Odyssey (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

Thus at the feast in the great high-roofed house, neighbors and kinsmen of famous Menelaus sat and made merry. Among them sang the sacred bard and touched his lyre; a pair of dancers went whirling down the middle as he began the song.

Now at the palace gate two youths and their horses stopped, princely Telemachus and the proud son of Nestor. Great Eteoneus came forth and saw them,—he was a busy fighting man of famous Menelaus,—and hastened through the hall to tell the shepherd of the people, and standing close beside him he said in winged words:

“Here are two strangers, heaven-descended Menelaus, and they are like the seed of mighty Zeus. Say, shall we unharness their swift horses, or shall we send them forth for some one else to entertain?”

Then, deeply moved, said light-haired Menelaus, “You were no fool, Boeäthouäs’ son, Eteoneus, heretofore, but now you chatter folly like a child! Why, we ourselves are here through having oftentimes had food from strangers; and we must look to Zeus henceforth to keep us safe from harm. No! take the harness from the strangers’ horses and bring the men themselves within to share our feast.”

He spoke, and Eteoneus hastened along the hall and called on other busy fighting men to follow. They took the sweating horses from the yoke, tied them securely at the mangers, threw them some corn and mixed therewith white barley, then tipped the chariot up against the bright face-wall, and brought the men into the lordly house. And they, beholding, marveled at the dwelling of the heaven-descended king; for a sheen as of the sun or moon played through the high-roofed house of famous Menelaus. Now after they had satisfied their eyes with gazing, they went to the polished baths and bathed. And when the maids had bathed them and anointed them with oil, and put upon them fleecy coats and tunics, they took their seats by Menelaus, son of Atreus. And water for the hands a servant brought in a beautiful pitcher made of gold, and poured it out over a silver basin for their washing, and spread a polished table by their side. Then the grave housekeeper brought bread and placed before them, setting out food of many a kind, freely giving of her store. The carver, too, took platters of meat and placed before them, meat of all kinds, and set their golden goblets ready. And greeting the pair said light-haired Menelaus:

“Break bread, and have good cheer! and by and by when you have eaten, we will ask what men you are. Surely the parent stock suffers no loss in you; but you are of some line of heaven-descended sceptered kings. For common men have no such children.”

So saying, he set before them fat slices of a chine of beef, taking up in his hands the roasted flesh which had been placed before him as the piece of honor; and on the food spread out before them they laid hands. But after they had stayed desire for drink and food, Telemachus said to Nestor’s son,—his head bent close, that others might not hear:

“O son of Nestor, my heart’s delight, notice the blaze of bronze throughout the echoing halls, the gold, the amber, silver, and ivory! The court of Olympian Zeus within must be like this. What untold wealth is here! I am amazed to see.”

What he was saying light-haired Menelaus overheard, and speaking in winged words he said: “Dear children, no! No mortal man may vie with Zeus; eternal are his halls and his possessions; but one of humankind to vie with me in wealth there may or may not be. Through many woes and wanderings I brought it in my ships, eight years upon the way. Cyprus, Phoenicia, Egypt, I wandered over; came to the Ethiopians, Sidonians, and Erembians, and into Libya, where the lambs are full-horned at their birth. Three times a year the flocks bear young. No prince or peasant there lacks cheese, meat, or sweet milk, but the ewes give their milk the whole year round. While I was gathering thereabouts much wealth and wandering on, a stranger slew my brother when off his guard, by stealth, and through the craft of his accursed wife. Therefore I have no joy as lord of my possessions. But from your fathers you will have heard the tale, whoever they may be; for great was my affliction, and desolate the house which once stood fair and stored with many goods. Would I were here at home with but the third part of my wealth, and they were safe today who fell on the plain of Troy, far off from grazing Argos! But no! and for them all I often grieve and mourn when sitting in my halls. Now with a sigh I ease my heart, then check myself; soon comes a surfeit of benumbing sorrow. Yet in my grief it is not all I so much mourn as one alone, who makes me loathe my sleep and food when I remember him, for no Achaean bore the brunt as did Odysseus, and came off victor. And still on him it was appointed woe should fall, and upon me a ceaseless pang because of him; so long he tarries, whether alive or dead we do not know. For him now mourn the old Laeärtes, steadfast Penelope, and Telemachus, whom he left at home a new-born child.”

So he spoke, and stirred in Telemachus yearnings to mourn his father. Tears from his eyelids dropped upon the ground when he heard his father’s name, and he held with both his hands his purple cloak before his eyes. This Menelaus noticed, and hesitated in his mind and heart whether to leave him to make mention of his father or first to question him and prove him through and through.

