The Gods in council command Calypso by Hermes to send away Odysseus on
a raft of trees; and Poseidon, returning from Ethiopia and seeing him
on the coast of Phaeacia, scattered his raft; and how by the help of
Ino he was thrown ashore, and slept on a heap of dry leaves till the
next day.
Now the Dawn arose from her couch, from the side of the lordly
Tithonus, to bear light to the immortals and to mortal men. And lo, the
gods were gathering to session, and among them Zeus, that thunders on
high, whose might is above all. And Athene told them the tale of the
many woes of Odysseus, recalling them to mind; for near her heart was
he that then abode in the dwelling of the nymph:
“Father Zeus, and all ye other blessed gods that live for ever,
henceforth let not any sceptred king be kind and gentle with all his
heart, nor minded to do righteously, but let him alway be a hard man
and work unrighteousness, for behold, there is none that remembereth
divine Odysseus of the people whose lord he was, and was gentle as a
father. Howbeit, as for him he lieth in an island suffering strong
pains, in the halls of the nymph Calypso, who holdeth him perforce; so
he may not reach his own country, for he hath no ships by him with
oars, and no companions to send him on his way over the broad back of
the sea. And now, again, they are set on slaying his beloved son on his
homeward way, for he is gone to fair Pylos and to goodly Lacedaemon, to
seek tidings of his father.”
And Zeus, gatherer of the clouds, answered and spake unto her: “My
child, what word hath escaped the door of thy lips? Nay, didst thou not
thyself plan this device, that Odysseus may assuredly take vengeance on
those men at his coming? As for Telemachus, do thou guide him by thine
art, as well as thou mayest, that so he may come to his own country all
unharmed, and the wooers may return in their ship with their labour all
in vain.”
Therewith he spake to Hermes, his dear son: “Hermes, forasmuch as even
in all else thou art our herald, tell unto the nymph of the braided
tresses my unerring counsel, even the return of the patient Odysseus,
how he is to come to his home, with no furtherance of gods or of mortal
men. Nay, he shall sail on a well-bound raft, in sore distress, and on
the twentieth day arrive at fertile Scheria, even at the land of the
Phaeacians, who are near of kin to the gods. And they shall give him
all worship heartily as to a god, and send him on his way in a ship to
his own dear country, with gifts of bronze and gold, and raiment in
plenty, much store, such as never would Odysseus have won for himself
out of Troy, yea, though he had returned unhurt with the share of the
spoil that fell to him. On such wise is he fated to see his friends,
and come to his high-roofed home and his own country.”
So spake he, nor heedless was the messenger, the slayer of Argos.
Straightway he bound beneath his feet his lovely golden sandals, that
wax not old, that bare him alike over the wet sea and over the
limitless land, swift as the breath of the wind. And he took the wand
wherewith he lulls the eyes of whomso he will, while others again he
even wakes from out of sleep. With this rod in his hand flew the strong
slayer of Argos. Above Pieria he passed and leapt from the upper air
into the deep. Then he sped along the wave like the cormorant, that
chaseth the fishes through the perilous gulfs of the unharvested sea,
and wetteth his thick plumage in the brine. Such like did Hermes ride
upon the press of the waves. But when he had now reached that far-off
isle, he went forth from the sea of violet blue to get him up into the
land, till he came to a great cave, wherein dwelt the nymph of the
braided tresses: and he found her within. And on the hearth there was a
great fire burning, and from afar through the isle was smelt the
fragrance of cleft cedar blazing, and of sandal wood. And the nymph
within was singing with a sweet voice as she fared to and fro before
the loom, and wove with a shuttle of gold. And round about the cave
there was a wood blossoming, alder and poplar and sweet-smelling
cypress. And therein roosted birds long of wing, owls and falcons and
chattering sea-crows, which have their business in the waters. And lo,
there about the hollow cave trailed a gadding garden vine, all rich
with clusters. And fountains four set orderly were running with clear
water, hard by one another, turned each to his own course. And all
around soft meadows bloomed of violets and parsley, yea, even a
deathless god who came thither might wonder at the sight and be glad at
heart. There the messenger, the slayer of Argos, stood and wondered.
Now when he had gazed at all with wonder, anon he went into the wide
cave; nor did Calypso, that fair goddess, fail to know him, when she
saw him face to face; for the gods use not to be strange one to
another, the immortals, not though one have his habitation far away.
