Telemachus sends Eumaeus to the city to tell his mother of his return.
And how, in the meantime, Odysseus discovers himself to his son.
Now these twain, Odysseus and the goodly swineherd, within the hut had
kindled a fire, and were making ready breakfast at the dawn, and had
sent forth the herdsmen with the droves of swine. And round Telemachus
the hounds, that love to bark, fawned and barked not, as he drew nigh.
And goodly Odysseus took note of the fawning of the dogs, and the noise
of footsteps fell upon his ears. Then straight he spake to Eumaeus
winged words:
“Eumaeus, verily some friend or some other of thy familiars will soon
be here, for the dogs do not bark but fawn around, and I catch the
sound of footsteps.”
While the word was yet on his lips, his own dear son stood at the
entering in of the gate. Then the swineherd sprang up in amazement, and
out of his hands fell the vessels wherewith he was busied in mingling
the dark wine. And he came over against his master and kissed his head
and both his beautiful eyes and both his hands, and he let a great tear
fall. And even as a loving father welcomes his son that has come in the
tenth year from a far country, his only son and well-beloved, for whose
sake he has had great sorrow and travail, even so did the goodly
swineherd fall upon the neck of godlike Telemachus, and kiss him all
over as one escaped from death, and he wept aloud and spake to him
winged words:
“Thou art come, Telemachus, a sweet light in the dark; methought I
should see thee never again, after thou hadst gone in thy ship to
Pylos. Nay now enter, dear child, that my heart may be glad at the
sight of thee in mine house, who hast newly come from afar. For thou
dost not often visit the field and the herdsmen, but abidest in the
town; so it seems has thy good pleasure been, to look on the ruinous
throng of the wooers.”
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “So be it, father, as thou
sayest; and for thy sake am I come hither to see thee with mine eyes,
and to hear from thy lips whether my mother yet abides in the halls or
another has already wedded her, and the couch of Odysseus, perchance,
lies in lack of bedding and deep in foul spider-webs.”
Then the swineherd, a master of men, answered him: “Yea verily, she
abides with patient spirit in thy halls, and wearily for her the nights
wane always and the days, in shedding of tears.”
So he spake and took from him the spear of bronze. Then Telemachus
passed within and crossed the threshold of stone. As he came near, his
father Odysseus arose from his seat to give him place; but Telemachus,
on his part, stayed him and spake saying:
“Be seated, stranger, and we will find a seat some other where in our
steading, and there is a man here to set it for us.”
So he spake, and Odysseus went back and sat him down again. And the
swineherd strewed for Telemachus green brushwood below, and a fleece
thereupon, and there presently the dear son of Odysseus sat him down.
Next the swineherd set by them platters of roast flesh, the fragments
that were left from the meal of yesterday. And wheaten bread he briskly
heaped up in baskets, and mixed the honey-sweet wine in a goblet of ivy
wood, and himself sat down over against divine Odysseus. So they
stretched forth their hands upon the good cheer set before them. Now
when they had put from them the desire of meat and drink, Telemachus
spake to the goodly swineherd, saying:
“Father, whence came this stranger to thee? How did sailors bring him
to Ithaca? and who did they avow them to be? For in no wise, I deem,
did he come hither by land.”
Then didst thou make answer, swineherd Eumaeus: “Yea now, my son, I
will tell thee all the truth. Of wide Crete he avows him to be by
lineage, and he says that round many cities of mortals he has wandered
at adventure; even so has some god spun for him the thread of fate. But
now, as a runaway from a ship of the Thesprotians, has he come to my
steading, and I will give him to thee for thy man; do with him as thou
wilt; he avows him for thy suppliant.”
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “Eumaeus, verily a bitter
word is this that thou speakest. How indeed shall I receive this guest
in my house? Myself I am young, and trust not yet to my strength of
hands to defend me against the man who does violence without a cause.
