The Ithacans bury the wooers, and sitting in council resolve on
revenge. And coming near the house of Laertes, are met by Odysseus, and
Laertes with Telemachus and servants, the whole number twelve, and are
overcome, and submit.
Now Cyllenian Hermes called forth from the halls the souls of the
wooers, and he held in his hand his wand that is fair and golden,
wherewith he lulls the eyes of men, of whomso he will, while others
again he even wakens out of sleep. Herewith he roused and led the souls
who followed gibbering. And even as bats flit gibbering in the secret
place of a wondrous cave, when one has fallen down from the cluster on
the rock, where they cling each to each up aloft, even so the souls
gibbered as they fared together, and Hermes, the helper, led them down
the dank ways. Past the streams of Oceanus and the White Rock, past the
gates of the Sun they sped and the land of dreams, and soon they came
to the mead of asphodel, where dwell the souls, the phantoms of men
outworn. There they found the soul of Achilles son of Peleus, and the
souls of Patroclus, and of noble Antilochus, and of Aias, who in face
and form was goodliest of all the Danaans after the noble son of
Peleus.
So these were flocking round Achilles, and the spirit of Agamemnon, son
of Atreus, drew nigh sorrowful; and about him were gathered all the
other shades, as many as perished with him in the house of Aegisthus,
and met their doom. Now the soul of the son of Peleus spake to him
first, saying:
“Son of Atreus, verily we deemed that thou above all other heroes wast
evermore dear to Zeus, whose joy is in the thunder, seeing that thou
wast lord over warriors, many and mighty men, in the land of the
Trojans where we Achaeans suffered affliction. But lo, thee too was
deadly doom to visit early,[41] the doom that none avoids of all men
born. Ah, would that in the fulness of thy princely honour, thou hadst
met death and fate in the land of the Trojans! So would all the Achaean
host have builded thee a barrow, yea and for thy son thou wouldst have
won great glory in the aftertime. But now it has been decreed for thee
to perish by a most pitiful death.”
[41] Reading πρῶι.
Then the soul of the son of Atreus answered, and spake: “Happy art thou
son of Peleus, godlike Achilles, that didst die in Troy-land far from
Argos, and about thee fell others, the best of the sons of Trojans and
Achaeans, fighting for thy body; but thou in the whirl of dust layest
mighty and mightily fallen, forgetful of thy chivalry. And we strove
the livelong day, nor would we ever have ceased from the fight, if Zeus
had not stayed us with a tempest. Anon when we had borne thee to the
ships from out of the battle, we laid thee on a bier and washed thy
fair flesh clean with warm water and unguents, and around thee the
Danaans shed many a hot tear and shore their hair. And forth from the
sea came thy mother with the deathless maidens of the waters, when they
heard the tidings; and a wonderful wailing rose over the deep, and
trembling fell on the limbs of all the Achaeans. Yea, and they would
have sprung up and departed to the hollow ships, had not one held them
back that knew much lore from of old, Nestor, whose counsel proved
heretofore the best. Out of his good will he made harangue, and spake
among them:
“‘Hold, ye Argives, flee not, young lords of the Achaeans. Lo, his
mother from the sea is she that comes, with the deathless maidens of
the waters, to behold the face of her dead son.’
“So he spake, and the high-hearted Achaeans ceased from their flight.
