{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_6370/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_6370","id":"gutenberg_6370","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/6370","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Adventure","Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Odysseus, King of Ithaca (Mythological character) -- Juvenile literature"],"text":"Produced by Liz Hanks, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF THE ODYSSEY\n\nBY THE REV. ALFRED J. CHURCH, M.A.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nTHE ODYSSEY:\n\nI. THE COUNSEL OF ATHENE\n\nII. THE ASSEMBLY\n\nIII. NESTOR'S TALE\n\nIV. IN SPARTA\n\nV. MENELAUS'S TALE\n\nVI. ULYSSES ON HIS RAFT\n\nVII. NAUSICAA\n\nVIII. ALCINOUS\n\nIX. THE PHAEACIANS\n\nX. THE CYCLOPS\n\nXI. AEOLUS; THE LAESTRYGONS; CIRCE\n\nXII. THE DWELLINGS OF THE DEAD\n\nXIII. THE SIRENS; SCYLLA; THE OXEN OF THE SUN\n\nXIV. ITHACA\n\nXV. EUMAEUS, THE SWINEHERD\n\nXVI. THE RETURN OF TELEMACHUS\n\nXVII. ULYSSES AND TELEMACHUS\n\nXVIII. ULYSSES IN HIS HOME\n\nXIX. ULYSSES IN HIS HOME (_continued_)\n\nXX. ULYSSES IS DISCOVERED BY HIS NURSE\n\nXXI. THE TRIAL OF THE BOW\n\nXXII. THE SLAYING OF THE SUITORS\n\nXXIII. THE END OF THE WANDERING\n\nXXIV. THE TRIUMPH OF ULYSSES\n\nPRONUNCIATION OF PROPER NAMES\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nThree thousand years ago the world was still young. The western\ncontinent was a huge wilderness, and the greater part of Europe\nwas inhabited by savage and wandering tribes. Only a few nations\nat the eastern end of the Mediterranean and in the neighbouring\nparts of Asia had learned to dwell in cities, to use a written\nlanguage, to make laws for themselves, and to live in a more\norderly fashion. Of these nations the most brilliant was that of\nthe Greeks, who were destined in war, in learning, in government,\nand in the arts, to play a great part in the world, and to be the\nreal founders of our modern civilization. While they were still a\nrude people, they had noble ideals of beauty and bravery, of duty\nand justice. Even before they had a written language, their\nsingers had made songs about their heroes and their great deeds;\nand later these songs, which fathers had taught to children, and\nthese children to their children, were brought together into two\nlong and wonderful poems, which have ever since been the delight\nof the world, the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_.\n\nThe _Iliad_ is the story of the siege of Ilium, or Troy, on\nthe western coast of Asia Minor. Paris, son of the king of Troy,\nhad enticed Helen, the most beautiful of Grecian women, and the\nwife of a Grecian king, to leave her husband's home with him; and\nthe kings and princes of the Greeks had gathered an army and a\nfleet and sailed across the Aegean Sea to rescue her. For ten\nyears they strove to capture the city. According to the fine old\nlegends, the gods themselves took a part in the war, some siding\nwith the Greeks, and some with the Trojans. It was finally through\nUlysses, a famous Greek warrior, brave and fierce as well as wise\nand crafty, that the Greeks captured the city.\n\nThe second poem, the _Odyssey_, tells what befell Ulysses, or\nOdysseus, as the Greeks called him, on his homeward way. Sailing\nfrom Troy with his little fleet of ships, which were so small that\nthey used oars as well as sails, he was destined to wander for ten\nyears longer before he could return to his rocky island of Ithaca,\non the west shore of Greece, and to his faithful wife, Penelope.\n\nHe had marvellous adventures, for the gods who had opposed the\nGreeks at Troy had plotted to bring him ill-fortune. Just as his\nships were safely rounding the southern cape of Greece, a fierce\nstorm took them out of their course, and bore them to many strange\nlands--lands of giants, man-eating monsters, and wondrous\nenchantments of which you will delight to read. Through countless\nperils the resolute wanderer forced his way, losing ship after\nship from his little fleet, and companion after companion from his\nown band, until he reached home friendless and alone, and found\nhis palace, his property, and his family all in the power of a\nband of greedy princes. These he overcame by his cunning and his\nstrength, and his long trials were ended.\n\nAs you read these ancient tales, you must forget what knowledge\nyou have of the world, and think of it as the Greeks did. It was\nonly a little part of the world that they knew at all,--the\neastern end of the Mediterranean,--but even that seemed to them a\ngreat and marvellous region. Beyond its borders were strange and\nmysterious lands, in which wonders of all kinds were found, and\nround all ran the great world-river, the encircling stream of\nOcean.\n\nIn the mountains of Olympus, to the northward, lived the gods.\nThere was Zeus, greatest of all, the god of thunder and the wide\nheavens; Hera, his wife; Apollo, the archer god; Athene, the wise\nand clever goddess; Poseidon, who ruled the sea; Aphrodite, the\ngoddess of love; Hephaestus, the cunning workman; Ares, the god of\nwar; Hermes, the swift messenger; and others still, whom you will\nlearn to know as you read. All these were worshipped by men with\nprayer and sacrifice; and, as in the early legends of many races,\nthe gods often took the shape of men and women; they had their\nfavourites and those whom they hated; and they ruled the fate of\nmortals as they chose.\n\nIf you let yourselves be beguiled into this old, simple way of\nregarding earth and heaven, you will not only love these ancient\ntales yourself, but you will see why, for century after century,\nthey have been the longest loved and the best loved of all tales--\nbeloved by old and young, by men and women and children. For they\nare hero-tales,--tales of war and adventure, tales of bravery and\nnobility, tales of the heroes that mankind, almost since the\nbeginning of time, have looked to as ideals of wisdom and strength\nand beauty.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ODYSSEY\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE COUNSEL [Footnote: counsel, advice.] OF\nATHENE [Footnote: A-the'-ne.]\n\n\nWhen the great city of Troy had been taken, all the chiefs who had\nfought against it set sail for their homes. But there was wrath in\nheaven against them, so that they did not find a safe and happy\nreturn. For one was shipwrecked, and another was shamefully slain\nby his false wife in his palace, and others found all things at\nhome troubled and changed, and were driven to seek new dwellings\nelsewhere; and some were driven far and wide about the world\nbefore they saw their native land again. Of all, the wise Ulysses\n[Footnote: U-lys'-ses.] was he that wandered farthest and suffered\nmost, for when ten years had well-nigh passed, he was still far\naway from Ithaca [Footnote: Ith'-a-ca.], his kingdom.\n\nThe gods were gathered in council in the hall of Olympus [Footnote: O-\nlym'-pus.], all but Poseidon, [Footnote: Po-sei'-don.] the god of the\nsea, for he had gone to feast with the Ethiopians. Now Poseidon was he\nwho most hated Ulysses, and kept him from his home.\n\nThen spake Athene among the immortal gods: \"My heart is rent for\nUlysses. Sore affliction doth he suffer in an island of the sea,\nwhere the daughter of Atlas keepeth him, seeking to make him\nforget his native land. And he yearns to see even the smoke rising\nup from the land of his birth, and is fain [Footnote: is fain,\nwishes to] to die. And thou regardest it not at all. Did he not\noffer thee many sacrifices in the land of Troy? Wherefore hast\nthou such wrath against him?\" To her Zeus, the father of the gods,\nmade reply: \"What is this that thou sayest, my daughter? It is\nPoseidon that hath great wrath against Ulysses, because he blinded\nhis son Polyphemus [Footnote: Pol-y-phe'-mus.] the Cyclops.\n[Footnote: Cy'-clops.] But come, let us take counsel together that\nhe may return to his home, for Poseidon will not be able to contend\nagainst us all.\"\n\nThen said Athene: \"If this be thy will, then let us speed Hermes\n[Footnote: Her'-mes.] the messenger to the island of Calypso\n[Footnote: Ca-lyp'-so.], and let him declare to the goddess our\npurpose that Ulysses shall return to his home. And I will go to\nIthaca, and stir up the spirit of his son Telemachus [Footnote:\nTe-lem'-a-chus.], that first he speak out his mind to the suitors\nof his mother who waste his substance, [Footnote: substance,\nproperty.] and next that he go to Sparta and to Pylos [Footnote:\nPy'-los.], seeking tidings of his father. So shall the youth win\ngood report among men.\"\n\nSo she went to Ithaca, and there she took upon her the form of\nMentes [Footnote: Men'-tes.], who was chief of the Taphians.\n[Footnote: Ta'-phi-ans.]\n\nNow there were gathered in the house of Ulysses many princes from\nthe islands, suitors of the Queen Penelope [Footnote: Pe-nel'-o-\npe.], for they said that Ulysses was dead, and that she should\nchoose another husband. These were gathered together, and were\nsitting playing draughts [Footnote: draughts, checkers.] and\nfeasting. And Telemachus sat among them, vexed at heart, for they\nwasted his substance; neither was he master in his house. But when\nhe saw the guest at the door, he rose from his place, and welcomed\nhim, and made him sit down, and commanded that they should give\nhim food and wine. And when he had ended his meal, Telemachus\nasked him his business.\n\nThereupon the false Mentes said: \"My name is Mentes, and I am King\nof the Taphians, and I am sailing to Cyprus for copper, taking\niron in exchange. Now I have been long time the friend of this\nhouse, of thy father and thy father's father, and I came trusting\nto see thy father, for they told me that he was here. But now I\nsee that some god hath hindered his return, for that he is yet\nalive I know full well. But tell me, who are these that I see? Is\nthis the gathering of a clan, or a wedding feast?\"\n\nTelemachus made answer: \"O sir, while my father was yet alive, our\nhouse was rich and honoured; but now that he is gone, things are\nnot well with me. I would not grieve so much had he fallen in\nbattle before Troy; for then the Greeks would have builded a great\nburial mound for him, and he would thus have won great renown,\neven for his son. But now the storms of the sea have swept him\naway, and I am left in sore distress. For these whom thou seest\nare the princes of the islands that come here to woo my mother.\nShe neither refuseth nor accepteth; and meanwhile they sit here,\nand waste my substance.\"\n\nThen said the false Mentes: \"Now may the gods help thee! Thou art\nindeed in sore need of Ulysses. But now hearken to my counsel.\nFirst call an assembly of the people. Bid the suitors go back,\neach man to his home; and as for thy mother, if she be moved to\nwed, let her return to her father's house, that her kinsfolk may\nfurnish a wedding feast, and prepare gifts such as a well-beloved\ndaughter should have. Afterwards do thou fit up a ship with twenty\noars, and go, inquire concerning thy father; perhaps some man may\ngive thee tidings of him; or, may be, thou wilt hear a voice from\nZeus concerning him. Go to Pylos first, and afterwards to Sparta,\nwhere Menelaus [Footnote: Me-ne-la'-us.] dwelleth, who of all the\nGreeks came back the last to his home. If thou shouldest hear that\nhe is dead, then come back hither, and raise a mound for him, and\ngive thy mother to a husband. And when thou hast made an end of\nall these things, then plan how thou mayest slay the suitors by\nforce or craft, for it is time for thee to have the thoughts of a\nman.\"\n\nThen said Telemachus: \"Thou speakest these things out of a\nfriendly heart, as a father might speak to his son, nor will I\never forget them. But now, I pray thee, abide here for a space,\nthat I may give thee a goodly gift, such as friends give to\nfriends, to be an heirloom in thy house.\"\n\nBut the false Mentes said, \"Keep me no longer, for I am eager to\ndepart; give me thy gift when I shall return.\"\n\nSo the goddess departed; like to an eagle of the sea was she as\nshe flew. And Telemachus knew her to be a goddess as she went.\n\nMeanwhile Phemius [Footnote: Phe'-mi-us.] the minstrel sang to the\nsuitors, and his song was of the unhappy return of the Greeks from\nTroy.\n\nWhen Penelope heard the song, she came down from the upper chamber\nwhere she sat, and two handmaids bare her company. And when she\ncame to where the suitors sat, she stood by the gate of the hall,\nholding her shining veil before her face. Then spake she to the\nminstrel, weeping, and said: \"Phemius, thou knowest many songs\nconcerning the deeds of gods and men; sing, therefore, one of\nthese, and let the guests drink the wine in silence. But stay this\npitiful strain, for it breaketh my heart to hear it. Surely, of\nall women I am the most unhappy, so famous was the husband for\nwhom I mourn.\"\n\nBut Telemachus made reply: \"Why dost thou grudge the minstrel, my\nmother, to make us glad in such fashion as his spirit biddeth him?\nIt is no blame to him that he singeth of the unhappy return of the\nGreeks, for men most prize the song that soundeth newest in their\nears. Endure, therefore, to listen, for not Ulysses only missed\nhis return, but many a famous chief besides. Go, then, to thy\nchamber, and mind thy household affairs, and bid thy handmaids ply\ntheir tasks. Speech belongeth unto men, and chiefly to me that am\nthe master in this house.\"\n\nThen went she back to her chamber, for she was amazed at her son,\nwith such authority did he speak. Then she bewailed her lord, till\nAthene sent down sleep upon her eyes.\n\nWhen she was gone, Telemachus spake to the suitors, saying: \"Let\nus now feast and be merry, and let there be no brawling among us.\nIt is a good thing to listen to a minstrel that hath a voice as\nthe voice of a god. But in the morning let us go to the assembly,\nthat I may declare my purpose, to wit, that ye leave this hall,\nand eat your own substance. But if ye deem it a better thing that\nye should waste another man's goods, and make no recompense, then\nwork your will. But certainly Zeus shall repay you.\"\n\nSo he spake, and they all marvelled that he used such boldness.\nAnd Antinous [Footnote: An-ti'-no-us.] answered: \"Surely,\nTelemachus, it is by the bidding of the gods that thou speakest so\nboldly. Therefore I pray that Zeus may never make thee King in\nIthaca.\"\n\nThen said Telemachus: \"It is no ill thing to be a king, for his\nhouse groweth rich, and he himself is honoured. But there are\nothers in Ithaca, young and old, who may have the kingship, now\nthat Ulysses is dead. Yet know that I will be lord of my own house\nand of the slaves which Ulysses won for himself with his own\nspear.\"\n\nThereupon spake Eurymachus [Footnote: Eu-rym'-a-chus.], saying:\n\"It is with the gods to say who shall be King in Ithaca; but no\nman can deny that thou shouldest keep thine own goods and be lord\nin thine own house. Tell me, who is this stranger that came but\njust now to thy house? Did he bring tidings of thy father? Or came\nhe on some matter of his own? In strange fashion did he depart,\nnor did he tarry that we might know him.\"\n\nTelemachus made answer: \"Verily, Eurymachus, the day of my\nfather's return hath gone by forever. As for this stranger, he\nsaid that he was Mentes, King of the Taphians.\"\n\nSo spake Telemachus, but in his heart he knew that the stranger\nwas Athene. Then the suitors turned them to the dance and to the\nsong, making merry till the darkness fell. Then went they each to\nhis own house to sleep.\n\nBut Telemachus went to his chamber, pondering many things in his\nheart. And Eurycleia, [Footnote: Eu-ry-clei'-a] who had nursed him\nwhen he was little, went with him, bearing torches in her hands.\nHe opened the door of the chamber, and took off his doublet, and\nput it in the wise woman's hands. She folded it, and smoothed it,\nand hung it on a pin, and went forth from the room, and pulled to\nthe door, and made it fast. And all the night Telemachus thought\nin his heart of the journey which Athene had showed him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE ASSEMBLY\n\n\nWhen the morning came, Telemachus bade the heralds call the people\nto the assembly. So the heralds called them, and they came in\nhaste. And when they were gathered together, he went his way to\nthe place of meeting, holding in his hand a spear, and two dogs\nfollowed him. Then did Athene shed a marvellous grace upon him, so\nthat all men wondered at him, as he sat him down in his father's\nplace.\n\nFirst spake Aegyptus [Footnote: AE-gyp'-tus.], who was bowed with\nmany years, and was very wise. Four sons he had. One had gone with\nUlysses to Troy, and one was among the suitors of the Queen, and\ntwo abode with their father in the field. He said: \"Hearken to me,\nmen of Ithaca! Never hath an assembly been called in Ithaca since\nUlysses departed. Who now hath called us together? If it be\nTelemachus, what doth he want? Hath he heard any tidings of the\ncoming back of the host? He, methinks, is a true man. May Zeus be\nwith him and grant him his heart's desire!\"\n\nSo spake the old man, and Telemachus was glad at his speech. Then\nhe rose up and said:--\n\n\"I have great trouble in my heart, men of Ithaca, for first my\nfather, whom ye all loved, is dead; and next the princes of the\nislands come hither, making suit to my mother, but she waits ever\nfor the return of her husband. And they devour all our substance;\nnor is Ulysses here to defend it, and I, in truth, am not able.\nAnd this is a grievous wrong, and not to be borne.\"\n\nThen he dashed his sceptre on the ground, and sat down weeping.\nAnd Antinous, who was one of the suitors, rose up and said:--\n\n\"Nay, Telemachus, blame not us, but blame thy mother, who indeed\nis crafty above all women. For now this is the fourth year that we\nhave come suing for her hand, and she has cheated us with hopes.\nHear now this that she did. She set up a great web for weaving,\nand said to us: 'Listen, ye that are my suitors. Hasten not my\nmarriage till I finish this web to be a burial cloth for Laertes\n[Footnote: La-er'-tes.], the father of Ulysses, for indeed it\nwould be foul shame if he who has won great possessions should\nlack this honour.' So she spake, and for three years she cheated\nus, for what she wove in the day she unravelled at night. But when\nthe fourth year was come, one of her maidens told us of the\nmatter, and we came upon her by night and found her unravelling\nwhat she had woven in the day. Then did she finish it, much\nagainst her will. Send away, therefore, thy mother, and bid her\nmarry whom she will. But till this be done we will not depart.\"\n\nThen answered Telemachus: \"How can I send away against her will\nher who bare me and brought me up? I cannot do this thing.\"\n\nSo he spake; and there came two eagles, which flew abreast till\nthey came over the assembly. Then did they wheel in the air, and\nshook out from each many feathers, and tare each other, and so\ndeparted.\n\nThen cried Alitherses [Footnote: A-li-ther'-ses.], the prophet:\n\"Beware, ye suitors, for great trouble is coming to you, and to\nothers also. And as for Ulysses, I said when he went to Troy that\nhe should return after twenty years; and so it shall be.\"\n\nAnd when the suitors would not listen, Telemachus said: \"Give me a\nship and twenty rowers, that I may go to Pylos and to Sparta;\nperhaps I may hear news of my father. And if I hear that he is\ndead, then will I come back hither and raise up a mound for him\nand give my mother to a husband.\"\n\nHaving thus spoken, he sat down, and Mentor [Footnote: Men'-tor.],\nwhom Ulysses, when he departed, set over his household, rose up in\nthe midst, and spake, saying: \"Now henceforth never let any king\nbe kind and gentle in his heart or minded to work righteousness.\nLet him rather be a hard man and unrighteous. For now no man of\nall the people whose lord he was remembereth Ulysses. Yet he was\ngentle as a father. If the suitors are minded to do evil deeds, I\nhinder them not. They do them at the peril of their own heads. It\nis with the people that I am wroth, to see how they sit\nspeechless, and cry not shame upon the suitors; and yet they are\nmany in number, and the suitors are few.\"\n\nThen Leocritus [Footnote: Le-oc'-ri-tus.], who was one of the\nsuitors, answered: \"Surely thy wits wander, O Mentor, that thou\nbiddest the people put us down. Of a truth, if Ulysses himself\nshould come back, and should seek to drive the suitors from the\nhall, it would fare ill with him. An evil fate would he meet, if\nhe fought with them. As for the people, let them go to their own\nhouses. Let Mentor speed the young man's voyage, for he is a\nfriend of his house. Yet I doubt whether he will ever accomplish\nit.\"\n\nSo he spake, and the assembly was dismissed.\n\nBut Telemachus went apart to the shore of the sea, and he washed\nhis hands in the water of the sea, and prayed to Athene, saying:\n\"Hear me, thou who didst come yesterday to the house, and bid me\ntake a ship, and sail across the sea, seeking tidings of my\nfather! The people delay my purpose, and the suitors stir them up\nin the wickedness of their hearts.\"\n\nAnd while he prayed, Athene stood by him, like to Mentor in shape\nand speech. She spake, saying: \"Thou art not without spirit, and\nart like to be a true son of Ulysses and Penelope. Therefore, I\nhave good hopes that this journey of which thou speakest will not\nbe in vain. But as for the suitors, think not of them, for they\ntalk folly, and know not of the doom that is even now close upon\nthem. Go, therefore, and talk with the suitors as before, and get\nready food for a journey, wine and meal. And I will gather men who\nwill offer themselves freely for the journey, and I will find a\nship also, the best in Ithaca.\"\n\nThen Telemachus returned to the house, and the suitors were\nflaying goats and singeing swine in the court. And Antinous caught\nhim by the hand and said, \"Eat and drink, Telemachus, and we will\nfind a ship and rowers for thee, that thou mayest go where thou\nwilt, to inquire for thy father.\"\n\nBut Telemachus answered: \"Think ye that I will eat and drink with\nyou, who so shamefully waste my substance? Be sure of this, that I\nwill seek vengeance against you, and if ye deny me a ship, I will\neven go in another man's.\"\n\nSo he spake, and dragged his hand from the hand of Antinous.\n\nAnd another of the suitors said, \"Now will Telemachus go and seek\nhelp against us from Pylos or from Sparta, or may be he will put\npoison in our cups, and so destroy us.\"\n\nAnd another said: \"Perchance he also will perish, as his father\nhas perished. Then we should divide all his substance, but the\nhouse we should give to his mother and to her husband.\"\n\nSo they spake, mocking him. But he went to the chamber of his\nfather, in which were ranged many casks of old wine, and gold and\nbronze, and clothing and olive oil; and of these things the\nprudent Eurycleia, who was the keeper of the house, had care. To\nher he spake: \"Mother, make ready for me twelve jars of wine, not\nof the best, but of that which is next to it, and twenty measures\nof barley-meal. At even will I take them, when my mother sleeps,\nfor I go to Pylos and Sparta; perchance I may hear news of my\nfather.\"\n\nBut the old woman said, weeping: \"What meanest thou, being an only\nson, thus to travel abroad? Wilt thou perish, as thy father has\nperished? For this evil brood of suitors will plot to slay thee\nand divide thy goods. Thou hadst better sit peaceably at home.\"\n\nThen Telemachus said: \"'Tis at the bidding of the gods I go. Only\nswear that thou wilt say naught to my mother till eleven or twelve\ndays be past, unless, perchance, she should ask concerning me.\"\n\nAnd the old woman sware that it should be so. And Telemachus went\nagain among the suitors. But Athene, meanwhile, taking his shape,\nhad gathered together a crew, and also had borrowed a ship for the\nvoyage. And, lest the suitors should hinder the thing, she caused\na deep sleep to fall upon them, so that they slept where they sat.\nThen she came in the shape of Mentor to the palace, and called\nTelemachus forth, saying:\n\n\"The rowers are ready; let us go.\"\n\nThen Athene led the way, and they found the ship's crew upon the\nshore. To them spake Telemachus, saying, \"Come now, my friends,\nlet us carry the food on board, for it is all in the chamber, and\nno one knoweth of the matter; neither my mother, nor any of the\nmaidens, but one woman only.\"\n\nSo they went to the house with him, and carried all the provision,\nand stowed it in the ship. Then Telemachus climbed the ship and\nsat down on the stern, and Athene sat by him.\n\nAnd when he called to the crew, they made ready to depart. They\nraised the pine tree mast, and set it in the hole that was made\nfor it, and they made it fast with stays. Then they hauled up the\nwhite sails with ropes of ox-hide. And the wind filled out the\nsail, and the water seethed about the stem of the ship, as she\nhasted through the water. And when all was made fast in the ship,\nthen they mixed wine in the bowl, and poured out drink offerings\nto the gods, especially to Zeus.\n\nSo all the night, and till the dawn, the ship sped through the\nsea.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nNESTOR\n\n\nAt sunrise the ship came to Pylos, where Nestor dwelt. Now it so\nchanced that the people were offering a great sacrifice upon the\nshore to Poseidon. Nine companies there were, and in each company\nfive hundred men, and for the five hundred there were nine bulls.\nAnd they had tasted of the inner parts and were burning the slices\nof flesh on the thigh-bones to the god, when Telemachus's company\nmoored the ship and came forth from it to the shore. Athene spake\nto Telemachus, saying: \"Now thou hast no need to be ashamed. Thou\nhast sailed across the sea to hear tidings of thy father. Go,\ntherefore, to Nestor, and learn what counsel he hath in the deep\nof his heart.\"\n\nBut Telemachus answered, \"How shall I speak to him, being so\nuntried and young?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the goddess; \"but thou shalt think of something\nthyself, and something the gods will put into thy mouth.\"\n\nSo saying she led the way, and they came to where Nestor sat, with\nhis sons, and a great company round him, making ready the feast.\nWhen these saw the strangers, they clasped their hands, and made\nthem sit down on soft fleeces of wool. And Nestor's son\nPeisistratus [Footnote: Pei-sis'-tra-tus] brought to them food,\nand wine in a cup of gold. To Athene first he gave the wine, for\nhe judged her to be the elder of the two, saying, \"Pray now to the\nLord Poseidon, and make thy drink offering, and when thou hast so\ndone, give the cup to thy friend that he may do likewise.\"\n\nThen Athene took the cup and prayed to Poseidon, saying: \"Grant\nrenown to Nestor and his son, and reward the men of Pylos for this\ngreat sacrifice. And grant that we may accomplish that for which\nwe have come hither.\"\n\nAnd the son of Ulysses prayed in like manner.\n\nWhen they had eaten and drunk their fill, Nestor said: \"Strangers,\nwho are ye? Sail ye over the seas for trade, or as pirates that\nwander at hazard of their lives?\"\n\nTo him Telemachus made reply, Athene putting courage into his\nheart: \"We come from Ithaca, and our errand concerns ourselves. I\nseek for tidings of my father, who in old time fought by thy side,\nand sacked the city of Troy. Of all the others who did battle with\nthe men of Troy, we have heard, whether they have returned, or\nwhere they died; but even the death of this man remains untold.\nTherefore am I come hither to thee; perchance thou mayest be\nwilling to tell me of him, whether thou sawest his death with\nthine own eyes, or hast heard it from another. Speak me no soft\nwords for pity's sake, but tell me plainly what thou hast seen.\"\n\nNestor made answer: \"Thou bringest to my mind all that we endured,\nwarring round Priam's mighty town. There the best of us were\nslain. Valiant Ajax [Footnote: A'-jax.] lies there, and there\nAchilles [Footnote: A-chil'-les], and there Patroclus [Footnote:\nPa-tro'-clus], and there my own dear son. Who could tell the tale\nof all that we endured? Truly, no one, not though thou shouldst\nabide here five years or six to listen. For nine whole years we\nwere busy, devising the ruin of the enemy, which yet Zeus brought\nnot to pass. And always Ulysses passed the rest in craft, thy\nfather Ulysses, if indeed thou art his son, and verily thy speech\nis like to his; one would not think that a younger man could be so\nlike to an elder. But listen to my tale. When we had sacked the\ntown, I returned across the sea without delay, leaving behind the\nothers, so that I know not of my own knowledge which of the Greeks\nwas saved and which was lost. But wander not thou, my son, far\nfrom home, while strangers devour thy substance. Go to Menelaus,\nfor he hath but lately come back from a far country; go and ask\nhim to tell thee all that he knoweth. If thou wilt, go with thy\nships, or, if it please thee better, I will send thee with a\nchariot and horses, and my sons shall be thy guides.\"\n\nThen said Athene: \"Let us cut up the tongues of the beasts, and\nmix the wine, and pour offerings to Poseidon and the other gods,\nand so bethink us of sleep, for it is the time.\"\n\nSo she spake, and they hearkened to her words. And when they had\nfinished, Athene and Telemachus would have gone back to their\nship. But Nestor stayed them, saying: \"Now Zeus and all the gods\nforbid that ye should depart to your ships from my house, as\nthough it were the dwelling of a needy man that hath not rugs and\nblankets in his house, whereon his guests may sleep! Not so; I\nhave rugs and blankets enough. Never shall the son of my friend\nUlysses lay him down on his ship's deck, while I am alive, or my\nchildren after me, to entertain strangers in my hall.\"\n\nThereupon said the false Mentor: \"This is good, dear father. Let\nTelemachus abide with thee; but I will go back to the ship, and\ncheer the company, and tell them all. There I will sleep this\nnight, and to-morrow I go to the Cauconians [Footnote: Cau-co'-ni-\nans.], where there is owing to me a debt neither small nor of\nyesterday. But do thou send this man on his way in thy chariot.