You are indeed wonderfully like
him about the head and eyes, for we were close friends before he set
sail for Troy where the flower of all the Argives went also. Since
that time we have never either of us seen the other."

"My mother," answered Telemachus, tells me I am son to Ulysses, but
it is a wise child that knows his own father. Would that I were son
to one who had grown old upon his own estates, for, since you ask
me, there is no more ill-starred man under heaven than he who they
tell me is my father."

And Minerva said, "There is no fear of your race dying out yet, while
Penelope has such a fine son as you are. But tell me, and tell me
true, what is the meaning of all this feasting, and who are these
people? What is it all about? Have you some banquet, or is there a
wedding in the family- for no one seems to be bringing any provisions
of his own? And the guests- how atrociously they are behaving; what
riot they make over the whole house; it is enough to disgust any respectable
person who comes near them."

"Sir," said Telemachus, "as regards your question, so long as my father
was here it was well with us and with the house, but the gods in their
displeasure have willed it otherwise, and have hidden him away more
closely than mortal man was ever yet hidden. I could have borne it
better even though he were dead, if he had fallen with his men before
Troy, or had died with friends around him when the days of his fighting
were done; for then the Achaeans would have built a mound over his
ashes, and I should myself have been heir to his renown; but now the
storm-winds have spirited him away we know not wither; he is gone
without leaving so much as a trace behind him, and I inherit nothing
but dismay. Nor does the matter end simply with grief for the loss
of my father; heaven has laid sorrows upon me of yet another kind;
for the chiefs from all our islands, Dulichium, Same, and the woodland
island of Zacynthus, as also all the principal men of Ithaca itself,
are eating up my house under the pretext of paying their court to
my mother, who will neither point blank say that she will not marry,
nor yet bring matters to an end; so they are making havoc of my estate,
and before long will do so also with myself."

"Is that so?" exclaimed Minerva, "then you do indeed want Ulysses
home again. Give him his helmet, shield, and a couple lances, and
if he is the man he was when I first knew him in our house, drinking
and making merry, he would soon lay his hands about these rascally
suitors, were he to stand once more upon his own threshold. He was
then coming from Ephyra, where he had been to beg poison for his arrows
from Ilus, son of Mermerus. Ilus feared the ever-living gods and would
not give him any, but my father let him have some, for he was very
fond of him. If Ulysses is the man he then was these suitors will
have a short shrift and a sorry wedding.

"But there! It rests with heaven to determine whether he is to return,
and take his revenge in his own house or no; I would, however, urge
you to set about trying to get rid of these suitors at once. Take
my advice, call the Achaean heroes in assembly to-morrow -lay your
case before them, and call heaven to bear you witness. Bid the suitors
take themselves off, each to his own place, and if your mother's mind
is set on marrying again, let her go back to her father, who will
find her a husband and provide her with all the marriage gifts that
so dear a daughter may expect. As for yourself, let me prevail upon
you to take the best ship you can get, with a crew of twenty men,
and go in quest of your father who has so long been missing. Some
one may tell you something, or (and people often hear things in this
way) some heaven-sent message may direct you. First go to Pylos and
ask Nestor; thence go on to Sparta and visit Menelaus, for he got
home last of all the Achaeans; if you hear that your father is alive
and on his way home, you can put up with the waste these suitors will
make for yet another twelve months. If on the other hand you hear
of his death, come home at once, celebrate his funeral rites with
all due pomp, build a barrow to his memory, and make your mother marry
again. Then, having done all this, think it well over in your mind
how, by fair means or foul, you may kill these suitors in your own
house. You are too old to plead infancy any longer; have you not heard
how people are singing Orestes' praises for having killed his father's
murderer Aegisthus? You are a fine, smart looking fellow; show your
mettle, then, and make yourself a name in story. Now, however, I must
go back to my ship and to my crew, who will be impatient if I keep
them waiting longer; think the matter over for yourself, and remember
what I have said to you."

"Sir," answered Telemachus, "it has been very kind of you to talk
to me in this way, as though I were your own son, and I will do all
you tell me; I know you want to be getting on with your voyage, but
stay a little longer till you have taken a bath and refreshed yourself.
I will then give you a present, and you shall go on your way rejoicing;
I will give you one of great beauty and value- a keepsake such as
only dear friends give to one another."

Minerva answered, "Do not try to keep me, for I would be on my way
at once. As for any present you may be disposed to make me, keep it
till I come again, and I will take it home with me. You shall give
me a very good one, and I will give you one of no less value in return."

With these words she flew away like a bird into the air, but she had
given Telemachus courage, and had made him think more than ever about
his father. He felt the change, wondered at it, and knew that the
stranger had been a god, so he went straight to where the suitors
were sitting.