Then round thee stood the daughters of the ancient one of the sea,
holding a pitiful lament, and they clad thee about in raiment
incorruptible. And all the nine Muses one to the other replying with
sweet voices began the dirge; there thou wouldest not have seen an
Argive but wept, so mightily rose up the clear chant. Thus for
seventeen days and nights continually did we all bewail thee, immortal
gods and mortal men. On the eighteenth day we gave thy body to the
flames, and many well-fatted sheep we slew around thee, and kine of
shambling gait. So thou wert burned in the garments of the gods, and in
much unguents and in sweet honey, and many heroes of the Achaeans moved
mail-clad around the pyre when thou wast burning, both footmen and
horse, and great was the noise that arose. But when the flame of
Hephaestus had utterly abolished thee, lo, in the morning we gathered
together thy white bones, Achilles, and bestowed them in unmixed wine
and in unguents. Thy mother gave a twy-handled golden urn, and said
that it was the gift of Dionysus, and the workmanship of renowned
Hephaestus. Therein lie thy white bones, great Achilles, and mingled
therewith the bones of Patroclus son of Menoetias, that is dead, but
apart is the dust of Antilochus, whom thou didst honour above all thy
other companions, after Patroclus that was dead. Then over them did we
pile a great and goodly tomb, we the holy host of Argive warriors, high
on a jutting headland over wide Hellespont, that it might be far seen
from off the sea by men that now are, and by those that shall be
hereafter. Then thy mother asked the gods for glorious prizes in the
games, and set them in the midst of the lists for the champions of the
Achaeans. In days past thou hast been at the funeral games of many a
hero, whenso, after some king’s death, the young men gird themselves
and make them ready for the meed of victory; but couldst thou have seen
these gifts thou wouldst most have marvelled in spirit, such glorious
prizes did the goddess set there to honour thee, even Thetis, the
silver-footed; for very dear wert thou to the gods. Thus not even in
death hast thou lost thy name, but to thee shall be a fair renown for
ever among all men, Achilles. But what joy have I now herein, that I
have wound up the clew of war, for on my return Zeus devised for me an
evil end at the hands of Aegisthus and my wife accursed?”
So they spake one to the other. And nigh them came the Messenger, the
slayer of Argos, leading down the ghosts of the wooers by Odysseus
slain, and the two heroes were amazed at the sight and went straight
toward them. And the soul of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, knew the dear
son of Melaneus, renowned Amphimedon, who had been his host, having his
dwelling in Ithaca. The soul of the son of Atreus spake to him first,
saying:
“Amphimedon, what hath befallen you, that ye have come beneath the
darkness of earth, all of you picked men and of like age? it is even as
though one should choose out and gather together the best warriors in a
city. Did Poseidon smite you in your ships and rouse up contrary winds
and the long waves? Or did unfriendly men, perchance, do you hurt upon
the land as ye were cutting off their oxen and fair flocks of sheep, or
while they fought to defend their city and the women thereof? Answer
and tell me, for I avow me a friend of thy house. Rememberest thou not
the day when I came to your house in Ithaca with godlike Menelaus, to
urge Odysseus to follow with me to Ilios on the decked ships? And it
was a full month ere we had sailed all across the wide sea, for scarce
could we win to our cause Odysseus, waster of cities.”
Then the ghost of Amphimedon answered him, and spake: “Most famous son
of Atreus, king of men, Agamemnon, I remember all these things, O
fosterling of Zeus, as thou declarest them, and I in turn will tell
thee all the tale well and truly, even our death and evil end, on what
wise it befell. We wooed the wife of Odysseus that was long afar, and
she neither refused the hated bridal nor was minded to make an end,
devising for us death and black fate. Also this other wile she
contrived in her heart. She set up in her halls a mighty web, fine of
woof and very wide, whereat she would weave, and anon she spake among
us:
“‘Ye princely youths, my wooers, now that goodly Odysseus is dead, do
ye abide patiently, how eager soever to speed on this marriage of mine,
till I finish the robe. I would not that the threads perish to no
avail, even this shroud for the hero Laertes, against the day when the
ruinous doom shall bring him low, of death that lays men at their
length. So shall none of the Achaean women in the land count it blame
in me, as well might be, were he to lie without a winding-sheet, a man
that had gotten great possessions.’