\"\n\nThen the goddess departed in the semblance of a sea-eagle, and all\nthat saw it were amazed.\n\nThen the old man took Telemachus by the hand, and said: \"No coward\nor weakling art thou like to be, whom the gods attend even now in\nthy youth. This is none other than Athene, daughter of Zeus, the\nsame that stood by thy father in the land of Troy.\"\n\nAfter this the old man led the company to his house. Here he mixed\nfor them a bowl of wine eleven years old; and they prayed to\nAthene, and then lay down to sleep. Telemachus slept on a bedstead\nbeneath the gallery, and Peisistratus slept by him.\n\nThe next day, as soon as it was morning, Nestor and his sons\narose. And the old man said: \"Let one man go to the plain for a\nheifer, and let another go to the ship of Telemachus, and bid all\nthe company come hither, leaving two only behind. And a third\nshall command the goldsmith to gild the horns of the heifer, and\nlet the handmaids prepare all things for a feast.\"\n\nThey did as the old man commanded; and after they had offered\nsacrifice, and had eaten and drunk, old Nester said, \"Put now the\nhorses in the chariot, that Telemachus may go his way.\"\n\nSo they yoked the horses, and the dame that kept the stores put\ninto the chariot food and wine and dainties, such as princes eat.\nAnd Peisistratus took the reins, and Telemachus rode with him. And\nall that day they journeyed; and when the land grew dark they came\nto the city of Pherae [Footnote: Phe'-rae.], and there they rested;\nand the next day, travelling again, came to Lacedaemon [Footnote:\nLa-ce-dae'-mon.], to the palace of King Menelaus.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nIN SPARTA\n\n\nNow it chanced that Menelaus had made a great feast that day, for\nhis daughter, the child of the fair Helen, was married to the son\nof Achilles, to whom she had been promised at Troy; and his son\nhad also taken a wife. And the two wayfarers stayed their chariot\nat the door, and the steward spied them, and said to Menelaus:--\n\n\"Lo! here are two strangers who are like the children of kings.\nShall we keep them here, or send them to another?\"\n\nBut Menelaus was wroth, and said: \"Shall we, who have eaten so\noften of the bread of hospitality, send these strangers to\nanother? Nay, unyoke their horses and bid them sit down to meat.\"\nSo the squires loosed the horses from the yoke, and fastened them\nin the stall, and gave them grain to eat and led the men into the\nhall. Much did they marvel at the sight, for there was a gleam as\nof the sun or moon in the palace of Menelaus. And when they had\ngazed their fill, they bathed them in the polished baths. After\nthat they sat them down by the side of Menelaus. Then a handmaid\nbare water in a pitcher of gold, and poured it over a basin of\nsilver that they might wash their hands. Afterwards she drew a\npolished table to their side, and a dame brought food, and set it\nby them, laying many dainties on the board, and a carver placed by\nthem platters of flesh, and set near them golden bowls.\n\nThen said Menelaus: \"Eat and be glad; afterwards I will ask you\nwho ye are, for ye seem like to the sons of kings.\"\n\nAnd when they had ended the meal, Telemachus, looking round at the\nhall, said to his companion:--\n\n\"See the gold and the amber, and the silver and the ivory. This is\nlike the hall of Zeus.\"\n\nThis he spake with his face close to his comrade's ear, but\nMenelaus heard him and said:--\n\n\"With the halls of the gods nothing mortal may compare. And among\nmen also there may be the match of these things. Yet I have\nwandered far, and got many possessions in many lands. But woe is\nme! Would that I had but the third part of this wealth of mine,\nand that they who perished at Troy were alive again! And most of\nall I mourn for the great Ulysses, for whether he be alive or dead\nno man knows.\"\n\nBut Telemachus wept to hear mention of his father, holding up his\npurple cloak before his eyes. This Menelaus saw, and knew who he\nwas, and pondered whether he should wait till he should himself\nspeak of his father, or should rather ask him of his errand. But\nwhile he pondered there came in the fair Helen, and three maidens\nwith her, of whom one set a couch for her to sit, and one spread a\ncarpet for her feet, and one bare a basket of purple wool; but she\nherself had a distaff of gold in her hand. And when she saw the\nstrangers she said:--\n\n\"Who are these, Menelaus? Never have I seen such likeness in man\nor woman as this one bears to Ulysses. Surely 'tis his son\nTelemachus, whom he left an infant at home when ye went to Troy\nfor my sake!\"\n\nThen said Menelaus: \"It must indeed be so, lady. For these are the\nhands and feet of Ulysses, and the look of his eyes and his hair.\nAnd but now, when I made mention of his name, he wept, holding his\nmantle before his face.\"\n\nThen said Peisistratus: \"King Menelaus, thou speakest truth. This\nis indeed the son of Ulysses who is come to thee; perchance thou\ncanst help him by word or deed.\"\n\nAnd Menelaus answered: \"Then is he the son of a man whom I loved\nright well. I thought to give him a city in this land, bringing\nhim from Ithaca with all his goods. Then should naught have\ndivided us but death itself. But these things the gods have\nordered otherwise.\"\n\nAt these words they all wept--the fair Helen and Telemachus and\nMenelaus; nor could Peisistratus refrain himself, for he thought\nof his dear brother who was slain at Troy.\n\nThen said Menelaus: \"Now we will cease from weeping; and to-morrow\nthere is much that Telemachus and I must say one to the other.\"\n\nThen the fair Helen put a mighty medicine in the wine whereof they\ndrank--nepenthe [Footnote: ne-pen'-the], men call it. So mighty is\nit that whoever drinks of it, weeps not that day, though father\nand mother die, and though men slay brother or son before his\neyes.\n\nAnd after this she said: \"It would take long to tell all the wise\nand valiant deeds of Ulysses. One thing, however, ye shall hear,\nand it is this: while the Greeks were before Troy he came into the\ncity, having disguised himself as a beggar-man, yea, and he had\nlaid many blows upon himself, so that he seemed to have been\nshamefully treated. I alone knew who he was, and questioned him,\nbut he answered craftily. And I swore that I would not betray him.\nSo he slew many Trojans with the sword, and learnt many things.\nAnd while other women in Troy lamented, I was glad, for my heart\nwas turned again to my home.\"\n\nThen Menelaus said: \"Thou speakest truly, lady. Many men have I\nseen, and travelled over many lands, but never have I seen one who\nmight be matched with Ulysses. Well do I remember how, when I and\nother chiefs of the Greeks sat in the horse of wood, thou didst\ncome. Some god who loved the sons of Troy put the thing into thy\nheart. Thrice didst thou walk round our hiding-place and call by\nname to each one of the chiefs, speaking marvellously like his\nwife. Then would we have risen from our place or answered thee\nstraightway. But Ulysses hindered us, and thus saved all the\nGreeks.\"\n\nBut Telemachus said: \"Yet all these things have not kept him, for\nhe has perished.\"\n\nAnd after that they slept.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nMENELAUS'S TALE\n\n\nThe next day Menelaus said to Telemachus: \"For what end hast thou\ncome hither to fair Lacedaemon?\"\n\nThen Telemachus said: \"I have come to ask if thou canst tell me\naught of my father. For certain suitors of my mother devour my\ngoods, nor do I see any help. Tell me truly, therefore; knowest\nthou anything thyself about my father, or hast thou heard anything\nfrom another?\"\n\nAnd Menelaus answered:--\n\n\"In the river AEgyptus I was stayed long time, though I was eager\nto get home; the gods stayed me, for I had not offered to them due\nsacrifice. Now there is an island in the wash of the waves over\nagainst the land of Egypt--men call it Pharos [Footnote: Pha'-\nros.], and it is distant one day's voyage for a ship, if the wind\nbloweth fair in her wake. Here did the gods keep me twenty days,\nnor did the sea winds ever blow. Then all my corn would have been\nspent, and the lives also of my men lost, if the daughter of\nProteus [Footnote: Pro'-teus.]had not taken pity on me. Her heart\nwas moved to see me when I wandered alone, apart from my company,\nfor they all roamed about the island, fishing with hooks because\nhunger gnawed them. So she stood by me and spake, saying: 'Art\nthou foolish, stranger, and feeble of mind, or dost thou sit still\nfor thine own pleasure, because it is sweet to thee to suffer?\nVerily, thou stayest long in this place, and canst find no escape,\nwhile the heart of thy people faileth within them.' Then I\nanswered: 'I will tell thee the truth, whosoever thou art. It is\nnot my own will that holdeth me here; I must have sinned against\nthe gods. Tell me now which of the gods have I offended, and how\nshall I contrive to return to my own home?' So I spake, and\nstraightway the goddess made answer: 'I will tell thee all. To\nthis place comes Proteus, my father, who knoweth the depths of all\nthe sea. If thou canst lay an ambush for him and catch him, he\nwill declare to thee thy way, and tell thee how thou mayest return\nacross the deep.' So she spake, and I made reply, 'Plan for me\nthis ambush, lest by any chance he see me first and avoid me, for\nit is hard for a man to overcome a god.' Then said the goddess:\n'When the sun in his course hath reached the midheaven, then\ncometh the old man from the sea; before the breath of the west\nwind he cometh, and the ripple covereth him. And when he is come\nout of the sea, he lieth down in the caves to sleep, and all about\nhim lie the seals, the brood of ocean, and bitter is the smell of\nthe salt water that they breathe. Thither will I lead thee at\nbreak of day, thee and three of thy companions. Choose them from\nthy ships, the bravest that thou hast. And now I will tell thee\nthe old man's ways. First, he will count the seals, and then will\nlie down in the midst, as a shepherd in the midst of his flock.\nNow, so soon as ye shall see him thus laid down, then remember\nyour courage, and hold him there. And he will take all manner of\nshapes of creatures that creep upon the earth, and of water\nlikewise, and of burning fire. But do ye grasp him fast, and press\nhim hard, and when he shall return to his proper shape, then let\nhim go free, and ask him which of the gods is angry with thee, and\nhow thou mayest return across the deep.' Thereupon she dived\nbeneath the sea, and I betook me to the ships; but I was sorely\ntroubled in heart. The next morning I took three of my comrades,\nin whom I trusted most, and lo! she had brought from the sea the\nskins of four sea-calves, which she had newly flayed, for she was\nminded to lay a snare for her father. She scooped hiding-places\nfor us in the sand, and made us lie down therein, and cast the\nskin of a sea-calf over each of us. It would have been a grievous\nambush, for the stench of the skins had distressed us sore,--who,\nindeed, would lay him down by a beast of the sea?--but she wrought\na deliverance for us. She took ambrosia [Footnote: ambrosia, the\nfood of the gods.], very sweet, and put it under each man's\nnostrils, that it might do away with the stench of the beast.\n\n\"So all the morning we waited with steadfast hearts. And the seals\ncame forth from the brine, and ranged them in order upon the\nshore. And at noon the old man came forth out of the sea, and went\nalong the line of the sea-beasts, and counted them. Us, too, he\ncounted among them, and perceived not our device; and after that\nhe laid him down to sleep. Then we rushed upon him with a cry, and\nheld him fast; nor did he forget his cunning, for he became a\nbearded lion, and a snake, and a leopard, and a great wild boar.\nAlso he took the shape of running water, and of a flowering tree.\nAnd all the while we held him fast. When at last he was weary, he\nsaid, 'Which of the gods, son of Atreus [Footnote: A'-treus.],\nbade thee thus waylay me?' But I answered him: 'Wherefore dost\nthou beguile me, old man, with crooked words? I am held fast in\nthis isle, and can find no escape therefrom. Tell me now which of\nthe gods hindereth me, and how I may return across the sea?' The\nold man made reply: 'Thou shouldst have done sacrifice to Zeus and\nthe other gods before embarking, if thou wouldst have reached thy\nnative country with speed. But now thou must go again to the river\nAEgyptus, and make offerings to the gods; then they will grant\nthat which thou desirest.' Then was my spirit broken within me,\nwhen I heard that I must cross again this weary way, but I said:\n'Old man, I will do all thy bidding. But tell me now, I pray thee,\ndid the other Greeks, whom Nestor and I left behind us in Troy,\nreturn safe to their homes, or perished any by an evil death on\nboard of his ship or among his friends?' To this the old man made\nreply: 'Thou doest ill to ask such things, for thou wilt weep to\nhear them. Thy brother indeed escaped from the fates of the sea;\nbut the storm-wind carried him to the land where Aegisthus dwelt.\nAnd when Agamemnon [Footnote: Ag-a-mem'-non.]set foot upon his\nnative land, he kissed it, weeping hot tears, so glad was he to\nsee it again. And Aegisthus set an ambush for him, and slew him\nand all his companions.' Then I wept sore, caring not to live any\nmore. But the old man said: 'Weep not, son of Atreus, for there is\nno help in tears. Rather make haste to return, that thou mayest\ntake vengeance on AEgisthus.'[Footnote: AE-gis'-thus.] So he\nspake, and my heart was comforted within me, and I said: 'There is\nyet another of whom I would fain hear. Is he yet alive, wandering\non the deep, or is he dead? Speak, though it grieve me to hear.'\nStraightway the old man answered: 'It is the son of Laertes of\nwhom thou speakest. Him I saw in an island, even in the dwelling\nof Calypso; and he was shedding great tears, because the nymph\nkeeps him there by force, so that he may not come to his own\ncountry, for he hath neither ship nor comrades.' So spake Proteus,\nand plunged into the sea. The next day we went back to the river\nAEgyptus, the stream that is fed from heaven, and offered\nsacrifice to the gods. And I made a great burial mound for\nAgamemnon, my brother, that his name might not be forgotten among\nmen. And when these things had been duly performed, I set sail,\nand came back to my own country, for the gods gave me a fair wind.\nBut do thou tarry now in my halls. And when thou art minded to go,\nI will give thee a chariot and three horses with it, and a goodly\ncup also, from which thou mayest pour offerings to the gods.\"\n\nTo him Telemachus made reply: \"Keep me not long, son of Atreus,\nfor my company wait for me in Pylos, though indeed I would be\ncontent to stay with thee for a whole year, nor would any longing\nfor my home come over me. And let any gift thou givest me be a\nthing for me to treasure. But I will take no horses to Ithaca.\nRather let them stay here and grace thy home, for thou art lord of\na wide plain where there is wheat and rye and barley. But in\nIthaca there is no meadow land. It is a pasture land of goats, yet\nverily it is more pleasant to my eyes than as if it were a fit\nfeeding-place for horses.\"\n\nThen said Menelaus: \"Thou speakest well, as becometh the son of\nthy father. Come, now, I will change the gifts. Of all the\ntreasures in my house, I will give thee the goodliest, especially\na bowl which the King of the Sidonians gave me. Of silver it is,\nand the lips are finished with gold.\"\n\nNow it had been made known meanwhile to the suitors in Ithaca that\nTelemachus was gone upon this journey seeking his father, and the\nthing displeased them much. And after they had held counsel about\nthe matter, it seemed best that they should lay an ambush against\nhim, and should slay him as he came back to his home. So Antinous\ntook twenty men and departed, purposing to lie in wait in the\nstrait between Ithaca and Samos.[Footnote: Sa'-mos.]\n\nNor was this plan unknown to Penelope, for the herald Medon\n[Footnote: Me'-don.]had heard it, and he told her how Telemachus\nhad gone seeking news of his father, and how the suitors purposed\nto slay him as he returned. And she called her women, old and\nyoung, and rebuked them, saying: \"Wicked ye were, for ye knew that\nhe was about to go, and did not rouse me from my bed. Surely I\nwould have kept him, eager though he was, from his journey!\"\n\nThen said Eurycleia: \"Slay me, if thou wilt, but I will hide\nnothing from thee. I knew his purpose, and I furnished him with\nsuch things as he needed. But he made me swear that I would not\ntell thee till the eleventh or the twelfth day was come. But go\nwith thy maidens and make thy prayer to Athene that she will save\nhim, from death; for this house is not altogether hated by the\ngods.\"\n\nThen Penelope, having duly prepared herself, went with her maidens\nto the upper chamber, and prayed aloud to Athene that she would\nsave her son. And the suitors heard her praying, and said, \"Surely\nthe Queen prays, thinking of her marriage, nor knows that death is\nnear to her son.\"\n\nThen she lay down to sleep, and while she slept Athene sent her a\ndream in the likeness of her sister. And the vision stood over her\nhead and spake: \"Sleepest thou, Penelope? The gods would not have\nthee grieve, for thy son shall surely return.\"\n\nAnd Penelope said: \"How camest thou here, my sister? For thy\ndwelling is far away. And how can I cease to weep when my husband\nis lost? And now my son is gone, and I am sore afraid for him,\nlest his enemies slay him.\"\n\nBut the vision answered: \"Fear not at all; for there is a mighty\nhelper with him, even Athene, who hath bid me tell thee these\nthings.\"\n\nThen Penelope said: \"If thou art a goddess, tell me this. Is my\nhusband yet alive?\"\n\nBut the vision answered, \"That I cannot say, whether he be alive\nor dead.\" And so saying, it vanished into air.\n\nAnd Penelope woke from her sleep, and her heart was comforted.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nULYSSES ON HIS RAFT\n\n\nAgain the gods sate in council on high Olympus, and Athene spake\namong them, saying:\n\n\"Now let no king be minded to do righteously, for see how there is\nno man that remembereth Ulysses, who was as a father to his\npeople. And he lieth far off, fast bound in Calypso's isle, and\nhath no ship to take him to his own country. Also the suitors are\nset upon slaying his son, who is gone to Pylos and to Lacedaemon,\nthat he may get tidings of his father.\"\n\nTo her Zeus made answer: \"What is this that thou sayest? Didst not\nthou thyself plan this in order that the vengeance of Ulysses\nmight be wrought upon the suitors? As for Telemachus, guide him by\nthy skill, as well thou mayest, so that he may come to his own\nland unharmed, and the suitors may have their labour in vain.\"\n\nAlso he said to Hermes: \"Hermes, go to the nymph Calypso, and tell\nher my sure purpose that Ulysses shall now come back to his home.\"\n\nSo Hermes put on his golden sandals, and took his wand in his\nhand, and came to the island of Ogygia [Footnote: O-gyg'-i-a.],\nand to the cave where Calypso dwelt. A fair place it was. In the\ncave was burning a fire of sweet-smelling wood, and Calypso sat at\nher loom, and sang with a lovely voice. And round about the cave\nwas a grove of alders and poplars and cypresses, wherein many\nbirds, falcons and owls and sea crows, were wont to roost; and all\nabout the mouth of the cave was a vine with purple clusters of\ngrapes; and there were four fountains which streamed four ways\nthrough meadows of parsley and violet. Very fair was the place, so\nthat even a god might marvel at it, and Hermes stood and\nmarvelled. Then went he into the cave, and Calypso knew him when\nshe saw him face to face, for the gods know each other, even\nthough their dwellings be far apart. But Ulysses was not there,\nfor he sat, as was his wont, on the seashore, weeping and\ngroaning, because he might not see wife and home and country.\n\nThen Calypso said to Hermes: \"Wherefore hast thou come hither,\nHermes of the golden wand? Welcome thou art, but it is long since\nthou hast visited me. Tell me all thy thought, that I may fulfil\nit if I may, but first follow me, that I may set food before\nthee.\"\n\nSo she spread a table with ambrosia, and set it by him, and mixed\nthe ruddy nectar [Footnote: nectar, the drink of the gods.]for\nhim, and the messenger ate and drank. So, when he had comforted\nhis soul with food, he spake, saying:--\n\n\"Thou questionest of my coming, and I will tell thee the truth. It\nis by no wish of mine own that I come, for who would of his free\nwill pass over a sea so wide, wherein is no city of men that do\nsacrifice to the gods? Zeus bade me come, and none may go against\nthe commands of Zeus. He saith that thou hast with thee a man more\nwretched than all his companions who fought against Troy for nine\nyears and in the tenth year departed homeward. All the rest of his\ncompany were lost, but him the waves carried thither. Now,\ntherefore, send him home with what speed thou mayest; for it is\nnot fated that he should die away from his friends. He shall see\nagain the high roof of his home and his native country.\"\n\nIt vexed Calypso much to hear this, for she would fain have kept\nUlysses with her always, and she said:--\n\n\"Ye gods are always jealous when a goddess loves a mortal man. And\nas for Ulysses, did not I save him when Zeus had smitten his ship\nwith a thunderbolt, and all his comrades had perished? And now let\nhim go--if it pleases Zeus. Only I cannot send him, for I have\nneither ship nor rowers. Yet will I willingly teach him how he may\nsafely return.\"\n\nAnd Hermes said, \"Do this thing speedily, lest Zeus be wroth with\nthee.\"\n\nSo he departed. And Calypso went seeking Ulysses, and found him on\nthe shore of the sea, looking out over the waters, and weeping,\nfor he was weary of his life, so much did he desire to see Ithaca\nagain. She stood by him and said:--\n\n\"Weary not for thy native country, nor waste thyself with tears.\nIf thou wilt go, I will speed thee on thy way. Take, therefore,\nthine axe and cut thee beams, and join them together, and make a\ndeck upon them, and I will give thee bread and water and wine, and\nclothe thee also, so that thou mayest return safe to thy native\ncountry, for the gods will have it so.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Ulysses, \"what is this that thou sayest? Shall I pass\nin a raft over the dreadful sea, over which even ships go not\nwithout harm? I will not go against thy will; but thou must swear\nthe great oath of the gods that thou plannest no evil against me.\"\n\nThen Calypso smiled and said: \"These are strange words. I swear\nthat I plan no harm against thee, but only such good as I would\nask myself, did I need it; for indeed my heart is not of iron, but\nrather full of compassion.\"\n\nThen they two went to the cave and sat down to meat, and she set\nbefore him food such as mortal men eat, but she herself ate\nambrosia and drank nectar. And afterwards she said:--\n\n\"Why art thou so eager for thy home? Surely if thou knewest all\nthe trouble that awaits thee, thou wouldst not go, but wouldst\nrather dwell with me. And though thou desirest all the day long to\nsee thy wife, surely I am not less fair than she.\"\n\n\"Be not angry,\" Ulysses made reply. \"The wise Penelope cannot,\nindeed, be compared to thee, for she is a mortal woman and thou\nart a goddess. Yet is my home dear to me, and I would fain see it\nagain. Yea, and if some god should wreck me on the deep, yet would\nI endure it with patient heart. Already have I suffered much, and\ntoiled much in perils of war and perils of the sea. And as to what\nis yet to come, let it be added to what hath been.\"\n\nThe next day Calypso gave him an axe with a handle of olive wood,\nand an adze, and took him to the end of the island, where there\nwere great trees, long ago sapless and dry, alder and poplar and\npine. Of these he felled twenty, and lopped them and worked them\nby the line. Then the goddess brought him an auger, and he made\nholes in the logs and joined them with pegs. And he made decks and\nside planking also; also a mast and a yard, and a rudder wherewith\nto turn the raft. And he fenced it about with a bulwark of willow\ntwigs against the waves. The sails Calypso wove, and Ulysses\nfitted them with braces and halyards and sheets. Last of all he\npushed the raft down to the sea with levers.\n\nOn the fourth day all was finished, and on the fifth day he\ndeparted. And Calypso gave him goodly garments, and a skin of\nwine, and a skin of water, and rich food in a bag of leather. She\nsent also a fair wind blowing behind, and Ulysses set his sails\nand proceeded joyfully on his way; nor did he sleep, but watched\nthe stars, the Pleiades [Footnote: Plei'-a-des.] and Bootes\n[Footnote: Bo-o'-tes.], and the Bear, which turneth ever in one\nplace, watching Orion.[Footnote: O-ri'-on.] For Calypso had said\nto him, \"Keep the Bear ever on thy left as thou passest over the\nsea.\"\n\nSeventeen days he sailed; and on the eighteenth day appeared the\nshadowy hills of the island of the Phaeacians. [Footnote: Phae-a'-\nci-ans.] But now Poseidon, coming back from feasting with the\nEthiopians, spied him as he sailed, and it angered him to the\nheart. He shook his head, and spake to himself, saying: \"Verily,\nthe gods must have changed their purpose concerning Ulysses while\nI was absent among the Ethiopians; and now he is nigh to the\nisland of the Phaeacians, and if he reach it, he will escape from\nhis woes. Yet even now I will send him far enough on a way of\ntrouble.\"\n\nThereupon he gathered the clouds, and troubled the waters of the\ndeep, holding his trident in his hand. And he raised a storm of\nall the winds that blow, and covered the land and the sea with\nclouds.\n\nSore troubled was Ulysses, and said to himself: \"It was truth that\nCalypso spake when she said that I should suffer many troubles\nreturning to my home. Would that I had died that day when many a\nspear was cast by the men of Troy over the dead Achilles. Then\nwould the Greeks have buried me; but now shall I perish\nmiserably.\"\n\nAnd as he spake a great wave struck the raft and tossed him far\naway, so that he dropped the rudder from his hand. Nor for a long\ntime could he rise, so deep was he sunk, and so heavy was the\ngoodly clothing which Calypso had given him. Yet at the last he\nrose, and spat the salt water out of his mouth, and sprang at the\nraft, and caught it, and sat thereon, and was borne hither and\nthither by the waves. But Ino [Footnote: I'-no.] saw him and\npitied him--a woman she had been, and was now a goddess of the\nsea,--and rose from the deep like to a sea-gull upon the wing, and\nsat upon the raft, and spake, saying:--\n\n\"Luckless mortal, why doth Poseidon hate thee so? He shall not\nslay thee, though he fain would do it. Put off these garments, and\nswim to the land of Phaeacia, putting this veil under thy breast.\nAnd when thou art come to the land, loose it from thee, and cast\nit into the sea.\"\n\nThen the goddess gave him the veil, and dived again into the deep\nas a sea-gull diveth, and the waves closed over her. Then Ulysses\npondered the matter, saying to himself: \"Woe is me! can it be that\nanother of the gods is contriving a snare for me, bidding me leave\nmy raft? Verily, I will not yet obey her counsel, for the land,\nwhen I saw it, seemed a long way off. I am resolved what to do; so\nlong as the raft will hold together, so long will I abide on it;\nbut when the waves shall break it asunder, then will I swim, for\nnothing better may be done.\"\n\nBut while he thought thus within himself, Poseidon sent another\ngreat wave against the raft. As a stormy wind scattereth a heap of\nhusks, so did the wave scatter the timbers of the raft. But\nUlysses sat astride on a beam, as a man sitteth astride of a\nhorse; and he stripped off from him the goodly garments which\nCalypso had given him, and put the veil under his breast, and so\nleapt into the sea, stretching out his hands to swim.\n\nAnd Poseidon, when he saw him, shook his head, and said: \"Even so\ngo wandering over the deep, till thou come to the land. Thou wilt\nnot say that thou hast not had trouble enough.\"\n\nBut Athene, binding up the other winds, roused the swift north\nwind, that so Ulysses might escape from death.\n\nSo for two days and two nights he swam. But on the third day there\nwas a calm, and he saw the land from the top of a great wave, for\nthe waves were yet high, close at hand. But when he came near he\nheard the waves breaking along the shore, for there was no harbour\nthere, but only cliffs and rugged rocks.\n\nThen at last the knees of Ulysses were loosened with fear, and his\nheart was melted within him, and in heaviness of spirit he spake\nto himself: \"Woe is me! for now, when beyond all hope Zeus hath\ngiven me the sight of land, there is no place where I may win to\nshore from out of the sea. For the crags are sharp, and the waves\nroar about them, and the smooth rock riseth sheer from the sea,\nand the water is deep, so that I may gain no foothold. If I should\nseek to land, then a great wave may dash me on the rocks. And if I\nswim along the shore, to find some harbour, I fear lest the winds\nmay catch me again and bear me out into the deep; or it may be\nthat some god may send a monster of the sea against me; and verily\nthere are many such in the sea-pastures, and I know that Poseidon\nis very wroth against me.\"\n\nWhile he pondered these things in his heart a great wave bare him\nto the rocks. Then would his skin have been stripped from him and\nall his bones broken, had not Athene put a thought into his heart.\nFor he rushed in towards the shore, and clutched the rock with\nboth his hands, and clung thereto till the wave had passed. But as\nit ebbed back, it caught him, and carried him again into the deep.