But he found not Odysseus, the greathearted, within the cave, who sat
weeping on the shore even as aforetime, straining his soul with tears
and groans and griefs, and as he wept he looked wistfully over the
unharvested deep. And Calypso, that fair goddess, questioned Hermes,
when she had made him sit on a bright shining seat:
“Wherefore, I pray thee, Hermes, of the golden wand, hast thou come
hither, worshipful and welcome, whereas as of old thou wert not wont to
visit me? Tell me all thy thought; my heart is set on fulfilling it, if
fulfil it I may, and if it hath been fulfilled in the counsel of fate.
But now follow me further, that I may set before thee the entertainment
of strangers.”
Therewith the goddess spread a table with ambrosia and set it by him,
and mixed the ruddy nectar. So the messenger, the slayer of Argos, did
eat and drink. Now after he had supped and comforted his soul with
food, at the last he answered, and spake to her on this wise:
“Thou makest question of me on my coming, a goddess of a god, and I
will tell thee this my saying truly, at thy command. ’Twas Zeus that
bade me come hither, by no will of mine; nay, who of his free will
would speed over such a wondrous space of brine, whereby is no city of
mortals that do sacrifice to the gods, and offer choice hecatombs? But
surely it is in no wise possible for another god to go beyond or to
make void the purpose of Zeus, lord of the aegis. He saith that thou
hast with thee a man most wretched beyond his fellows, beyond those men
that round the burg of Priam for nine years fought, and in the tenth
year sacked the city and departed homeward. Yet on the way they sinned
against Athene, and she raised upon them an evil blast and long waves
of the sea. Then all the rest of his good company was lost, but it came
to pass that the wind bare and the wave brought him hither. And now
Zeus biddeth thee send him hence with what speed thou mayest, for it is
not ordained that he die away from his friends, but rather it is his
fate to look on them even yet, and to come to his high-roofed home and
his own country.”
So spake he, and Calypso, that fair goddess, shuddered and uttered her
voice, and spake unto him winged words: “Hard are ye gods and jealous
exceeding, who ever grudge goddesses openly to mate with men, if any
make a mortal her dear bed-fellow. Even so when rosy-fingered Dawn took
Orion for her lover, ye gods that live at ease were jealous thereof,
till chaste Artemis, of the golden throne, slew him in Ortygia with the
visitation of her gentle shafts. So too when fair-tressed Demeter
yielded to her love, and lay with Iasion in the thrice-ploughed
fallow-field, Zeus was not long without tidings thereof, and cast at
him with his white bolt and slew him. So again ye gods now grudge that
a mortal man should dwell with me. Him I saved as he went all alone
bestriding the keel of a bark, for that Zeus had crushed[11] and cleft
his swift ship with a white bolt in the midst of the wine-dark deep.
There all the rest of his good company was lost, but it came to pass
that the wind bare and the wave brought him hither. And him have I
loved and cherished, and I said that I would make him to know not death
and age for ever. Yet forasmuch as it is no wise possible for another
god to go beyond, or make void the purpose of Zeus, lord of the aegis,
let him away over the unharvested seas, if the summons and the bidding
be of Zeus. But I will give him no despatch, not I, for I have no ships
by me with oars, nor company to bear him on his way over the broad back
of the sea. Yet will I be forward to put this in his mind, and will
hide nought, that all unharmed he may come to his own country.”
[11] It seems very doubtful whether ἔλσας can bear this meaning. The
reading ἐλάσας, “smote,” preserved by the Schol. is highly probable.
Then the messenger, the slayer of Argos, answered her: “Yea, speed him
now upon his path and have regard unto the wrath of Zeus, lest haply he
be angered and bear hard on thee hereafter.”
Therewith the great slayer of Argos departed, but the lady nymph went
on her way to the great-hearted Odysseus, when she had heard the
message of Zeus. And there she found him sitting on the shore, and his
eyes were never dry of tears, and his sweet life was ebbing away as he
mourned for his return; for the nymph no more found favour in his
sight. Howsoever by night he would sleep by her, as needs he must, in
the hollow caves, unwilling lover by a willing lady. And in the
day-time he would sit on the rocks and on the beach, straining his soul
with tears, and groans, and griefs, and through his tears he would look
wistfully over the unharvested deep. So standing near him that fair
goddess spake to him:
“Hapless man, sorrow no more I pray thee in this isle, nor let thy good
life waste away, for even now will I send thee hence with all my heart.