While he thus doubted in his mind and heart, forth from her fragrant high-roofed chamber Helen came, like golden-shafted Artemis. For her, Adraste placed a carven chair; Alcippe brought a covering of soft wool, and Phylo a silver basket which Alcandra gave, the wife of Polybus, who lived at Thebes in Egypt, where there is wealth in plenty. He gave to Menelaus two silver bath-tubs, a pair of kettles, and ten golden talents. And then, besides, his wife gave Helen beautiful gifts; she gave a golden distaff and a basket upon rollers, fashioned of silver, and its rim finished with gold. This her attendant Phylo now brought and set beside her, filled with a finespun yarn; across it lay the distaff, charged with dark wool. Seated upon her chair, with a footstool for her feet, she at once questioned thus her husband closely:

“Do we know, heaven-descended Menelaus, who these men visiting our house assert themselves to be? Shall I disguise my thought or speak it plainly? My heart bids speak. None have I ever seen, I think, so like another—no man, no woman; amazed am I to see!—as this man here is like the son of brave Odysseus, even like Telemachus, whom his father left at home a new-born child, when you Achaeans, for the sake of worthless me, came under the walls of Troy, eager for valorous fighting.”

Then, answering her, said light-haired Menelaus: “Now I too note it, wife, as you suggest; such were Odysseus’ feet and hands, his turn of eye, his head, and hair above. And even now, as I began to call to mind Odysseus and to tell what grievous toils he bore in my behalf, this youth let fall a bitter tear from under his brows and held his purple cloak before his eyes.”

Then Nestor’s son, Peisistratus, made answer: “O son of Atreus, heaven-descended Menelaus, leader of hosts, this is in truth his son, as you have said; but he is modest and too bashful in his heart to make display of talk on his first coming here, before you too, whose voice we both enjoy as if it were a god’s. The Gerenian horseman, Nestor, sent me forth to be his guide; for he desired to see you, hoping that you might give him aid by word or deed. Ah, many a grief the son of an absent father meets at home, when other helpers are not by. So with Telemachus; the one is gone, and others there are none in all the land to ward off ill.”

Then, answering him, said light-haired Menelaus: “What! Is there then within my house the son of one so dear, one who for me bore many a conflict! I used to say I should rejoice over his coming home far more than over that of all the other Argives, if through the seas Olympian far-seeing Zeus let our swift ships find passage. In Argos I would have granted him a city, and would here have built his house, and I would have brought him out of Ithaca,—him and his goods, his child, and all his people,—clearing its dwellers from some single city that lies within my neighborhood and owns me as its lord. So living here we had been much together; and nothing further could have parted then our joyous friendship till death’s dark cloud closed round. But God himself must have been envious of a life like this, and made that hapless man alone to fail of coming.”

So he spoke, and stirred in all a yearning after tears. Then Argive Helen wept, the child of Zeus;¹⁸ Telemachus too wept, and Menelaus, son of Atreus; nor yet did Nestor’s son keep his eyes tearless. For in his mind he mused on good Antilochus, whom the illustrious son of the bright dawn had slain.^o Remembering whom, he spoke in winged words:

“O son of Atreus, that you were wise beyond the wont of men old Nestor used to say, when we would mention you at home, and raise questions. But now, if you will, give ear to me; for after a feast I do not like to sit and grieve. Tomorrow’s sun shall shine. Not that I think it ill to weep for one who dies and meets his doom. It is the only honor sorrowing men can pay, to cut the hair and let the tear fall down the cheek. A brother of mine once died, and not the meanest of the Argives. You must have known him. I never looked upon his face and never knew him; but Antilochus, they say, was swift of foot, a famous fighter.”

Then answering him said light-haired Menelaus: “Friend, you have said just what a man of understanding might say and even do, were he indeed your elder; for sprung from such a father you talk with understanding. Easily is his offspring known to whom the son of Kronos allots good luck in birth and marriage. And thus has he blessed Nestor, continually, all his days, granting him hale old age at home and children who are youths of wisdom, mighty with the spear. Let us then check the lamentation which arose a while ago and turn once more to feasting. Let them pour water on our hands. Again, tomorrow, for Telemachus and me there will be tales to tell.”

He spoke, and Asphalion poured water on their hands,—he was a busy fighting man of famous Menelaus,—then on the food spread out before them they laid hands.