“So spake she, and our high hearts consented thereto. So then in the
daytime she would weave the mighty web, and in the night unravel the
same, when she had let place the torches by her. Thus for the space of
three years she hid the thing by guile and won the minds of the
Achaeans; but when the fourth year arrived and the seasons came round,
as the months waned and many days were accomplished, then it was that
one of her women who knew all declared it, and we found her unravelling
the splendid web. Thus she finished it perforce and sore against her
will. Now when she brought the robe to light, after she had woven the
great web and washed it, and it shone even as sun or moon, at that very
hour some evil god led Odysseus, I know not whence, to the upland farm,
where the swineherd abode in his dwelling. Thither too came the dear
son of divine Odysseus out of sandy Pylos, voyaging with his black
ship. These twain framed an evil death for the wooers, and came to the
renowned town. Odysseus verily came the later, and Telemachus went
before and led the way. Now the swineherd brought Odysseus clad in vile
raiment, in the likeness of a beggar, a wretched man and an old,
leaning on a staff, and behold, he was clad about in sorry raiment. And
none of us, not even the elders, could know him for that he was, on
this his sudden appearing, but with evil words we assailed him and
hurled things at him. Yet for a while he hardened his heart to endure
both the hurlings and the evil words in his own halls; but at the last,
when the spirit of Zeus, lord of the aegis, aroused him, by the help of
Telemachus he took up all the goodly weapons, and laid them by in the
inner chamber and drew the bolts. Next in his great craft he bade his
wife to offer his bow and store of grey iron to the wooers to be the
weapons of our contest, luckless that we were, and the beginning of
death. Now not one of us could stretch the string of the strong bow;
far short we fell of that might. But when the great bow came to the
hands of Odysseus, then we all clamoured and forbade to give him the
bow, how much soever he might speak, but Telemachus alone was instant
with him and commanded him to take it. Then he took the bow into his
hands, the steadfast goodly Odysseus, and lightly he strung it, and
sent the arrow through the iron. Then straight he went to the threshold
and there took his stand, and poured forth the swift arrows, glancing
terribly around, and smote the king Antinous. Thereafter on the others
he let fly his bolts, winged for death, with straight aim, and the
wooers fell thick one upon another. Then was it known how that some god
was their helper, for pressing on as their passion drave them, they
slew the men right and left through the halls, and thence there arose a
hideous moaning, as heads were smitten and the floor all ran with
blood. So we perished, Agamemnon, and even now our bodies lie uncared
for in the halls of Odysseus, for the friends of each one at home as
yet know nought, even they who might wash the black-clotted blood out
of our wounds, and lay out the bodies and wail the dirge, for that is
the due of the dead.”
Then the ghost of the son of Atreus answered him: “Ah, happy son of
Laertes, Odysseus of many devices, yea, for a wife most excellent hast
thou gotten, so good was the wisdom of constant Penelope, daughter of
Icarius, that was duly mindful of Odysseus, her wedded lord. Wherefore
the fame of her virtue shall never perish, but the immortals will make
a gracious song in the ears of men on earth to the fame of constant
Penelope. In far other wise did the daughter of Tyndareus devise ill
deeds, and slay her wedded lord, and hateful shall the song of her be
among men, and an evil repute hath she brought upon all womankind, even
on the upright.”
Even so these twain spake one to the other, standing in the house of
Hades, beneath the secret places of the earth.
Now when those others had gone down from the city, quickly they came to
the rich and well-ordered farm land of Laertes, that he had won for
himself of old, as the prize of great toil in war. There was his house,
and all about it ran the huts wherein the thralls were wont to eat and
dwell and sleep, bondsmen that worked his will. And in the house there
was an old Sicilian woman, who diligently cared for the old man, in the
upland far from the city. There Odysseus spake to his thralls and to
his son, saying:
“Do ye now get you within the well-builded house, and quickly sacrifice
the best of the swine for the midday meal, but I will make trial of my
father, whether he will know me again and be aware of me when he sees
me, or know me not, so long have I been away,”
Therewith he gave the thralls his weapons of war. Then they went
speedily to the house, while Odysseus drew near to the fruitful
vineyard to make trial of his father. Now he found not Dolius there, as
he went down into the great garden, nor any of the thralls nor of their
sons. It chanced that they had all gone to gather stones for a garden
fence, and the old man at their head. So he found his father alone in
the terraced vineyard, digging about a plant. He was clothed in a
filthy doublet, patched and unseemly, with clouted leggings of oxhide
bound about his legs, against the scratches of the thorns, and long
sleeves over his hands by reason of the brambles, and on his head he
wore a goatskin cap, and so he nursed his sorrow. Now when the
steadfast goodly Odysseus saw his father thus wasted with age and in
great grief of heart, he stood still beneath a tall pear tree and let
fall a tear. Then he communed with his heart and soul, whether he
should fall on his father’s neck and kiss him, and tell him all, how he
had returned and come to his own country, or whether he should first
question him and prove him in every word. And as he thought within
himself, this seemed to him the better way, namely, first to prove his
father and speak to him sharply. So with this intent the goodly
Odysseus went up to him. Now he was holding his head down and kept
digging about the plant, while his renowned son stood by him and spake,
saying:
“Old man, thou hast no lack of skill in tending a garden; lo, thou
carest well for all,[42] nor is there aught whatsoever, either plant or
fig-tree, or vine, yea, or olive, or pear, or garden-bed in all the
close, that is not well seen to. Yet another thing will I tell thee and
lay not up wrath thereat in thy heart. Thyself art scarce so well cared
for, but a pitiful old age is on thee, and withal thou art withered and
unkempt, and clad unseemly. It cannot be to punish thy sloth that thy
master cares not for thee; there shows nothing of the slave about thy
face and stature, for thou art like a kingly man, even like one who
should lie soft, when he has washed and eaten well, as is the manner of
the aged. But come declare me this and plainly tell it all. Whose
thrall art thou, and whose garden dost thou tend? Tell me moreover
truly, that I may surely know, if it be indeed to Ithaca that I am now
come, as one yonder told me who met with me but now on the way hither.