Nay, arise and cut long beams, and fashion a wide raft with the axe,
and lay deckings high thereupon, that it may bear thee over the misty
deep. And I will place therein bread and water, and red wine to thy
heart’s desire, to keep hunger far away. And I will put raiment upon
thee, and send a fair gale in thy wake, that so thou mayest come all
unharmed to thine own country, if indeed it be the good pleasure of the
gods who hold wide heaven, who are stronger than I am both to will and
to do.”
So she spake, and the steadfast goodly Odysseus shuddered, and uttering
his voice spake to her winged words: “Herein, goddess, thou hast
plainly some other thought, and in no wise my furtherance, for that
thou biddest me to cross in a raft the great gulf of the sea so dread
and difficult, which not even the swift gallant ships pass over
rejoicing in the breeze of Zeus. Nor would I go aboard a raft to
displeasure thee, unless thou wilt deign, O goddess, to swear a great
oath not to plan any hidden guile to mine own hurt.”
So spake he, and Calypso, the fair goddess, smiled and caressed him
with her hand, and spake and hailed him:
“Knavish thou art, and no weakling[12] in wit, thou that hast conceived
and spoken such a word. Let earth be now witness hereto, and the wide
heaven above, and that falling water of the Styx, the greatest oath and
the most terrible to the blessed gods, that I will not plan any hidden
guile to thine own hurt. Nay, but my thoughts are such, and such will
be my counsel, as I would devise for myself, if ever so sore a need
came over me. For I too have a righteous mind, and my heart within me
is not of iron, but pitiful even as thine.”
[12] ἀποφώλιος, from root φυ, “ill-grown,” i. e. a weakling, in the
literal sense as B. xi. 249, xiv. 212, or metaphorical, as here and
viii. 177.
Therewith the fair goddess led the way quickly, and he followed hard in
the steps of the goddess. And they reached the hollow cave, the goddess
and the man; so he sat him down upon the chair whence Hermes had
arisen, and the nymph placed by him all manner of food to eat and
drink, such as is meat for men. As for her she sat over against divine
Odysseus, and the handmaids placed by her ambrosia and nectar. So they
put forth their hands upon the good cheer set before them. But after
they had taken their fill of meat and drink, Calypso, the fair goddess,
spake first and said:
“Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, so it
is indeed thy wish to get thee home to thine own dear country even in
this hour? Good fortune go with thee even so! Yet didst thou know in
thine heart what a measure of suffering thou art ordained to fulfil, or
ever thou reach thine own country, here, even here, thou wouldst abide
with me and keep this house, and wouldst never taste of death, though
thou longest to see thy wife, for whom thou hast ever a desire day by
day. Not in sooth that I avow me to be less noble than she in form or
fashion, for it is in no wise meet that mortal women should match them
with immortals, in shape and comeliness.”
And Odysseus of many counsels answered, and spake unto her: “Be not
wroth with me hereat, goddess and queen. Myself I know it well, how
wise Penelope is meaner to look upon than thou, in comeliness and
stature. But she is mortal and thou knowest not age nor death. Yet even
so, I wish and long day by day to fare homeward and see the day of my
returning. Yea, and if some god shall wreck me in the wine-dark deep,
even so I will endure, with a heart within me patient of affliction.
For already have I suffered full much, and much have I toiled in perils
of waves and war; let this be added to the tale of those.”
So spake he, and the sun sank and darkness came on. Then they twain
went into the chamber of the hollow rock, and had their delight of
love, abiding each by other.
So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, anon Odysseus put
on him a mantle and doublet, and the nymph clad her in a great shining
robe, light of woof and gracious, and about her waist she cast a fair
golden girdle, and a veil withal upon her head. Then she considered of
the sending of Odysseus, the great-hearted. She gave him a great axe,
fitted to his grasp, an axe of bronze double-edged, and with a goodly
handle of olive wood fastened well. Next she gave him a polished adze,
and she led the way to the border of the isle where tall trees grew,
alder and poplar, and pine that reacheth unto heaven, seasoned long
since and sere, that might lightly float for him. Now after she had
shown him where the tall trees grew, Calypso, the fair goddess,
departed homeward. And he set to cutting timber, and his work went
busily. Twenty trees in all he felled, and then trimmed them with the
axe of bronze, and deftly smoothed them, and over them made straight
the line. Meanwhile Calypso, the fair goddess, brought him augers, so
he bored each piece and jointed them together, and then made all fast
with trenails and dowels. Wide as is the floor of a broad ship of
burden, which some man well skilled in carpentry may trace him out, of
such beam did Odysseus fashion his broad raft. And thereat he wrought,
and set up the deckings, fitting them to the close-set uprights, and
finished them off with long gunwales, and there he set a mast, and a
yard-arm fitted thereto, and moreover he made him a rudder to guide the
craft. And he fenced it with wattled osier withies from stem to stern,
to be a bulwark against the wave, and piled up wood to back them.