And my mother has divisions of heart, whether to abide here with me and
keep the house, respecting the bed of her lord and the voice of the
people, or straightway to go with whomsoever of the Achaeans that woo
her in the halls is the best man, and gives most bridal gifts. But
behold, as for this guest of thine, now that he has come to thy house,
I will clothe him in a mantle and a doublet, goodly raiment, and I will
give him a two-edged sword, and shoes for his feet, and send him on his
way, whithersoever his heart and his spirit bid him go. Or, if thou
wilt, hold him here in the steading and take care of him, and raiment I
will send hither, and all manner of food to eat, that he be not ruinous
to thee and to thy fellows. But thither into the company of the wooers
would I not suffer him to go, for they are exceeding full of infatuate
insolence, lest they mock at him, and that would be a sore grief to me.
And hard it is for one man, how valiant soever, to achieve aught among
a multitude, for verily they are far the stronger.”
Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus answered him: “My friend, since it
is indeed my right to answer thee withal, of a truth my heart is rent
as I hear your words, such infatuate deeds ye say the wooers devise in
the halls, in despite of thee, a man so noble. Say, dost thou willingly
submit thee to oppression, or do the people through the township hate
thee, obedient to the voice of a god? Or hast thou cause to blame thy
brethren, in whose battle a man puts trust, even if a great feud arise?
Ah, would that I had the youth, as now I have the spirit, and were
either the son of noble Odysseus or Odysseus’ very self,[26]
straightway then might a stranger sever my head from off my neck, if I
went not to the halls of Odysseus, son of Laertes, and made myself the
bane of every man among them! But if they should overcome me by
numbers, being but one man against so many, far rather would I die
slain in mine own halls, than witness for ever these unseemly deeds,
strangers shamefully entreated, and men haling the handmaidens in foul
wise through the fair house, and wine drawn wastefully and the wooers
devouring food all recklessly without avail, at a work that knows no
ending.”
[26] We omit line 101, which spoils the sense of the passage, and was
rejected by antiquity.
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “Yea now, stranger I will
plainly tell thee all. There is no grudge and hatred borne my by the
whole people, neither have I cause to blame my brethren, in whose
battle a man puts trust, even if a great feud arise. For thus, as thou
seest, Cronion has made us a house of but one heir. Arceisius got him
one only son Laertes, and one only son Odysseus was begotten of his
father, and Odysseus left me the only child of his getting in these
halls, and had no joy of me; wherefore now are foemen innumerable in
the house. For all the noblest that are princes in the islands, in
Dulichium and Same and wooded Zacynthus, and as many as lord it in
rocky Ithaca, all these woo my mother and waste my house. But as for
her she neither refuseth the hated bridal, nor hath the heart to make
and end; so they devour and minish my house; and ere long will they
make havoc likewise of myself. Howbeit these things surely lie on the
knees of the gods. Nay, father, but do thou go with haste and tell the
constant Penelope that she hath got me safe and that I am come up out
of Pylos. As for me, I will tarry here, and do thou return hither when
thou hast told the tidings to her alone; but of the other Achaeans let
no man learn it, for there be many that devise mischief against me.”
Then didst thou make answer, swineherd Eumaeus: “I mark, I heed, all
this thou speakest to one with understanding. But come, declare me this
and tell it plainly; whether or no I shall go the same road with
tidings to Laertes, that hapless man, who till lately, despite his
great sorrow for Odysseus’ sake, yet had oversight of the tillage, and
did eat and drink with the thralls in his house, as often as his heart
within him bade him. But now, from the day that thou wentest in thy
ship to Pylos, never to this hour, they say, hath he so much as eaten
and drunken, nor looked to the labours of the field, but with groaning
and lamentation he sits sorrowing, and the flesh wastes away about his
bones.”
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “All the more grievous it
is! yet will we let him be, though we sorrow thereat. For if men might
in any wise have all their will, we should before ought else choose the
day of my father’s returning. But do thou when thou hast told the
tidings come straight back, and go not wandering through the fields
after Laertes. But speak to my mother that with all speed she send
forth the house-dame her handmaid, secretly, for she might bear tidings
to the old man.”