Now elsewhere Helen turned her thoughts, the child of Zeus. Straightway she cast into the wine of which they drank a drug which quenches pain and strife and brings forgetfulness of every ill. He who should taste it, mingled in the bowl, would not that day let tears fall down his cheeks although his mother and his father died, although before his door a brother or dear son fell by the sword and his own eyes beheld. Such cunning drugs had the daughter of Zeus, drugs of a healing virtue, which Polydamna gave, the wife of Thon, in Egypt, where the fruitful soil yields drugs of every kind, some that when mixed are healing, others deadly. There every one is a physician, skillful beyond all humankind; for they are of the race of Paeon.^p So after she had cast the drug into the bowl and bid them pour, then once more taking up the word, she said:

“Heaven-descended son of Atreus, Menelaus, and you too, children of worthy men, though Zeus to one in one way, to another in another, distributes good and ill and is almighty, yet now since you are sitting at a feast within our hall, amuse yourselves with tales. One suiting the occasion I will tell. Fully I cannot tell, nor even name the many feats of hardy Odysseus. But this is the sort of deed that brave man did and dared there in the Trojan land where you Achaeans suffered. Marring himself with cruel blows, casting a wretched garment round his shoulders, and looking like a slave, he entered the wide-wayed city of his foes; and other than his own true self he made himself appear in this disguise, even like a beggar, far as he was from such an one at the Achaean ships. In such a guise, he entered the Trojans’ town; they took no notice, one and all; I alone knew him for the man he was and questioned him. He shrewdly tried to foil me. But while I washed him and anointed him with oil and brought him clothing, after I swore a solemn oath not to make known Odysseus to the Trojans till he should reach the swift ships and the camp, then he told me all the Achaeans had in mind. So, slaying many Trojans with his sharp-edged sword, he went off to the Argives and carried back much knowledge. Thereat the other Trojan women raised a loud lament. My soul was glad; for my heart already turned toward going home, and I would mourn the blindness Aphrodite brought when she lured me thither from my native land and bade me leave my daughter, my chamber, and my husband,—a man who lacked for nothing, either in mind or person.”

Then, answering her, said light-haired Menelaus: “Yes, all your tale, my wife, is told right well. I have in days gone by tested the wisdom and the will of many heroes, and I have traveled over many lands; but never have I found a soul so true as that of stout Odysseus. Consider what that brave man did and dared within the wooden horse where all we Argive chiefs were lying, bearing to the Trojans death and doom. Erelong you passed that way,—some god must have impelled you who sought to bring the Trojans honor; godlike Deäïphobus was following after. Thrice walking round our hollow ambush, touching it here and there, you called by name the Danaaän chiefs, feigning the voice of every Argive’s wife. Now I and the son of Tydeus and royal Odysseus, crouched in the middle, heard your call, and we two, starting up, were minded to go forth, or else to answer straightway from within; but Odysseus held us back and stayed our madness. So all the other sons of the Achaeans held their peace. Anticlus only was determined to make answer to your words; but Odysseus firmly closed his mouth with his strong hands, and so saved all the Achaeans. All through that time he held him thus, till Pallas Athene led you off.”

Then answered him discreet Telemachus: “O son of Atreus, heaven-descended Menelaus, leader of hosts, so much the worse! All was of no avail against sorry death, though an iron heart was his. Yet, bring us to our beds, that so at last, lulled in sweet sleep, we may get comfort.”

He spoke, and Argive Helen bade the maids to set a bed beneath the portico, to lay upon it beautiful purple rugs, spread blankets over these, and then place woolen mantles on the outside for a covering. So the maids left the hall, with torches in their hands, and spread the bed; and a page led forth the strangers. Thus in the porch slept prince Telemachus and the illustrious son of Nestor. But the son of Atreus slept in the recess of the high hall, and by him long-robed Helen lay, a queen of women.

Soon as the early rosy-fingered dawn appeared, Menelaus, good at the war-cry, rose from bed, put on his clothes, slung his sharp sword about his shoulder, under his shining feet bound his fair sandals, and came forth from his chamber in bearing like a god. Then seating himself beside Telemachus, he thus addressed him, saying:

“What business brings you here, my lord Telemachus, to sacred Lacedaemon on the broad ocean-ridges? Public or private is it? Tell me the very truth.”

Then answered him discreet Telemachus: “O son of Atreus, heaven-descended Menelaus, leader of hosts, I came to see if you could give me tidings of my father. My home is swallowed up, my rich estate is wasted; with men of evil hearts my house is filled, men who continually butcher my huddling flocks and slow-paced, crook-horned oxen,—the suitors of my mother, overbearing in their pride. Therefore I now come here to your knees to ask if you will tell me of my father’s sorry death, whether you saw it for yourself with your own eyes or from some other learned that he was lost; for to exceeding grief his mother bore him. Use no mild word nor yield to pity out of regard for me, but tell me fully all you chanced to see. I do entreat you, if ever my father, good Odysseus, in word or deed kept faith with you there in the Trojan land where you Achaeans suffered, be mindful of it now; tell me the plain truth.”