Meanwhile Calypso, the fair goddess, brought him web of cloth to make
him sails; and these too he fashioned very skilfully. And he made fast
therein braces and halyards and sheets, and at last he pushed the raft
with levers down to the fair salt sea.
It was the fourth day when he had accomplished all. And, lo, on the
fifth, the fair Calypso sent him on his way from the island, when she
had bathed him and clad him in fragrant attire. Moreover, the goddess
placed on board the ship two skins, one of dark wine, and another, a
great one, of water, and corn too in a wallet, and she set therein a
store of dainties to his heart’s desire, and sent forth a warm and
gentle wind to blow. And goodly Odysseus rejoiced as he set his sails
to the breeze. So he sate and cunningly guided the craft with the helm,
nor did sleep fall upon his eyelids, as he viewed the Pleiads and
Bootes, that setteth late, and the Bear, which they likewise call the
Wain, which turneth ever in one place, and keepeth watch upon Orion,
and alone hath no part in the baths of Ocean. This star, Calypso, the
fair goddess, bade him to keep ever on the left as he traversed the
deep. Ten days and seven he sailed traversing the deep, and on the
eighteenth day appeared the shadowy hills of the land of the
Phaeacians, at the point where it lay nearest to him; and it showed
like a shield in the misty deep.
Now the lord, the shaker of the earth, on his way from the Ethiopians
espied him afar off from the mountains of the Solymi: even thence he
saw Odysseus as he sailed over the deep; and he was mightily angered in
spirit, and shaking his head he communed with his own heart. “Lo now,
it must be that the gods at the last have changed their purpose
concerning Odysseus, while I was away among the Ethiopians. And now he
is nigh to the Phaeacian land, where it is ordained that he escape the
great issues of the woe which hath come upon him. But, methinks, that
even yet I will drive him far enough in the path of suffering.”
With that he gathered the clouds and troubled the waters of the deep,
grasping his trident in his hands; and he roused all storms of all
manner of winds, and shrouded in clouds the land and sea: and down sped
night from heaven. The East Wind and the South Wind clashed, and the
stormy West, and the North, that is born in the bright air, rolling
onward a great wave. Then were the knees of Odysseus loosened and his
heart melted, and heavily he spake to his own great spirit:
“Oh, wretched man that I am! what is to befal me at the last? I fear
that indeed the goddess spake all things truly, who said that I should
fill up the measure of sorrow on the deep, or ever I came to mine own
country; and lo, all these things have an end. In such wise doth Zeus
crown the wide heaven with clouds, and hath troubled the deep, and the
blasts rush on of all the winds; yea, now is utter doom assured me.
Thrice blessed those Danaans, yea, four times blessed, who perished on
a time in wide Troy-land, doing a pleasure to the sons of Atreus! Would
to God that I too had died, and met my fate on that day when the press
of Trojans cast their bronze-shod spears upon me, fighting for the body
of the son of Peleus! So should I have gotten my dues of burial, and
the Achaeans would have spread my fame; but now it is my fate to be
overtaken by a pitiful death.”
Even as he spake, the great wave smote down upon him, driving on in
terrible wise, that the raft reeled again. And far therefrom he fell,
and lost the helm from his hand; and the fierce blast of the jostling
winds came and brake his mast in the midst, and sail and yard-arm fell
afar into the deep. Long time the water kept him under, nor could he
speedily rise from beneath the rush of the mighty wave: for the
garments hung heavy which fair Calypso gave him. But late and at length
he came up, and spat forth from his mouth the bitter salt water, which
ran down in streams from his head. Yet even so forgat he not his raft,
for all his wretched plight, but made a spring after it in the waves,
and clutched it to him, and sat in the midst thereof, avoiding the
issues of death; and the great wave swept it hither and thither along
the stream. And as the North Wind in the harvest tide sweeps the
thistle-down along the plain, and close the tufts cling each to other,
even so the winds bare the raft hither and thither along the main. Now
the South would toss it to the North to carry, and now again the East
would yield it to the West to chase.