With that word he roused the swineherd, who took his sandals in his
hands and bound them beneath his feet and departed for the city. Now
Athene noted Eumaeus the swineherd pass from the steading, and she drew
nigh in the semblance of a woman fair and tall, and skilled in splendid
handiwork. And she stood in presence manifest to Odysseus over against
the doorway of the hut; but it was so that Telemachus saw her not
before him and marked her not; for the gods in no wise appear visibly
to all. But Odysseus was ware of her and the dogs likewise, which
barked not, but with a low whine shrank cowering to the far side of the
steading. Then she nodded at him with bent brows, and goodly Odysseus
perceived it, and came forth from the room, past the great wall of the
yard, and stood before her, and Athene spake to him, saying:
“Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, now is
the hour to reveal thy word to thy son, and hide it not, that ye twain
having framed death and doom for the wooers, may fare to the famous
town. Nor will I, even I, be long away from you, being right eager for
battle.”
Therewith Athene touched him with her golden wand. First she cast about
his breast a fresh linen robe and a doublet, and she increased his bulk
and bloom. Dark his colour grew again, and his cheeks filled out, and
the black beard spread thick around his chin.
Now she, when she had so wrought, withdrew again, but Odysseus went
into the hut, and his dear son marvelled at him and looked away for
very fear lest it should be a god, and he uttered his voice and spake
to him winged words:
“Even now, stranger, thou art other in my sight than that thou wert a
moment since, and other garments thou hast, and the colour of thy skin
is no longer the same. Surely thou art a god of those that keep the
wide heaven. Nay then, be gracious, that we may offer to thee
well-pleasing sacrifices and golden gifts, beautifully wrought; and
spare us I pray thee.”
Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus answered him, saying: “Behold, no
god am I; why likenest thou me to the immortals? nay, thy father am I,
for whose sake thou sufferest many pains and groanest sore, and
submittest thee to the despite of men,”
At the word he kissed his son, and from his cheeks let a tear fall to
earth: before, he had stayed the tears continually. But Telemachus (for
as yet he believed not that it was his father) answered in turn and
spake, saying:
“Thou art not Odysseus my father, but some god beguiles me, that I may
groan for more exceeding sorrow. For it cannot be that a mortal man
should contrive this by the aid of his own wit, unless a god were
himself to visit him, and lightly of his own will to make him young or
old. For truly, but a moment gone, thou wert old and foully clad, but
now thou art like the gods who keep the wide heaven.”
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: “Telemachus, it
fits thee not to marvel overmuch that thy father is come home, or to be
amazed. Nay for thou shalt find no other Odysseus come hither any more;
but lo, I, all as I am, after sufferings and much wandering have come
in the twentieth year to mine own country. Behold, this is the work of
Athene, driver of the spoil, who makes me such manner of man as she
will,—for with her it is possible,— now like a beggar, and now again
like a young man, and one clad about in rich raiment. Easy it is for
the gods who keep the wide heaven to glorify or to abase a mortal man.”
With this word then he sat down again; but Telemachus, flinging himself
upon his noble father’s neck, mourned and shed tears, and in both their
hearts arose the desire of lamentation. And they wailed aloud, more
ceaselessly than birds, sea-eagles or vultures of crooked claws, whose
younglings the country folk have taken from the nest, ere yet they are
fledged. Even so pitifully fell the tears beneath their brows. And now
would the sunlight have gone down upon their sorrowing, had not
Telemachus spoken to his father suddenly:
“And in what manner of ship, father dear, did sailors at length bring
thee hither to Ithaca? and who did they avow them to be? For in no
wise, I deem, didst thou come hither by land.”
And the steadfast goodly Odysseus answered him: “Yea now, my child, I
will tell thee all the truth. The Phaeacians brought me hither,
mariners renowned, who speed other men too upon their way, whosoever
comes to them. Asleep in the swift ship they bore me over the seas and
set me down in Ithaca, and gave me splendid gifts, bronze and gold in
plenty and woven raiment. And these treasures are lying by the gods’
grace in the caves. But now I am come hither by the promptings of
Athene, that we may take counsel for the slaughter of the foemen. But
come, tell me all the tale of the wooers and their number, that I may
know how many and what men they be, and that so I may commune with my
good heart and advise me, whether we twain shall be able alone to make
head against them without aid, or whether we should even seek succour
of others.”