Then, deeply moved, said light-haired Menelaus: “Heavens! In a very brave man’s bed these sought to lie, the weaklings! As when in the den of a strong lion a hind has laid asleep her new-born sucking fawns, then roams the slopes and grassy hollows seeking food, and by and by into his lair the lion comes and on both hind and fawns brings ghastly doom; so shall Odysseus bring on these a ghastly doom. Ah, father Zeus, Athene, and Apollo! if with the power he showed one day in stately Lesbos, when he rose and wrestled in a match with Philomeleides, and down he threw him heavily, while the Achaeans all rejoiced,—if as he was that day Odysseus now might meet the suitors, they all would find quick turns of fate and bitter rites of marriage. But as to what you ask thus urgently, I will not speak deceitfully, misleading you; but what the unerring old man of the sea reported, in not a word will I disguise or hide from you.

“At the river of Egypt, eager as I was to hasten home, the gods still held me back, because I did not make the offerings due; and the gods will us to be ever mindful of their laws. Now in the surging sea an island lies,—Pharos they call it,—as far from the river as in a day a hollow ship will run when a whistling wind blows after. By it there lies a bay with a good anchorage, from which they send the trim ships off to sea and get them drinking water. Here the gods kept me twenty days; not once came the sea breezes which guide the course of ships on the broad ocean-ridges. So all my stores would have been spent and my men’s courage, had not a certain goddess pitied and preserved me. This was Eidothea, daughter of mighty Proteus, the old man of the sea; for I deeply touched her heart as she met me on my solitary way apart from my companions; for they were ever roaming round the island, fishing with crooked hooks as hunger pinched their bellies. She, drawing near me, spoke and thus she said: ‘Are you so witless, stranger, and unnerved, or do you willingly give way, taking a pleasure in your pains? So long you have remained upon the island, unable to discover an escape, while fainter grows the courage of your comrades.’

“So she spoke, and answering her said I: ‘Then let me tell you, whatsoever goddess you may be, that I remain here through no will of mine, but I must have given offense to the immortals, who hold the open sky. Rather tell me,—for gods know all,—which of the immortals chains me here and bars my progress; and tell me of my homeward way, how I may pass along the swarming sea.’

“So I spoke, and straight the heavenly goddess answered: ‘Well, stranger, I will plainly tell you all. There haunts this place a certain old man of the sea, unerring and immortal, Proteus of Egypt, who knows the depths of every sea, and is Poseidon’s minister. He is, men say, my father, who begot me. If you could only lie in wait and seize on him, he would tell you of your course, the stages of your journey, and of your homeward way, how you may pass along the swarming sea. And he would tell you, heaven-descended man, if you desire, all that has happened at your home, of good or ill, while you have wandered on your long and toilsome way.’

“So she spoke, and answering her said I: ‘Instruct me how to lie in wait for the old god, lest he foreseeing or foreknowing may escape. Hard is a god for mortal man to master.’

“So I spoke, and straight the heavenly goddess answered: ‘Yes, stranger, I will truly tell you all. When the sun reaches the mid-sky, out from the water comes the unerring old man of the sea at a puff of the west wind and veiled in the dark ripple. When he is come, he lies down under the caverned cliffs; while round him seals, the brood of a fair sea nymph, huddle and sleep, on rising from the foaming water, and pungent is the scent they breathe of the unfathomed sea. There will I bring you at the dawn of day and lay you in the line. Meantime choose carefully for comrades the three best men you have among the well-benched ships. And I will tell you all the old man’s wicked ways. First he will count the seals and go their round; and when he has told them off by fives and found them all, he will lie down among them like a shepherd with his flock. As soon as you see him sleeping, summon all your heart and strength and hold him fast, although he strive and struggle to escape. He will make trial of you, turning into whatsoever moves on earth, to water even, and heaven-kindled fire; yet hold unflinchingly and clasp the more. But when at length he questions you in his own shape,—in the same shape as when you saw him sleeping,—then, hero, cease from violence and set the old man free, but ask what god afflicts you, and ask about your homeward way, how you may pass along the swarming sea.’

“Saying this, she plunged into the surging sea. I to the ships which lay along the sands turned me away, and as I went my heart was sorely troubled. But when I came to the ship and to the sea and we had made our supper and the immortal night drew near, we lay down upon the beach to sleep. Then as the early rosy-fingered dawn appeared, along the shore of the wide-stretching sea I went with many supplications to the gods. I took three comrades with me, men whom I trusted most for any enterprise.