\nEven as a cuttle-fish is dragged from out its hole in the rock, so\nwas he dragged by the water, and the skin was stripped from his\nhand against the rocks. Then would Ulysses have perished, if\nAthene had not put a plan in his heart. He swam outside the\nbreakers, along the shore, looking for a place where the waves\nmight be broken, or there should be a harbour. At last he came to\nwhere a river ran into the sea. Free was the place of rocks, and\nsheltered from the wind, and Ulysses felt the stream of the river\nas he ran. Then he prayed to the river-god:--\n\n\"Hear me, O King, whosoever thou art. I am come to thee, fleeing\nfrom the wrath of Poseidon. Save me, O King.\"\n\nThereupon the river stayed his stream, and made the water smooth\nbefore Ulysses, so that at last he won his way to the land. His\nknees were bent under him, and his hands dropped at his side, and\nthe salt water ran out from his mouth and nostrils. Breathless was\nhe, and speechless; but when he came to himself, he loosed the\nveil from under his breast, and cast it into the salt stream of\nthe river and the stream bare it to the sea, and Ino came up and\ncaught it in her hands.\n\nThen he lay down on the rushes by the bank of the river and kissed\nthe earth, thinking within himself: \"What now shall I do? for if I\nsleep here by the river, I fear that the dew and the frost may\nslay me; for indeed in the morning-time the wind from the river\nblows cold. And if I go up to the wood, to lay me down to sleep in\nthe thicket, I fear that some evil beast may devour me.\"\n\nBut it seemed better to go to the wood. So he went. Now this was\nclose to the river, and he found two bushes, one of wild olive,\nand the other of fruitful olive. So thickly grown together were\nthey that the winds blew not through them, nor did the sun pierce\nthem, nor yet the rain. Ulysses crept thereunder, and found a\ngreat pile of leaves, shelter enough for two or three, even in\nwinter time, when the rain is heavy. Then did Ulysses rejoice,\nlaying himself in the midst, and covering himself with leaves. And\nAthene sent down upon his eyelids deep sleep, that might ease him\nof his toil.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nNAUSICAA [Footnote: Nau-sic'-a-a.]\n\n\nMeanwhile Athene went to the city of Phaeacians, to the palace of\nAlcinous [Footnote: Al-cin'-o-us.], their King. There she betook\nher to the chamber where slept Nausicaa, daughter of the King, a\nmaiden fair as are the gods. The goddess stood above the maiden,\nin the likeness of a girl that was of equal age with her, and had\nfound favour in her sight.\n\nAthene spake, saying: \"Why hath thy mother so careless a child,\nNausicaa? Lo! thy raiment lieth unwashed, and yet the day of thy\nmarriage is at hand, when thou must have fair clothing for\nthyself, and to give to them that shall lead thee to thy\nbridegroom's house; for thus doth a bride win good repute. Do thou\ntherefore arise with the day, and go to wash the raiment, and I\nwill go with thee. Ask thy father betimes in the morning to give\nthee mules and a wagon to carry the raiment and the robes. Also it\nis more becoming for thee to ride than to go on foot, for the\nwashing places are far from the city.\"\n\nAnd when the morning was come, Nausicaa awoke, marvelling at the\ndream, and went seeking her parents. Her mother she found busy\nwith her maidens at the loom, spinning yarn dyed with purple of\nthe sea, and her father she met as he was going to the council\nwith the chiefs of the land. Then she said: \"Give me, father, the\nwagon with the mules, that I may take the garments to the river to\nwash them. Thou shouldest always have clean robes when thou goest\nto the council; and there are my five brothers also, who love to\nhave newly washed garments at the dance.\"\n\nBut of her own marriage she said nothing. And her father, knowing\nher thoughts, said: \"I grudge thee not, dear child, the mules or\naught else. The men shall harness for thee a wagon with strong\nwheels and fitted also with a frame.\"\n\nThen he called to the men, and they made ready the wagon, and\nharnessed the mules; and the maiden brought the raiment out of her\nchamber, and put it in the wagon. Also her mother filled a basket\nwith all manner of food, and poured wine in a goat-skin bottle.\nOlive oil also she gave her, that Nausicaa and her maidens might\nanoint themselves after the bath. And Nausicaa took the reins, and\ntouched the mules with the whip. Then was there a clatter of\nhoofs, and the mules went on with their load, nor did they grow\nweary.\n\nWhen they came to the river, where was water enough for the\nwashing of raiment, the maidens loosed the mules from the chariot,\nand set them free to graze in the sweet clover by the river-bank.\nThen they took the raiment from the wagon, and bare it to the\nriver, and trod it in the trenches. And when they had cleansed all\nthe garments, they laid them on the shore of the sea, where the\nwaves had washed the pebbles clean. After that they bathed, and\nanointed themselves; and then they sat down to eat and drink by\nthe river-side; and after the meal they played at ball, singing as\nthey played, and Nausicaa led the song. And Nausicaa was fairer\nthan all the maidens. And when they had ended their play, and were\nyoking the mules, and folding up the raiment, then Athene\ncontrived that the princess, throwing the ball to one of her\nmaidens, cast it so wide that it fell into the river. Thereupon\nthey all cried aloud, and Ulysses awoke. And he said to himself:\n\"What is this land to which I have come? Are they that dwell\ntherein fierce or kind to strangers? Just now I seemed to hear the\nvoice of nymphs [Footnote: nymphs, spirits of the woods and\nwaters], or am I near the dwellings of men?\"\n\nThen he twisted a leafy bough about his loins, and rose up and\nwent towards the maidens, who were frightened to see him (for he\nwas wild-looking), and fled hither and thither. But Nausicaa stood\nand fled not. Then Ulysses cried, saying:--\n\n\"O Queen, whether thou art a goddess, I know not. But if thou art\na mortal, happy are thy father and mother, and happy thy brothers,\nand happiest of all he who shall win thee in marriage. Never have\nI seen man or woman so fair. Thou art like a young palm tree that\nbut lately I saw springing by the temple of the god. But as for\nme, I have been cast on this shore, having come from the island of\nOgygia. Pity me, then, and lead me to the city, and give me\nsomething, a wrapper of this linen, maybe, to put about me. So may\nthe gods give thee all blessings!\"\n\nAnd Nausicaa made answer: \"Thou seemest, stranger, to be neither\nevil nor foolish. Thou shalt not lack clothing or food, and I will\ntake thee to the city. Know also that this land is Phaeacia, and\nthat I am daughter to Alcinous, who is king thereof.\"\n\nThen she called to her maidens: \"What mean ye to flee when ye see\na man? No enemy comes hither to harm us, for we are dear to the\ngods, and also we live in an island of the sea, so that men may\nnot approach to work us wrong. If one cometh here overcome by\ntrouble, it is well to help him. Give this man, therefore, food\nand drink, and wash him in the river, where there is shelter from\nthe wind.\"\n\nSo they brought him down to the river, and gave him clothing, and\nalso olive-oil in a flask of gold. Then, at his bidding, they\ndeparted a little space, and he washed the salt from his skin and\nout of his hair, and anointed himself, and put on the clothing.\nAnd Athene made him taller and fairer to see, and caused the hair\nto be thick on his head, in colour as a hyacinth. Then he sat down\non the seashore, right beautiful to behold, and the maiden said:--\n\n\"Not without the bidding of the gods comes this man to our land.\nBefore, indeed, I deemed him uncomely, but now he seems like to\nthe gods. I should be well content to have such a man for a\nhusband, and maybe he might will to abide in this land. Give him,\nye maidens, food and drink.\"\n\nSo they gave him, and he ate ravenously, having fasted long. Then\nNausicaa bade yoke the mules, and said to Ulysses:--\n\n\"Arise, stranger, come with me, that I may bring thee to the house\nof my father. But do thou as I shall tell thee. So long as we\nshall be passing through the fields, follow quickly with the\nmaidens behind the chariot. But when we shall come to the city,\n--thou wilt see a high wall and a harbour on either side of the\nnarrow way that leadeth to the gate,--then follow the chariot no\nmore. Hard by the wall is a grove of Athene, a grove of poplars,\nwith a spring in the midst, and a meadow round about; there abide\ntill I have reached the house of my father. For I would not that\nthe people should speak lightly of me. And I doubt not that were\nthou with me some one would say: `Who is this stranger, tall and\nfair, that cometh with Nausicaa? Will he be her husband? Perchance\nit is some god who has come down at her prayer, or a man from far\naway; for she scorns us men of Phaeacia.' It would be a shame that\nsuch words should be spoken. But when thou shalt judge that I have\ncome to the palace, then go up thyself and ask for my father's\nhouse. Any one, even a child, can show it thee, for the other\nPhaeacians dwell not in such. And when thou art come within the\ndoors, pass quickly through the hall to where my mother sits.\nClose to the hearth is her seat, and my father's hard by, where he\nsits with the wine-cup in his hand as a god. Pass him by, and\nkneel to my mother, and pray her that she give thee safe return to\nthy country.\"\n\nThen she smote the mules with the whip. Quickly did they leave the\nriver behind them; but the maiden was heedful to drive them so\nthat Ulysses and the maidens might be able to follow on foot. At\nsunset they came to the sacred grove of Athene, and there Ulysses\nsat him down, and prayed to Athene, saying, \"Hear me, now, O\ndaughter of Zeus, and grant that this people may look upon me with\npity.\"\n\nSo he spake, and Athene heard him, but showed not herself to him,\nface to face, for she feared the wrath of her uncle Poseidon.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nALCINOUS\n\n\nNausicaa came to her father's house, and there her brothers\nunyoked the mules from the wagon, and carried the garments into\nthe house; and the maiden went to her chamber, where a nurse\nkindled for her a fire, and prepared a meal.\n\nAt the same time Ulysses rose to go to the city; and Athene spread\na mist about him, for she would not that any of the Phaeacians\nshould see him and mock him. And when he was now about to enter\nthe city, the goddess took upon herself the shape of a young\nmaiden carrying a pitcher, and met him.\n\nThen Ulysses asked her: \"My child, canst thou tell me where dwells\nAlcinous? for I am a stranger in this place.\"\n\nShe answered: \"I will show thee, for he dwells near to my own\nfather. But be thou silent, for we Phaeacians love not strangers\nover much.\"\n\nThen Athene led the way, and Ulysses followed after her; and much\nhe marvelled, as he went, at the harbours, and the ships, and the\nplaces of assembly, and the walls. And when they came to the\npalace, Athene said: \"This is the place for which thou didst\ninquire. Enter in; here thou shalt find kings at the feast; but be\nnot afraid; the fearless man ever fares the best. And look thou\nfirst for Queen Arete.[Footnote: A-re'-te.] If she be well\ndisposed to thee, doubtless thou wilt see thy native country\nagain.\"\n\nHaving thus spoken, Athene departed, and Ulysses entered the\npalace. In it there was a gleam as of the sun or the moon.\n\nA wondrous place it was, with walls of brass and doors of gold,\nhanging on posts of silver; and on either side of the door were\ndogs of gold and silver, and against the wall, all along from the\nthreshold to the inner chamber, were set seats, on which sat the\nchiefs of the Phaeacians, feasting; and youths wrought in gold\nstood holding torches in their hands, to give light in the\ndarkness. Fifty women were in the house, grinding corn and weaving\nrobes, for the women of the land are no less skilled to weave than\nare the men to sail the sea. And round about the house were\nbeautiful gardens, with orchards of fig, and apple, and pear, and\npomegranate, and olive. Drought hurts them not, nor frost, and\nharvest comes after harvest without ceasing. Also there was a\nvineyard; and some of the grapes were parching in the sun, and\nsome were being gathered, and some again were but just turning\nred. And there were beds of all manner of flowers; and in the\nmidst of all were two fountains which never failed.\n\nThese things Ulysses regarded for a space, and then passed into\nthe hall. And there the chiefs of Phaeacia were drinking their\nlast cup to Hermes. Quickly he passed through them, and put his\nhands on the knees of Arete and said--and as he spake the mist\ncleared from about him, and all that were in the hall beheld\nhim:--\n\n\"I implore thee, and thy husband, and thy guests, to send me home\nto my native country. The gods bless thee and them, and grant you\nto live in peace, and that your children should come peacefully\nafter you!\"\n\nAnd he sat down in the ashes of the hearth. Then for a space all\nwere silent, but at the last spake Echeneus [Footnote: E-che-ne'-\nus.], who was the oldest man in the land:--\n\n\"King Alcinous, this ill becomes you that this man should sit in\nthe ashes of the hearth. Raise him and bid him sit upon a seat,\nand let us pour out an offering to Father Zeus, who is the friend\nof strangers, and let the keeper of the house give him meat and\ndrink.\"\n\nAnd Alcinous did so, bidding his eldest born, Laodamas [Footnote:\nLa-o'-da-mas.], rise from his seat. And an attendant poured water\non his hands, and the keeper of the house gave him meat and drink.\nThen, when all had poured out an offering to Father Zeus, King\nAlcinous spake, saying: \"In the morning we will call an assembly\nof the people, and consider how we may take this stranger to his\nhome, so that he may reach it without trouble or pain. Home will\nwe take him without hurt, but what things may befall him there, we\nknow not; these shall be as the Fates spun his thread. But, if he\nis a god and not a man, then is this a new device of the gods. For\nheretofore they have shown themselves openly in our midst, when we\noffer sacrifice, and sit by our sides at feasts. Yea, and if a\ntraveller meet them on the way, they use no disguise, for indeed\nthey are near of kin to us.\"\n\nThen spake Ulysses: \"Think not such things within thy heart, O\nKing! I am no god but one that is most miserable among the sons of\nmen. Of many woes might I tell. Nevertheless, suffer me to eat;\nfor, however sad a man may be, yet he must eat and drink. But when\nthe day cometh, bestir yourselves, and carry me to my home. Fain\nwould I die if I could see my home again!\"\n\nAnd they answered that it should be so, and went each to his home.\nOnly Ulysses was left in the hall, and Alcinous and Arete with\nhim. And Arete recognized his clothing, and said:--\n\n\"Whence art thou, stranger? and who gave thee these garments?\"\n\nSo Ulysses told her how he had come from the island of Calypso,\nand what he had suffered, and how Nausicaa had found him on the\nshore, and had guided him to the city.\n\nAnd Alcinous blamed the maiden because she had not herself brought\nhim to the house. \"Nay,\" said Ulysses, \"she would have brought me,\nbut I would not, fearing thy wrath.\" For he would not have the\nmaiden blamed.\n\nThen said Alcinous: \"I am not one to be angered for such cause.\nGladly would I have such a one as thou art to be my son-in-law,\nand I would give him house and wealth. But no one would I hold\nagainst his will. As for sending thee to thy home, that is easy;\nthou shalt lay thee down to sleep, and my men shalt smite the sea\nwith oars, and take thee whithersoever thou wilt, even though it\nbe to the furthest of all lands. For verily my ships are the best\nthat sail the sea, and my young men the most skilful of all that\nply the oar.\"\n\nSo he spake, and Ulysses rejoiced to hear his words. And he prayed\nwithin himself, \"Grant, Father Zeus, that Alcinous may fulfil all\nthat he hath said, and that I may come to my own land!\"\n\nThen Arete bade her handmaids prepare a bed for the stranger. So\nthey went from the hall, with torches in their hands, and made it\nready. And when they had ended they called Ulysses, saying, \"Up,\nstranger, and sleep, for thy bed is ready.\"\n\nRight glad was he to sleep after all that he had endured.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nTHE PHAEACIANS\n\n\nThe next day the King arose at dawn, as also did Ulysses, and the\nKing led the way to the place of assembly. Meanwhile Athene,\nwearing the guise of the King's herald, went throughout the city,\nand to each man she said, \"Come to the assembly, captains and\ncounsellors of the Phaeacians, that ye may learn concerning this\nstranger, who hath lately come to the hall of Alcinous.\"\n\nSo she roused their desire, and the place of assembly was filled\nto the utmost; much did the men marvel to see Ulysses, for Athene\nhad poured marvellous grace upon him, making him fairer and taller\nand stronger to see.\n\nThen the King rose up and spake: \"Hearken, captains and\ncounsellors of the people, to what I say. This stranger hath come\nto my hall; I know not who he is or whence he comes, whether it be\nfrom the rising or the setting of the sun; and he prays that he\nmay be safely carried to his home. Let us therefore choose a ship\nthat hath never sailed before, and two and fifty youths that are\nthe best to ply the oar; and when ye have made ready the ship,\nthen come to my house and feast; I will provide well for all. Bid.\nalso, Demodocus [Footnote: De-mod'-o-cus.] the minstrel to come,\nfor the gods have given to him above all others the gift of song\nwherewith to rejoice the hearts of men.\"\n\nThen they did as the King counselled. They made ready the ship,\nand moored her by the shore, and after that they went to the\npalace of the King. From one end thereof to the other it was\ncrowded, for many were there, both young and old. And Alcinous\nslew for them twelve sheep, and eight swine, and two oxen; and his\nmen prepared for the people a goodly feast.\n\nThen came the servants of the King, leading the blind minstrel by\nthe hand. The servants set him in a silver chair, in the midst of\nthe guests, and hung a harp above his head, and showed him how he\nmight reach his hand to take it. And close by his side they placed\na table and a basket and a cup of wine, that he might drink at his\npleasure.\n\nSo the Phaeacians feasted in the hall; and when they had had\nenough of meat and drink, then the minstrel sang. He sang a song,\nthe fame of which had reached to heaven, of the quarrel between\nUlysses and Achilles, when they were fighting to capture Troy.\n\nBut as the minstrel sang, Ulysses held his purple cloak before his\nface, for he was ashamed to weep in the sight of the people.\nWhensoever the singer ceased from his song, then did Ulysses wipe\naway the tears; but when he began again, for the chiefs loved to\nhear the song, then again he covered his face and wept. But none\nnoted the thing but Alcinous.\n\nThen the King said to the chiefs, \"Now that we have feasted and\ndelighted ourselves with song, let us go forth, that this stranger\nmay see that we are skilful in boxing and wrestling and running.\"\n\nThen stood up many Phaeacian youths, and the fairest and strongest\nof them all was Laodamas, eldest son to the King, and they ran a\nrace, and wrestled, and threw quoits, and leaped.\n\nThen Laodamas said to Ulysses, \"Wilt thou not try thy skill in\nsome game, and put away the trouble from thy heart?\"\n\nBut Ulysses answered: \"Why askest thou this? I think of my\ntroubles rather than of sport, and care only that I may see again\nmy home.\"\n\nThen said another: \"And in very truth, stranger, thou hast not the\nlook of a wrestler or boxer. Rather would one judge thee to be\nsome trader, who sails over the sea for gain.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" answered Ulysses, \"this is ill said. True it is that the\ngods give not all gifts to all men, beauty to one, and sweet\nspeech to another. Fair of form art thou; no god could better\nthee; but thou speakest idle words. I am not unskilled in these\nthings, but stood among the first in the old days; but since have\nI suffered much in battle and shipwreck. Yet will I make trial of\nmy strength, for thy words have angered me.\"\n\nWhereupon, clad in his mantle as he was, he took a quoit, heavier\nfar than such as the Phaeacians were wont to throw, and sent it\nwith a whirl. It flew through the air, so that the brave\nPhaeacians crouched to the ground in fear, and it fell far beyond\nall the rest.\n\nThen Athene, for she had taken upon herself the guise of a\nPhaeacian man, marked the place where it fell, and spake, saying:\n\"Stranger, verily, even a blind man might find this token of thy\nstrength, for it is not lost among the others, but lies far beyond\nthem. Be of good courage, therefore, in this contest; none of the\nPhaeacians shall surpass thee.\"\n\nThen was Ulysses glad, seeing that he had a friend among the\npeople, and he said: \"Now match this throw, young men, if ye can.\nSoon will I cast another after it, as far, or further yet. And, if\nany man is so minded, let him rise up and contend with me, for I\nwill match myself in wrestling or boxing, or even in the race,\nwith any man in Phaeacia, save Laodamas only, for he is my friend.\nI can shoot with the bow; and I can cast a spear as far as other\nmen can shoot an arrow. But as for the race, it may be that some\none might outrun me, for I have suffered much on the sea.\"\n\nBut they were all silent, till the King stood up and said: \"Thou\nhast spoken well. But we men of Phaeacia are not mighty to wrestle\nor to box; only we are swift of foot and skilful to sail upon the\nsea. And we love feasts, and dances, and the harp, and gay\nclothing, and the bath. In these things no man may surpass us.\"\n\nThen the King bade Demodocus the minstrel to sing again. And when\nhe had done so, the King's two sons danced together; and\nafterwards they played with the ball, throwing it into the air,\ncloud high, and catching it right skilfully.\n\nAnd afterwards the King said: \"Let us each give this stranger a\nmantle and a tunic and a talent of gold.\"\n\nThen all the princes brought their gifts. And Alcinous said to the\nQueen: \"Lady, bring hither a chest, the best that thou hast, and\nput therein a robe and a tunic. And I will give our guest a fair\ngolden cup of my own, that he may remember me all the days of his\nlife, when he poureth out offerings to the gods.\"\n\nThen the Queen brought from her chamber a fair chest, and put\ntherein the gifts which the princes had given; also with her own\nhands she put therein a robe and a tunic. And she said:--\n\n\"Look now to the lid, and tie a knot, that no man rob thee by the\nway, when thou sleepest in the ship.\"\n\nSo Ulysses fixed well the lid, and tied it with a cunning knot\nwhich Circe had taught him. After that he went to the bath. As he\ncame from the bath Nausicaa met him by the entering in of the\nhall, and marvelled at him, so fair was he to look upon. And she\nspake, saying: \"Stranger, farewell. But when thou comest to thine\nown country, think upon me once and again, for indeed thou owest\nto me the price of thy life.\"\n\nUlysses made answer to her, \"Nausicaa, if Zeus grant me safe\nreturn to my home, I will do honour to thee as to a goddess,\nforever; for indeed I owe thee my life.\"\n\nThen he went into the hall, and sat down by the side of the King,\nand the squire came leading the blind minstrel by the hand. Now\nUlysses had cut off a rich portion from the chine [Footnote:\nchine, backbone.] of a boar that had been set before him, and he\nsaid to the squire: \"Take this and give it to Demodocus, for the\nminstrel should be held in honour by men.\"\n\nSo the squire bare the dish, and set it on the knees of the\nminstrel, rejoicing his heart.\n\nWhen they all had had enough of food and drink, then Ulysses spake\nto the minstrel, saying: \"Demodocus, I know not whether the gods\nhave taught thee, but of a truth thou singest of all the toil and\ntrouble that the Greeks endured before the great city of Troy as\nif thou hadst thyself been there. Come, now, sing to us of the\nHorse of Wood, and how Ulysses contrived that it should be taken\nup into the citadel of Troy when he had filled it with the bravest\nof the chiefs. Sing me this aright, and I will bear witness for\nthee that thou art indeed a minstrel whom the gods have taught.\"\n\nThen did the minstrel sing this song. He told how one part of the\nGreeks set fire to their camp, and embarked upon their ships, and\nsailed away; and how the other part--Ulysses and his comrades--sat\nhidden in the Horse which the men of Troy had dragged with their\nown hands into their place of assembly. All about sat the people,\nand three counsels were given. The first was to cleave the wood,\nand the second to drag it to the brow of the hill and cast it down\nthence, and the third to leave it as an offering to the gods; and\nthe third counsel prevailed, for it was the doom of the city that\nit should perish through the Horse.\n\nAlso the minstrel sang how the chiefs came forth from the Horse,\nand went through the city, wasting it; and much also of Ulysses\nand his brave deeds.\n\nThus did the minstrel sing, and the heart of Ulysses was melted\nwithin him as he listened, and the tears ran down his cheeks.\n\nBut none of the company, save King Alcinous only, noticed this.\nThen the King spake, saying: \"Hearken, ye princes of the\nPhaeacians, and let Demodocus cease from his singing, for since he\nset his hand to the harp, this stranger hath not ceased to weep.\nLet, therefore, the minstrel cease, and let us make merry and\nrejoice as it is fitting to do. Are we not met together that we\nmay give gifts to this stranger, and send him to his home? And\nhide not thou, stranger, from us aught that I shall ask thee. Tell\nus by what name they call thee at home, for no man lacketh a name.\nTell us also of thy land and thy city, that our ships may shape\ntheir course to take thee thither. For these are not as the ships\nof other men, that have steersmen and rudders. They have an\nunderstanding of their own, and know all the cities of men, and\nthey pass over the deep, covered with cloud, and have no fear of\nwreck. But my father was wont to say that Poseidon bore a grudge\nagainst us because we carry all men safely to their homes; and\nthat one day he would smite a ship of ours as it came home from\nsuch an errand, changing it to a rock that should overshadow our\ncity. But thou, stranger, tell us of thyself,--whither thou hast\nwandered, and what cities thou hast seen, be they cities of the\nunrighteous, or cities of them that are hospitable to strangers\nand fear the gods. Tell us, too, why thou didst weep at hearing of\nthe tale of Troy. Hadst thou, perchance, a kinsman, or a friend--\nfor a wise friend is ever as a brother--among those that perished\nat Troy?\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE CYCLOPS\n\n(THE TALE OF ULYSSES)\n\n\nThen Ulysses answered the King, saying: \"What shall I tell thee\nfirst, and what last, for many sorrows have the gods laid upon me?\nFirst, I will tell my name, that ye may know it, and that there\nmay be friendship between us, even when I shall be far away. I am\nULYSSES, SON OF LAERTES. In Ithaca I dwell. Many islands lie about\nit, but Ithaca is furthest to the west, and the others face the\nsun-rising. Very rugged is this island of Ithaca, but it is the\nmother of brave men; verily, there is nothing dearer to a man than\nhis own country. Calypso, the fair goddess, would have had me\nabide with her, to be her husband; but she did not prevail,\nbecause there is nothing that a man loves more than his country\nand his parents. But now I will tell thee of all the troubles that\nthe gods laid upon me as I journeyed from Troy.\n\n\"The wind that bare me from Troy brought me to Ismarus [Footnote:\nIs'-ma-rus.], which is a city of the Cicones.[Footnote: Ci'-co-\nnes.] This I sacked, slaying the people that dwelt therein. But\nthe people of the city fetched their kinsmen that dwelt in the\nmountains, and they overcame us, and drave us to our ships. Six\nfrom each ship perished, but the remainder of us escaped from\ndeath.\n\n\"Then we sailed, stricken with grief for our dear comrades, yet\nrejoicing that we had escaped from destruction. When we had sailed\na little space, Zeus sent the north wind against us with a mighty\nstorm, covering with clouds both land and sea, and the ships were\ndriven before it. So we lowered the sails, and rowed the ships to\nthe land with all our might. For two days we endured much distress\nand sorrow, but on the third, when the morning light appeared, we\nhoisted the sails and rested. Then I should have come to my own\ncountry, but the north wind and the sea drave me from my course.\nFor nine days did the wind carry us before it.\n\n\"And on the tenth day we came to the land where the lotus grows--a\nwondrous fruit, for whoever eats of it cares not to see country or\nwife or children again. Now the Lotus-eaters, for so the people of\nthe land are called, were a kindly folk, and gave of the fruit to\nsome of the sailors, not meaning them any harm, but thinking it to\nbe the best that they had to give. These, when they had eaten,\nsaid that they would not sail any more over the sea; and, when I\nheard this, I bade their comrades bind them and carry them, sadly\ncomplaining, to the ships.\n\n\"Then, the wind having abated, we took to our oars, and rowed for\nmany days till we came to the country where the Cyclopes\n[Footnote: Cy-clo'-pes.] dwell. Now a mile or so from the shore\nthere was an island, very fair and fertile, but no man dwells\nthere or tills the soil, and in the island a harbour where a ship\nmay be safe from all winds, and at the head of the harbour a\nstream falling from a rock, and whispering alders all about it.\nInto this the ships passed safely, and were hauled up on the\nbeach, and the crews slept by them, waiting for the morning.\n\n\"When the dawn appeared, we wandered through the island; and the\nNymphs of the land started the wild goats, that my company might\nhave food to eat. Thereupon we took our bows and our spears from\nthe ships, and shot at the goats; and the gods gave us plenty of\nprey. Twelve ships I had in my company, and each ship had nine\ngoats for its share, and my own portion was ten.