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “Verily, father, I have ever
heard of thy great fame, for a warrior hardy of thy hands, and sage in
counsel. But this is a hard saying of thine: awe comes over me; for it
may not be that two men should do battle with many men and stalwart.
For of the wooers there are not barely ten nor twice ten only, but many
a decad more: and straight shalt thou learn the tale of them ere we
part. From Dulichium there be two and fifty chosen lords, and six
serving men go with them; and out of Same four and twenty men; and from
Zacynthus there are twenty lords of the Achaeans; and from Ithaca
itself full twelve men of the best, and with them Medon the henchman,
and the divine minstrel, and two squires skilled in carving viands. If
we shall encounter all these within the halls, see thou to it, lest
bitter and baneful for us be the vengeance thou takest on their
violence at thy coming. But do thou, if thou canst think of some
champion, advise thee of any that may help us with all his heart.”
Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus answered him, saying: “Yea now, I
will tell thee, and do thou mark and listen to me, and consider whether
Athene with Father Zeus will suffice for us twain, or whether I shall
cast about for some other champion.”
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “Valiant helpers, in sooth,
are these two thou namest, whose seat is aloft in the clouds, and they
rule among all men and among the deathless gods!”
Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus answered him: “Yet will the twain
not long keep aloof from the strong tumult of war, when between the
wooers and us in my halls is held the trial of the might of Ares. But
as now, do thou go homeward at the breaking of the day, and consort
with the proud wooers. As for me, the swineherd will lead me to the
town later in the day, in the likeness of a beggar, a wretched man and
an old. And if they shall evil entreat me in the house, let thy heart
harden itself to endure while I am shamefully handled, yea even if they
drag me by the feet through the house to the doors, or cast at me and
smite me: still do thou bear the sight. Howbeit thou shalt surely bid
them cease from their folly, exhorting them with smooth words; yet no
whit will they hearken, nay for the day of their doom is at hand. Yet
another thing will I tell thee, and do thou ponder it in thy heart.
When Athene, of deep counsel, shall put it into my heart, I will nod to
thee with my head and do thou note it, and carry away all thy weapons
of war that lie in the halls, and lay them down every one in the secret
place of the lofty chamber. And when the wooers miss them and ask thee
concerning them, thou shalt beguile them with soft words, saying:
“‘Out of the smoke I laid them by, since they were no longer like those
that Odysseus left behind him of old when he went to Troy, but they are
wholly marred: so mightily hath passed upon them the vapour of fire.
Moreover Cronion hath put into my heart this other and greater care,
that perchance, when ye are heated with wine, ye set a quarrel between
you and wound one the other and thereby shame the feast and the wooing;
for iron of itself draws a man thereto.’ But for us twain alone leave
two swords and two spears and two shields of oxhide to grasp, that we
may rush upon the arms and seize them; and then shall Pallas Athene and
Zeus the counsellor enchant the wooers to their ruin. Yet another thing
will I tell thee, and do thou ponder it in thy heart. If in very truth
thou art my son and of our blood, then let no man hear that Odysseus is
come home; neither let Laertes know it, nor the swineherd nor any of
the household nor Penelope herself, but let me and thee alone discover
the intent of the women. Yea, and we would moreover make trial of
certain of the men among the thralls, and learn who[27] of them chances
to honour us and to fear us heartily, and who regards us not at all and
holds even thee in no esteem, so noble a man as thou art.”
[27] Reading ὅ πού τις.
Then his renowned son answered him, and said: “O my father, of a truth
thou shalt learn, methinks, even hereafter what spirit I am of, for no
whit doth folly possess me. But I deem not that this device of thine
will be gainful to us twain, so I bid thee to give heed. For thou shalt
be long time on thy road to little purpose, making trial of each man,
while thou visitest the farm lands; but at ease in thy halls the wooers
devour thy goods with insolence, and now there is no sparing. Howbeit I
would have thee take knowledge of the women, who they be that dishonour
thee, and who are guiltless. But of the men I would not that we should
make trial in the steadings, but that we should see to this task
afterwards, if indeed thou knowest some sign from Zeus, lord of the
aegis.”