“She, in the meantime, having plunged into the sea’s broad bosom, brought from the deep four skins of seals; all were fresh-flayed; and she prepared the plot against her father. She had scooped hollows in the sand, and sat awaiting us. Near her we drew. She made us all lie down in order and threw a skin on each. Then might our ambush have proved a hard one; for the pestilent stench of the sea-born seals oppressed us sorely. Who, indeed, would make his bed by a monster of the sea? But she preserved us and contrived for us great ease. Under the nose of each she set ambrosia,^q sweet of smell, and this destroyed the creature’s stench. So all the morning did we wait with patient hearts. At last the seals came trooping from the sea and by and by lay down in order on the beach. At noon out of the sea came the old man, found his fat seals, went over all, and told their number, telling us first among the creatures, and never in his heart suspected there was fraud. At length he too lay down. Then with a shout we sprang and threw our arms about him, and the old man did not forget his crafty wiles: for first he turned into a bearded lion, then to a serpent, leopard, and huge boar; he turned into cascading water, into a branching tree; still we held firm, with steadfast hearts. But when the old man wearied, skillful though he was in wicked ways, at last in open speech he questioned me and said:

“ ‘Which of the gods, O son of Atreus, aided your plot to seize me here against my will, by ambush? What would you have?’

“So he spoke, and answering him said I: ‘You know, old man,—why put me off with questions?—how long a time I have remained upon this island, unable to discover an escape, while fainter grows my heart within. Rather tell me,—for gods know all,—which of the immortals chains me here and bars my progress; and tell me of my homeward way, how I may pass along the swarming sea.’

“So I spoke, and straightway answering me said he: ‘But certainly to Zeus and to the other gods you should have made good offerings on setting forth, if you would quickly reach your land, sailing the wine-dark sea; for now it is appointed you to see your friends no more nor reach your stately house and native land till you have gone again to Egypt’s waters, to its heaven-descended stream, and offered sacred hecatombs^r to the immortal gods who hold the open sky. Then shall the gods grant you the course which you desire.’

“As thus he spoke, my very soul was crushed within me because he bade me cross again the misty sea and go to Egypt’s river, a long and weary way. Yet still I answered thus and said: ‘Old man, all that you bid me I will do. Only declare me this and plainly tell, did all the Achaeans with their ships return unharmed, whom Nestor and I left on our setting forth from Troy? Did any die by grievous death at sea or in the arms of friends when the skein of war was wound?’

“So I spoke, and straightway answering me said he: ‘Son of Atreus, why question me of this? Better it were you should not see nor comprehend my knowledge; for you will not long be free from tears after you learn the truth. Yes, many were cut off and many spared. Of leaders, only two among the armed Achaeans died on the journey home,—as for the battle, you yourself were there,—and one, still living, lingers yet on the wide sea. Ajax was lost, he and his long-oared ships. At first Poseidon wrecked him on the great rocks of Gyrae, but saved him from the sea. And so he might have escaped his doom, though hated by Athene, had he not uttered overbearing words, puffed up with pride; for he said he had escaped the great gulf of the sea in spite of gods. Poseidon heard his haughty boasting, and straightway, grasping the trident in his sturdy hands, he smote the rock of Gyrae, splitting it open. One part still held its place; the broken piece fell in the sea. It was on this Ajax at first had sat, puffed up with pride. It bore him down into the boundless surging deep. So there he died, drinking the briny water.

“ ‘Your brother escaped his doom and came in safety, he and his hollow ships; for powerful Here saved him. But when he was about to reach the steep height of Maleia, a sweeping storm bore him once more along the swarming sea, loudly lamenting, to the confines of that country where Thyestes dwelt in former days, but where now dwelt Thyestes’ son, Aegisthus. And when at last from this point on his course was clear of danger, and the gods changed the wind about and home came all, then with rejoicing did he tread his country’s soil, and he kissed and clasped that soil; while from him many hot tears fell at seeing the welcome land. But from a tower a watchman spied him, whom wily Aegisthus posted there and promised him for pay two golden talents. He had been keeping guard throughout the year, lest unobserved the king might come and try the force of arms. He hastened to the house to tell the shepherd of the people, and soon Aegisthus contrived a cunning plot. Selecting twenty of the bravest in the land, he laid an ambush; and just across the hall bade that a feast be spread. Then he went to welcome Agamemnon, the shepherd of the people, with horses and with chariots, while meditating crime. He led him up unheeding to his death and slew him at the feast, even as one cuts the ox down at his stall. Not a follower of the son of Atreus lived, nor a follower of Aegisthus; all died within the hall.’