\n\n\"Then all the day we sat and feasted, drinking sweet wine which we\nhad taken from the city of the Cicones, and eating the flesh of\nthe goats; and as we sat we looked across to the land of the\nCyclops, seeing the smoke and hearing the voices of the men and of\nthe sheep and of the goats. And when the sun set and darkness came\nover the land, we lay down upon the seashore and slept.\n\n\"The next day I gathered my men together, and said, 'Abide ye\nhere, dear friends; I with my own ship and my own company will go\nand find whether the folk that dwell in yonder island are just or\nunjust.'\n\n\"So I climbed into my ship, and bade my company follow me: so we\ncame to the land of the Cyclops. Close to the shore was a cave,\nwith laurels round about the mouth. This was the dwelling of the\nCyclops. Alone he dwelt, a creature without law. Nor was he like\nto mortal men, but rather to some wooded peak of the hills that\nstands out apart from all the rest.\n\n\"Then I bade the rest of my comrades abide by the ship, and keep\nit, but I took twelve men, the bravest that there were in the\ncrew, and went forth. I had with me a goat-skin full of the wine,\ndark red, and sweet, which the priest of Apollo [Footnote: A-pol'-\nlo.] at Ismarus had given me. So precious was it that none in his\nhouse knew of it saving himself and his wife. When they drank of\nit they mixed twenty measures of water with one of wine, and the\nsmell that went up from it was wondrous sweet. No man could easily\nrefrain from drinking it. With this wine I filled a great skin and\nbore it with me; also I bare corn in a pouch, for my heart within\nme told me that I should need it.\n\n\"So we entered the cave, and judged that it was the dwelling of\nsome rich and skilful shepherd. For within there were pens for the\nyoung of the sheep and of the goats, divided all according to\ntheir age, and there were baskets full of cheeses, and full\nmilkpails ranged along the wall. But the Cyclops himself was away\nin the pastures. Then my companions besought me that I would\ndepart, taking with me, if I would, a store of cheeses and some of\nthe lambs and of the kids. But I would not, for I wished to see\nwhat manner of host this strange shepherd might be, and, if it\nmight be, to take a gift from his hand, such as is the due of\nstrangers. Verily, his coming was not to be a joy to my company.\n\n\"It was evening when the Cyclops came home, a mighty giant, very\ntall of stature, and when we saw him we fled into the cave in\ngreat fear. On his shoulder he bore a vast bundle of pine logs for\nhis fire, and threw them down outside the cave great crash, and\ndrove the flocks within, and closed the entrance with a huge rock,\nwhich twenty wagons and more could not bear. Then he milked the\newes and all the she-goats, and half of the milk he curdled for\ncheese, and half he set ready for himself, when he should sup.\nNext he kindled a fire with the pine logs, and the flame lighted\nup all the cave, showing to him both me and my comrades.\n\n\"'Who are ye?' cried Polyphemus [Footnote: Pol-y-phe'-mus.], for\nthat was the giant's name. 'Are ye traders or pirates?'\n\n\"I shuddered at the dreadful voice and shape, but bare me bravely,\nand answered: 'We are no pirates, mighty sir, but Greeks sailing\nback from Troy, and subjects of the great King Agamemnon, whose\nfame is spread from one end of heaven to the other. And we are\ncome to beg hospitality of thee in the name of Zeus, who rewards\nor punishes hosts and guests according as they be faithful the one\nto the other, or no.'\n\n\"'Nay,' said the giant; 'it is but idle talk to tell me of Zeus\nand the other gods. We Cyclopes take no account of gods, holding\nourselves to be much better and stronger than they. But come, tell\nme where have you left your ship?'\n\n\"But I saw his thought when he asked about the ship, for he was\nminded to break it, and take from us all hope of flight. Therefore\nI answered him craftily:--\n\n\"Ship have we none, for that which was ours King Poseidon brake,\ndriving it on a jutting rock on this coast, and we whom thou seest\nare all that are escaped from the waves.\"\n\n\"Polyphemus answered nothing, but without more ado caught up two\nof the men, as a man might catch up the pups of a dog, and dashed\nthem on the ground, and tare them limb from limb, and devoured\nthem, with huge draughts of milk between, leaving not a morsel,\nnot even the very bones. But we that were left, when we saw the\ndreadful deed, could only weep and pray to Zeus for help. And when\nthe giant had filled his maw with human flesh and with the milk of\nthe flocks, he lay down among his sheep and slept.\n\n\"Then I questioned much in my heart whether I should slay the\nmonster as he slept, for I doubted not that my good sword would\npierce to the giant's heart, mighty as he was. But my second\nthought kept me back, for I remembered that if I should slay him,\nI and my comrades would yet perish miserably. For who could move\naway the great rock that lay against the door of the cave? So we\nwaited till the morning, with grief in our hearts. And the monster\nwoke, and milked his flocks, and afterwards, seizing two men,\ndevoured them for his meal. Then he went to the pastures, but put\nthe great rock on the mouth of the cave, just as a man puts down\nthe lid upon his quiver.\n\n\"All that day I was thinking what I might best do to save myself\nand my companions, and the end of my thinking was this. There was\na mighty pole in the cave, green wood of an olive tree, big as a\nship's mast, which Polyphemus purposed to use, when the smoke\nshould have dried it, as a walking-staff. Of this I cut off a\nfathom's length, and my comrades sharpened it and hardened it in\nthe fire, and then hid it away. At evening the giant came back,\nand drove his sheep into the cave, nor left the rams outside, as\nhe had been wont to do before, but shut them in. And having duly\ndone his shepherd's work, he took, as before, two of my comrades,\nand devoured them. And when he had finished his supper, I came\nforward, holding the wine-skin in my hand, and said:--\n\n\"'Drink, Cyclops, now that thou hast feasted. Drink, and see what\nprecious things we had in our ship. But no one hereafter will come\nto thee with such, if thou dealest with strangers as cruelly as\nthou hast dealt with us.'\n\n\"Then the Cyclops drank, and was mightily pleased, and said: 'Give\nme again to drink, and tell me thy name, stranger, and I will give\nthee a gift such as a host should give. In good truth this is a\nrare liquor. We, too, have vines, but they bear not wine like\nthis, which, indeed, must be such as the gods drink in heaven.'\n\n\"Then I gave him the cup again, and he drank. Thrice I gave it to\nhim, and thrice he drank, not knowing what it was, and how it\nwould work within his brain.\n\n\"Then I spake to him: 'Thou didst ask my name, Cyclops. My name is\nNo Man. And now that thou knowest my name, thou shouldest give me\nthy gift.'\n\n\"And he said: 'My gift shall be that I will eat thee last of all\nthy company.'\n\n\"And as he spake, he fell back in a drunken sleep. Then I bade my\ncomrades be of good courage, for the time was come when they\nshould be delivered. And they thrust the stake of olive wood into\nthe fire till it was ready, green as it was, to burst into flame,\nand they thrust it into the monster's eye; for he had but one eye\nand that was in the midst of his forehead, with the eyebrow below\nit. And I, standing above, leaned with all my force upon the\nstake, and turned it about, as a man bores the timber of a ship\nwith a drill. And the burning wood hissed in the eye, just as the\nred-hot iron hisses in the water when a man seeks to temper steel\nfor a sword.\n\n\"Then the giant leapt up, and tore away the stake, and cried\naloud, so that all the Cyclopes who dwelt on the mountain-side\nheard him and came about his cave, asking him: `What aileth thee,\nPolyphemus, that thou makest this uproar in the peaceful night,\ndriving away sleep? Is any one robbing thee of thy sheep, or\nseeking to slay thee by craft or force?' And the giant answered,\n`No Man slays me by craft.'\n\n\"`Nay, but,' they said, `if no man does thee wrong, we cannot help\nthee. The sickness which great Zeus may send, who can avoid? Pray\nto our father, Poseidon, for help.'\n\n\"So they spake, and I laughed in my heart when I saw how I had\ndeceived them by the name that I had given.\n\n\"But the Cyclops rolled away the great stone from the door of the\ncave, and sat in the midst, stretching out his hands, to feel\nwhether perchance the men within the cave would seek to go out\namong the sheep.\n\n\"Long did I think how I and my comrades should best escape. At\nlast I lighted upon a plan that seemed better than all the rest,\nand much I thanked Zeus because this once the giant had driven the\nrams with the other sheep into the cave. For, these being great\nand strong, I fastened my comrades under the bellies of the\nbeasts, tying them with willow twigs, of which the giant made his\nbed. One ram I took, and fastened a man beneath it, and two others\nI set, one on either side. So I did with the six, for but six were\nleft out of the twelve who had ventured with me from the ship. And\nthere was one mighty ram, far larger than alt the others, and to\nthis I clung, grasping the fleece tight with both my hands. So we\nall waited for the morning. And when the morning came, the rams\nrushed forth to the pasture; but the giant sat in the door and\nfelt the back of each as it went by, nor thought to try what might\nbe underneath. Last of all went the great ram. And the Cyclops\nknew him as he passed, and said:--\n\n\"'How is this, thou who art the leader of the flock? Thou art not\nwont thus to lag behind. Thou hast always been the first to run to\nthe pastures and streams in the morning, and the first to come\nback to the fold when evening fell; and now thou art last of all.\nPerhaps thou art troubled about thy master's eye, which some\nwretch--No Man, they call him--has destroyed. He has not escaped,\nand I would that thou couldest speak, and tell me where he is\nlurking. Of a truth, I would dash out his brains upon the ground,\nand avenge me on this No Man.'\n\n\"So speaking, he let the ram pass out of the cave. But when we\nwere now out of reach of the giant, I loosed my hold of the ram,\nand then unbound my comrades. And we hastened to our ship, not\nforgetting to drive the sheep before us, and often looking back\ntill we came to the seashore. Right glad were those that had abode\nby the ship to see us. Nor did they lament for those that had\ndied, though we were fain to do so, for I forbade, fearing lest\nthe noise of their weeping should betray where we were to the\ngiant. Then we all climbed into the ship, and sitting well in\norder on the benches smote the sea with our oars, laying to right\nlustily, that we might the sooner get away from the accursed land.\nAnd when we had rowed a hundred yards or so, so that a man's voice\ncould yet be heard by one who stood upon the shore, I stood up in\nthe ship and shouted:--\n\n\"'He was no coward, O Cyclops, whose comrades thou didst so foully\nslay in thy den. Justly art thou punished, monster, that devourest\nthy guests in thy dwelling. May the gods make thee suffer yet\nworse things than these!'\n\n\"Then the Cyclops in his wrath brake off the top of a great hill,\na mighty rock, and hurled it where he had heard the voice. Right\nin front of the ship's bow it fell, and a great wave rose as it\nsank, and washed the ship back to the shore. But I seized a long\npole with both hands, and pushed the ship from the land, and bade\nmy comrades ply their oars, nodding with my head, for I would not\nspeak, lest the Cyclops should know where we were. Then they rowed\nwith all their might and main.\n\n\"And when we had gotten twice as far as before, I made as if I\nwould speak again; but my comrades sought to hinder me, saying:\n'Nay, my lord, anger not the giant any more. Surely we thought\nbefore that we were lost, when he threw the great rock, and washed\nour ship back to the shore. And if he hear thee now, he may still\ncrush our ship and us.'\n\n\"But I would not be persuaded, but stood up and said: 'Hear,\nCyclops! If any man ask who blinded thee, say that it was the\nwarrior Ulysses, son of Laertes, dwelling in Ithaca.'\n\n\"And the Cyclops answered with a groan: 'Of a truth, the old\nprophecies are fulfilled; for long ago there came to this land a\nprophet who foretold to me that Ulysses would rob me of my sight.\nBut I looked for a great and strong man, who should subdue me by\nforce, and now a weakling has done the deed, having cheated me\nwith wine.'\n\n\"Then the Cyclops lifted up his hands to Poseidon and prayed:\n'Hear me, Poseidon, if I am indeed thy son and thou my father. May\nthis Ulysses never reach his home! or, if the Fates have ordered\nthat he should reach it, may he come alone, all his comrades lost,\nand come to find sore trouble in his house!'\n\n\"And as he ended, he hurled another mighty rock, which almost\nlighted on the rudder's end, yet missed it as by a hair's breadth.\nAnd the wave that it raised was so great that it bare us to the\nother shore.\n\n\"So we came to the island of the wild goats, where we found our\ncomrades, who, indeed, had waited long for us in sore fear lest we\nhad perished. Then I divided amongst my company all the sheep\nwhich we had taken from the Cyclops. And all, with one consent,\ngave me for my share the great ram which had carried me out of the\ncave, and I sacrificed it to Zeus. And all that day we feasted\nright merrily on the flesh of sheep and on sweet wine, and when\nthe night was come, we lay down upon the shore and slept.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nAEOLUS;[Footnote: AE'-o-lus.]\nTHE LAESTRYGONS;[Footnote: Laes'-try-gons.]\nCIRCE [Footnote: Cir'-ce.]\n\n(THE TALE OF ULYSSES)\n\n\n\"The next morning we set sail, and came, after a while, to the\nisland where dwelleth AEolus. A floating island it is, and it hath\nabout it an unbroken wall of bronze. For a whole month did the\nKing entertain me in friendly fashion, and I told him the whole\nstory of the things that had been done at Troy.\n\n\"Afterwards I told him of my journey, and asked help of him. And\nhe gave me the skin of an ox nine years old, in which he had bound\nall the winds that were contrary to me, for Zeus hath made him\nkeeper of the winds, that he may rouse them or put them to rest as\nhe will. This pouch of ox-hide he bound fast to the deck of the\nship with a thong of silver, that not a wind might escape from it.\nBut he let a gentle west wind blow, that it might carry me and my\ncomrades to our home. For nine days it blew, and now we were near\nto Ithaca, our country, so that we saw the men that tended the\nbeacon-lights, for it was now near to the dawn on the tenth day.\n\n\"But now, by an ill chance, I fell asleep, being wholly wearied\nout, for I had held the helm for nine days, nor trusted it to any\nof my comrades. And while I slept my comrades, who had cast eyes\nof envy on the great ox-hide, said one to another:--\n\n\"`Strange it is how men love and honour this Ulysses whithersoever\nhe goes. And now he comes back from Troy with much spoil, but we\nwith empty hands. Let us see what it is that AEolus hath given\nhim, for doubtless in this ox-hide is much silver and gold.'\n\n\"So they loosed the great bag of ox-hide, and lo! all the winds\nrushed out, and carried us far away from our country. And I,\nwaking with the tumult, doubted much whether I should not throw\nmyself into the sea and so die. But I endured, thinking it better\nto live. Only I veiled my face and so lay still while the ships\ndrave before the winds, till we came again to the island of\nAEolus. Then we landed, and fetched water, and ate our meal by the\nside of our ships. And when our meal was ended, I took a herald\nand one of my company, and went to the palace of the King, and\nfound him feasting with his wife and children, and I sat down on\nthe threshold. Much did they wonder to see me, saying, 'What evil\npower has hindered thee, that thou didst not reach thy country and\nhome?'\n\n\"Then I answered: 'Blame not me, but the evil counsels of my\ncomrades, and sleep, which mastered me to my hurt. But do ye help\nme again.'\n\n\"But he said, 'Begone! we may not help him whom the gods hate; and\nhated of them thou surely art.'\n\n\"So AEolus sent me away. Then again we launched our ships and set\nforth, toiling wearily at the oars, and sad at heart.\n\n\"Six days we rowed, nor rested at night; and on the seventh we\ncame to Lamos [Footnote: La'-mos.], which was a city of the\nLaestrygons, in whose land the night is as the day, so that a man\nmight earn double wages, if only he wanted not sleep. There was a\nfair haven with cliffs about it, and a narrow mouth with great\nrocks on either side. And within are no waves.\n\n\"Now I made fast my ship to the rocks that were without, but the\nothers entered the haven. Then I sent two men, and a herald with\nthem, and these came upon a smooth road by which wagons brought\ndown wood from the mountain to the city. Here they met a maiden,\nthe daughter of the king of the land, and asked of her who was\nlord of that country. Thereupon she showed them her father's lofty\npalace. And they, entering this, saw the maiden's mother, big as a\nmountain, and horrible to behold, who straightway called to her\nhusband. Then the messengers fled to the ships; but he made a\ngreat shout, and the giant Laestrygons came flocking about him.\nAnd these broke off great stones from the cliffs, each stone as\nmuch as a man could carry, and cast them at the ships, so that\nthey were broken. And the men they speared, as if they were\nfishes, and devoured them. So it happened to all the ships in the\nhaven. I only escaped, for I cut the hawser with my sword, and\nbade my men ply their oars, which indeed they did right willingly.\n\n\"After a while we came to the island where Circe dwelt, who is the\ndaughter of the Sun. Two days and nights we lay upon the shore in\ngreat trouble and sorrow. On the third I took my spear and sword\nand climbed a hill, for I wished to see to what manner of land we\nhad come. And having climbed it, I saw the smoke rising from the\npalace of Circe, where it stood in the midst of a wood. Then I\nthought awhile: should I go straightway to the palace that I saw,\nor first return to my comrades on the shore. And it seemed the\nbetter plan to go to the ship and bid my comrades make their\nmidday meal, and afterwards send them to search out the place. But\nas I went, some god took pity on me, and sent a great stag, with\nmighty antlers, across my path. The stag was going down to the\nriver to drink, for the sun was now hot; and casting my spear at\nit I pierced it through. Then I fastened together the feet with\ngreen withes and a fathom's length of rope, and slinging the beast\nround my neck, so carried it to the ship, leaning on my spear; for\nindeed it was heavy to bear, nor was it possible for me to carry\nit on my shoulder with one hand. And when I was come to the ship,\nI cast down my burden. Now the men were sitting with their faces\nmuffled, so sad were they. But when I bade them be of good cheer,\nthey looked up and marvelled at the great stag. And all that day\nwe feasted on deer's flesh and sweet wine, and at night lay down\nto sleep on the shore. But when morning was come, I called my\ncomrades together, and spake: 'I know not, friends, where we are.\nOnly I know, having seen smoke yesterday from the hill, that there\nis a dwelling in this island.'\n\n\"It troubled the men much to hear this, for they thought of the\nCyclops and of the Laestrygons; and they wailed aloud. Then I\ndivided them into two companies. I set Eurylochus [Footnote: Eu-\nryl'-o-chus.] over the one, and I myself took command of the\nother, and I shook lots in a helmet to see who should go and\nsearch out the island, and the lot of Eurylochus leapt out. So he\nwent, and comrades twenty and two with him. And in an open space\nin the wood they found the palace of Circe. All about were wolves\nand lions; yet these harmed not the men, but stood up on their\nhind legs, fawning upon them, as dogs fawn upon their master when\nhe comes from his meal, because he brings the fragments with him\nthat they love. And the men were afraid. And they stood in the\nporch and heard the voice of Circe as she sang with a lovely voice\nand plied the loom. Then said Polites [Footnote: Po-li'-tes.], who\nwas dearest of all my comrades to me, in whom also I most trusted:\n'Some one within plies a great loom, and sings with a loud voice.\nSome goddess is she or a woman. Let us make haste and call.'\n\n\"So they called to her, and she came out and beckoned to them that\nthey should follow. So they went, in their folly, all except\nEurylochus. And she bade them sit, and mixed for them red wine and\nbarley-meal and cheese and honey, and mighty drugs, of which, if a\nman drank, he forgot all that he loved. And when they had drunk,\nshe smote them with her wand. And lo! they had of a sudden the\nheads and the voices and the bristles of swine, but the heart of a\nman was in them still. And Circe shut them in sties, and gave them\nacorns to eat.\n\n\"But Eurylochus fled back to the ship, bringing tidings of what\nhad befallen his comrades. For a time he could not speak a word,\nso full was his heart of grief, and his eyes of tears. But, at\nlast, when we had asked him many questions, he told us his tale.\n\n\"Thereupon I cast about my shoulder my silver-studded sword, and\ntook my bow also, and bade him lead me by the way by which he had\ngone. But he caught me by both my hands, and besought me, saying:\n'Take me not thither against my will; for I am persuaded that thou\nthyself wilt not return again, nor bring any of thy comrades. Let\nus that remain flee, and escape death.' Then I said, 'Stay here by\nthe ship, eating and drinking, if it be thy will, but I must go.'\n\n\"And when I had come to the house, there met me Hermes of the\ngolden wand, the messenger of the gods, in the shape of a fair\nyouth, who said to me:--\n\n\"'Art thou come to rescue thy comrades that are now swine in\nCirce's house? Nay, but thou shalt never go back thyself. Yet\nstay; I will give thee a drug which shall give thee power to\nresist all her charms. For when she shall have mixed thee drink,\nand smitten thee with her wand, then do thou rush upon her with\nthy sword, as if thou wouldest slay her. And when she shall pray\nfor peace, do thou make her swear by the great oath that binds the\ngods that she will not harm thee.'\n\n\"Then Hermes showed me a certain herb, whose root was black, but\nthe flower white as milk. 'Moly,' the gods call it, and very hard\nit is for mortal man to find; but to the gods all things are\npossible.\n\n\"Thereupon Hermes departed to Olympus, but I went on to the palace\nof the goddess, much troubled in heart. When I came thither I\nstood in the porch and called, and Circe came, and opened the\ndoors, and bade me come in.\n\n\"Then she set me on a great chair, skilfully carven, with a\nfootstool for my feet. Afterward she gave me drink in a cup of\ngold, but she had mixed in it a deadly charm. This I drank, but\nwas not bewitched, for the herb saved me. Then she smote me with\nher wand, saying: 'Go now to the sty and lie there with thy\nfellows.' Thereto upon I drew my sword, and rushed upon her, as\nthough I would have slain her. Then she caught me by the knees,\nand cried aloud: 'Who art thou? What is thy race? I marvel that\nthou couldest drink of this drink that I have charmed, and yet\ntake no hurt. I thought that there was no mortal man that could so\ndo. Thou must have a soul against which there is no enchantment.\nVerily, thou must be that Ulysses who was to come to this island\nas he returned from Troy, for so Hermes told me. But come, let us\nbe friends.' Then I said to her: 'Nay, goddess, but how can we two\nbe friends, when thou hast turned my companions into swine. I fear\nthee that thou hast some deceit in thy heart, and thou wilt take\nme unawares, and do me a great mischief. But swear a mighty oath,\neven the oath by which the gods are bound, that thou wilt not harm\nme.'\n\n\"Then Circe sware the mighty oath, even the oath by which the gods\nare bound.\n\n\"After this her handmaids, who were fair women born of the springs\nand streams and woods, prepared a feast. One set coverlets of\npurple on the chairs, and another brought up tables of silver to\nthe chair, and set on the tables baskets of gold. A third mixed\nsweet wine in a bowl of silver, and set thereby cups of gold; and\nthe fourth filled a great kettle with water, and put fire under\nit. And when it boiled, she prepared a bath, and the bath took\naway the weariness from my limbs. And when I had bathed, a\nhandmaid bare water in a pitcher of gold, and poured it over a\nbasin of gold, that I might wash my hands. Then the housekeeper\nbrought me wheaten bread, and set many dainties on the table; and\nCirce bade me eat; but I sat silent and sorrowful, having other\nthoughts in my mind.\n\n\"And when the goddess perceived that I was silent and ate not, she\nsaid: 'Why dost thou sit, Ulysses, as though thou wert dumb?\nFearest thou any craft of mine? Nay, but that may not be, for have\nI not sworn the great oath that binds the gods?'\n\n\"Then I made answer, 'Nay, but who could think of meat and drink\nwhen such things had befallen his companions?'\n\n\"Then Circe led the way, holding her wand in her hand, and opened\nthe doors of the sties, and drove out the swine that had been men.\nThen she rubbed on each another mighty drug, and the bristles fell\nfrom their bodies and they became men, only younger and fairer\nthan before. And when they saw me, they clung to me and wept for\njoy, and Circe herself was moved with pity.\n\n\"Then said she to me: 'Go, Ulysses, to thy ship, and put away all\nthe goods and tackling in the caves that are on the shore, but\ncome again hither thyself, and bring thy comrades with thee.'\n\n\"Then I went. Right glad were they who had stayed to see me, glad\nas are the calves who have been penned in the fold-yard when their\nmothers come back in the evening.\n\n\"So we went to the dwelling of Circe, who feasted us royally, so\nthat we remained with her for a whole year, well content.\n\n\"But when the year was out my companions said to me, 'It is well\nto remember thy country, if it is indeed the will of the gods that\nthou shouldest return thither.'\n\n\"Then I besought Circe that she would send me on my way homewards,\nas indeed she had promised to do. And she answered, saying:--\n\n\"'I would not have you abide in my house unwillingly. Yet must\nthou first go on another journey, even to the dwellings of the\ndead, there to speak with the seer [Footnote: seer, prophet]\nTeiresias [Footnote: Tei-re'-si-as].'\n\n\"But I was sore troubled to hear such things, and wept aloud,\nsaying, 'Who shall guide us in this journey?--for never yet did\nship make such a voyage as this.'\n\n\"Then Circe made answer: 'Son of Laertes, trouble not thyself\nbecause thou hast no guide, only set up the mast in thy ship, and\nspread out the sails, and sit thee down with thy companions, and\nthe north wind shall carry thee to the place whereto thou art\nbound. When thou shalt have sailed across the stream of ocean,\nthou shalt come to a waste shore, where are many tall poplar trees\nand willows. Beach there thy ship on the shore of ocean, and go\nthyself to the dwelling of Hades.[Footnote: Ha'-des] There is a\ncertain rock, and near to it meet two streams, the river of fire,\nand the river of wailing. Dig there a trench; it shall be a cubit\n[Footnote: cubit, a foot and a half] long and a, cubit broad; pour\nout therein a drink-offering to the dead; and sprinkle white\nbarley thereon. And as thou doest these things, entreat the dead,\nand promise that when thou shalt come again to Ithaca, thou wilt\noffer a barren heifer, even the best thou hast, and that thou wilt\nsacrifice to Teiresias alone a black ram, the goodliest in the\nflock. And after thou hast made thy prayers to the dead, offer up\na black ram and a black ewe. Then will come many spirits of the\ndead, but suffer them not to drink of the blood till thou shalt\nhave spoken to Teiresias. Speedily will the seer come to thee, and\nwill tell thee how thou mayest return to thy home.' The next\nmorning I roused my companions, saying, 'Sleep no more; we will go\non our way, for Circe hath shown to me the whole matter.'\n\n\"So I spake, and they consented to my words. Yet did not I take\nall my company safe from the dwelling of the goddess. There was a\ncertain Elpenor [Footnote: El-pe'-nor.], who was the youngest of\nthem all, and was neither valiant nor of an understanding mind. He\nwas sleeping apart from his fellows, on the housetop, for he had\ncraved for the coolness of the air. He, hearing our voices, and\nthe sound of the men's feet, as they moved hither and thither,\nleapt up of a sudden, and thought not to come down by the ladder\nby which he had gone up, but fell down from the roof, so that his\nneck was broken, and he went down to the dwellings of the dead.\n\n\"But as my men were on their way, I spake to them, saying: 'Ye\nthink that ye are going to your native country; not so, for Circe\nhath showed me another journey that we must take, even to the\ndwelling of Hades, that I may speak with the spirit of Teiresias\nthe seer.'\n\n\"So I spake, and their spirit was broken within them, and they sat\ndown where they were, and mourned, and tare their hair. But their\nweeping profited nothing.\n\n\"Meanwhile Circe had gone, and made fast a ram and a black ewe to\nthe ship, passing on as we went, for none may mark the goings of\nthe immortal gods.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nTHE DWELLINGS OF THE DEAD\n\n(THE TALE OF ULYSSES)\n\n\n\"After this we made ready the ship for sailing, and put the black\nsheep on board, and so departed; and Circe sent a wind from behind\nthat filled the sails; and all the day through our ship passed\nquickly over the sea.