He was but of little understanding, for he deigned not to tell me all
nor to heed my saying, when I questioned him concerning my friend,
whether indeed he is yet alive or is even now dead and within the house
of Hades. For I will declare it and do thou mark and listen: once did I
kindly entreat a man in mine own dear country, who came to our home,
and never yet has any mortal been dearer of all the strangers that have
drawn to my house from afar. He declared him to be by lineage from out
of Ithaca, and said that his own father was Laertes son of Arceisius.
So I led him to our halls and gave him good entertainment, with all
loving-kindness, out of the plenty that was within. Such gifts too I
gave him as are the due of guests; of well wrought gold I gave him
seven talents, and a mixing bowl of flowered work, all of silver, and
twelve cloaks of single fold, and as many coverlets, and as many goodly
mantles and doublets to boot, and besides all these, four women skilled
in all fair works and most comely, the women of his choice.”
[42] Supplying ὄρχατον from the preceding clause as object to ἔχει.
Other constructions are possible.
Then his father answered him, weeping: “Stranger, thou art verily come
to that country whereof thou askest, but outrageous men and froward
hold it. And these thy gifts, thy countless gifts, thou didst bestow in
vain. For if thou hadst found that man yet living in the land of Ithaca
he would have sent thee on thy way with good return of thy presents,
and with all hospitality, as is due to the man that begins the
kindness. But come, declare me this and plainly tell me all; how many
years are passed since thou didst entertain him, thy guest ill-fated
and my child,—if ever such an one there was,—hapless man, whom far from
his friends and his country’s soil, the fishes, it may be, have
devoured in the deep sea, or on the shore he has fallen the prey of
birds and beasts. His mother wept not over him nor clad him for burial,
nor his father, we that begat him. Nor did his bride, whom men sought
with rich gifts, the constant Penelope, bewail her lord upon the bier,
as was meet, nor closed his eyes, as is the due of the departed.
Moreover, tell me this truly, that I may surely know, who art thou and
whence of the sons of men? Where is thy city and where are they that
begat thee? Where now is thy swift ship moored, that brought thee
thither with thy godlike company? Hast thou come as a passenger on
another’s ship, while they set thee ashore and went away?
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered him, saying: “Yea now, I will
tell thee all most plainly. From out of Alybas I come, where I dwell in
a house renowned, and am the son of Apheidas the son of Polypemon, the
prince, and my own name is Eperitus. But some god drave me wandering
hither from Sicania against my will, and yonder my ship is moored
toward the upland away from the city. But for Odysseus, this is now the
fifth year since he went thence and departed out of my country.
Ill-fated was he, and yet he had birds of good omen when he fared away,
birds on the right; wherefore I sped him gladly on his road, and gladly
he departed, and the heart of us twain hoped yet to meet in friendship
on a day and to give splendid gifts.”
So he spake, and on the old man fell a black cloud of sorrow. With both
his hands he clutched the dust and ashes and showered them on his gray
head, with ceaseless groaning. Then the heart of Odysseus was moved,
and up through his nostrils throbbed anon the keen sting of sorrow at
the sight of his dear father. And he sprang towards him and fell on his
neck and kissed him, saying:
“Behold, I here, even I, my father, am the man of whom thou askest; in
the twentieth year am I come to mine own country. But stay thy weeping
and tearful lamentation, for I will tell thee all clearly, though great
need there is of haste. I have slain the wooers in our halls and
avenged their bitter scorn and evil deeds.”