“As thus he spoke, my very soul was crushed within me, and sitting on the sands I fell to weeping; my heart would no more live and see the sun. But when of weeping and of writhing I had had my fill, then said the unerring old man of the sea: ‘Do not, O son of Atreus, long and unceasingly thus weep, because we know there is no remedy. Seek rather with all speed to reach your native land; for either you will find Aegisthus still alive, or Orestes will have slain him, so forestalling you, and you may join the funeral feast.’

“So he spoke, and the heart and sturdy spirit in my breast through all my grief again grew warm; and speaking in winged words I said: ‘Of these men then I know, but name the third who still alive lingers on the wide sea; or if he is dead, despite my grief I want to hear.’

“So I spoke, and straightway answering me said he: ‘It is Laeärtes’ son, whose home is Ithaca. I saw him on an island, letting the big tears fall, in the hall of the nymph Calypso, who holds him there by force. No power has he to reach his native land, for he has no ships fitted with oars, nor crews to bear him over the broad ocean-ridges. As for yourself, heaven-favored Menelaus, it is not destined you to die and meet your doom in grazing Argos; but to the Elysian plain and the earth’s limits the immortal gods shall bring you, where fair-haired Rhadamanthus dwells. Here utterly at ease passes the life of men. No snow is here, no winter long, no rain, but the loud-blowing breezes of the west the Ocean-stream sends up to bring men coolness; for you have Helen and are counted son-in-law of Zeus.’¹⁹

“Saying this, he plunged into the surging sea. I with my gallant comrades turned to our ships, and as I went my heart was sorely troubled. But when we came to the ship and to the sea, and we had made our supper, and the immortal night drew near, we lay down to sleep upon the beach. Then as the early rosy-fingered dawn appeared, we in the first place launched our ships into the sacred sea, put masts and sails in the trim ships, the men embarked themselves, took places at the pins, and sitting in order smote the foaming water with their oars. So back again to Egypt’s waters, to its heaven-descended stream, I brought my ships and made the offerings due. And after appeasing the anger of the gods that live forever, I raised a mound to Agamemnon, that his fame might never die. This done, I sailed away; the gods gave wind and brought me swiftly to my native land. But come, remain awhile here at my hall until eleven or twelve days pass. Then I will send you forth with honor, giving you splendid gifts, three horses and a polished car. Moreover, I will give a goodly cup, that as you pour libations to the immortal gods you may be mindful all your days of me.”

Then answered him discreet Telemachus: “O son of Atreus, keep me no long time here, though I could be content to stay a year, and no desire for kindred or for home would ever come; for I take astonishing pleasure in hearing your tales and talk. But already friends at hallowed Pylos are uneasy, and you still hold me here. As for the gift that you would give, pray let it be some keepsake. Horses I will not take to Ithaca, but leave them as an honor here for you; for you rule open plains, where lotus is abundant, marsh-grass and wheat and corn, and the white broad-eared barley. In Ithaca there are no open runs, no meadows; a land for goats, and pleasanter than grazing country. Not one of the islands is a place to drive a horse, none has good meadows, of all that rest upon the sea; Ithaca least of all.”

He spoke, and Menelaus, good at the war-cry, smiled, patted him with his hand, and said:

“Of noble blood you are, dear child, as your words show. Yes, I will make the change; I can with ease. And out of all the gifts stored in my house as treasures I will give you that which is most beautiful and precious: I will give a well-wrought bowl. It is of solid silver, its rim finished with gold, the work of Hephaestus.^s Lord Phaedimus, the king of the Sidonians, gave it to me, when his house received me on my homeward way. And now to you I gladly give it.”

So they conversed together. But banqueters were coming to the palace of the noble king. Men drove up sheep, and brought the bracing wine, and their veiled wives sent bread. So busy were they with the feast within the hall.

Meanwhile before the palace of Odysseus the suitors were making merry, throwing the discus and the hunting spear upon the level pavement, holding riot as of old. Here sat Antinouäs and godlike Eurymachus, the leaders of the suitors; for they in manly excellence were quite the best of all. To them Noeämon, son of Phronius, now drew near; and questioning Antinouäs thus he spoke:

“Antinouäs, do we know, or do we not, when Telemachus will come from sandy Pylos? He took a ship of mine and went away, and now I need her for crossing to broad Elis where I keep my twelve brood mares. The hardy mules, their foals, are still unbroken; one I would fetch away and break him in.”