\n\n\"And when the sun had set we came to the utmost border of the\nocean. Then I bade two of my comrades make ready the sheep for\nsacrifice; and I myself dug a pit of a cubit every way, and poured\nin it a drink-offering of honey and milk, and sweet wine, and\nwater, and sprinkled barley upon the drink-offering. Afterwards I\ntook the sheep and slew them, so that their blood ran into the\ntrench. And the dead were gathered to the place,--maidens, and old\nmen who had borne the sorrows of many years, and warriors that had\nbeen slain in battle, having their arms covered with blood. All\nthese gathered about the pit with a terrible cry; and I was sore\nafraid. Then I bade my comrades burn the carcasses of the sheep\nand pray to the gods of the dead; but I myself sat down by the\npit's side, and would not suffer the souls of the dead to come\nnear unto the blood until I had inquired of Teiresias.\n\n\"First of all came the soul of my comrade Elpenor. Much did I\nwonder to see him, and I asked, 'How comest thou hither, Elpenor,\nto the land of darkness? and how have thy feet outstripped my\nship?' Then said Elpenor: 'I fell from the roof of the palace of\nCirce, not bethinking me of the ladder, and so brake my neck. But\nnow, I pray thee, if thou lovest wife and father and son, forget\nme not, when thou returnest to the island of Circe. Burn me with\nfire and my arms with me; and make a mound for me by the shore of\nthe sea, that men may hear of me and of my fate in after time. And\nset up my oar upon my tomb, even the oar which I was wont to ply\namong my comrades.'\n\n\"Then I said to him, 'All this shall be done as thou desirest.'\n\n\"And we sat on either side of the trench as we talked, and I held\nmy sword over the blood.\n\n\"After him came to me the soul of my mother, whom I had left alive\nwhen I sailed to Troy. Sorely I wept to see her, yet suffered her\nnot to come near and drink of the blood till I had inquired of\nTeiresias. Then came Teiresias, holding a golden sceptre in his\nhand, and spake, saying: 'Why hast thou left the light of day, and\ncome hither to this land of the dead, wherein is no delight? But\ncome, depart from the pit, and take away thy sword, that I may\ncome near and tell thee true.'\n\n\"So I thrust my sword into the scabbard; and Teiresias drank of\nthe blood; and when he had drunk, he spake: 'Thou seekest to hear\nof thy going back to thy home. Know, therefore, that it shall be\nwith peril and toil. For Poseidon will not easily lay aside his\nwrath against thee, because thou didst take from his dear son, the\nCyclops, the sight of his eye. Yet for all this ye may yet come\nsafe to your home, if only thou canst restrain thyself and thy\ncomrades when ye come to the island of the Three Capes, and find\nthere the oxen and the sheep of the Sun. If ye let them be and\nharm them not, then may ye yet return to Ithaca, though after\ndreadful toil. But if not, then shall ye perish. And if thou\nescape thyself, after long time shalt thou return, having lost all\nthy comrades, and the ship of strangers shall carry thee; and thou\nshalt find trouble in thy house, men of violence who devour thy\nsubstance while they seek thy wife in marriage.'\n\n\"To him I made answer: 'So be it, Teiresias. All these things the\ngods have ordered after their own will. But tell me this. Here I\nsee the soul of my mother that is dead; and she sits near the\nblood, but regards me not, nor speaks to me. How can she know that\nI am indeed her son?'\n\n\"Then said Teiresias: 'Whomsoever of the dead thou shalt suffer to\ndrink of the blood, he will speak to thee; but whomsoever thou\nsufferest not, he will depart in silence.'\n\n\"So I abode in my place; and the soul of my mother came near and\ndrank of the blood. And when she had drunk, she knew her son, and\nsaid: 'My son, why hast thou come into the land of darkness, being\nyet alive? Hast thou not yet returned to thy home?'\n\n\"To her I made answer: 'I came hither to inquire of Teiresias of\nThebes, and my home have I not seen. Truly trouble hath followed\nme from the day that I first went with King Agamemnon to the land\nof Troy. But tell me, how didst thou die? Did a wasting disease\nslay thee, or did Artemis [Footnote: Ar'-te-mis] smite thee with a\nsudden stroke of her arrow? And my father and my son, have they\nenjoyment of that which is mine, or have others taken it from\nthem? And my wife, is she true to me, or hath she wedded some\nprince among the Greeks?'\n\n\"Then said my mother: 'Thy wife is true, and sits weeping for thee\nday and night. And thy son hath enjoyment of thy possessions, and\nhath his due place at the feasts of the people. But thy father\ncometh no longer to the city, but abideth in the country. Nor hath\nhe any couch for his bed, but in winter-time he sleeps, even as\nsleep the slaves, in the ashes near unto the fire, and when the\nsummer comes, in the corner of the vineyard upon leaves. Greatly\ndoth he sorrow, waiting for thy return, and the burden of old age\nlies heavy upon him. But as for me, no wasting disease slew me,\nnor did Artemis smite me with her arrows; but I died of longing\nfor thee, so sorely did I miss thy wisdom and thy love.'\n\n\"Then I was fain to lay hold upon the soul of my mother. Thrice I\nsprang forward, eager to embrace her, and thrice she passed from\nout my hands, even as passeth a shadow. And when I said, 'How is\nthis, my mother? art thou then but a phantom that the queen of the\ndead hath sent me?' my mother answered me: 'Thus it is with the\ndead, my son. They have no more any flesh and bones; for these the\nfire devours; but their souls are even as dreams, flying hither\nand thither. But do thou return so soon as may be to the light,\nand tell all that thou hast seen and heard to thy wife.'\n\n\"Thereupon I departed from the place, and bade my comrades embark\nupon the ships and loose the ropes. And we embarked and sat upon\nthe benches; and the great stream of Ocean bare us onward, rowing\nat the first, and afterwards hoisting the sails.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nTHE SIRENS; SCYLLA;[Footnote: Scyl'-la] THE OXEN OF THE SUN\n\n(THE TALE OF ULYSSES)\n\n\n\"It was now evening when we came back to the island of Circe.\nTherefore we beached the ship, and lay down by the sea, and slept\ntill the morning. And when it was morning we arose, and went to\nthe palace of Circe, and fetched thence the body of our comrade\nElpenor. We raised the funeral pile where the farthest headland\nruns out into the sea, and burned the dead man and his arms; then\nwe raised a mound over his bones, and put a pillar on the top of\nthe mound, and on the top of the pillar his oar.\n\n\"But Circe knew of our coming, and of what we had done, and she\ncame and stood in our midst, her handmaids coming with her, and\nbearing flesh and bread and wine in plenty. Then she spake,\nsaying: 'Overbold are ye, who have gone down twice into the house\nof death which most men see but once. Come now, eat and drink this\nday; to-morrow shall ye sail again over the sea, and I will tell\nyou the way, and declare all that shall happen, that ye may suffer\nno hindrance as ye go.'\n\n\"So all that day we ate and feasted. And when the darkness came\nover the land, my comrades lay them down by the ship and slept.\nBut Circe took me by the hand, and led me apart from my company,\nand inquired of what I had seen and done. And when I had told her\nall my tale, she spake, saying: 'Hearken now to what I shall tell\nthee. First of all thou shalt come to the Sirens, who bewitch all\nmen with their singing. For whoever cometh nigh to them, and\nlisteneth to their song, he seeth not wife or children any more;\nfor the Sirens enchant him, and draw him to where they sit, with a\ngreat heap of dead men's bones about them. Speed thy ship past\nthem, and first fill the ears of thy comrades with wax, lest any\nshould hear the song; but if thou art minded thyself to hear the\nsong, let them bind thee fast to the mast. So shalt thou hear the\nsong, and take no harm. And if thou shalt entreat thy comrades to\nloose thee, they must bind the bonds all the faster.\n\n\"'When thou shalt have passed the island of the Sirens, then thou\nmust choose for thyself which path thou shalt take. On the one\nside are the rocks that men call the Wandering Rocks. By these not\neven winged creatures can pass unharmed. No ship can pass them by\nunhurt; all round them do the waves toss timbers of broken ships\nand bodies of men that are drowned. One ship only hath ever passed\nthem by, even the ship Argo, and even her would the waves have\ndashed upon the rocks, but that Hera [Footnote: He'-ra], for love\nof Jason [Footnote: Ja'-son], caused her to pass by.\n\n\"'These there are on the one side, and on the other are two rocks.\nThe first rock reacheth with a sharp peak to the heavens, and\nabout the peak is a dark cloud that passeth not away from it, no,\nnot in summer time or harvest. This rock no man could climb, even\nthough he had twenty hands and feet, for it is steep and smooth.\nIn the midst of this cliff is a cave wherein dwelleth Scylla, the\ndreadful monster of the sea. Her voice is but as the voice of a\nnew-born dog, and her twelve feet are small and ill-grown, but she\nhath six necks, exceeding long, and on each a head dreadful to\nbehold, and in each head three rows of teeth, thick set and full\nof death. She is hidden up to her middle in the cave, but she\nputteth her heads out of it, fishing for dolphins, or sea-dogs, or\nother creatures of the sea, for indeed there are countless flocks\nof them. No ship can pass her by unharmed, for with each head she\ncarrieth off a man, snatching them from the ship's deck. Hard by,\neven a bow-shot off, is the other rock, lower by far, and with a\ngreat fig tree growing on the top. Beneath it Charybdis [Footnote:\nCha-ryb'-dis] thrice a day sucketh in the water, and thrice a day\nspouteth it forth. If thou chance to be there when she sucks it\nin, not even Poseidon's help could save thee. See, therefore, that\nthou guide thy ship near to Scylla rather than to the other, for\nit is better 'for thee to lose six men out of thy ship than all\nthy company together.'\n\n\"So Circe spake, and I said: 'Tell me, goddess, can I by any means\nescape from Charybdis on the one hand, and. on the other, avenge\nme on this monster, when she would take my comrades for a prey?'\n\n\"But the goddess said: 'Overbold thou art, and thinkest ever of\ndeeds of battle. Verily, thou wouldest do battle with the gods\nthemselves; and surely Scylla is not of mortal race, and against\nher there is no help. Thou wilt do better to flee. For if thou\ntarry to put on thy armour, then will she dart forth again, and\ntake as many as before. Drive on thy ship, therefore, with what\nspeed may be.\n\n\"'After this, thou wilt come to the island of the Three Capes,\nwhere are the herds and the flocks of the Sun. Seven herds of kine\nthere are and seven flocks of sheep, and fifty in each. These\nneither are born, nor die, and they have two goddesses to herd\nthem. If ye do these no hurt, then shall ye return, all of you, to\nIthaca, but if ye harm them, then shall thy ship be broken, and\nall thy company shall perish, and thou shalt return alone and\nafter long delay.'\n\n\"Having so spoken, the goddess departed. Then I roused my men and\nthey launched the ship, and smote the water with their oars, and\nthe goddess sending a favourable wind, we hoisted the sails, and\nrested.\n\n\"But, as we went, I spake to my companions, saying: 'Friends, it\nis not well that one or two only should know the things that Circe\nprophesied to me. Therefore I will declare them to you, that we\nmay know beforehand the things that shall come to pass, and so\neither die or live.'\n\n\"And first I told them of the Sirens; and while I spake we came to\nthe Sirens' Island. Then did the breeze cease, and there was a\nwindless calm. So my comrades took down the sails and put out the\noars, and I cleft a great round of wax with my sword, and, melting\nit in the sun, I filled the ears of my men; afterwards they bound\nme by hands and feet, as I stood upright by the mast. And when we\nwere so near the shore that the shout of a man could be heard\ntherefrom, the Sirens perceived the ship, and began their song.\nAnd their song was this:--\n\n\"'Hither, come hither, renowned Odysseus, great glory of the\nGreeks. Here stay thy bark that thou mayest listen to the voice of\nus twain. For none hath ever driven by this way in his black ship,\ntill he hath heard from our lips the voice sweet as the honeycomb,\nand hath had joy thereof and gone on his way the wiser. For lo, we\nknow all things, all that the Greeks and the Trojans have suffered\nin wide Troy-land, yea, and we know all that shall hereafter be\nupon the fruitful earth.'\n\n\"Then I motioned my men to loose me, for their ears were stopped;\nbut they plied their oars, and Eurylochus put new bonds upon me.\nAnd when we had passed by the island, then they took the wax from\ntheir ears, and loosed my bonds.\n\n\"After this they saw a smoke and surf, and heard a mighty roar,\nand their oars dropped out of their hands for fear; but I bade\nthem be of good heart, because by my counsel they had escaped\nother dangers in past time. And the rowers I bade row as hard as\nthey might. But to the helmsman I said: 'Steer the ship outside\nthe smoke and the surf, and steer close to the cliffs.' But of\nScylla I said nothing, fearing lest they should lose heart, and\ncease rowing altogether. Then I armed myself, and stood in the\nprow waiting till Scylla should appear.\n\n\"So we sailed up the strait; and there was sore trouble in my\nheart, for on the one side was Scylla, and on the other Charybdis,\nsucking down the water in a terrible fashion. Now would she vomit\nit forth, boiling the while as a great kettle boils upon the fire,\nand the spray fell on the very tops of the cliffs on either side.\nAnd then again she gulped the water down, so that we could see to\nher very depths, even the white sand that was at the bottom of the\nsea. Towards her we looked, fearing destruction, and while we\nlooked, Scylla caught out of my ship six of my companions, the\nstrongest and bravest of them all. When I looked to my ships to\nfind my crew, then I saw their feet and hands, and I heard them\ncall me by name, speaking to me for the last time. Even as a\nfisher, standing on some headland, lets down his long line with a\nbait, that he may ensnare the fishes of the sea, and each, as he\ncatches it, he flings writhing ashore, so did Scylla bear the men\nwrithing up the cliff to her cave. There did she devour them; and\nthey cried to me terribly the while. Verily, of all the things\nthat I have seen upon the sea, this was the most piteous of all.\n\n\"After this we came to the island of the Three Capes; and from my\nship I heard the lowing of the kine and the bleating of the sheep.\nThereupon I called to mind the saying of Teiresias, how he charged\nme to shun the island of the Sun. So I spake to my comrades,\nsaying: 'Hear now the counsels of Teiresias and Circe. They\ncharged me to sail by the island of the Sun; for they said that\nthere the most dreadful evil would overtake us. Do ye then row the\nship past.'\n\n\"So I spake; but Eurylochus made answer in wrath: 'Surely,\nUlysses, thou knowest not weariness, and art made of iron,\nforbidding us, weary though we be with toil and watching, to land\nupon this island, where we might well refresh ourselves. Rash,\nalso, art thou in that thou commandest us to sail all night; at\nnight deadly winds spring up, and how shall we escape, if some\nsudden storm from the west or the south smite our ship, and break\nit in pieces? Rather let us stay, and take our meal and sleep by\nthe ship's side, and to-morrow will we sail again across the sea.'\n\n\"Thus he spake, and all consented to his speech. Then I knew that\nthe gods were minded to work us mischief, and I made answer: 'Ye\nforce me, being many against one. But swear ye all an oath, that\nif ye find here either herd or flock, ye will not slay either\nbullock or sheep, but will rest content with the food that Circe\ngave us.'\n\n\"Then they all made oath that they would so do; and when they had\nsworn, they moored the ship within a creek, where there was a\nspring of fresh water; and so we took our meal. But when we had\nenough of meat and drink, we remembered our comrades whom Scylla\nhad snatched from the ship and devoured and we mourned for them\ntill slumber fell upon us.\n\n\"The next morning I spake to my company, saying: 'Friends, we have\nyet food, both bread and wine. Keep, therefore, your hands from\nthe flocks and herds, lest some mischief overtake us, for they are\nthe flocks and herds of the Sun, a mighty god whose eye none may\nescape.'\n\n\"With these words I persuaded them. But for a month the south wind\nblew without ceasing; there was no other wind, unless it were\nhaply the east. So long, indeed, as the bread and wine failed not\nthe men, they harmed not the herds, fearing to die. And\nafterwards, when our stores were consumed, they wandered about the\nisland, and searched for food, snaring fishes and birds with\nhooks, for hunger pressed them sorely. But I roamed by myself,\npraying to the gods that they would send us deliverance. So it\nchanced one day that slumber overcame me, and I slept far away\nfrom my companions.\n\n\"Meanwhile Eurylochus spake to the others, using fatal craft:\n'Friends, listen to one who suffers affliction with you. Always is\ndeath a thing to be avoided; but of all deaths the most to be\nfeared is death by hunger. Come, therefore, let us sacrifice to\nthe gods in heaven the best of the oxen of the Sun. And we will\nvow to build to the Sun, when we shall reach the land of Ithaca, a\ngreat temple which we will adorn with gifts many and precious. But\nif he be minded to sink our ship, being wroth for his oxen's sake,\nverily I would rather drown than waste slowly to death upon this\nisland.'\n\n\"To this they all gave consent. Then Eurylochus drave the fattest\nof the kine,--for they grazed near the ship,--and the men\nsacrificed it to the gods.\n\n\"And one of the nymphs that herded the kine flew to the Sun with\ntidings of that which had been done. Then spake the Sun among the\nother gods: 'Avenge me now on the guilty comrades of Ulysses; for\nthey have slain the herds which I delight to see both when I mount\nthe heavens and when I descend therefrom. Verily, if they pay not\nthe due penalty for their wrong-doing, I will go down and give my\nlight to the regions of the dead.'\n\n\"Then Zeus made answer: 'Shine, thou Sun, as aforetime, on the\nearth. Verily, my thunderbolt can easily reach the bark of these\nsinners, and break it in the middle of the sea.'\n\n\"All these things I heard afterwards from the nymph Calypso, and\nshe had heard them from Hermes, the messenger.\n\n\"With angry words did I rebuke my comrades, but found no remedy\nfor their wrong-doing, seeing that the kine were dead. For six\ndays my friends feasted on the cattle of the Sun; but when the\nseventh day came, we launched our ship upon the sea, and set sail.\n\n\"When we were now out of sight of the island of the Three Capes,\nand no other land appeared, Zeus hung a dark cloud over us, and\nsuddenly the west wind came fiercely down upon the ship, and\nsnapped the shrouds on either side. Thereupon the mast fell\nbackward and brake the skull of a pilot, so that he plunged, as a\ndiver plunges, into the sea. Meantime Zeus hurled his thunderbolt\ninto the ship, filling it with sulphur from end to end. Then my\ncomrades fell from the ship; I saw them carried about it like sea-\ngulls. But I still abode on the ship, till the sides were parted\nfrom the keel; then I bound myself with a leathern thong to the\nmast and the keel--for these were fastened together. On these I\nsat, being driven by the wind. All night long was I driven; and\nwith the morning I came again to Scylla and to Charybdis. It was\nthe time when she sucked in the waves; but I, borne upward by a\nwave, took fast hold of the branches of the wild fig tree that\ngrew upon the rock. To this I clung for a long time, but knew not\nhow to climb higher up. So I watched till she should vomit forth\nagain the keel and the mast, for these she had swallowed up. And\nwhen I saw them again, then I plunged down from the rock, and\ncaught hold of them, and seated myself on them; I rowed hard with\nthe palms of my hands; and the father of the gods suffered not\nScylla to espy me, or I should surely have perished. For nine days\nI floated, and on the tenth the gods carried me to the island of\nCalypso.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nITHACA\n\n\nWhen Ulysses had ended his tale there was silence for a space\nthroughout the hall. And after a while King Alcinous spake,\nsaying: \"Ulysses, now thou art come to my house, thou shalt no\nlonger be kept from thy return. And on you, chiefs of the\nPhaeacians, I lay this command. Garments and gold are already\nstored for this stranger in a chest. Let us now, also, give him\neach a gift.\"\n\nThis saying pleased the princes, and they went each man to his\nhouse; and the next day they brought the gifts; and the King\nhimself bestowed them under the benches, that the rowers might not\nbe hindered in their rowing.\n\nWhen these things were finished, the princes betook them to the\npalace of the King; and he sacrificed an ox to Zeus, and they\nfeasted, and the minstrel sang. But still Ulysses would ever look\nto the sun, as if he would have hastened his going down; for\nindeed he was very desirous to return as a man desireth his\nsupper, when he hath been driving the plough all day through a\nfield with a yoke of oxen before him, and is right glad when the\nsun sinketh in the west, so Ulysses was glad at the passing of the\ndaylight. And he spake, saying:--\n\n\"Pour out, now, the drink-offering, my lord the King, and send me\non my way. Now do I bid you farewell, for ye have given me all\nthat my heart desired, noble gifts and escort to my home. May the\ngods give me with them good luck, and grant, also, that I may find\nmy wife and my friends in my home unharmed! And may ye abide here\nin joy with your wives and children, and may ye have all manner of\ngood things and may no evil come near you.\"\n\nThen spake the King to his squire: \"Mix, now, the bowl, and serve\nout the wine, that we may pray to Zeus, and send the stranger on\nhis way.\"\n\nSo the squire mixed the wine, and served it out; and they all made\noffering, and prayed.\n\nThen Ulysses rose in his place, and placed the cup in the hand of\nArete, the Queen, and spake: \"Fare thee well, O Queen, till old\nage and death, which no man may escape, shall come upon thee! I go\nto my home; and do thou rejoice in thy children and in thy people,\nand in thy husband, the King.\"\n\nWhen he had so said, he stepped over the threshold. And Alcinous\nsent with him a squire to guide him to the ship, and Arete sent\nmaidens, bearing fresh clothing, and bread and wine. When they\ncame to the ship, the rowers took the things, and laid them in the\nhold. Also they spread for Ulysses a rug and a linen sheet in the\nhinder part of the ship, that his sleep might be sound.\n\nWhen these things were ended Ulysses climbed on board, and lay\ndown; and the men sat upon the benches, and unbound the hawser.\nAnd it came to pass that so soon as they touched the water with\nthe oars, a deep sleep fell upon him. As four horses carry a\nchariot quickly over the plain, so quick did the ship pass over\nthe waves Not even a hawk, that is the swiftest of all flying\nthings, could have kept pace with it.\n\nAnd when the star that is the herald of the morning came up in the\nheaven, then did the ship approach the island. There is a certain\nharbour in Ithaca, the harbour of Phorcys [Footnote: Phor'-cys],\nthe sea-god, where two great cliffs on either side break the force\nof the waves; a ship that can win her way into it can ride safely\nwithout moorings. And at the head of this harbour there is an\nolive tree, and a cave hard by which is sacred to the nymphs. Two\ngates hath the cave, one looking towards the north, by which men\nmay enter, and one towards the south, which belongeth only to the\ngods. To this place the Phaeacians guided the ship, for they knew\nit well. Half the length of the keel did they run her ashore, so\nquickly did they row her. Then they lifted Ulysses out of the\nstern as he lay in the sheet and the rug which the Queen had given\nhim. And still he slept. They took out also the gifts which the\nprinces of the Phaeacians had given him, and laid them in a heap\nby the trunk of the olive tree, a little way from the road, lest\nsome passer-by should rob him while he slept. After this they\ndeparted homeward.\n\nBut Poseidon still remembered his anger, and said to Zeus: \"Now\nshall I be held in dishonour among the gods, for mortal men, even\nthese Phaeacians, who are of my own kindred, pay me no regard. I\nsaid that this Ulysses should return in great affliction to his\nhome; and now they have carried him safely across the sea, with\nsuch a store of gifts as he never would have won out of Troy, even\nhad he come back unharmed with all his share of the spoil.\"\n\nTo him Zeus made answer: \"What is that thou sayest, lord of the\nsea? How can the gods dishonour thee, who art the eldest among\nthem? And if men withhold from thee the worship that is due, thou\ncanst punish them after thy pleasure. Do, therefore, as thou\nwilt.\"\n\nThen said Poseidon: \"I would have done so long since, had not I\nfeared thy wrath. But now I will smite this ship of the Phaeacians\nas she cometh back from carrying this man to his home. So shall\nthey learn henceforth not to send men homeward; and their city\nwill I overshadow with a great mountain.\"\n\nAnd Zeus made answer to him, \"Do as thou wilt.\"\n\nThen Poseidon came down to the land of the Phaeacians, and there\nhe tarried till the ship came near, speeding swiftly on her way.\nThereupon he struck her, changing her into a stone, and rooting\nher to the bottom of the sea.\n\nBut the Phaeacians said one to another: \"Who is this that hath\nhindered our ship, as she journeyed homeward? Even now she was\nplain to see.\"\n\nBut King Alcinous spake, saying: \"Now are the prophecies fulfilled\nwhich my father was wont to speak. For he said that Poseidon was\nwroth with us because we carried men safely across the sea, and\nthat one day the god would smite one of our ships, and change it\ninto a stone, and that he would also overshadow our city with a\ngreat mountain. Now, therefore, let us cease from conveying men to\ntheir homes, and let us do sacrifice to Poseidon, slaying twelve\nbulls, that he overshadow not our city with a great mountain.\"\n\nSo the King spake, and the princes did as he commanded them.\n\nMeanwhile Ulysses awoke in the land of Ithaca, and he knew not the\nplace, for Athene had spread a great mist about it, doing it, as\nwill be seen, with a good purpose, that he might safely accomplish\nthat which it was in his heart to do. Then Ulysses started up, and\nmade lament, saying: \"Woe is me! To what land am I come? Are the\nmen barbarous and unjust, or are they hospitable and righteous?\nWhither shall I carry these riches of mine? And whither shall I go\nmyself? Surely the Phaeacians have dealt unfairly with me, for\nthey promised that they would carry me back to my own country, but\nnow they have taken me to a strange land. May Zeus punish them\ntherefor! But let me first see to my goods, and reckon them up,\nlest the men should have taken some of them.\"\n\nThereupon he numbered the treasure and found that nothing was\nwanting. But not the less did he bewail him for his country.\n\nBut as he walked, lamenting, by the shore, Athene met him, having\nthe likeness of a young shepherd, fair to look upon, such as are\nthe sons of kings. Ulysses was glad when he saw her, though he\nknew her not, and said: \"Friend, thou art the first man that I\nhave seen in this land. Now, therefore, I pray thee to save my\nsubstance, and myself also. But first, tell me true--what land is\nthis to which I am come, and what is the people? Is it an island,\nor a portion of the mainland?\"\n\nAnd the false shepherd said: \"Thou art foolish, or, may be, hast\ncome from very far, not to know this country. Many men know it,\nboth in the east and in the west. Rocky it is, not fit for horses,\nnor is it very broad; but it is fertile land, and good for wine;\nnor does it want for rain, and a good pasture it is for oxen and\ngoats; and men call it Ithaca. Even in Troy, which is very far,\nthey say, from this land of Greece, men have heard of Ithaca.\"\n\nThis Ulysses was right glad to hear. Yet he was not minded to say\nwho he was, but rather to feign a tale.\n\nSo he said: \"Yes, of a truth, I heard of this Ithaca in Crete,\nfrom which I am newly come, with all this wealth, leaving also as\nmuch behind for my children. For I slew the son of the King,\nbecause he would have taken from me my spoil. And certain\nPhoenicians [Footnote: Phoe-ni'-ci-ans] agreed to take me to Pylos\nor to Elis;[Footnote: E'-lis] but the wind drave them hither, and\nwhile I slept they put me upon the shore, and my possessions with\nme, and departed.\"\n\nThis pleased Athene much, and she changed her shape, becoming like\nto a woman, tall and fair, and said to Ulysses:--\n\n\"Right cunning would he be who could cheat thee. Even now in thy\nnative country thou dost not cease thy cunning words and deceits!\nBut let these things be; for thou art the wisest of mortal men,\nand I excel among the gods in counsel. For I am Athene, daughter\nof Zeus, who am ever wont to stand by thee and help thee. And now\nwe will hide these possessions of thine; and thou must be silent,\nnor tell to any one who thou art, and endure many things, so that\nthou mayest come to thine own again,\"\n\nTo her Ulysses made answer: \"It is hard for a mortal man to know\nthee, O goddess, however wise he may be, for thou takest many\nshapes. While I was making war against Troy with the other Greeks,\nthou wast ever kindly to me. But from the time that we took the\ncity of Priam, and set sail for our homes, I saw thee not, until\nthou didst meet me in the land of the Phaeacians, comforting me,\nand guiding me thyself into the city. And now I beseech thee, by\nthy Father Zeus, to tell me truly: is this Ithaca that I see, for\nit seems to me that I have come to some other country, and that\nthou dost mock me. Tell me, therefore, whether in very deed I am\ncome to mine own country.\"\n\nThen Athene answered him: \"Never will I leave thee, for indeed\nthou art wise and prudent above all others. For any other man, so\ncoming back after many wanderings, would have hastened to see his\nwife and his children; but thou will first make trial of thy wife.