Then Laertes answered him and spake, saying: “If thou art indeed
Odysseus, mine own child, that art come hither, show me now a manifest
token, that I may be assured.”
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: “Look first on this
scar and consider it, that the boar dealt me with his white tusk on
Parnassus, whither I had gone, and thou didst send me forth, thou and
my lady mother, to Autolycus my mother’s father, to get the gifts which
when he came hither he promised and covenanted to give me. But come,
and I will even tell thee the trees through all the terraced garden,
which thou gavest me once for mine own, and I was begging of thee this
and that, being but a little child, and following thee through the
garden. Through these very trees we were going, and thou didst tell me
the names of each of them. Pear-trees thirteen thou gavest me and ten
apple-trees and figs two-score, and, as we went, thou didst name the
fifty rows of vines thou wouldest give me, whereof each one ripened at
divers times, with all manner of clusters on their boughs, when the
seasons of Zeus wrought mightily on them from on high.”
So he spake, and straightway his knees were loosened, and his heart
melted within him, as he knew the sure tokens that Odysseus showed him.
About his dear son he cast his arms, and the steadfast goodly Odysseus
caught him fainting to his breast. Now when he had got breath and his
spirit came to him again, once more he answered and spake, saying:
“Father Zeus, verily ye gods yet bear sway on high Olympus, if indeed
the wooers have paid for their infatuate pride! But now my heart is
terribly afraid, lest straightway all the men of Ithaca come up against
us here, and haste to send messengers everywhere to the cities of the
Cephallenians.”
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: “Take courage, and
let not thy heart be careful about these matters. But come, let us go
to the house that lies near the garden, for thither I sent forward
Telemachus and the neatherd and the swineherd to get ready the meal as
speedily as may be.”
After these words the twain set out to the goodly halls. Now when they
had come to the fair-lying house, they found Telemachus and the
neatherd and the swineherd carving much flesh, and mixing the dark
wine. Meanwhile the Sicilian handmaid bathed high-hearted Laertes in
his house, and anointed him with olive-oil, and cast a fair mantle
about him. Then Athene drew nigh, and made greater the limbs of the
shepherd of the people, taller she made him than before and mightier to
behold. Then he went forth from the bath, and his dear son marvelled at
him, beholding him like to the deathless gods in presence. And uttering
his voice he spake to him winged words:
“Father, surely one of the gods that are from everlasting hath made
thee goodlier and greater to behold.”
Then wise Laertes answered him, saying: “Ah, would to father Zeus and
Athene and Apollo, that such as I was when I took Nericus, the
stablished castle on the foreland of the continent, being then the
prince of the Cephallenians, would that in such might, and with mail
about my shoulders, I had stood to aid thee yesterday in our house, and
to beat back the wooers; so should I have loosened the knees of many an
one of them in the halls, and thou shouldest have been gladdened in
thine inmost heart!”
So they spake each with the other. But when the others had ceased from
their task and made ready the feast, they sat down all orderly on
chairs and on high seats. Then they began to put forth their hands on
the meat, and the old man Dolius drew nigh, and the old man’s sons
withal came tired from their labour in the fields, for their mother,
the aged Sicilian woman, had gone forth and called them, she that saw
to their living and diligently cared for the old man, now that old age
had laid hold on him. So soon as they looked on Odysseus and took
knowledge of him, they stood still in the halls in great amazement. But
Odysseus addressed them in gentle words, saying:
“Old man, sit down to meat and do ye forget your marvelling, for long
have we been eager to put forth our hands on the food, as we abode in
the hall alway expecting your coming.”
So he spake, and Dolius ran straight toward him stretching forth both
his hands, and he grasped the hand of Odysseus and kissed it on the
wrist, and uttering his voice spake to him winged words:
“Beloved, forasmuch as thou hast come back to us who sore desired thee,
and no longer thought to see thee, and the gods have led thee home
again;—hail to thee and welcome manifold, and may the gods give thee
all good fortune! Moreover tell me this truly, that I may be assured,
whether wise Penelope yet knows well that thou hast come back hither,
or whether we shall dispatch a messenger.”