So he spoke. The others were amazed. They had been saying Telemachus was not gone to Pylos, to the land of Neleus; they thought he still was somewhere at the farm, among the flocks, or with the swineherd.

Then said Antinouäs, Eupeithes’ son: “Tell me precisely when he went and what young men were with him. Picked men of Ithaca, or did he take his hirelings and slaves? That indeed he might do! And tell me truly this, that I may rest assured; did he with violence, against your will, take the black ship? Or did you give it willingly, because he begged?”

Then answered him Noeämon, son of Phronius: “I gave it willingly. What else could anybody do when one like him, with troubles on his heart, entreated? Hard would it be to keep from giving. The youths who next to us are noblest in the land are his companions. I marked their captain as he went on board, and it was Mentor or a god exactly like him. Yet this is strange. Here I saw noble Mentor yesterday in the morning; and there he was embarking on the ship for Pylos.”

So saying, he departed to his father’s house. But the proud spirits of the two were stirred. They made the suitors seat themselves and stop their sports. And then Antinouäs, Eupeithes’ son, addressed them in displeasure. With fierce anger was his dark soul filled. His eyes were like bright fire.

“By heavens! Here is a monstrous action impudently brought to pass, this journey of Telemachus. We said it should not be; and here in spite of all of us this young boy simply goes, launching a ship and picking out the best men of the land. Before we think, he will begin to be our bane. But may Zeus blast his power before he reaches manhood! Come then, and give me a swift ship with twenty comrades, and I will lie in wait upon his way, and guard the strait between Ithaca and rugged Samos. So to his grief he cruises off to find his father.” He spoke, and all approved and urged him on. And presently they rose and entered the hall of Odysseus.

But now Penelope, no long time after, learned of the plans on which the suitors’ hearts were brooding. For the page Medon told her, who overheard the plot as he stood outside the court, while they within it framed their scheme. He hastened through the palace with the tidings to Penelope; and as he crossed her threshold Penelope thus spoke:

“Page, why have the lordly suitors sent you here? Was it to tell the maids of princely Odysseus to put by work and lay their table? Oh that they had not wooed or gathered here, or that they here today might eat their last and latest meal! You troop about and squander all our living, even all the estate of wise Telemachus. To your fathers of old you gave no heed when you were children, nor heard what sort of man Odysseus was among your elders, how he did no wrong by deed or word to any in the land. And that is the common way with high-born kings; one man they hate and love another. But he wrought no iniquity to any man. Yet what your disposition is, and what your shameful deeds, is plain to see. There is no gratitude for good deeds done.”

Then Medon spoke, a man of understanding: “Ah, Queen, I would that were our greatest ill; but weightier matters yet, a sorer evil, the suitors now propose—which may the son of Kronos hinder! They have resolved to slay Telemachus with the keen sword, as he sails home. He went away for tidings of his father, to hallowed Pylos and to sacred Lacedaemon.”

As he thus spoke, her knees grew feeble and her very soul. Long a speechless stupor held her; her two eyes filled with tears, her full voice stopped. But at the last she answered thus and said: “Page, why is my child gone? What need had he to mount the coursing ships, which serve men for sea-chariots and cross the mighty flood? Was it to leave no name among men here?”

Then answered Medon, that man of understanding: “I do not know whether a god impelled him, or if his own heart stirred within to go to Pylos, to gather tidings of his father’s coming or there to learn what fate he met.”

So saying, he departed along the hall of Odysseus. But upon her heart-eating anguish fell. No longer had she strength to sit upon a chair, though many were in the room, but down she sank upon the floor of her rich chamber, pitifully moaning. Round about, her slave-maids were sobbing—all her household, young and old. And with repeated cries, Penelope thus spoke:

“Listen, dear maids! Surely the Olympian gave me exceeding sorrow, beyond all women born and bred my equals. For I in former days lost my good husband, a man of lion heart, for every excellence honored among the Danaaäns—good man! his fame is wide through Hellas and mid-Argos. Moreover now my darling son the winds have snatched away, silently, from my halls; I heard not of his going. Hard-hearted maids! No one of you took thought to rouse me from my bed, though well your own hearts knew when he embarked on the black hollow ship. Ah, had I learned that he was purposing this journey, surely he would have stayed, however eager for the journey, or else he should have left me dead within the hall. But now let some one hurry and call old Dolius, the slave my father gave when I came here, who tends my orchard trees; that he may quickly go, seat himself by Laeärtes and, telling all, learn if Laeärtes can devise a way to come before the people and cry out against the men who seek to crush his race and that of great Odysseus.”