Phemius was still singing, and his hearers sat rapt in silence as
he told the sad tale of the return from Troy, and the ills Minerva
had laid upon the Achaeans. Penelope, daughter of Icarius, heard his
song from her room upstairs, and came down by the great staircase,
not alone, but attended by two of her handmaids. When she reached
the suitors she stood by one of the bearing posts that supported the
roof of the cloisters with a staid maiden on either side of her. She
held a veil, moreover, before her face, and was weeping bitterly.

"Phemius," she cried, "you know many another feat of gods and heroes,
such as poets love to celebrate. Sing the suitors some one of these,
and let them drink their wine in silence, but cease this sad tale,
for it breaks my sorrowful heart, and reminds me of my lost husband
whom I mourn ever without ceasing, and whose name was great over all
Hellas and middle Argos."

"Mother," answered Telemachus, "let the bard sing what he has a mind
to; bards do not make the ills they sing of; it is Jove, not they,
who makes them, and who sends weal or woe upon mankind according to
his own good pleasure. This fellow means no harm by singing the ill-fated
return of the Danaans, for people always applaud the latest songs
most warmly. Make up your mind to it and bear it; Ulysses is not the
only man who never came back from Troy, but many another went down
as well as he. Go, then, within the house and busy yourself with your
daily duties, your loom, your distaff, and the ordering of your servants;
for speech is man's matter, and mine above all others- for it is I
who am master here."

She went wondering back into the house, and laid her son's saying
in her heart. Then, going upstairs with her handmaids into her room,
she mourned her dear husband till Minerva shed sweet sleep over her
eyes. But the suitors were clamorous throughout the covered cloisters,
and prayed each one that he might be her bed fellow.

Then Telemachus spoke, "Shameless," he cried, "and insolent suitors,
let us feast at our pleasure now, and let there be no brawling, for
it is a rare thing to hear a man with such a divine voice as Phemius
has; but in the morning meet me in full assembly that I may give you
formal notice to depart, and feast at one another's houses, turn and
turn about, at your own cost. If on the other hand you choose to persist
in spunging upon one man, heaven help me, but Jove shall reckon with
you in full, and when you fall in my father's house there shall be
no man to avenge you."

The suitors bit their lips as they heard him, and marvelled at the
boldness of his speech. Then, Antinous, son of Eupeithes, said, "The
gods seem to have given you lessons in bluster and tall talking; may
Jove never grant you to be chief in Ithaca as your father was before
you."

Telemachus answered, "Antinous, do not chide with me, but, god willing,
I will be chief too if I can. Is this the worst fate you can think
of for me? It is no bad thing to be a chief, for it brings both riches
and honour. Still, now that Ulysses is dead there are many great men
in Ithaca both old and young, and some other may take the lead among
them; nevertheless I will be chief in my own house, and will rule
those whom Ulysses has won for me."

Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered, "It rests with heaven to
decide who shall be chief among us, but you shall be master in your
own house and over your own possessions; no one while there is a man
in Ithaca shall do you violence nor rob you. And now, my good fellow,
I want to know about this stranger. What country does he come from?
Of what family is he, and where is his estate? Has he brought you
news about the return of your father, or was he on business of his
own? He seemed a well-to-do man, but he hurried off so suddenly that
he was gone in a moment before we could get to know him."

"My father is dead and gone," answered Telemachus, "and even if some
rumour reaches me I put no more faith in it now. My mother does indeed
sometimes send for a soothsayer and question him, but I give his prophecyings
no heed. As for the stranger, he was Mentes, son of Anchialus, chief
of the Taphians, an old friend of my father's." But in his heart he
knew that it had been the goddess.

The suitors then returned to their singing and dancing until the evening;
but when night fell upon their pleasuring they went home to bed each
in his own abode. Telemachus's room was high up in a tower that looked
on to the outer court; hither, then, he hied, brooding and full of
thought. A good old woman, Euryclea, daughter of Ops, the son of Pisenor,
went before him with a couple of blazing torches. Laertes had bought
her with his own money when she was quite young; he gave the worth
of twenty oxen for her, and shewed as much respect to her in his household
as he did to his own wedded wife, but he did not take her to his bed
for he feared his wife's resentment. She it was who now lighted Telemachus
to his room, and she loved him better than any of the other women
in the house did, for she had nursed him when he was a baby. He opened
the door of his bed room and sat down upon the bed; as he took off
his shirt he gave it to the good old woman, who folded it tidily up,
and hung it for him over a peg by his bed side, after which she went
out, pulled the door to by a silver catch, and drew the bolt home
by means of the strap. But Telemachus as he lay covered with a woollen
fleece kept thinking all night through of his intended voyage of the
counsel that Minerva had given him.

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