\nCome now, I wilt show thee this land of Ithaca, that thou mayest\nbe assured in thy heart. Lo! here is the harbour of Phorcys; here\nat the harbour's head is the olive tree; here also is the pleasant\ncave that is sacred to the nymphs, and there, behold, is the\nwooded hill.\"\n\nThen the goddess scattered the mist, so that he saw the land.\nThen, indeed, he knew it for Ithaca, and he kneeled down and\nkissed the ground, and prayed to the nymphs, saying: \"Never did I\nthink to see you again; but now I greet you lovingly. Many gifts\nalso will I give you, if Athene be minded, of her grace, to bring\nme to my own again.\" Then said Athene: \"Take heart, and be not\ntroubled. But first let us put away thy goods safely in the secret\nplace of the cave.\"\n\nThen Ulysses brought up the brass, and the gold, and the raiment\nthat the Phaeacians had given him, and they two stored it in the\ncave, and Athene laid a great stone upon the mouth.\n\nAnd Athene said: \"Think, man of many devices, how thou wilt lay\nhands on these men, suitors of thy wife, who for three years have\nsat in thy house devouring thy substance. And she hath answered\nthem craftily, making many promises, but still waiting for thy\ncoming.\"\n\nThen Ulysses said: \"Truly I should have perished but for thee. But\ndo thou help me, as of old in Troy, for with thee at my side I\nwould fight with three hundred men.\"\n\nThen said Athene: \"Lo! I will cause that no man shall know thee,\nfor I will wither the fair flesh on thy limbs, and take the bright\nhair from thy head, and make thine eyes dull. And the suitors\nshall take no account of thee, neither shall thy wife nor thy son\nknow thee. But go to the swineherd Eumaeus [Footnote: Eu-mae'-\nus.], where he dwells by the fountain of Arethusa [Footnote: A-re-\nthu'-sa.], for he is faithful to thee and to thy house. And I will\nhasten to Sparta, to the house of Menelaus, to fetch Telemachus,\nfor he went thither, seeking news of thee.\"\n\nBut Ulysses said to the goddess: \"Why didst thou not tell him,\nseeing that thou knewest all? Was it that he too might wander over\nthe seas in great affliction, and that others meanwhile might\nconsume his goods?\"\n\nThen Athene made reply: \"Trouble not thyself concerning him. I\nguided him myself that he might earn a good report, as a son\nsearching for his father. Now he sitteth in peace in the hall of\nMenelaus. And though there are some that lie in wait for him to\nslay him, yet shall they not have their will. Rather shall they\nperish themselves and others with them that have devoured thy\ngoods.\"\n\nThen she touched him with her rod. She caused his skin to wither,\nand wasted the hair upon his head, and made his skin as the skin\nof an old man, and dimmed his eyes. His garments she changed so\nthat they became torn and filthy and defiled with smoke. Over all\nshe cast the skin of a great stag from which the hair was worn. A\nstaff also she gave him, and a tattered pouch, and a rope\nwherewith to fasten it.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nEUMAEUS, THE SWINEHERD\n\n\nAthene departed to Lacedaemon that she might fetch Telemachus, and\nUlysses went to the house of Eumaeus, the swineherd. A great\ncourtyard there was, and twelve sties for the sows, and four\nwatch-dogs, fierce as wild beasts. In each sty were penned fifty\nswine; but the hogs were fewer in number, for the suitors ever\ndevoured them at their feasts. There were but three hundred and\nthreescore in all. The swineherd himself was shaping sandals, and\nof his men three were with the swine in the fields, and one was\ndriving a fat beast to the city, to be meat for the suitors. But\nwhen Ulysses came near, the dogs ran upon him, and he dropped his\nstaff and sat down, and yet would have suffered harm, even on his\nown threshold; but the swineherd ran forth and drave them away\nwith stones, and spake unto his lord, though, indeed, he knew him\nnot, saying:--\n\n\"Old man, the dogs came near to killing thee. That would, indeed,\nhave been a shame and a grief to me; and, verily, I have other\ngriefs in plenty. Here I sit and sorrow for my lord, and rear the\nfat swine for others to devour, while he, perchance, wanders\nhungry over the deep, or in the land of strangers, if, indeed, he\nlives. But come now, old man, to my house, and tell me who thou\nart, and what sorrows thou hast thyself endured.\"\n\nThen the swineherd led him to his dwelling, and set him down on a\nseat of brushwood, with the hide of a wild goat spread on it. The\nhide was both large and soft, and he was wont himself to sleep on\nit.\n\nGreatly did Ulysses rejoice at this welcome, and he said, \"Now may\nZeus and the other gods grant thee thy heart's desire, with such\nkindness hast thou received me!\"\n\nThe swineherd made answer: \"It were a wicked thing in me to slight\na stranger, for the stranger and the beggar are from Zeus. But\nfrom us that are thralls and in fear of our master, even a little\ngift is precious. And the gods have stayed the return of my\nmaster. Had he come back he would surely have given me a house,\nand a portion of land, and a fair wife withal; for such things do\nlords give to servants that serve them well. Well would my lord\nhave rewarded me, had he tarried at home. But now he hath\nperished. For he, too, went to Troy, that Agamemnon and Menalaus,\nhis brother, might take vengeance on the Trojans.\"\n\nThen he went away to the sties, and brought from thence two young\npigs, and singed them, and cut them into pieces, and broiled them\nupon spits. And when he had cooked them, he set them before the\nbeggar man. He also mixed wine in a bowl of ivy-wood, and sat down\nopposite his guest, and bade him eat, saying: \"Eat now such food\nas I can give thee; as for the fat hogs, them the suitors devour.\nTruly these men have no pity, nor fear of the gods. They must have\nheard that my lord is dead, so wickedly do they behave themselves.\nThey do not woo as other suitors woo, nor do they go back to their\nown houses, but they sit at ease, and devour our wealth without\nstint. Once my lord had possessions beyond all counting; none in\nIthaca nor on the mainland had so much. Hear now the sum of them:\non the mainland twenty herds of kine, and flocks of sheep as many,\nand droves of swine as many, and as many herds of goats. Also here\nat this island's end he had eleven flocks of goats. Day by day do\nthey take one of the goats for the suitors, and I take for them\nthe best of the hogs.\"\n\nSo he spake, and Ulysses ate flesh and drank wine the while; but\nnot a word did he speak, for he was planning the suitors' death.\nBut at the last he spake: \"My friend, who was this, thy lord, of\nwhom thou speakest? Thou sayest that he perished, seeking to get\nvengeance for King Menelaus. Tell me now, for it may be that I\nhave seen him, for I have wandered far.\"\n\nBut Eumaeus said: \"Nay, old man, thus do all wayfarers talk, yet\nwe hear no truth from them. Not a vagabond fellow comes to this\nisland but our Queen must see him, and ask him many things,\nweeping the while. And thou, I doubt not, would tell a wondrous\ntale. But Ulysses, I know, is dead, and either the fowls of the\nair devour him, or the fishes of the sea.\"\n\nBut the false beggar said: \"Hearken now, I swear to thee that\nUlysses will return. And so soon as this shall come to pass thou\nshalt let me have the reward of good tidings. A mantle and a tunic\nshalt thou give me. But before it shall happen, I will take\nnothing, though my need be sore. Now Zeus be my witness, and this\nhospitable hearth of Ulysses to which I am come, that all these\nthings shall come to pass even as I have said. This year shall\nUlysses return; yea, while the moon waneth he shall come, and take\nvengeance on all who dishonour his name.\"\n\nBut Eumaeus made answer: \"It is not I, old man, that shall ever\npay the reward of good tidings. Truly, Ulysses will never more\ncome back to his home. But let us turn our thought to other\nthings. Bring thou not these to my remembrance any more; for,\nindeed, my heart is filled with sorrow, if any man put me in mind\nof my lord. As for thine oath, let it be. Earnestly do I pray that\nUlysses may indeed return; for this is my desire, and the desire\nof his wife, and of the old man Laertes, and of Telemachus. And\nnow I am troubled concerning Telemachus also. I thought that he\nwould be no worse a man than his father; but some one, whether it\nwere god or man I know not, took away his wits, and he went to\nPylos, seeking news of his father. And now the suitors lie in wait\nfor him, desiring that the race of Ulysses may perish utterly out\nof the land. Come now, old man, and tell me who art thou, and\nwhence? On what ship did thou come, for that by ship thou earnest\nto Ithaca I do not doubt.\"\n\nThen Ulysses answered: \"Had we food and wine to last us for a\nyear, and could sit quietly here and talk, while others go to\ntheir work, so long I should be in telling thee fully all my\ntroubles that I have endured upon the earth.\"\n\nThen he told a false tale,--how he was a Cretan who had been\nshipwrecked, and after many sufferings had reached Thesprotia\n[Footnote: Thes-pro'ti-a.], where he had heard of Ulysses. And\nwhen he sailed thence, the sailors were minded to sell him as a\nslave, but he had broken his bonds, and swam ashore, when they\nwere near the island, and had hidden himself in the woods.\n\nThen said the swineherd: \"Stranger, thou hast stirred my heart\nwith the tale of all that thou hast suffered. But in this thing, I\nfear, thou speakest not aright, saying that Ulysses will return.\nWell I know that he was hated of the gods, because they smote him\nnot when he was warring against the men of Troy, nor afterwards\namong his friends, when the war was ended. Then would the host\nhave builded for him a great mound; and he would have won great\nrenown for himself and for his children. But now he hath perished\ningloriously by the storms of the sea. As for me, I dwell apart\nwith the swine, and go not into the city, save when there have\nbeen brought, no man knows whence, some tidings of my master. Then\nall the people sit about the bringer of news, and question him,\nboth those who desire their lord's return, and those who delight\nin devouring his substance without recompense. But I care not to\nask questions, since the time when a certain AEtolian [Footnote:\nAE-to'-li-an.] cheated me with his story. He too had slain a man,\nand had wandered over many lands, and when he came to my house, I\ndealt kindly with him. This fellow said that he had seen my lord\nwith the King of Crete, and that he was mending his ships which\nthe storm had broken. Also he said that he would come home when it\nwas summer, or harvest time, and would bring much wealth with him.\nBut thou, old man, seek not to gain my favour with lies, nor to\ncomfort me with idle words.\"\n\nBut Ulysses answered: \"Verily, thou art slow of heart to believe.\nEven with an oath have I not persuaded thee. But come, let us make\nan agreement together, and the gods shall be our witnesses. If thy\nlord shall return, then shalt thou give me a mantle and a tunic,\nand send me on my way, whither I desire to go. But if he come not\nback according to my word, then let thy men throw me down from a\ngreat rock, that others may fear to deceive.\"\n\nThen the swineherd said: \"Much credit, truly, should I gain among\nmen, if, having entertained thee in my house, I should turn and\nslay thee; and with a good heart, hereafter, should I pray to\nZeus. But it is time for supper, and I would that my men were\nreturned that we might make ready a meal.\"\n\nWhile he spake, the swine and the swineherds drew near; and\nEumaeus called to his fellows, saying: \"Bring the best of the\nswine, for I would entertain a guest who comes from far. Verily,\nwe endure much toil for these beasts, while others devour them,\nand make no return.\"\n\nSo they brought a hog of five years old; and the swineherd kindled\na fire, and when he had cast bristles from the hog into the fire,\nto do honour to the gods, he slew the beast, and made ready the\nflesh. Seven portions he made; one he set apart for the nymphs and\nfor Hermes, and of the rest he gave one to each. But Ulysses had\nthe chief portion, even the chine.\n\nThen was Ulysses glad, and spake, saying, \"Eumaeus, mayest thou be\ndear to Zeus, for thou hast dealt kindly with me.\"\n\nAnd Eumaeus answered: \"Eat, stranger, and make merry with what\nthou hast. The gods give some things, and some things they\nwithhold.\"\n\nNow the night was cold, and it rained without ceasing; for the\nwest wind, that ever bringeth rain, was blowing; and Ulysses was\nminded to try the swineherd, whether he would give him his own\nmantle, or bid another do so. Therefore, when they were about to\nsleep, he said:--\n\n\"Listen to me. O that I was young, and my strength unbroken, as in\nthe days when we fought before the city of Troy.\n\n\"Once upon a time we laid an ambush near to the city of Troy. And\nMenelaus and Ulysses and I were the leaders of it. In the reeds we\nsat, and the night was cold, and the snow lay upon our shields.\nNow all the others had cloaks, but I had left mine behind at the\nships. So, when the night was three parts spent, I spake to\nUlysses, 'Here am I without a cloak; soon, methinks, shall I\nperish with the cold.' Soon did he bethink him of a remedy, for he\nwas ever ready with counsel. Therefore he said: 'Hush, lest some\none hear thee; and to the others, 'I have been warned in a dream.\nWe are very far from the ships, and in peril. Therefore, let some\none run to the ships, to King Agamemnon, that he send more men to\nhelp.' Then one rose up and ran, casting off his cloak; and this I\ntook, and slept warmly therein. Were I this night such as then I\nwas, I should not lack such kindness even now.\"\n\nThen said Eumaeus: \"This is well spoken, old man. Thou shalt have\na cloak to cover thee. But in the morning thou must put on thy own\nrags again. Yet, perchance, when the son of Ulysses shall come, he\nwill give thee new garments.\"\n\nThereupon he arose, and set a bed for Ulysses, making it with\nsheepskins and goatskins, near to the fire; and when Ulysses lay\ndown, he cast a thick cloak over him, that he had in case a great\nstorm should arise. But he himself slept beside the boars, to\nguard them; and Ulysses was glad to see that he was very careful\nfor his master's substance, even though he was so long time away.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nTHE RETURN OF TELEMACHUS\n\n\nNow all this time Telemachus tarried in Sparta with King Menelaus,\nand the son of Nestor was with him. To him, therefore, Athene\nwent. Nestor's son she found overcome with slumber, but Telemachus\ncould not sleep for thoughts of his father. And Athene stood near\nhim, and spake:--\n\n\"It is not well, Telemachus, that thou shouldest tarry longer away\nfrom thy home, for there are some who spoil and devour thy\nsubstance. Come, therefore, rouse thy host Menelaus, and pray him\nthat he send thee on thy way. For thy mother's father and her\nbrethren urge her to take Eurymachus [Footnote: Eu-rym'-a-chus.]\nfor her husband, seeing that he hath far surpassed all the other\nsuitors in his gifts. Hearken also to another matter. The bravest\nof the suitors lie in wait for thee in the strait that is between\nIthaca and Samos, desirous to slay thee before thou shalt come\nagain to thy home. Keep thy ship, therefore, far from the place,\nand sail both by night and by day, and one of the gods shall send\nthee a fair breeze. Also, when thou comest to the land of Ithaca,\nsend thy ship and thy company to the city, but seek thyself the\nswineherd Eumaeus, for he hath been ever true to thee. Rest there\nthe night, and bid him go to the city on the day following, and\ncarry tidings to thy mother of thy safe return.\"\n\nThen Telemachus woke the son of Nestor, touching him with his\nheel, and saying: \"Awake, son of Nestor, bring up thy horses, and\nyoke them to the chariot, that we may go upon our way.\"\n\nBut Peisistratus made answer: \"We may not drive through the\ndarkness, how eager soever we be to depart. Soon will it be dawn.\nTarry thou till Menelaus shall bring his gifts and set them on the\ncar, and send thee on thy way, for a guest should take thought of\nthe host that showeth him kindness.\"\n\nAnd when the morning was come, and Menelaus was risen from his\nbed, Telemachus spake to him, saying, \"Menelaus, send me now with\nall speed to my own country, for I am greatly desirous to go\nthere.\"\n\nTo him Menelaus made answer: \"I will not keep thee long, seeing\nthat thou desirest to return. But stay till I bring my gifts and\nset them in the chariot. Let me also bid the women prepare the\nmeal in my hall, for it is both honour to me and a profit to you\nthat ye should eat well before ye set forth on a far journey. But\nif thou wilt go further through the land, then let me go with\nthee; to many cities will we go, and none will send us empty\naway.\"\n\nBut Telemachus said: \"Not so, Menelaus; rather would I go back\nstraightway to mine own land, for I left none to watch over my\ngoods. It were ill done were I to perish seeking my father, or to\nlose some precious possession out of my house.\"\n\nThen Menelaus bade his wife and the maids prepare the meal, and\nhis squire he bade kindle a fire and roast flesh; and he himself\nwent to his treasury, and Helen and his son with him. He himself\ntook therefrom a double cup, and bade his son bear a mixing-bowl\nof silver; as for Helen, she took from her chests a robe that she\nhad wrought with her own hands. The fairest it was of all, and\nshone as shines a star, and it lay beneath all the rest.\n\nThen said Menelaus: \"Take this mixing-bowl; it is wrought of\nsilver, but the lips are finished with gold; the god Hephaestus\n[Footnote: He-phaes'-tus.] wrought it with his own hands, and the\nKing of the Sidonians [Footnote: Si-do'-ni-ans.] gave it me. This\ncup also I give thee.\"\n\nAnd beautiful Helen came, holding the robe in her hands, and\nspake, saying: \"Take, dear child, this memorial of Helen's\nhandiwork; keep it against thy marriage day, for thy bride to\nwear. Meanwhile, let thy mother have charge of it. And now mayest\nthou return with joy to thy native country and thy home!\"\n\nThen they sat down to eat and drink; and when they had finished,\nthen did Telemachus and Nestor's son yoke the horses and climb\ninto the chariot.\n\nBut Menelaus came forth bringing wine in a cup of gold, that they\nmight pour out an offering to the gods before they departed. And\nhe stood before the horses, and spake, saying:--\n\n\"Farewell, gallant youths, and salute Nestor for me; verily, he\nwas as a father to me, when we were waging war against Troy.\"\n\nTo him Telemachus made answer: \"That will we do; and may the gods\ngrant that I find my father at home and tell him what grace I have\nfound in thy sight!\"\n\nBut even as he spake there flew forth at his right hand an eagle,\ncarrying a goose in his claws, that he had snatched from the yard,\nand men and women followed it with loud shouting. Across the\nhorses it flew, still going to the right; and they were glad when\nthey saw it.\n\nThen said Nestor's son: \"Think, Menelaus! Did Zeus send this sign\nto us or thee?\"\n\nBut while Menelaus pondered the matter, Helen spake, saying: \"Hear\nme while I say what the gods have put in my heart. Even as this\neagle came down from the hill where he was bred, and snatched away\nthe goose from the house, so shall Ulysses come back to his home\nafter many wanderings, and take vengeance; yea, even now he is\nthere, plotting evil for the suitors.\"\n\nThen they departed and sped across the plain. But when they came\nthe next day to Pylos, Telemachus said to Peisistratus: \"Son of\nNestor, wilt thou be as a friend to me, and do my bidding? Leave\nme at my ship; take me not past, lest the old man, thy father,\nkeep me out of his kindness against my will, for, indeed, I am\ndesirous to go home.\"\n\nAnd Nestor's son did so. He turned his horses towards the shore\nand the ship. And coming there, he took out the gifts, and laid\nthem in the hinder part of the ship. This done, he called\nTelemachus and said: \"Climb now into thy ship, and depart, ere I\ncan reach my home. Well I know that my father will come down, and\nbid thee return with him to his house; nor, indeed, if he find\nthee here, will he go back without thee, so wilful is he of\nheart.\"\n\nAnd Telemachus bade his companions climb on the ship; and they did\nso.\n\nSo they departed; and Athene sent a wind that blew from behind,\nand they sped on their way.\n\nMeanwhile Ulysses sat with the swineherd and his men, and supped.\nAnd Ulysses, willing to try the man's temper, said: \"In the\nmorning I would fain go to the city, to the house of Ulysses, for\nI would not be burdensome to thee. Perchance the suitors might\ngive me a meal. Well could I serve them. No man can light a fire,\nor cleave wood, or carve flesh, or pour out wine, better than I.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the swineherd, \"thou hadst best not go among the\nsuitors, so proud and lawless are they. They that serve them are\nnot such as thou. They are young, and fair, and gaily clad, and\ntheir heads are anointed with oil. Abide here; thou art not\nburdensome to us; and when the son of Ulysses shall come, he will\ngive thee, may be, a mantle and a tunic.\"\n\nUlysses answered: \"Now may Zeus bless thee for thy kindness, for\nthou makest me to cease from my wanderings. Surely, nothing is\nmore grievous to a man than to wander; but hunger compels him.\nTell me now about the mother of Ulysses and about his father. Are\nthey yet alive?\"\n\nThen said the swineherd: \"I will tell thee all. Laertes, the\nfather of Ulysses, yet lives; yet doth he daily pray to die, for\nhe sorroweth for his son, who is far away from his home, and for\nhis wife, who is dead. Verily, it was her death that brought him\nto old age before his time. And it was of grief for her son that\nshe died. Much kindness did I receive at her hands, while she yet\nlived; but now I lack it. As for my lady Penelope, a great trouble\nhath fallen upon her house, even a plague of evil-minded men.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nULYSSES AND TELEMACHUS\n\n\nTelemachus in his ship came safe to the island of Ithaca, at the\nplace that was nearest to the swineherd's house. There they\nbeached the ship, and made it fast with anchors at the fore part\nand hawsers at the stern, and they landed, and made ready a meal.\n\nWhen they had had enough of meat and drink, Telemachus said: \"Take\nnow the ship to the city. I will come thither in the evening,\nhaving first seen my farm; and then I will pay you your wages.\"\n\nNow the herdsman and Ulysses had kindled a fire, and were making\nready breakfast.\n\nAnd Ulysses heard the steps of a man, and, as the dogs barked not,\nhe said to Eumaeus, \"Lo! there comes some comrade or friend, for\nthe dogs bark not.\"\n\nAnd as he spake, Telemachus stood in the doorway; and the\nswineherd let fall from his hand the bowl in which he was mixing\nwine, and ran to him and kissed his head and his eyes and his\nhands. As a father kisses his only son, coming back to him from a\nfar country after ten years, so did the swineherd kiss Telemachus.\nAnd when Telemachus came in, the false beggar, though indeed he\nwas his father, rose, and would have given place to him; but\nTelemachus allowed him not to do so. And when they had eaten and\ndrunk, Telemachus asked of the swineherd who this stranger might\nbe.\n\nThen the swineherd told him what he had heard, and afterwards\nsaid, \"I hand him to thee; do as thou wilt.\"\n\nBut Telemachus answered: \"Nay, Eumaeus. For am I master in my\nhouse? Do not the suitors devour it? And does not my mother doubt\nwhether she will abide with me, remembering the great Ulysses, who\nwas her husband, or will follow some one of those who are suitors\nto her? I will give this stranger, indeed, food and clothing and a\nsword, and will send him whithersoever he will, but I would not\nthat he should go among the suitors, so haughty are they and\nviolent.\"\n\nThen said Ulysses: \"But why dost thou bear with these men? Do the\npeople hate thee, that thou canst not avenge thyself on them? and\nhast thou not kinsmen to help thee? As for me, I would rather die\nthan see such shameful things done in a house of mine.\"\n\nAnd Telemachus answered: \"My people hate me not; but as for\nkinsmen, I have none, for my grandfather had but one son, Laertes,\nand he but one, Ulysses, and Ulysses had none other but me.\nTherefore do these men spoil my substance, and, it may be, will\ntake my life also. These things, however, the gods will order. But\ndo thou, Eumaeus, go to Penelope, and tell her that I am returned;\nand let no man know thereof, for they plan evil against me; but I\nwill stay here meanwhile.\"\n\nSo Eumaeus departed. And when he had gone, Athene came, like a\nwoman tall and fair; but Telemachus saw her not, for it is not\ngiven to all to see the immortal gods; but Ulysses saw her, and\nthe dogs saw her, and whimpered for fear. She signed to Ulysses,\nand he went forth, and she said:--\n\n\"Hide not the matter from thy son, but plan with him how ye may\nslay the suitors, and lo! I am with you.\"\n\nThen she touched him with her golden wand. First she put about him\na fresh robe of linen and new tunic. Also she made him larger and\nfairer to behold. More dark did he grow, and his cheeks were\nrounded again, and the beard spread out black upon his chin.\n\nHaving so done, she passed away. But when Ulysses went into the\nhut, his son looked at him, greatly marvelling. Indeed, he feared\nthat it might be some god.\n\n\"Stranger,\" he said, \"surely thou art not what thou wast but a\nmoment since; other garments hast thou, and the colour of thy skin\nis changed. Verily, thou must be some god from heaven. Stay\nawhile, that we may offer to thee sacrifice, so shalt thou have\nmercy on us!\"\n\nUlysses made answer, \"I am no god; I am thy father, for whom thou\nhast sought with much trouble of heart.\"\n\nSo saying, he kissed his son, and let fall a tear, but before he\nhad kept in his tears continually.\n\nBut Telemachus, doubting yet whether this could indeed be his\nfather, made reply: \"Thou canst not be my father; some god\ndeceiveth me that I may have sorrow upon sorrow. No mortal man\ncould contrive this, making himself now young, now old, at his\npleasure. A moment since thou wast old, and clad in vile garments;\nnow thou art as one of the gods in heaven.\"\n\nBut Ulysses answered him, saying: \"Telemachus, it is not fitting\nfor thee to marvel so much at thy father's coming home. It is\nindeed my very self who am come, now at last in the twentieth\nyear, having suffered many things and wandered over many lands.\nAnd this at which thou wonderest is Athene's work; she it is that\nmaketh me now like to an old man and a beggar and now to a young\nman clad in rich raiment.\"\n\nSo speaking, he sat him down again, and Telemachus threw himself\nupon his father's neck and wept, and his father wept also. And\nwhen they had dried their tears, Telemachus said, \"Tell me how\nthou camest back, my father?\"\n\nSo Ulysses told him, saying: \"The Phaeacians brought me back from\ntheir country while I slept. Many gifts did they send with me.\nThese have I hidden in a cave. And to this place have I come by\nthe counsel of Athene, that we may plan together for the slaying\nof the suitors. But come, tell me the number of the suitors, how\nmany they are and what manner of men. Shall we twain be able to\nmake war upon them or must we get the help of others?\"\n\nThen said Telemachus: \"Thou art, I know, a great and wise warrior,\nmy father, but this thing we cannot do; for these men are not ten,\nno, nor twice ten, but from Dulichium [Footnote: Du-lich'-i-um.]\ncome fifty and two, and from Samos four and twenty, and from\nZacynthus [Footnote: Za-cyn'-thus.] twenty, and from Ithaca\ntwelve; and they have Medon, the herald, and a minstrel also, and\nattendants.\"\n\nThen said Ulysses: \"Go thou home in the morning and mingle with\nthe suitors, and I will come as an old beggar; and if they treat\nme shamefully, endure to see it, yea, if they drag me to the door.\nOnly, if thou wilt, speak to them prudent words; but they will not\nheed thee, for indeed their doom is near. Heed this also: when I\ngive thee a sign, take all the arms from the dwelling and hide\nthem in thy chamber. And when they shall ask thee why thou doest\nthus, say that thou takest them out of the smoke, for that they\nare not such as Ulysses left behind him when he went to Troy, but\nthat the smoke has soiled them. Say, also, that perchance they\nmight stir up strife sitting at their cups, and that it is not\nwell that arms should be at hand, for that the very steel draws on\na man to fight. But keep two swords and two spears and two\nshields--these shall be for thee and me. Only let no one know of\nmy coming back--not Laertes, nor the swineherd; no, nor Penelope\nherself.\"\n\nMeanwhile the ship of Telemachus came to the city, and a herald\nwent to the palace with tidings for Penelope, lest she should be\ntroubled for her son. So these two, the herald and the swineherd,\ncame together, having the same errand. The herald spake out among\nthe handmaids, saying: \"O Queen, thy son is returned from Pylos!\"\nBut the swineherd went up to Penelope by herself, and told her all\nthat Telemachus had bidden him to say. When he had so done, he\nturned about, and went home to his house and to the swine.\n\nBut the suitors were troubled in heart; and Eurymachus said: \"This\nis a bold thing that Telemachus hath done. He hath accomplished\nhis journey, which we said he never would accomplish. Let us,\ntherefore, get rowers together, and send a ship, that we may bid\nour friends come back with all the speed they may.\"\n\nBut even while he spake, Amphinomus [Footnote: Am-phi'-no-mus.]\nturned him about, and saw the ship in the harbour, and the men\nlowering the sails. Then he laughed and said: \"No need is there to\nsend a message, for the men themselves have come. Maybe some god\nhath told them; maybe they saw the ship of Telemachus go by, and\ncould not overtake it.