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered saying: “Old man, already she
knows all; what need to busy thyself herewith?”
Thereon the other sat him down again on his polished settle. And in
like wise the sons of Dolius gathered about the renowned Odysseus, and
greeted him well and clasped his hands, and then sat down all orderly
by Dolius their father.
So they were busy with the meal in the halls. Now Rumour the messenger
went swiftly all about the city, telling the tale of the dire death and
fate of the wooers. And the people heard it, and all at once gathered
together from every side with sighing and groaning before the house of
Odysseus. And each brought forth his dead from the halls, and buried
them; but those that came out of other cities they placed on swift
ships and sent with fisherfolk, each to be carried to his own home. As
for them they all fared together to the assembly-place, in sorrow of
heart. When they were all gathered and come together, Eupeithes arose
and spake among them, for a comfortless grief lay heavy on his heart
for his son Antinous, the first man that goodly Odysseus had slain.
Weeping for him he made harangue and spake among them:
“Friends, a great deed truly hath this man devised against the
Achaeans. Some with his ships he led away, many men, and noble, and his
hollow ships hath he lost, and utterly lost of his company, and others
again, and those far the best of the Cephallenians he hath slain on his
coming home. Up now, before ever he gets him swiftly either to Pylos or
to fair Elis, where the Epeians bear sway, let us go forth; else even
hereafter shall we have shame of face for ever. For a scorn this is
even for the ears of men unborn to hear, if we avenge not ourselves on
the slayers of our sons and of our brethren. Life would no more be
sweet to me, but rather would I die straightway and be with the
departed. Up, let us be going, lest these fellows be beforehand with us
and get them over the sea.”
Thus he spake weeping, and pity fell on all the Achaeans. Then came
near to them Medon and the divine minstrel, forth from the halls of
Odysseus, for that sleep had let them go. They stood in the midst of
the gathering, and amazement seized every man. Then Medon, wise of
heart, spake among them, saying:
“Hearken to me now, ye men of Ithaca, for surely Odysseus planned not
these deeds without the will of the gods. Nay I myself beheld a god
immortal, who stood hard by Odysseus, in the perfect semblance of
Mentor; now as a deathless god was he manifest in front of Odysseus,
cheering him, and yet again scaring the wooers he stormed through the
hall, and they fell thick one on another.”
Thus he spake, and pale fear gat hold of the limbs of all. Then the old
man, the lord Halitherses, spake among them, the son of Mastor, for he
alone saw before and after. Out of his good will be made harangue and
spake among them, saying:
“Hearken to me now, ye men of Ithaca, to the word that I will say.
Through your own cowardice, my friends, have these deeds come to pass.
For ye obeyed not me, nor Mentor, the shepherd of the people, to make
your sons cease from their foolish ways. A great villainy they wrought
in their evil infatuation, wasting the wealth and holding in no regard
the wife of a prince, while they deemed that he would never more come
home. And now let things be on this wise, and obey my counsel. Let us
not go forth against him, lest haply some may find a bane of their own
bringing.”
So he spake, but they leapt up with a great cry, the more part of them,
while the rest abode there together; for his counsel was not to the
mind of the more part, but they gave ear to Eupeithes, and swiftly
thereafter they rushed for their armour. So when they had arrayed them
in shining mail, they assembled together in front of the spacious town.
And Eupeithes led them in his witlessness, for he thought to avenge the
slaying of his son, yet himself was never to return, but then and there
to meet his doom.
Now Athene spake to Zeus, the son of Cronos, saying: “O Father, our
father Cronides, throned in the highest, answer and tell me what is now
the hidden counsel of thy heart? Wilt thou yet further rouse up evil
war and the terrible din of battle, or art thou minded to set them at
one again in friendship?”
Then Zeus, the gatherer of the clouds, answered her saying: “My child,
why dost thou thus straitly question me, and ask me this? Nay didst not
thou thyself devise this very thought, namely, that Odysseus should
indeed take vengeance on these men at his coming? Do as thou wilt, but
I will tell thee of the better way. Now that goodly Odysseus hath
wreaked vengeance on the wooers, let them make a firm covenant together
with sacrifice, and let him be king all his days, and let us bring
about oblivion of the slaying of their children and their brethren; so
may both sides love one another as of old, and let peace and wealth
abundant be their portion.”