Thus they spake one to the other. And now the well-builded ship was
being brought to land at Ithaca, the ship that bare Telemachus from
Pylos with all his company. When they were now come within the deep
harbour, the men drew up the black ship on the shore, while squires,
haughty of heart, bare away their weapons, and straightway carried the
glorious gifts to the house of Clytius. Anon they sent forward a herald
to the house of Odysseus to bear the tidings to prudent Penelope,
namely, how Telemachus was in the field, and had bidden the ship sail
to the city, lest the noble queen should be afraid, and let the round
tears fall. So these two met, the herald and the goodly swineherd, come
on the same errand to tell all to the lady. Now when they were got to
the house of the divine king, the herald spake out among all the
handmaids saying:
“Verily, O queen, thy son hath come out of Pylos.”
But the swineherd went up to Penelope, and told her all that her dear
son had bidden him say. So, when he had declared all that had been
enjoined him, he went on his way to the swine and left the enclosure
and the hall.
Now the wooers were troubled and downcast in spirit, and forth they
went from the hall past the great wall of the court, and there in front
of the gates they held their session. And Eurymachus son of Polybus
first spake among them saying:
“Verily, friends, a proud deed hath Telemachus accomplished with a high
hand, even this journey, and we said that he should never bring it to
pass. But come, launch we a black ship, the best there is, and let us
get together oarsmen of the sea, who shall straightway bear word to our
friends to return home with speed.”
The word was yet on his lips, when Amphinomus turned in his place and
saw the ship within the deep harbour, and the men lowering the sails
and with the oars in their hands. Then sweetly he laughed out and spake
among his fellows:
“Nay, let us now send no message any more, for lo, they are come home.
Either some god has told them all or they themselves have seen the ship
of Telemachus go by, and have not been able to catch her.”
Thus he spake, and they arose and went to the sea-banks. Swiftly the
men drew up the black ship on the shore, and squires, haughty of heart,
bare away their weapons. And the wooers all together went to the
assembly-place, and suffered none other to sit with them, either of the
young men or of the elders. Then Antinous spake among them, the son of
Eupeithes:
“Lo now, how the gods have delivered this man from his evil case! All
day long did scouts sit along the windy headlands, ever in quick
succession, and at the going down of the sun we never rested for a
night upon the shore, but sailing with our swift ship on the high seas
we awaited the bright Dawn, as we lay in wait for Telemachus, that we
might take and slay the man himself; but meanwhile some god has brought
him home. But even here let us devise an evil end for him, even for
Telemachus, and let him not escape out of our hands, for methinks that
while he lives we shall never achieve this task of ours. For he himself
has understanding in counsel and wisdom, and the people no longer show
us favour in all things. Nay come, before he assembles all the Achaeans
to the gathering; for methinks that he will in nowise be slack, but
will be exceeding wroth, and will stand up and speak out among them
all, and tell how we plotted against him sheer destruction but did not
overtake him. Then will they not approve us, when they hear these evil
deeds. Beware then lest they do us a harm, and drive us forth from our
country, and we come to the land of strangers. Nay, but let us be
beforehand and take him in the field far from the city, or by the way;
and let us ourselves keep his livelihood and his possessions, making
fair division among us, but the house we would give to his mother to
keep and to whomsoever marries her. But if this saying likes you not,
but ye chose rather that he should live and keep the heritage of his
father, no longer then let us gather here and eat all his store of
pleasant substance, but let each one from his own hall woo her with his
bridal gifts and seek to win her; so should she wed the man that gives
the most and comes as the chosen of fate.”
So he spake, and they all held their peace. Then Amphinomus made
harangue and spake out among them; he was the famous son of Nisus the
prince, the son of Aretias, and he led the wooers that came from out
Dulichium, a land rich in wheat and in grass, and more than all the
rest his words were pleasing to Penelope, for he was of an
understanding mind. And now of his good will he made harangue, and
spake among them:
“Friends, I for one would not choose to kill Telemachus; it is a
fearful thing to slay one of the stock of kings! Nay, first let us seek
to the counsel of the gods, and if the oracles of great Zeus approve,
myself I will slay him and bid all the rest to aid. But if the gods are
disposed to avert it, I bid you to refrain.”