\"\n\nThen all the suitors went together to the place of assembly, and\nAntinous stood up and spake: \"See how the gods have delivered this\nman! All day long our scouts sat and watched upon the headlands,\none man taking another's place; and at sunset we rested not on the\nshore, but sailed on the sea, waiting for the morning. Yet some\ngod hath brought him home. Nevertheless, we will bring him to an\nevil end, for so long as he liveth we shall not accomplish our\nend. Let us make haste before he assemble the people and tell them\nhow we plotted against him. Then will they hate us, and we shall\nbe driven forth from the land. Let us slay him, therefore, either\nin the field or by the way; and let us divide his possessions, but\nhis house will we give to his mother and to him who shall marry\nher.\"\n\nThen spake Amphinomus,--not one of the suitors was of a more\nunderstanding heart than he,--\"Friends, I would not that\nTelemachus should be slain; it is a fearful thing to slay the son\nof a king. First, let us ask counsel of the gods. If the oracles\nof Zeus approve, then will I slay him with mine own hand; but if\nthey forbid, then I would have you refrain.\"\n\nThereupon they departed from the place of assembly, and went to\nthe house of Ulysses.\n\nNow Penelope had heard from Medon, the herald, how the suitors had\nplotted to slay her son; therefore she went to the hall, and her\nmaidens with her, and stood in the door, holding her veil before\nher face, and spake, saying:--\n\n\"Antinous, men say that thou art the best in counsel and speech of\nall the princes of Ithaca. But, in truth, I do find thee thus.\nDost thou plot against the life of my son, having no regard for\nthe gods, nor any memory of good deeds? Dost thou not remember how\nthy father fled to this house, fearing the anger of the people?\nYet it is this man's house that thou dost waste, and his son that\nthou wouldest slay.\"\n\nBut Eurymachus made answer: \"Take courage, wise Penelope, and let\nnot thy heart be troubled. The man is not, nor shall be born, who\nshall raise a hand against Telemachus, so long as I live upon the\nearth. Many a time hath Ulysses set me upon his knees, and given\nme roasted flesh, and held the wine-cup to my lips. Therefore\nTelemachus is the dearest of men to me. Fear not death for him\nfrom the suitors.\"\n\nSo he spake, as if he would comfort her; but all the while he\nplotted the death of her son.\n\nAfter this she went to her chamber, and wept for her lord till\nAthene dropped sweet sleep upon her eyes.\n\nMeanwhile the swineherd went back to his home. But before he came\nAthene changed Ulysses again into the likeness of a beggar man,\nlest he should know him and tell the matter to Penelope.\n\nTelemachus spake to him, saying: \"What news is there in the city?\nAre the suitors come back from their ambush, or do they still\nwatch for my ship?\"\n\nEumaeus answered: \"I did not think to go about the city asking\nquestions; but I will tell what I know. The messenger from thy\ncompany joined himself to me, and, indeed, was the first to tell\nthe news to the Queen. This also I know, that I saw a ship\nentering the harbour, and that there were many men in her, and\nspears, and shields. These, perchance, were the suitors, but I\nknow not of a certainty.\"\n\nThen Telemachus looked to his father, but the swineherd's eye he\nshunned.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nULYSSES IN HIS HOME\n\n\nWhen the morning came, Telemachus said to the swineherd: \"I go to\nthe city, for my mother will not be satisfied till she see my very\nface. And do thou lead this stranger to the city, that he may\nthere beg his bread from any that may have the mind to give.\"\n\nThereupon Ulysses spake, saying, \"I too, my friend, like not to be\nleft here. It is better for a man to beg his bread in the town\nthan in the fields. Go thou, and I will follow, so soon as the sun\nshall wax hot, for my garments are exceeding poor, and I fear lest\nthe cold overcome me.\"\n\nSo Telemachus went his way, devising evil against the suitors all\nthe while. And when he came to the house his nurse Eurycleia saw\nhim first, and kissed him. Penelope also came down from her\nchamber, and cast her arms about him, and kissed him on the face,\nand on both the eyes, and spake, saying: \"Thou art come,\nTelemachus, light of mine eyes! I thought not ever to see thee\nagain. But tell me, what news didst thou get of thy father?\"\n\nAnd Telemachus related what Nestor and Menelaus had told him.\n\nMeanwhile the suitors were disporting themselves, casting weights\nand aiming with spears in a level place. And when it was the time\nfor supper, Medon, the herald, said, \"Come now, let us sup; meat\nin season is a good thing.\"\n\nSo they made ready a feast.\n\nNow in the meanwhile Eumaeus and the false beggar were coming to\nthe city. And when they were now near to it, Melanthius [Footnote:\nMe-lan'-thi-us.], the goatherd, met them, and spake evil to\nEumaeus, rebuking him because he brought this beggar to the city.\nAnd he came near and smote Ulysses with his foot on the thigh, but\nmoved him not from the path. And Ulysses thought awhile, should he\nsmite him with his club and slay him, or dash him on the ground.\nBut it seemed to him better to endure.\n\nSo they went on to the palace. And at the door of the court there\nlay the dog Argus, whom in the old days Ulysses had reared with\nhis own hand. But ere the dog grew to his full, Ulysses had sailed\nto Troy. And while he was strong, men used him in the chase,\nhunting wild goats and roe-deer and hares. But now he lay on a\ndunghill, and vermin swarmed upon him. Well he knew his master,\nand, although he could not come near to him, he wagged his tail\nand drooped his ears.\n\nAnd Ulysses, when he saw him, wiped away a tear, and said, \"Surely\nthis is strange, Eumaeus, that such a dog of so fine a breed\nshould lie here upon a dunghill.\"\n\nAnd Eumaeus made reply: \"He belongeth to a master who died far\naway. For, indeed, when Ulysses had him of old, he was the\nstrongest and swiftest of dogs; but now my dear lord has perished\nfar away, and the careless women tend him not. For when the master\nis away the slaves are careless of their duty. Surely a man, when\nhe is made a slave, loses half the virtue of a man.\"\n\nAnd as he spake the dog Argus died. Twenty years had he waited,\nand saw his master at the last. After this the two entered the\nhall. And Telemachus, when he saw them, took from the basket bread\nand meat, as much as his hands could hold, and bade carry them to\nthe beggar, and also to tell him that he might go round among the\nsuitors, asking alms. So he went, stretching out his hand, as\nthough he were wont to beg; and some gave, having compassion upon\nhim, and some asked who he was. But of all, Antinous was the most\nshameless. For when Ulysses came to him and told him how he had\nhad much riches and power in former days, and how he had gone to\nEgypt, and had been sold a slave into Cyprus, Antinous mocked him,\nsaying:--\n\n\"Get thee from my table, or thou shalt find a worse Egypt and a\nharder Cyprus than before.\"\n\nThen Ulysses said, \"Surely thy soul is evil though thy body is\nfair; for though thou sittest at another man's feast, yet wilt\nthou give me nothing.\"\n\nThen Antinous caught up the footstool that was under his feet, and\nsmote Ulysses therewith. But he stood firm as a rock; and in his\nheart he thought on revenge. So he went and sat down at the door.\nAnd being there, he said:--\n\n\"Hear me, suitors of the Queen! Antinous has smitten me because\nthat I am poor. May the curse of the hungry light on him therefor,\nere he come to his marriage day!\"\n\nThen spake Antinous, \"Sit thou still, stranger, and eat thy bread\nin silence, lest the young men drag thee from the house, or strip\nthy flesh from off thy bones.\"\n\nSo he spake in his insolence; but the others blamed him, saying:\n\"Antinous, thou didst ill to smite the wanderer; there is a doom\non such deeds, if there be any god in heaven. Verily, the gods oft\ntimes put on the shape of men, and go through cities, spying out\nwhether there is righteous dealing or unrighteous among them.\"\n\nBut Antinous heeded not. As for Telemachus, he nursed a great\nsorrow in his heart to see his father so smitten; yet he shed not\na tear, but sat in silence, meditating evil against the suitors.\n\nWhen Penelope also heard how the stranger had been smitten in the\nhall, she spake to her maidens, saying, \"So may Apollo, the\narcher, smite Antinous!\"\n\nThen Eurynome [Footnote: Eu-ryn'-o-me.], that kept the house, made\nanswer: \"O that our prayers might be fulfilled! Surely not one of\nthese evil men should see another day.\"\n\nTo her replied Penelope: \"Yea, nurse, all are enemies, but\nAntinous is the worst. Verily, he is as hateful as death.\"\n\nThen Penelope called to the swineherd and said: \"Go now, and bring\nthis stranger to me; I would greet him, and inquire of him whether\nhe has heard tidings of Ulysses, or, it may be, seen him with his\neyes, for he seems to have wandered far.\"\n\nEumaeus made answer: \"Truly this man will charm thy heart, O\nQueen! Three days did I keep him in my dwelling, and he never\nceased from telling of his sorrows. As a singer of beautiful songs\ncharmeth men, so did he charm me. He saith that he is a Cretan,\nand that he hath heard of Ulysses, that he is yet alive, and that\nhe is bringing much wealth to his home.\"\n\nThen said Penelope: \"Go, call the man, that I may speak with him.\nO that Ulysses would indeed return! Soon would he and his son\navenge them of these men, for all the wrong that they have done!\"\n\nAnd as she spake, Telemachus sneezed, and all the house rang with\nthe noise. And Penelope said again to Eumaeus: \"Call now this\nstranger; didst thou not mark the good omen, how my son sneezed\nwhen I spake? Verily, this vengeance shall be wrought, nor shall\none escape from it. And as for this stranger, if I shall perceive\nthat he hath spoken truth, I will give him a new mantle and\ntunic.\"\n\nSo the swineherd spake to the stranger, saying: \"Penelope would\nspeak with thee, and would inquire concerning her husband. And if\nshe find that thou hast spoken truth, she will give thee a mantle\nand a tunic, and thou shalt have freedom to beg throughout the\nland.\"\n\nBut the false beggar said: \"Gladly would I tell to Penelope the\nstory of her husband, for I know him well. But I fear these\nsuitors. Even now, when this man struck me, and for naught, none\nhindered the blow, no, not Telemachus himself. Go, therefore, and\nbid the Queen wait till the setting of the sun.\"\n\nSo the swineherd went, and as he crossed the threshold Penelope\nsaid: \"Thou bringest him not! What meaneth the wanderer? A beggar\nthat is shamefaced knoweth his trade but ill.\"\n\nBut the swineherd answered: \"He doeth well, O lady, in that he\nfearest the wrong-doing of these insolent men. He would have thee\nwait till the setting of the sun, and indeed it is better for thee\nto have speech with him alone.\"\n\nThen said Penelope: \"It is well; the stranger is a man of\nunderstanding. Verily, these men are insolent above all others.\"\n\nThen the swineherd went into the throng of the suitors, and spake\nto Telemachus, holding his head close that none should hear: \"I go\nto see after matters at the farm. Take thou heed of what befalleth\nhere. Many of the people have ill-will against us. May Zeus\nconfound them!\"\n\nTelemachus made answer, \"Go, as thou sayest and come again in the\nmorning, bringing beasts for sacrifice.\"\n\nSo the swineherd departed; and the suitors made merry in the hall.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nULYSSES IN HIS HOME (_continued_)\n\n\nAfter awhile there came a beggar from the city, huge of bulk,\nmighty to eat and drink, but his strength was not according to his\nsize. The young men called him Irus [Footnote: I'-rus], because he\nwas their messenger, after Iris [Footnote: I'-ris], the messenger\nof Zeus. He spake to Ulysses:--\n\n\"Give place, old man, lest I drag thee forth; the young men even\nnow would have it so, but I think it shame to strike such an one\nas thee.\"\n\nThen said Ulysses, \"There is room for thee and for me; get what\nthou canst, for I do not grudge thee aught, but beware lest thou\nanger me, lest I harm thee, old though I am.\"\n\nBut Irus would not hear words of peace, but still challenged him\nto fight.\n\nAnd when Antinous saw this he was glad, and said: \"This is the\ngoodliest sport that I have seen in this house. These two beggars\nwould fight; let us haste and match them.\"\n\nAnd the saying pleased them; and Antinous spake again: \"Hear me,\nye suitors of the Queen! We have put aside these paunches of the\ngoats for our supper. Let us agree, then, that whosoever of these\ntwo shall prevail, shall have choice of these, that which pleaseth\nhim best, and shall hereafter eat with us, and that no one else\nshall sit in his place.\"\n\nThen said Ulysses: \"It is hard for an old man to fight with a\nyoung. Yet will I do it. Only do ye swear to me that no one shall\nstrike me a foul blow while I fight with this man.\"\n\nThen Telemachus said that this should be so, and they all\nconsented to his words. And after this Ulysses girded himself for\nthe fight. And all that were there saw his thighs, how great and\nstrong they were, and his shoulders, how broad, and his arms, how\nmighty. And they said one to another, \"There will be little of\nIrus left, so stalwart seems this beggar man.\" But as for Irus\nhimself, he would have slunk out of sight, but they that were set\nto gird him compelled him to come forth.\n\nThen said Antinous: \"How is this, thou braggart, that thou fearest\nthis old man, all woebegone as he is?\"\n\nSo the two came together. And Ulysses thought whether he should\nstrike the fellow and slay him, or fell him to the ground. And\nthis last seemed the better of the two. So when Irus had dealt him\nhis blow, he smote him on the jaw, and brake the bone, so that he\nfell howling on the ground, and the blood poured from his mouth.\n\nThen all the suitors laughed aloud. But Ulysses dragged the fellow\nout of the hall, and propped him by the wall of the courtyard,\nputting a staff in his hand, and saying, \"Sit there, and keep dogs\nand swine from the door, but dare not hereafter to lord it over\nmen, no, not even ov'r strangers and beggars, lest some worse\nthing befall thee.\"\n\nThen Antinous gave Ulysses a great paunch, and Amphinomus gave two\nloaves, and pledged him in a cup, saying, \"Good luck to thee,\nhereafter, though now thou seemest to have evil fortune!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nULYSSES IS DISCOVERED BY HIS NURSE\n\n\nAnd when the suitors had departed, Ulysses spake to Telemachus,\nsaying: \"Come now, let us hide away the arms that are in the hall.\nAnd if any of the suitors ask concerning them, thou shalt say, 'I\nhave put them away out of the smoke, for they are not such as they\nwere when Ulysses departed, for the breath of fire hath marred\nthem. And for this cause also have I put them away, lest ye should\nquarrel and wound one another when ye are heated with wine; for\nthe sight of iron tempteth a man to strike.' So shalt thou speak\nto the suitors.\"\n\nThen said Telemachus to Eurycleia, the nurse, \"Shut up the women\nin their chambers, till I have put away in the armoury the weapons\nof my father, for the smoke in the hall hath made them dim.\"\n\nThe nurse made answer: \"I wish, my child, that thou wouldest ever\nhave such care for thy father's possessions! But say, who shall\nbear the light, if thou wilt not have any of the women to go\nbefore thee?\"\n\nThen said Telemachus, \"This stranger shall do it, for I will not\nhave any man eat my bread in idleness.\"\n\nSo the nurse shut up the women in their chambers, and Ulysses and\nhis son set themselves to carry the shields and the helmets and\nthe spears, from the hall into the armoury. And Athene went ever\nbefore them, holding a lamp of gold, that shed a very fair light.\nThereupon said Telemachus: \"Surely, my father, this is a great\nwonder that I behold! See the walls, and the beams, and the\npillars are bright, as it were with flames of fire. This must be\nthe doing of a god.\"\n\nBut Ulysses made answer: \"Hold thy peace; keep the matter in thine\nheart, and inquire not concerning it. And now lie down and sleep,\nfor I would talk with thy mother.\"\n\nSo Telemachus went to his chamber, and slept, and Ulysses was left\nalone in the hall, devising in his heart how he might slay the\nsuitors.\n\nAnd now Penelope came down, and sat by the fire, on a chair\ncunningly wrought of silver and ivory, with a footstool that was\npart of the chair. And soon the maidens came in, and took away the\nfragments of food that were left, and the cups from which the\nsuitors drank, and piled fresh logs on the fire.\n\nThen Penelope called to the nurse, saying, \"Nurse, bring me now a\nsettle with a fleece upon it, that the stranger may sit and tell\nme his story.\"\n\nSo the nurse brought the settle and the fleece, and Ulysses sat\nhim down; and Penelope spake, saying: \"Stranger, I will ask thee\nfirst who art thou? Whence didst thou come? What is thy city and\nthy father's name?\"\n\nUlysses made answer: \"Ask me now other things as thou wilt; but\nask me not of my name, or my race, or my native country, lest I\nweep as I think thereon, for I am a man of many sorrows; and it is\nnot fitting to mourn and weep in the house of another.\"\n\nTo him Penelope made reply: \"Stranger, I am sore beset with\ntroubles. For the princes of the islands round about, yea and of\nIthaca itself, woo me against my will, and devour my house. Vainly\nhave I sought to escape their wooing. For Athene put this into my\nheart that I should say to them: 'Noble youths that would wed me,\nnow that Ulysses is dead, abide patiently, though ye be eager to\nhasten the marriage, till I shall have finished this winding-sheet\nfor Laertes; for it were a shame, if he, having had great wealth,\nshould lie in his grave without a winding-sheet.' So I spake, and\nthey gave consent. Three years did I deceive them, weaving the web\nby day, and by night unravelling it; but in the fourth year my\nhandmaids betrayed me. And now I have no escape from marriage, for\nmy parents urge me, and my son is vexed because these men devour\nhis substance, and he is now of an age to manage his own house.\nBut come, tell me of what race thou art; thou art not born of an\noak tree or a rock, as the old fables have it.\"\n\nThen said Ulysses: \"If thou wilt still ask me of my race, then\nwill I tell thee; but thou wilt so bring sorrow upon me beyond\nthat to which I am bound; for it is grief to a man who hath\nwandered far and suffered much to speak of the matter.\"\n\nSo Ulysses told his tale. False it was, but it seemed to be true.\nAnd Penelope wept to hear it. As the snow melts upon the hills\nwhen the southeast wind bloweth, and the streams run full, so did\nPenelope weep for her lord. And Ulysses had compassion on his\nwife, when he saw her weep; but his own eyes he kept as if they\nhad been horn or iron.\n\nBut Penelope said: \"Friend, suffer me to make trial of thee,\nwhether this was indeed my husband Ulysses. Tell me now with what\nraiment he was clothed, and what manner of man he was, and what\nhis company.\"\n\nThen Ulysses made answer: \"I remember that he had a mantle,\ntwofold, woollen, of sea-purple, clasped with a brooch of gold,\nwhereon was a dog that held a fawn by the throat; marvellously\nwrought was the dog and the fawn. Also he had a tunic, white and\nsmooth, even as the skin of an onion when it is dry, which the\nwomen much admired to see. But whether some one had given him\nthese things I know not, for, indeed, many gave him gifts, and I\nalso, even a sword and a tunic. Also he had a herald with him, one\nEurybates [Footnote: Eu-ryb'-a-tes.], older than he, dark-skinned,\nround in the shoulders, with curly hair.\"\n\nWhen Penelope heard this she wept yet more, for she knew by these\ntokens that this man was indeed her lord. \"This is true,\" she\nsaid, \"O stranger, for I myself gave him these garments, and I\nfolded them myself, and I also gave him the jewel. And now, alas!\nI shall see him no more.\"\n\nBut Ulysses made answer: \"Nay, wife of Ulysses, say not so. Cease\nfrom thy mourning, for Ulysses is yet alive. Near at hand is he,\nin the land of the Thesprotians, and is bringing many gifts with\nhim. So the king of the land told me, and showed me the gifts\nwhich he had gathered; many they were and great, and will enrich\nhis house to the tenth generation. But Ulysses himself, when I was\nthere, had gone to Dodona [Footnote: Do-do'-na.], to inquire of\nZeus--for there is the oracle of the god in the midst of an oak\ntree--whether he shall return to his home openly or by stealth.\nBe sure, O lady, that in this tenth year Ulysses shall come, even\nwhen the old moon waneth and the new is born.\"\n\nThen said Penelope: \"May thy words be accomplished, O stranger!\nVerily, thou shouldest have much kindness at my hands and many\ngifts. Yet I have a boding in my heart that it shall not be. But\nnow the handmaids shall spread a bed for thee with mattress and\nblankets that thou mayest sleep warm till morning shall come. And\nthey shall wash thy feet.\"\n\nBut Ulysses spake, saying: \"Mattress and blankets have been\nhateful to me since I left the land of Crete. I will lie as I have\nbeen wont to lie for many nights, sleepless and waiting for the\nday. And I have no delight in the bath; nor shall any of these\nmaidens touch my feet. Yet if there be some old woman, faithful of\nheart, her I would suffer to touch my feet.\"\n\nThen said Penelope: \"Such an one there is, even the woman who\nnursed my lord, and cherished him, and carried him in her arms,\nfrom the time when his mother bare him. She is now weak with age,\nbut she will wash thy feet.\"\n\nAnd she spake to the nurse, saying, \"Up, now, and wash this man,\nwho is of like age with thy master.\"\n\nThen the old woman covered her face with her hands and wept,\nsaying: \"Willingly will I wash thy feet both for Penelope's sake\nand thine own. Many strangers, worn with travel, have come hither,\nbut never saw I one that was so like to Ulysses in voice and in\nfeet.\"\n\nAnd Ulysses made answer, \"Even so have I heard before; men said\never that we were most like one to the other.\"\n\nBut when she had made ready the bath, then Ulysses sat aloof from\nthe hearth, and turned his face to the darkness, for he feared in\nhis heart lest, when the old woman should handle his leg, she\nmight know a great scar thereon, where he had been rent by the\ntusks of a wild boar.\n\nBy this scar, then, the old nurse knew that it was Ulysses\nhimself, and said, \"O Ulysses, O my child, to think that I knew\nthee not!\"\n\nAnd she looked towards the Queen, as meaning to tell the thing to\nher. But Ulysses laid his hand on her throat and said softly:\n\"Mother, wouldest thou kill me? I am returned after twenty years,\nand none must know till I shall be ready to take vengeance.\"\n\nAnd the old woman held her peace. And after this Penelope talked\nwith him again, telling him her dreams, how she had seen a flock\nof geese in her palace, and how that an eagle had slain them, and\nwhen she mourned for the geese, lo! a voice that said, \"These\ngeese are thy suitors, and the eagle thy husband.\"\n\nAnd Ulysses said that the dream was well. And then she said that\non the morrow she must make her choice, for she had promised to\nbring forth the great bow of Ulysses, and whosoever should draw it\nmost easily, and shoot an arrow best at a mark, he should be her\nhusband.\n\nAnd Ulysses made answer to her: \"It is well, lady. Put not off\nthis trial of the bow, for before one of them shall draw the\nstring, the great Ulysses shall come and duly shoot at the mark\nthat shall be set.\"\n\nAfter this Penelope slept.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nTHE TRIAL OF THE BOW\n\n\nUlysses laid him down to sleep in the gallery of the hall. On a\nbull's hide he lay, and over him he put fleeces of sheep that had\nbeen slain for sacrifice and feast, and the dame that kept the\nhouse threw a mantle over him.\n\nAnd he slept not, for he had many thoughts in his heart, but\nturned him from side to side, thinking how, being one against\nmany, he might slay the suitors in his hall.\n\nThen Athene came down from Olympus, and stood over his head,\nhaving taken upon herself the likeness of a woman. And she spake,\nsaying: \"Wakest thou still, man of many troubles? Is not this thy\nhouse? And is not thy wife within, and thy son, a noble lad?\"\n\nUlysses made answer: \"This is true, O goddess. But I think how I,\nbeing one against many, can slay the suitors in my hall.\"\n\nThen answered the goddess: \"Verily, thou art weak in faith. Some\nput trust in men, yet men are weaker than the gods; why trustest\nnot thou in me? Verily, I am with thee, and will keep thee to the\nend. But now sleep, for to watch all the night is vexation of\nspirit.\"\n\nSo saying, she poured sleep upon his eyes and went back to\nOlympus.\n\nWhen the morning came Ulysses awoke, and he took up the fleeces,\nand set them on a seat in the hall, and the bull's hide he carried\nwithout. Then he lifted up his hands to Zeus, and prayed, saying,\n\"O Father Zeus, if thou hast led me to mine own country of good\nwill, then give me a sign.\"\n\nAnd even as he spake Zeus thundered from Olympus; and Ulysses\nheard it, and was glad. Also a woman at the mill spake a word of\nomen. Twelve women there were that ground the meal, wheat, and\nbarley. Eleven of these were now sleeping, for they had finished\ntheir task; but this one, being weakest of all, was still\ngrinding. And now she stayed her work, and said: \"Surely, Father\nZeus, this is a sign, for thou hast thundered in a clear sky.\nGrant now that this be the last meal that I shall grind for the\nsuitors in the house of Ulysses!\"\n\nAfterwards came Telemachus, and spake to the nurse, saying, \"Hast\nthou given to the guest food and bedding, or doth he lie uncared\nfor?\"\n\nThe nurse made answer: \"The stranger drank as much as he would,\nand ate till he said that he had had enough; but blankets and a\nmattress he would not have; on an hide he slept, with fleeces of\nsheep above. Also we cast a mantle over him.\"\n\nNext came the swineherd, leading three fatted hogs, the best of\nall the herd. And he said. \"Stranger, do these men treat thee\nwell?\"\n\nUlysses made answer, \"May the gods repay them as they have dealt\ninsolently with me!\"\n\nAfterwards came Melanthius, the goatherd, having goats for the\nfeast of the day. And he spake to Ulysses bitter words: \"Wilt thou\nstill plague us, stranger, with thy begging? Verily, I think that\nwe shall not part till we have made trial of each other with our\nfists. Thy begging is not to be borne; and there are other feasts\nwhither thou mightest go.\"\n\nBut Ulysses answered him not a word.\n\nLast came Philoetius [Footnote: Phi-loe'-ti-us.], the cattleherd,\nbringing a heifer for the feast of the suitors. He spake to\nUlysses, saying: \"May happiness come to thee, stranger, hereafter!\nNow thou art encompassed with sorrows. Mine eyes are full of tears\nas I behold thee, for it may be that Ulysses is clad in vile\ngarments like to these, wandering about among men, if, indeed, he\nis yet alive. But if he is dead, that, indeed, is a great sorrow.\nFor he set me over his cattle, and these are now increased beyond\nall counting; never have herds increased more plentifully.\nNevertheless, it vexeth my heart because strangers are ever\ndevouring them in his hall. Verily, I would have fled long since,\nfor the thing is past all enduring, but that I hope to see Ulysses\nyet come again to his own.\"\n\nThen Ulysses made answer: \"Cattleherd, thou art a man of an\nunderstanding heart. Now hearken to what I shall say. While thou\nart still in this place, Ulysses shall come home, and thou shalt\nsee it with thine eyes, yea, and the slaying of the suitors also.\"\n\nAnd after awhile the suitors came and sat down, as was their wont,\nto the feast. And the servants bare to Ulysses, as Telemachus had\nbidden, a full share with the others. And when Ctesippus, a prince\nof Samos, saw this (he was a man heedless of right and of the\ngods), he said: \"Is it well that this fellow should fare even as\nwe? Look now at the gift that I shall give him.\" Thereupon he\ntook a bullock's foot out of a basket wherein it lay, and cast\nit at Ulysses.\n\nBut he moved his head to the left and shunned it, and it flew on,\nmarking the wall. And Telemachus cried in great wrath:--\n\n\"It is well for thee, Ctesippus [Footnote: Cte-sip'-pus.], that\nthou didst not strike this stranger. For surely, hadst thou done\nthis thing, my spear had pierced thee through, and thy father had\nmade good cheer, not for thy marriage, but for thy burial.\"\n\nThen said Agelaus [Footnote: A-ge-la'-us.]: \"This is well said.\nTelemachus should not be wronged, no, nor this stranger. But, on\nthe other hand, he must bid his mother choose out of the suitors\nwhom she will, and marry him, nor waste our time any more.\"\n\nTelemachus said: \"It is well. She shall marry whom she will. But\nfrom my house I will never send against her will.\"\n\nAfter this Penelope went to fetch the great bow of Ulysses. From\nthe peg on which it hung she took it with its sheath, and, sitting\ndown, she laid it on her knees and wept over it, and after this\nrose up and went to where the suitors sat feasting in the hall.\nThe bow she brought, and also the quiver full of arrows, and,\nstalling by the pillar of the dome, spake thus:--\n\n\"Ye suitors, who devour this house, lo! here is a proof of your\nskill. Here is the bow of the great Ulysses. Whoever shall bend it\neasiest in his hands, and shoot an arrow most easily through the\nholes in the heads of the twelve axes that Telemachus shall set\nup, him will I follow, leaving this house, which I shall remember\nonly in my dreams.\"\n\nThen she bade Eumaeus bear the bow and the arrows to the suitors.\nAnd the good swineherd wept to see his master's bow, and\nPhiloetius, the herdsman of the kine, wept also, for he was a good\nman, and loved the house of Ulysses.\n\nThen Telemachus planted in order the axes wherein were the holes,\nand was minded himself to draw the bow; and indeed would have done\nthe thing, but Ulysses signed to him that he should not. Therefore\nhe said, \"Methinks I am too weak and young; ye that are elder\nshould try the first.