Book I

Tell me, O Muse, of the Shifty, the man who wandered afar,
After the Holy Burg, Troy-town, he had wasted with war;
He saw the towns of menfolk, and the mind of men did he learn;
As he warded his life in the world, and his fellow-farers' return,
Many a grief of heart on the deep-sea flood he bore,
Nor yet might he save his fellows, for all that he longed for it sore.
They died of their own souls' folly, for witless as they were
They ate up the beasts of the Sun, the Rider of the Air,
And he took away from them all their dear returning day;
O Goddess, O daughter of Zeus, from whencesoever ye may,

Gather the tale, and tell it, yea even to us at the last!
Now all the other heroes, who forth from the warfare passed
And fled from sheer destruction and 'scaped each man his bane,
Saved from the sea and the battle, at home they sat full fain;
But him alone, Odysseus, sore yearning after the strife
To get him back to his homestead, sore yearning for his wife,
Did the noble nymph Calypso, the Godhead's glory hoard
In the hollow rocky places; for she longed for him for lord,
Yea and e'en when the circling seasons had brought the year to hand,
Wherein the Gods had doomed it that he should reach his land,
E'en Ithaca his homestead, not even then was he,
Though amidst his kin and his people, of heavy trouble free.
Know now, that of all the God-folk there was none but pitied him,
Save that Poseidon only was with ceaseless wrath abrim
Against the God-like Hero from his house and his home shut out
But he to the Æthiopians e'en now was gone about,
The far-dwellers outmost of menfolk; and these are sundered atwain,
Some dwell where the High-rider setteth, and some where he riseth again.
There then of bulls and of rams would he gather an hundred-fold,
And he sat him adown rejoicing and noble feast did hold.
But the rest in the hall were gathered of Zeus the Olympian lord.
So the Father of Gods and of men amidst them took up the word,
For mindful in heart was he of Ægistheus the noble one,
He that was slain of Orestes far-famed, Agamemnon's son.
Thus then to the deathless he spake, these things remembering still.
"Out on it! how do the menfolk to the Gods lay all their ill,
And say that of us it cometh; when they themselves indeed
Gain griefs from their own souls' folly beyond the fateful meed.
E'en as of late Ægistheus must wed Atrides' wife
In Doom's despite, and must slay him returning home from the strife.
Though his end therefrom he wotted, and thereof we warned him plain,
Sending him Hermes withal, the keen-eyed Argus-bane,

Bidding him slay not the man, nor woo the wife to his bed.
'For vengeance shall come from Orestes for the son of Atreus dead
When the child is waxen a man and longeth his land to win:'
So spake Hermes, but nought prevailed with Ægistheus herein,
Despite of his goodly counsel. But now for all hath he paid."

Therewith the Grey-eyed, the Goddess, Athene answered and said,
"O Father, O Son of Cronos, O Highest of all that is high!
In a doom and a death most fitting indeed that man doth lie,
And e'en so may all men perish such deeds as this who earn!
But lo for the wise Odysseus as now my heart doth burn.
Luckless, aloof from his folk, long-lasting woe bears he
In an isle of the circling Ocean, and the navel of the Sea,
In an isle by trees grown over: in that house a Goddess dwells
Daughter of Atlas the baleful, who knoweth all ocean wells
Whereso they be, and moreover he holdeth in his hand
The long-wrought pillars that sunder the heavens from the earthly land.
There the hapless man in sorrow this Atlas' Daughter hoards
And his heart for ever wooeth with soft and wheedling words
That of Ithaca nought he may mind him; but Odysseus longeth to see,
If it were but the smoke a-leaping from the land where he would be;
And now he yearneth for death. Nor yet doth thy dear heart
Heed aught of this, Olympian. But Odysseus for his part
Wrought he not holy deeds, and gifts to give thee joy
By the side of the ships of the Argives before wide-spreading Troy?
Then why doth thine anger O Zeus so sore against him drift?"

But to her made answer Zeus, the Lord that driveth the lift:
"O thou my child! what a word from the wall of thy teeth hath sped!
How should I ever forget Odysseus' goodlihead?