Then answered her the good nurse Eurycleia: “Dear lady, slay me with the ruthless sword or leave me in the hall; I will not hide my story. I knew of all. I gave him what he wanted, bread and sweet wine. But he exacted from me a solemn oath to speak no word to you until twelve days were past, or until you should miss him and hear that he was gone, that so you might not stain your beautiful face with tears. Now therefore bathe, and putting on fresh garments, go to your upper chamber with your maids, and offer prayer to Athene, daughter of aegis-bearing Zeus; for thus she may preserve him safe from death. Vex not an old man, vexed already. Surely I cannot think the Arceisian line^t is wholly hateful to the blessed gods. Nay, one shall still survive to hold the high-roofed house and the fat fields around.”

She spoke, and lulled the other’s cries and stayed her eyes from tears. Penelope bathed, and putting on fresh garments went to her upper chamber with her maids, took barley in a basket, and thus she prayed Athene:

“Hear me, thou child of aegis-bearing Zeus, unwearied one! If ever wise Odysseus when at home burned the fat thighs of ox or sheep to thee, thereof be mindful now; preserve me my dear son. Guard him against the cruel suitors’ wrongs.”

Thus having said, she raised the cry, and the goddess heard her prayer. But the suitors broke into uproar up and down the dusky hall, and a rude youth would say: “Ha, ha! at last the long-wooed queen makes ready for our marriage. Little she thinks that for her son death is in waiting.” So they would say, but knew not how things were.

And now Antinouäs addressed them, saying: “Good sirs, beware of haughty talk of every kind, or some one may report it indoors too. Come, rather let us rise and quietly as we may let us effect the scheme which pleased the hearts of all.”

So saying, he chose the twenty fittest men, who went to the swift ship and to the shore. They in the first place launched the ship into deep water, put mast and sail in the black ship, fitted the oars into their leathern slings, all in due order, and up aloft spread the white sail. Stately footmen carried their armor. Out in the stream they moored the boat, they themselves disembarked, took supper there, and waited for the evening to come on.

But in her upper chamber heedful Penelope still lay fasting, tasting neither food nor drink, anxious whether her gallant son would escape death, or by the audacious suitors be borne down; as doubts a lion in a crowd of men, in terror as they draw the crafty circle round him. To her in such anxiety sweet slumber came, and lying back she slept and every joint relaxed.

Now a new plan the goddess formed, clear-eyed Athene. She shaped a phantom fashioned in a woman’s form, even like Iphthime, daughter of brave Icarius, her whom Eumelus married, that had his home at Pherae. And this she sent to the house of princely Odysseus, that it might make Penelope, mourning and sighing now, cease from her griefs and tearful cries. It came into the chamber past the bolt-strap, stood by her head and thus addressed her:

“Are you asleep, Penelope, dear troubled heart? No, never shall the gods that live at ease leave you to weep and pine; for still your son is destined to return, since in the gods’ sight he is no trangres sor.”

Then answered heedful Penelope, very sweetly slumbering at the gates of dreams: “Why, sister, have you come? You never before were with me, because your home is very far away. And you bid me cease from grief and all the pangs that vex my mind and heart, me who in former days lost my good husband, a man of lion heart, for every excellence honored among the Danaaäns—good man! his fame is wide through Hellas and mid-Argos. Moreover now my darling son is gone on a hollow ship, a mere boy too, but little skilled in cares and counsels. Therefore for him I mourn even more than for that other. For him I tremble, and I fear that he may meet with ill, either from those within the land where he is gone, or on the sea. For many evil-minded men now plot against him and seek to cut him off before he gains his native land.”

And answering her, said the dim phantom: “Take heart, and be not in your mind too deeply afraid. So true a guide goes with him as other men have prayed for aid—for powerful is she—Pallas Athene. Seeing you grieve, she pities you, and it was she who sent me here to tell you so.”

Then heedful Penelope said to her: “If you are a god and have obeyed some heavenly bidding, come tell me also of that hapless one, if he still lives and sees the sunshine; or is he now already dead and in the house of Hades?”

And answering her, said the dim phantom: “Of him I will not speak at length, be he alive or dead. To speak vain words is ill.”

So saying, it glided past the door-post’s bolt into the airy breezes. And out of sleep awoke Icarius’ daughter, and her very soul was warmed, so clear a dream was sent her in the dead of night.

Meanwhile the suitors, embarking in their ship, sailed on their watery journey, purposing in their minds the speedy murder of Telemachus. Now in mid-sea there is a rocky island, midway from Ithaca to rugged Samos—Star Islet called—of no great size. It has a harbor, safe for ships, on either side; and here it was the Achaeans waited, watching.