But the daughter of Cadmus marked him, Ino of the fair ankles,
Leucothea, who in time past was a maiden of mortal speech, but now in
the depths of the salt sea she had gotten her share of worship from the
gods. She took pity on Odysseus in his wandering and travail, and she
rose, like a sea-gull on the wing, from the depth of the mere, and sat
upon the well-bound raft and spake saying:
“Hapless one, wherefore was Poseidon, shaker of the earth, so wondrous
wroth with thee, seeing that he soweth for thee the seeds of many
evils? Yet shall he not make a full end of thee, for all his desire.
But do even as I tell thee, and methinks thou art not witless. Cast off
these garments, and leave the raft to drift before the winds, but do
thou swim with thine hands and strive to win a footing on the coast[13]
of the Phaeacians, where it is decreed that thou escape. Here, take
this veil imperishable and wind it about thy breast; so is there no
fear that thou suffer aught or perish. But when thou hast laid hold of
the mainland with thy hands, loose it from off thee and cast it into
the wine-dark deep far from the land, and thyself turn away.”
[13] Lit. Strive after an arrival on the land, etc. νόστος originally
meant _going, journeying_, and had no idea of _return_. The earlier
use survives here, and in Soph. Philoct. 43, Eur. Iph. Aul. 1261.
Similarly, perhaps, νοστεῖν in Odyssey iv. 619, xv. 119, and νέεσθαι
frequently.
With that the goddess gave the veil, and for her part dived back into
the heaving deep, like a sea-gull: and the dark wave closed over her.
But the steadfast goodly Odysseus pondered, and heavily he spake to his
own brave spirit:
“Ah, woe is me! Can it be that some one of the immortals is weaving a
new snare for me, that she bids me quit my raft? Nay verily, I will not
yet obey, for I had sight of the shore yet a long way off, where she
told me that I might escape. I am resolved what I will do;—and methinks
on this wise it is best. So long as the timbers abide in the dowels, so
long will I endure steadfast in affliction, but so soon as the wave
hath shattered my raft asunder, I will swim, for meanwhile no better
counsel may be.”
While yet he pondered these things in his heart and soul, Poseidon,
shaker of the earth, stirred against him a great wave, terrible and
grievous, and vaulted from the crest, and therewith smote him. And as
when a great tempestuous wind tosseth a heap of parched husks, and
scatters them this way and that, even so did the wave scatter the long
beams of the raft. But Odysseus bestrode a single beam, as one rideth
on a courser, and stript him of the garments which fair Calypso gave
him. And presently he wound the veil beneath his breast, and fell prone
into the sea, outstretching his hands as one eager to swim. And the
lord, the shaker of the earth, saw him and shook his head, and communed
with his own soul. “Even so, after all thy sufferings, go wandering
over the deep, till thou shalt come among a people, the fosterlings of
Zeus. Yet for all that I deem not that thou shalt think thyself too
lightly afflicted.” Therewith he lashed his steeds of the flowing
manes, and came to Aegae, where is his lordly home.
But Athene, daughter of Zeus, turned to new thoughts. Behold, she bound
up the courses of the other winds, and charged them all to cease and be
still; but she roused the swift North and brake the waves before him,
that so Odysseus, of the seed of Zeus, might mingle with the
Phaeacians, lovers of the oar, avoiding death and the fates.
So for two nights and two days he was wandering in the swell of the
sea, and much his heart boded of death. But when at last the
fair-tressed Dawn brought the full light of the third day, thereafter
the breeze fell, and lo, there was a breathless calm, and with a quick
glance ahead, (he being upborne on a great wave,) he saw the land very
near. And even as when most welcome to his children is the sight of a
father’s life, who lies in sickness and strong pains long wasting away,
some angry god assailing him; and to their delight the gods have loosed
him from his trouble; so welcome to Odysseus showed land and wood; and
he swam onward being eager to set foot on the strand. But when he was
within earshot of the shore, and heard now the thunder of the sea
against the reefs—for the great wave crashed against the dry land
belching in terrible wise, and all was covered with foam of the
sea,—for there were no harbours for ships nor shelters, but jutting
headlands and reefs and cliffs; then at last the knees of Odysseus were
loosened and his heart melted, and in heaviness he spake to his own
brave spirit:
“Ah me! now that beyond all hope Zeus hath given me sight of land, and
withal I have cloven my way through this gulf of the sea, here there is
no place to land on from out of the grey water. For without are sharp
crags, and round them the wave roars surging, and sheer the smooth rock
rises, and the sea is deep thereby, so that in no wise may I find firm
foothold and escape my bane, for as I fain would go ashore, the great
wave may haply snatch and dash me on the jagged rock—and a wretched
endeavour that would be. But if I swim yet further along the coast to
find, if I may, spits that take the waves aslant and havens of the sea,
I fear lest the storm-winds catch me again and bear me over the teeming
deep, making heavy moan; or else some god may even send forth against
me a monster from out of the shore water; and many such pastureth the
renowned Amphitrite. For I know how wroth against me hath been the
great Shaker of the Earth.”