\"\n\nThen first Leiodes [Footnote: Lei-o'-des.], the priest, who alone\namong the suitors hated their evil ways, made trial of the bow.\nBut he moved it not, but wearied his hands with it, for they were\ntender, and unaccustomed to toil. And he said, \"I cannot bend this\nbow; let some other try; but I think that it shall be grief and\npain to many this day.\"\n\nAnd Antinous was wroth to hear such words, and bade Melanthius\nbring forth a roll of fat, that they might anoint the string and\nsoften it. So they softened the string with fat, but still could\nthey not bend it, for they all of them tried in vain, till only\nAntinous and Eurymachus were left, who, indeed, were the bravest\nand the strongest of them all.\n\nNow the swineherd and the herdsman of the kine had gone forth out\nof the yard, and Ulysses came behind them and said: \"What would ye\ndo if Ulysses were to come back to his home? Would ye fight for\nhim or for the suitors?\"\n\nAnd both said that they would fight for him.\n\nAnd Ulysses said: \"It is even I who am come back in the twentieth\nyear, and ye, I know, are glad at heart that I am come; nor know I\nof any one besides. And if ye will help me as brave men to-day,\nwives shall ye have, and possessions and houses near to mine own.\nAnd ye shall be brothers and comrades to Telemachus. And for a\nsign, behold this scar which the wild boar made.\"\n\nThen they wept for joy and kissed Ulysses, and he also kissed\nthem. And he said to Eumaeus that he should bring the bow to him\nwhen the suitors had tried their fortune therewith; also that he\nshould bid the women keep within doors, nor stir out if they\nshould hear the noise of battle. And Philoetius he bade lock the\ndoors of the hall, and fasten them with a rope.\n\nAfter this he came back to the hall, and Eurymachus had the bow in\nhis hands, and sought to warm it at the fire. Then he essayed to\ndraw it, but could not. And he groaned aloud, saying: \"Woe is me!\nnot for loss of this marriage only, for there are other women to\nbe wooed in Greece, but that we are so much weaker than the great\nUlysses. This is, indeed, shame to tell.\"\n\nThen said Antinous: \"Not so; to-day is a holy day of the god of\narchers; therefore we could not draw the bow. But to-morrow will\nwe try once more, after sacrifice to Apollo.\"\n\nAnd this saying pleased them all; but Ulysses said, \"Let me try\nthis bow; for I would fain know whether I have such strength as I\nhad in former days.\"\n\nAt this all the suitors were wroth, and chiefly Antinous, but\nPenelope said that it should be so, and promised the man great\ngifts if he could draw this bow.\n\nBut Telemachus spake thus: \"Mother, the bow is mine to give or to\nrefuse. And no man shall say me nay, if I will that this stranger\nmake trial of it. But do thou go to thy chamber with thy maidens,\nand let men take thought for these things.\"\n\nAnd this he said because he would have her depart from the hall\nforthwith, knowing what should happen therein. But she marvelled\nto hear him speak with such authority, and answered not, but\ndeparted. And when Eumaeus would have carried the bow to Ulysses,\nthe suitors spake roughly to him, but Telemachus constrained him\nto go. Therefore he took the bow and gave it to his master. Then\nwent he to Eurycleia, and bade her shut the door of the women's\nchambers and keep them within, whatsoever they might hear.\n\nThen Ulysses handled the great bow, trying it, whether it had\ntaken any hurt, but the suitors thought scorn of him. Then, when\nhe had found it to be without flaw, just as a minstrel fastens a\nstring upon his harp and strains it to the pitch, so he strung the\nbow without toil; and holding the string in his right hand, he\ntried its tone, and the tone was sweet as the voice of a swallow.\nThen he took an arrow from the quiver, and laid the notch upon the\nstring and drew it, sitting as he was, and the arrow passed\nthrough every ring, and stood in the wall beyond. Then he said to\nTelemachus:--\n\n\"There is yet a feast to be held before the sun go down.\"\n\nAnd he nodded the sign to Telemachus. And forthwith the young man\nstood by him, armed with spear and helmet and shield.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\nTHE SLAYING OF THE SUITORS\n\n\nThen spake Ulysses among the suitors: \"This labour has been\naccomplished. Let me try at yet another mark.\"\n\nAnd he aimed his arrow at Antinous. But the man was just raising a\ncup to his lips, thinking not of death, for who had thought that\nany man, though mightiest of mortals, would venture on such a\ndeed, being one among many? Right through the neck passed the\narrow-head, and the blood gushed from his nostrils, and he dropped\nthe cup and spurned the table from him.\n\nAnd all the suitors, when they saw him fall, leapt from their\nseats; but when they looked, there was neither spear nor shield\nupon the wall. And they knew not whether it was by chance or of\nset purpose that the stranger had smitten him. But Ulysses then\ndeclared who he was, saying:--\n\n\"Dogs, ye thought that I should never come back! Therefore have ye\ndevoured my house, and made suit to my wife while I yet lived, and\nfeared not the gods nor regarded men. Therefore a sudden\ndestruction is come upon you all.\"\n\nThen when all the others trembled for fear, Eurymachus said: \"If\nthou be indeed Ulysses of Ithaca, thou hast said well. Foul wrong\nhas been done to thee in the house and in the field. But lo! he\nwho was the mover of it all lieth here, even Antinous. Nor was it\nso much this marriage that he sought, as to be king of this land,\nhaving destroyed thy house. But we will pay thee back for all that\nwe have devoured, even twenty times as much.\"\n\nBut Ulysses said: \"Speak not of paying back. My hands shall not\ncease from slaying till I have taken vengeance on you all.\"\n\nThen said Eurymachus to his comrades: \"This man will not stay his\nhands. He will smite us all with his arrows where he stands. But\nlet us win the door, and raise a cry in the city; soon then will\nthis archer have shot his last.\"\n\nAnd he rushed on, with his two-edged knife in his hand. But as he\nrushed, Ulysses smote him on the breast with an arrow, and he fell\nforwards. And when Amphinomus came on, Telemachus slew him with\nhis spear, but drew not the spear from the body, lest some one\nshould smite him unawares.\n\nThen he ran to his father and said, \"Shall I fetch arms for us and\nour helpers?\"\n\n\"Yea,\" said he, \"and tarry not, lest my arrows be spent.\"\n\nSo he fetched from the armoury four shields and four helmets and\neight spear. And he and the servants, Eumaeus and Philoetius,\narmed themselves. Also Ulysses, when his arrows were spent, donned\nhelmet and shield, and took a mighty spear in each hand. But\nMelanthius, the goatherd, crept up to the armoury and brought down\nthere from twelve helmets and shields, and spears as many. And\nwhen Ulysses saw that the suitors were arming themselves, he\nfeared greatly, and said to his son:--\n\n\"There is treachery here. It is one of the women, or, it may be,\nMelanthius, the goatherd.\"\n\nAnd Telemachus said, \"This fault is mine, my father, for I left\nthe door of the chamber unfastened.\"\n\nAnd soon Eumaeus spied Melanthius stealing up to the chamber\nagain, and followed him, and Philoetius with him. There they\ncaught him, even as he took a helmet in one hand and a shield in\nthe other, and bound his feet and hands, and fastened him aloft by\na rope to the beams of the ceiling.\n\nThen these two went back to the hall, and there also came Athene,\nhaving the shape of Mentor. Still, for she would yet further try\nthe courage of Ulysses and his son, she helped them not as yet,\nbut, changing her shape, sat on the roof-beam like unto a swallow.\n\nAnd then cried Agelaus: \"Friends, Mentor is gone, and helps them\nnot. Let us not cast our spears at random, but let six come on\ntogether; perchance we may prevail against them.\"\n\nThen they cast their spears, but Athene turned them aside, one to\nthe pillar, and another to the door, and another to the wall. But\nUlysses and Telemachus and the two herdsmen slew each his man; and\nyet again they did so, and again. Only Amphimedon [Footnote: Am-\nphim'-e-don.]wounded Telemachus, and Ctesippus grazed the shoulder\nof Eumaeus. But Telemachus struck down Amphimedon, and the\nherdsman of the kine slew Ctesippus, saying: \"Take this, for the\nox-foot which thou gavest to our guest.\" And all the while Athene\nwaved her flaming shield from above and the suitors fell as birds\nare scattered and torn by eagles.\n\nThen Leiodes, the priest, made supplication to Ulysses, saying: \"I\nnever wrought evil in this house, and would have kept others from\nit, but they would not. Naught have I done save serve at the\naltar; wherefore, slay me not.\"\n\nAnd Ulysses made reply, \"That thou hast served at the altar of\nthese men is enough, and also that thou wouldest wed my wife.\"\n\nSo he slew him; but Phemius, the minstrel, he spared, for he had\nsung among the suitors in the hall because he had been compelled,\nand not of his own will; and also Medon, the herald, bidding them\ngo into the yard without. There they sat, holding by the altar and\nlooking fearfully every way, for they still feared that they\nshould die.\n\nSo the slaughtering of the suitors was ended; and now Ulysses bade\ncleanse the hall and wash the benches and the tables with water,\nand purify them with sulphur; and when this was done, that\nEurycleia, the nurse, should go to Penelope and tell her that her\nhusband was indeed returned.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\nTHE END OF THE WANDERING\n\n\nEurycleia went to the chamber of her mistress, bearing the glad\ntidings. She made haste in her great joy, and her feet stumbled\none over the other. And she stood by the head of Penelope, and\nspake, saying: \"Awake, dear child, and see with thine eyes that\nwhich thou hast desired so long. For, indeed, Ulysses hath come\nback, and hath slain the men that devoured his substance.\"\n\nBut Penelope made answer: \"Surely, dear nurse, the gods have\nbereft thee of thy sense; and verily, they can make the wisdom of\nthe wise to be foolishness, and they can give wisdom to the\nsimple. Why dost thou mock me, rousing me out of my sleep, the\nsweetest that hath ever come to my eyes since the day when Ulysses\nsailed for Troy, most hateful of cities? Go, get thee to the\nchamber of the women! Had another of the maids roused me in this\nfashion, I had sent her back with a sharp rebuke, But thine old\nage protects thee.\"\n\nThen said the nurse: \"I mock thee not, dear child. In very truth\nUlysses is here. He is the stranger to whom such dishonour was\ndone. But Telemachus knew long since who he was, and hid the\nmatter, that they might take vengeance on the suitors.\"\n\nThen was Penelope glad, and she leapt from bed, and fell upon the\nneck of the old woman, weeping, and saying, \"Tell me now the\ntruth, whether, indeed, he hath come home, and hath slain the\nsuitors, he being but one man, and they many.\"\n\nThe nurse made answer: \"How it was done I know not; only I heard\nthe groaning of men that were slain. Amazed did we women sit in\nour chamber till thy son called me. Then I found Ulysses standing\namong the dead, who lay one upon another. Verily, thou hadst been\nglad at heart to see him, so like to a lion was he, all stained\nwith blood and the labour of the fight. And now the suitors lie in\na heap, and he is purifying his house with brimstone. But come,\nthat ye may have an end of all the sorrow that ye have endured,\nfor thy desire is fulfilled. Thy husband hath come back, and hath\navenged him to the full on these evil men.\"\n\nBut Penelope said: \"Dear nurse, be not too bold in thy joy. Thou\nknowest how gladly I would see him. But this is not he; it is one\nof the gods that hath slain the suitors, being wroth at their\ninsolence and wrong-doing. But Ulysses himself hath perished.\"\n\nThen the nurse spake, saying: \"What is that thou sayest? That thy\nhusband will return no more, when he is even now in his own house?\nNay, thou art, indeed, slow to believe. Hear now this manifest\ntoken that I espied with mine eyes,--the scar of the wound that\nlong since a wild boar dealt him with his tusk. I saw it when I\nwashed his feet, and would fain have told thee, but he laid his\nhand upon my mouth, and in his wisdom suffered me not to speak.\"\n\nTo her Penelope made answer: \"It is hard for thee to know the\npurposes of the gods. Nevertheless, I will go to my son, that I\nmay see the suitors dead, and the man that slew them.\"\n\nSo she went and sat in the twilight by the other wall, and Ulysses\nsat by a pillar, with eyes cast down, waiting till his wife should\nspeak to him. But she was sore perplexed; for now she seemed to\nknow him, and now she knew him not, for he had not suffered that\nthe women should put new robes upon him.\n\nAnd Telemachus said: \"Mother, evil mother, sittest thou apart from\nmy father, and speakest not to him? Surely thy heart is harder\nthan a stone.\"\n\nBut Ulysses said: \"Let be, Telemachus. Thy mother will know that\nwhich is true in good time. But now let us hide this slaughter for\nawhile, lest the friends of these men seek vengeance against us.\nWherefore, let there be music and dancing in the hall, so that men\nshall say, 'This is the wedding of the Queen, and there is joy in\nthe palace,' and know not of the truth.\"\n\nSo the minstrel played and the women danced. And meanwhile Ulysses\nwent to the bath, and clothed himself in bright apparel, and came\nback to the hall, and Athene made him fair and young to see. Then\nhe sat him down as before, over against his wife, and said:--\n\n\"Surely, O lady, the gods have made thee harder of heart than all\nother women. Would another wife have kept away from her husband,\ncoming back now after twenty years?\"\n\nAnd when she doubted yet, he spake again: \"Hear thou this,\nPenelope, and know that it is I indeed. I will tell thee of the\nfashion of my bed. There grew an olive in the inner court, with a\nstem of the bigness of a pillar. Round this did I build the\nchamber, and I roofed it over, and put doors upon it. Then I\nlopped off the boughs of the olive, and made it into the bedpost.\nAfterwards, beginning from this, I wrought the bedstead till I had\nfinished it, inlaying the work with gold and silver and ivory. And\nwithin I fastened a band of ox-hide that had been dyed with\npurple. Whether the bedstead be now fast in its place, or whether\nsome one hath moved it--and verily, it was no light thing to move\n--I know not. But this was its fashion of old.\"\n\nThen Penelope knew him, that he was her husband indeed, and ran to\nhim, and threw her arms about him and kissed him, saying: \"Pardon\nme, my lord, if I was slow to know thee; for ever I feared that\nsome one should deceive me, saying that he was my husband. But now\nI know this, that thou art he and not another.\"\n\nAnd they wept over each other and kissed each other. So did\nUlysses come back to his home after twenty years.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV\n\nTHE TRIUMPH OF ULYSSES\n\n\nMeanwhile, Ulysses went forth from his palace to the dwelling of\nLaertes, that was in the fields. There the old man dwelt, and a\nwoman of Sicily cared for him. And Ulysses spake to his son and to\nthe shepherds, saying: \"Go ye into the house and prepare a meal of\nswine's flesh, as savoury as may be; and I will make trial of my\nfather, whether he will know me. For it may well be that he hath\nforgotten me, seeing that I have been now a long time absent.\"\n\nSo spake Ulysses, and gave also his arms to the men to keep for\nhim. So they went into the house. And Ulysses went to the orchard,\nmaking search for his father. There he found not Dolius [Footnote:\nDo'-li-us.], that was steward to Laertes, nor any one of his\nservants, nor of his sons, for they were gone to make a fence\nabout the field. Only the old man he found; and he was busy\ndigging about a tree. Filthy was the tunic that he had about him\nand sewn with thread; and he had coverings of ox-hide on his legs\nto keep them from the thorns, and gloves upon his hands, and a cap\nof dog-skin on his head. And when Ulysses saw him, how that he was\nworn with old age and very sorrowful, he stood under a pear tree\nand wept. Then for awhile he took counsel with himself, whether he\nshould kiss his father and embrace him, and make himself known,\nand tell him how he had come back to his home, or should first\ninquire of him, and learn all that he would know. And he judged it\nbest first to inquire. So he came near to the old man; and the old\nman was digging about a tree, having his head bent down.\n\nThen said Ulysses: \"Verily, old man, thou lackest not skill to\ndeal with an orchard. And truly, neither fig, nor vine, nor olive,\nnor pear may flourish in a garden without care. But yet another\nthing will I say to thee, and be not thou wroth when thou hearest\nit. Thy garden, indeed, is well cared for, but thou thyself art in\nevil plight. For old age lieth heavy upon thee, and thou art clad\nin filthy garments. Yet truly it is not because thou art idle that\nthy master thus dealeth with thee; nor, indeed, art thou in any\nwise like unto a slave; for thy face and thy stature are as it\nmight be of a king. Such an one as thou art should wash himself,\nand sit down to meat, and sleep softly; for such is the right of\nold age. But come, tell me truly, whose servant art thou? Whose\norchard dost thou tend? Tell me this also: is this, indeed, the\nland of Ithaca to which I am come? This, indeed, a certain man\nthat I met as I came hither told me, but he seemed to be but of\nsimple mind, nor would he listen to my words, nor tell me of a\nfriend that I have who dwelleth in this place, whether he be alive\nor dead. I entertained him a long time since in my house, and\nnever was there stranger whom I loved more than him. And he said\nthat he was the son of Laertes, and that he came from the land of\nIthaca.\"\n\nTo him Laertes made answer, weeping the while: \"Doubt not,\nstranger, that thou art come to the land of which thou inquirest.\nBut unrighteous and violent men have it in possession. But as for\nthe son of Laertes, hadst thou found him here, verily, he would\nhave sent thee away with many gifts. But tell me truly, is it long\ntime since thou didst give him entertainment? For, indeed, he is\nmy son, unhappy man that I am. Surely either he hath been drowned\nin the sea, and the fishes have devoured him, or wild beasts and\nbirds of the air have eaten him upon the land. And neither father\nnor mother, nor his wife, Penelope, most prudent of women, could\nmake lamentation for him and lay him out for his burial. But tell\nme, who art thou? Where is thy city, and what thy parentage? Did\nthine own ship bring thee hither, and thy companions with thee, or\ndidst thou come as a trader upon the ship of another?\"\n\nThen said Ulysses: \"All this I will tell thee truly. My name is\nEperitus.[Footnote: E-per'-i-tus.] It was of the doing of the gods\nthat I came hither from the land of Sicily, and not of mine own\nwill. And my ship is moored hard by. As for Ulysses, it is now the\nfifth year since he left me. Yet verily, the omens were good when\nhe went forth on his journey, so that we both rejoiced, thinking\nthat he would journey safely, and that we should be friends the\none to the other in the time to come.\"\n\nSo spake Ulysses; and when the old man, his father, heard these\nwords, great grief came upon him, and he took up the dust in his\nhands and poured it upon the white hairs of his head. And the\nheart of Ulysses was moved within him as he saw it, and he was\nready to weep when he beheld his father. Then he threw his arms\nabout him and kissed him, and said: \"My father, here am I, thy son\nfor whom thou weepest. Lo! I am come back to my native country\nafter twenty years, and I have avenged myself on them that sought\nmy wife in marriage, slaying them all.\"\n\nTo him the old man made answer, \"If thou art my very son Ulysses,\ntell me some clear sign whereby I may know thee.\"\n\nThen said Ulysses: \"See, now, this scar upon my thigh where the\nwild boar wounded me on Mount Parnassus.[Footnote: Par nas'-sus.]\nFor thou and my mother sent me to my grandfather, and I was\nwounded in the hunting. And let this also be a sign to thee. I\nwill tell thee what trees of the orchard thou gavest me long\nsince, when I was a boy and walked with thee, inquiring of thee\ntheir names. Thirteen pear trees didst thou give me, and ten apple\ntrees, and of fig trees two score. Fifty rows also of vines didst\nthou promise to give me when the time of grapes should come.\"\n\nAnd the old man's heart was moved within him, and his knees failed\nhim, for he knew that the signs were true. And he threw his arms\nabout his son, and the spirit of the old man revived, and he said:\n\"Now I know that there are gods in heaven when I hear that these\nevil men have been punished for their wrong-doing. Nevertheless, I\nfear much lest their kinsmen shall stir up the men of Ithaca and\nof the islands round about against us.\"\n\nThen said Ulysses: \"Trouble not thyself with these matters, my\nfather. Let us go rather to the house. There are Telemachus and\nEumaeus, and the keeper of the herds, and they have made ready,\nthat we may dine.\"\n\nSo they went to the house, and found Telemachus and his companions\ncutting flesh for the dinner and mixing the wine. Then the woman\nof Sicily washed the old man Laertes and anointed him with oil,\nand clad him in a fair cloak. And Athene also stood by him, and\nmade him taller and sturdier to look on than before. And his son\nmarvelled to behold him, so fair he was and like to the gods that\nlive forever, so that he spake to him, saying, \"O my father,\nsurely one of the gods that live forever hath made thee fair to\nlook upon and tall!\"\n\nAnd Laertes made answer: \"Would to God that I had stood by you\nyesterday, taking vengeance on the suitors, with the strength I\nhad of old. Many a man would I have slain with my spear, and thou\nwouldest have rejoiced in thy heart.\"\n\nThus spake they together. And when the dinner was ready they sat\ndown to meat; and the old man Dolius, with his sons, approached,\ncoming in from their labour; for the woman of Sicily, that was the\nmother of the lads, had called them. And when they saw Ulysses,\nthey stood amazed and speechless. And Ulysses said, \"Cease to\nwonder, old man, at this sight, and sit down to meat; truly we are\nready for our meat, and have waited long time for you.\"\n\nThen Dolius ran to him, stretching forth both his hands, and\ncaught the hand of Ulysses and kissed it on the wrist. And he\nspake, saying: \"Right glad are we at thy coming, for we looked not\nfor thee. Surely it is of the gods that thou hast returned. May\nall things be well with thee. But tell me this. Knoweth Queen\nPenelope of thy coming, or shall I send a messenger to tell her?\"\n\n\"Verily, she knoweth it,\" said Ulysses. Then the old man sat down\nto meat, and his sons also, when they had greeted Ulysses.\n\nIn the meanwhile there spread through the city the tidings how the\nsuitors had been slain; and the kindred of the men came to the\nhouse of Ulysses with many groans and tears, and carried away the\ndead bodies and buried them. But such as came from other lands\nthey put on shipboard, that they might carry them to the\nsepulchres of their fathers. And when these things were ended they\ngathered themselves together in the marketplace; and Eupeithes\n[Footnote: Eu-pei'-thes.] stood up amongst them, being sore\ntroubled in his heart for his son Antinous, whom Ulysses had slain\nfirst of all the suitors. He stood up, therefore, in the midst,\nand spake: \"Surely this man hath wrought great evils in this land.\nFirst he took comrades with him to Troy, many in number and brave.\nThese all he lost, and their ships also. And now he hath come\nhither and slain the princes of the people. Shame it were to us,\nyea, among the generations to come, if we avenge not ourselves on\nthem that have slain our sons and our brothers. Verily, I desire\nnot life, if such should go unpunished. Come, therefore, let us\nmake haste, lest they cross over the sea and so escape.\"\n\nSo Eupeithes spake, weeping the while. And all the people had pity\nto hear him. But Medon, the herald, stood up in the assembly and\nspake, saying: \"Hear me, men of Ithaca! Verily, Ulysses did not\nall these things without the helping of the gods that live\nforever. I, indeed, saw with mine own eyes one of the gods\nstanding by Ulysses, being like to Prince Mentor in shape. By\nUlysses there stood a god, and strengthened him; and another was\nthere among the suitors, troubling them so that they fell.\"\n\nThus spake Medon, the herald, and after him stood up Alitherses\n[Footnote: A-li-ther'-ses.], the seer, that knew all things that\nhad been and should be hereafter, and spake, saying: \"It is of\nyour folly, ye men of Ithaca, that all these things have come to\npass. Ye would not hearken to me, no, nor to Mentor, nor would ye\nrestrain your sons from their folly. Great wickedness did they\nwork, wasting the goods of a brave man, and making suit to his\nwife, for they thought not that he would return. Come now, hearken\nunto me, lest some worse evil befall you.\"\n\nThen some indeed rose up and made haste to depart; and these were\nthe greater part; but the others remained in their places, for\nthey liked not the counsel of Medon and the seer, but regarded the\nwords of Eupeithes. Then they clad themselves in their armour and\nmarched to the city, Eupeithes leading them.\n\nThen spake Athene to Zeus: \"Tell me, my father, what dost thou\npurpose in thy heart? Wilt thou that there be strife or friendship\nbetween these two?\"\n\nTo her Zeus made answer: \"Why dost thou inquire this thing of me?\nWas it not of thy contriving that Ulysses slew the suitors in his\npalace? Order it as thou wilt. But let there be peace and\nfriendship in the end, that Ulysses may prosper in the land, and\nthe people dwell in happiness about him.\"\n\nThen Athene departed, and came to the land of Ithaca.\n\nAnd when Ulysses and they that sat with him had made an end of\neating and drinking, the King said, \"Let some one go forth and see\nwhether these men are near at hand.\"\n\nSo the son of Dolius went forth. And as he stood on the threshold\nhe saw them approaching, and cried: \"They are even now close at\nhand; let us arm ourselves in all haste.\"\n\nSo they armed themselves. With Ulysses were Telemachus, and\nEumaeus, and the keeper of the herds. Also there stood with him\nsix sons of Dolius; and the two old men also, Laertes and Dolius,\nthough their heads were white with age. And as they went forth\nfrom the house Athene came near, having the form and the voice of\nPrince Mentor. And when Ulysses saw her, he was glad at heart, and\nspake to Telemachus, saying, \"I know thee well, my son, that thou\nwilt bear thyself bravely, and do no dishonour to the house of thy\nfathers, that have ever been famous in the land for courage and\nmanhood.\"\n\nTelemachus answered, \"This, my father, thou shalt see for thyself,\nif thou wilt.\"\n\nAnd Laertes was glad at heart, and said, \"How happy is this day,\nin the which my son and my grandson contend one with the other in\nvalour.\"\n\nThen Athene came near to the old man, and said, \"Laertes, pray\nthou first to Athene and Father Zeus, and then cast thy spear.\"\n\nSo she spake, and breathed great strength into his heart. And\nhaving prayed, he cast his spear, and smote Eupeithes through the\nhelmet, so that he fell dead upon the ground. Then Ulysses and his\nson fell upon the men of Ithaca with swords and two-handed spears.\nVerily, they had slain them all, but that Athene cried aloud,\nsaying: \"Cease, men of Ithaca, from the battle, for it is too hard\nfor you.\"\n\nAnd the men were sore afraid when they heard her voice, and threw\ntheir arms upon the ground and fled, if haply they might escape to\nthe city. And when Ulysses would have pursued after them, Zeus\ncast a thunderbolt from heaven, so that it fell before the feet of\nAthene. And Athene cried, \"Cease from the battle, son of Laertes,\nlest Zeus be wroth with thee.\"\n\nSo Ulysses was stayed from the battle; and Zeus and Athene made\npeace between the King and the men of Ithaca.\n\n\n\n\nPRONUNCIATION OF PROPER NAMES\n\n\nPronounce _ae_, as in _Caesar_; _ei_ as _i_ in _island_; _oe_ as ae;\n_y_, when accented, as _i_ in _island_; when unaccented, as _i_ in\n_till_.\n\nPronounce _ch_ as _k_. _C_ and _g_ are soft (as _s_ and _j_) before\n_ei_, _i_, _ae_, _oe_, _eu_; otherwise, hard, as _k_; and _g_ (in\n_gas_).\n\nA-chil'-les. AE-gis'-thus. AE-gyp'-tus. AE'-o-lus. AE-to'-li-an.\nAg-a-mem'-non. A-ge-la'-us. A'-jax. Al-cin'-o-us. A-li-ther'-ses.\nAm-phim'-e-don. Am-phin'-o-mus. An-tin'-o-us. A-pol'-lo. A-re'-te.\nA-re-thu'-sa. Ar'-te-mis. A-the'-ne. A'-treus.\n\nBo-o'-tes.\n\nCa-lyp'-so. Cau-co'-ni-ans. Cha-ryb'-dis. Ci'-co-nes. Cir'-ce.\nCte-sip'-pus. Cy-clo'-pes. Cy'-clops.\n\nDe-mod'-e-cus. Do-do'-na. Do'-li-s. Du-lich'-i-um.\n\nE-che-ne'-us. E'-lis. El-pe'-nor. E-per'-i-tus. Eu-mae'-us\nEu-pei'-thes. Eu-ryb'-a-tes. Eu-ry-clei'-a. Eu-ryl'-o-dus.\nEu-rym'-a-chus. Eu-ryn'-o-me.\n\nHa'-des. He'-ra. Her'-mes. He-phaes-tus.\n\nI'-no. I'-ris. I-rus. Ith'-a-ca.\n\nJa'-son.\n\nLa-ce-dae'-mon. La-er'-tes. La'-mos. Laes'-try-gons. La-o'-da-mas.\nLei-o'-des. Le-oc'-ri-tus.\n\nMe'-don. Me-lan'-thi-us. Me-ne-la'-us. Men'-tes. Men'-tor.\n\nNau-sic'-a-a.\n\nO-gyg'-i-a. O-lym'-pus. O-ri'-on.\n\nPar-nas'-sus. Pa-tro'-clus. Pei-sis'-tra-tus. Pe-nel'-o-pe.\nPhae-a'-ci-aus. Pha'-ros. Phe'-mi-us. Phe'-rae. Phi-loe'-ti-us.\nPhoe-ni'-ci-aus. Phor'-cys. Plei'-a-des. Po-li'-des.\nPol-y-phe'-mus. Po-sei'-don. Pro'-teus. Py'-los.\n\nSa'-mos. Si-do'-ni-ans. Scyl'-la.\n\nTa'-phi-ans. Tei-re'-si-as. Te-lem'-a-chus. Thes-pro'-ti-a.\n\nU-lys'-ses.\n\nZa-cyn'-thus.\n\nAs many of the Greek gods are better known under the names given\nto them by the Romans, the following list is given:--\n\n_Greek_            _Latin_\n\nZeus.              Jupiter.\nHera.              Juno.\n(Pallas) Athene.   Minerva.\nAphrodite.         Venus.\nPoseidon.          Neptune.\nAres.              Mars.\nHephaestus.        Vulcan.","title":"The Story of the Odyssey","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":45487}