So spake Amphinomus, and his saying pleased them well. Then straightway
they arose and went to the house of Odysseus, and entering in sat down
on the polished seats.
Then the wise Penelope had a new thought, namely, to show herself to
the wooers, so despiteful in their insolence; for she had heard of the
death of her son that was to be in the halls, seeing that Medon the
henchman had told her of it; who heard their counsels. So she went on
her way to the hall, with the women her handmaids. Now when that fair
lady had come unto the wooers, she stood by the pillar of the
well-builded roof, holding up her glistening tire before her face, and
rebuked Antinous and spake and hailed him:
“Antinous, full of all insolence, deviser of mischief! and yet they say
that in the land of Ithaca thou art chiefest among thy peers in counsel
and in speech. Nay, no such man dost thou show thyself. Fool! why
indeed dost thou contrive death and doom for Telemachus, and hast no
regard unto suppliants who have Zeus to witness? Nay but it is an
impious thing to contrive evil one against another. What! knowest thou
not of the day when thy father fled to this house in fear of the
people, for verily they were exceeding wroth against him, because he
had followed with Taphian sea robbers and harried the Thesprotians, who
were at peace with us. So they wished to destroy thy father and wrest
from him his dear life, and utterly to devour all his great and
abundant livelihood; but Odysseus stayed and withheld them, for all
their desire. His house thou now consumest without atonement, and his
wife thou wooest, and wouldst slay his son, and dost greatly grieve me.
But I bid thee cease, and command the others to do likewise.”
Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered her saying: “Daughter of
Icarius, wise Penelope, take courage, and let not thy heart be careful
for these things. The man is not, nor shall be, nor ever shall be born,
that shall stretch forth his hands against Telemachus, thy son, while I
live and am on earth and see the light. For thus will I declare to
thee, and it shall surely come to pass. Right quickly shall the black
blood of such an one flow about our spear; for Odysseus, waster of
cities, of a truth did many a time set me too upon his knees, and gave
me roasted flesh into my hand, and held the red wine to my lips.
Wherefore Telemachus is far the dearest of all men to me, and I bid him
have no fear of death, not from the wooers’ hands; but from the gods
none may avoid it.”
Thus he spake comforting her, but was himself the while framing death
for her son.
Now she ascended to her shining upper chamber, and then was bewailing
Odysseus, her dear lord, till grey-eyed Athene cast sweet sleep upon
her eyelids.
And in the evening the goodly swineherd came back to Odysseus and his
son, and they made ready and served the supper, when they had
sacrificed a swine of a year old. Then Athene drew near Odysseus, son
of Laertes, and smote him with her wand, and made him into an old man
again. In sorry raiment she clad him about his body, lest the swineherd
should look on him and know him, and depart to tell the constant
Penelope, and not keep the matter in his heart.
Then Telemachus spake first to the swineherd, saying: “Thou hast come,
goodly Eumaeus. What news is there in the town? Are the lordly wooers
now come in from their ambush, or do they still watch for me as before
on my homeward way?”
Then didst thou make answer, swineherd Eumaeus: “I had no mind to go
down the city asking and inquiring hereof; my heart bade me get me home
again, as quick as might be, when once I had told the tidings. And the
swift messenger from thy company joined himself unto me, the henchman,
who was the first to tell the news to thy mother. Yet this, too, I
know, if thou wouldest hear; for I beheld it with mine eyes. Already
had I come in my faring above the city, where is the hill Hermaean,
when I marked a swift ship entering our haven, and many men there were
in her, and she was laden with shields and two-headed spears, and
methought they were the wooers, but I know not at all.”
So spake he, and the mighty prince Telemachus smiled, and glanced at
his father, while he shunned the eye of the swineherd.
Now when they had ceased from the work and got supper ready, they fell
to feasting, and their hearts lacked not ought of the equal banquet.
But when they had put from them the desire of meat and drink, they
bethought them of rest, and took the boon of sleep.