Therewith he roused Athene to yet greater eagerness, and from the peaks
of Olympus she came glancing down.
Now when they had put from them the desire of honey-sweet food, the
steadfast goodly Odysseus began to speak among them, saying:
“Let one go forth and see, lest the people be already drawing near
against us.”
So he spake, and the son of Dolius went forth at his bidding, and stood
on the outer threshold and saw them all close at hand. Then straightway
he spake to Odysseus winged words:
“Here they be, close upon us! Quick, let us to arms!”
Thereon they rose up and arrayed them in their harness, Odysseus and
his men being four, and the six sons of Dolius, and likewise Laertes
and Dolius did on their armour, grey-headed as they were, warriors
through stress of need. Now when they had clad them in shining mail,
they opened the gates and went forth and Odysseus led them.
Then Athene, daughter of Zeus, drew near them in the likeness of
Mentor, in fashion and in voice. And the steadfast goodly Odysseus
beheld her and was glad, and straightway he spake to Telemachus his
dear son:
“Telemachus, soon shalt thou learn this, when thou thyself art got to
the place of the battle where the best men try the issue,—namely, not
to bring shame on thy father’s house, on us who in time past have been
eminent for might and hardihood over all the world.”
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: “Thou shalt see me, if thou
wilt, dear father, in this my mood no whit disgracing thy line,
according to thy word.”
So spake he, and Laertes was glad and spake, saying: “What a day has
dawned for me, kind gods; yea, a glad man am I! My son and my son’s son
are vying with one another in valour.”
Then grey-eyed Athene stood beside Laertes, and spake to him: “O son of
Arceisius that art far the dearest of all my friends, pray first to the
grey-eyed maid and to father Zeus, then swing thy long spear aloft and
hurl its straightway.”
Therewith Pallas Athene breathed into him great strength. Then he
prayed to the daughter of mighty Zeus, and straightway swung his long
spear aloft and hurled it, and smote Eupeithes through his casque with
the cheek-piece of bronze. The armour kept not out the spear that went
clean through, and he fell with a crash, and his arms rattled about his
body. Then Odysseus and his renowned son fell on the fore-fighters, and
smote them with swords and two-headed spears. And now would they have
slain them all and cut off their return, had not Athene called aloud,
the daughter of Zeus lord of the aegis, and stayed all the host of the
enemy, saying:
“Hold your hands from fierce fighting, ye men of Ithaca, that so ye may
be parted quickly, without bloodshed.”
So spake Athene, and pale fear gat hold of them all. The arms flew from
their hands in their terror and fell all upon the ground, as the
goddess uttered her voice. To the city they turned their steps, as men
fain of life, and the steadfast goodly Odysseus with a terrible cry
gathered himself together and hurled in on them, like an eagle of lofty
flight. Then in that hour the son of Cronos cast forth a flaming bolt,
and it fell at the feet of the grey-eyed goddess, the daughter of the
mighty Sire. Then grey-eyed Athene spake to Odysseus, saying:
“Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, refrain
thee now and stay the strife of even-handed war, lest perchance the son
of Cronos be angry with thee, even Zeus of the far-borne voice.”
So spake Athene, and he obeyed and was glad at heart. And thereafter
Pallas Athene set a covenant between them with sacrifice, she, the
daughter of Zeus lord of the aegis, in the likeness of Mentor, both in
fashion and in voice.
Homer, thy song men liken to the sea,
With every note of music in his tone,
With tides that wash the dim dominion
Of Hades, and light waves that laugh in glee
Around the isles enchanted: nay, to me
Thy verse seems as the River of source unknown
That glasses Egypt’s temples overthrown,
In his sky-nurtur’d stream, eternally.
No wiser we than men of heretofore
To find thy mystic fountains guarded fast;
Enough—thy flood makes green our human shore
As Nilus, Egypt, rolling down his vast,
His fertile waters, murmuring evermore
Of gods dethroned, and empires of the Past.
A. L.