Whilst yet he pondered these things in his heart and mind, a great wave
bore him to the rugged shore. There would he have been stript of his
skin and all his bones been broken, but that the goddess, grey-eyed
Athene, put a thought into his heart. He rushed in, and with both his
hands clutched the rock, whereto he clung till the great wave went by.
So he escaped that peril, but again with backward wash it leapt on him
and smote him and cast him forth into the deep. And as when the
cuttlefish is dragged forth from his chamber, the many pebbles clinging
to his suckers, even so was the skin stript from his strong hand
against the rocks, and the great wave closed over him. There of a truth
would luckless Odysseus have perished beyond that which was ordained,
had not grey-eyed Athene given him sure counsel. He rose from the line
of the breakers that belch upon the shore, and swam outside, ever
looking landwards, to find, if he might, spits that take the waves
aslant, and havens of the sea. But when he came in his swimming over
against the mouth of a fair-flowing river, whereby the place seemed
best in his eyes, smooth of rocks, and withal there was a covert from
the wind, Odysseus felt the river running, and prayed to him in his
heart:
“Hear me, O king, whosoever thou art; unto thee am I come, as to one to
whom prayer is made, while I flee the rebukes of Poseidon from the
deep. Yea, reverend even to the deathless gods is that man who comes as
a wanderer, even as I now have come to thy stream and to thy knees
after much travail. Nay pity me, O king; for I avow myself thy
suppliant.”
So spake he, and the god straightway stayed his stream and withheld his
waves, and made the water smooth before him, and brought him safely to
the mouths of the river. And his knees bowed and his stout hands fell,
for his heart was broken by the brine. And his flesh was all swollen
and a great stream of sea water gushed up through his mouth and
nostrils. So he lay without breath or speech, swooning, such terrible
weariness came upon him. But when now his breath returned and his
spirit came to him again, he loosed from off him the veil of the
goddess, and let it fall into the salt flowing river. And the great
wave bare it back down the stream, and lightly Ino caught it in her
hands. Then Odysseus turned from the river, and fell back in the reeds,
and kissed earth, the grain-giver, and heavily he spake unto his own
brave spirit:
“Ah, woe is me! What is to betide me? What shall happen unto me at the
last? If I watch the river bed all through the careful night, I fear
that the bitter frost and fresh dew may overcome me, as I breathe forth
my life for faintness, for the river breeze blows cold betimes in the
morning. But if I climb the hill-side up to the shady wood, and there
take rest in the thickets, though perchance the cold and weariness
leave hold of me, and sweet sleep may come over me, I fear lest of wild
beasts I become the spoil and prey.”
So as he thought thereon this seemed to him the better way. He went up
to the wood, and found it nigh the water in a place of wide prospect.
So he crept beneath twin bushes that grew from one stem, both olive
trees, one of them wild olive. Through these the force of the wet winds
blew never, neither did the bright sun light on it with his rays, nor
could the rain pierce through, so close were they twined either to
other; and thereunder crept Odysseus and anon he heaped together with
his hands a broad couch; for of fallen leaves there was great plenty,
enough to cover two or three men in winter time, however hard the
weather. And the steadfast goodly Odysseus beheld it and rejoiced, and
he laid him in the midst thereof and flung over him the fallen leaves.
And as when a man hath hidden away a brand in the black embers at an
upland farm, one that hath no neighbours nigh, and so saveth the seed
of fire, that he may not have to seek a light otherwhere, even so did
Odysseus cover him with the leaves. And Athene shed sleep upon his
eyes, that so it might soon release him from his weary travail,
overshadowing his eyelids.