Whose mind overgoes all mortals, and hallowed gifts hath he given
To the deathless folk of the Gods, the lords of the wide-spread heaven.
But Poseidon Girdler of Earth his anger will not slake
Because of the eye bereft, and the blinded Cyclops' sake,
Polyphemus great as a god, whose might is far before
All others of the Cyclops: but him Thoosa bore
Daughter of Phorcys, the lord of the untilled salt-sea plain;
For with Poseidon she lay in the hollow rocks of the main.
Now therefore the Shaker of Earth, though the man he will not slay,
From the father-land of his folk still driveth him ever to stray.
But come! let us compass his ways, and bring his returning about,
So that at last Poseidon may let his wrath die out:
For nought is his might so mighty that one 'gainst all may strive,
E'en he alone contending with the Gods for ever alive."
Therewith the Grey-eyed, the Goddess, Athene took up the word.
"O Father, O Son of Cronos, O highest of every lord,
If the happy Gods of the heavens indeed of this are fain,
Of the wise Odysseus coming to his very home again,
Then speed we the Slayer of Argus, e'en Hermes the Flitter, to go
Unto the isle Ogygia, our steadfast will to show
To the fair-haired nymph Calypso as swiftly as he may:
E'en return for Odysseus the patient, and he straight to go on his way.
But for me unto Ithaca now shall I wend me, that I the more
May stir up the son to be keen, and his heart with stoutness store,
That he the long-haired Achæans may call to a meeting day
To bid the Wooers forbear, even the men who slaughter and slay
His huddled sheep and his oxen, the shambling knock-kneed band;
And to Sparta will I send him and to Pylos of the sand,
To seek of his father's home-coming if tidings he may hear,
So that fair fame among folk and full goodly he may bear."

She spake, and under her feet the lovely shoes she tied,
Deathless and golden they are; over the wet sea wide
And the boundless earth they waft her as the breath of the winds that pass.
Then she took the mighty spear, headed and sharp with brass,
Heavy and great and stubborn, wherewith the ranks of men
The Zeus-born Maiden quelleth, and angry is she then.
Down she glanced from the heights of Olympus, and stayed her in the land
And the isle of the Ithacan people: by Odysseus' door did she stand,
On the threshold of the forecourt, in her palm a brazen spear,

And the likeness of Mentes the stranger, the Taphian Chief did she bear.
There she found the high-souled Wooers, and there at the tables they played,
Before the doors of the homestead, and game and glee they made
As they sat on the hides of the oxen which they themselves had slain;
And there with them were the heralds and the lads of service fain,
Who blent the wine with the water and bowls for the Wooers poured;
And some with hole-pierced sponges made clean each feasting board,
And plenteous flesh were they shearing as the boards for the feast they laid.

But Telemachus the godlike he first beheld the maid;
For he sat among the Wooers, his dear heart sore downcast,
And his mind beheld his father might he but come at last
And send those Wooers scattering about the homestead fair,
And gain his goods and his glory and be lord and master there.
Thus as he sat and pondered, on the Maid he set his eyes
And wended him straight to the fore-doors, and wrath in his soul did arise
That a guest in the door should be standing so long: so he drew anear
And took therewith her right-hand, and took the brazen spear,
And fell to speech moreover and set these words on the wing:
"Greeting, O guest, and welcome! thou shalt tell us of the thing
Thou needest, e'en as it is, when thou hast tasted of meat"
He led her on as he spake, and Pallas followed his feet;
But against a long-wrought pillar he set the spear that he bore
Within the well-sleeked spear-rack, wherein were many more
Of the spears of that Odysseus who bore so many an ill.
Then to a chair he brought her fair wrought with crafty skill,
And spread the linen thereunder, and the stool beneath her feet;
And by her apart from the Wooers he set his painted seat,
For fear that the guest should be troubled by all the din and cry,
And should loathe his meat amid men so masterful and high;
And withal of his father's straying he would ask if aught might be told.

Now a maid brought in the water in a ewer fair-wrought of gold,
And over the silver bowl for the washing of hands she poured,
And therewithal beside them set out the polished board.
Then a goodwife set before them the baken bread of wheat,
And of suchlike as was handy gave forth things good to eat.
Till the server upbore the trenchers of divers flesh and good,
And served it forth, and beside them the golden beakers stood;
And to and fro went the herald and amidst them poured the wine.

Then in came the masterful Wooers, and in an ordered line
They sat them adown in the hall on noble bench and chair,
And over their hands the heralds poured forth the water fair.

In wicker maunds the handmaids fair wheaten bread piled up,
And the serving-lads were crowning with drink each bowl and cup.
So they stretched out their hands to the board and the meat that before them lay.

But when of meat and of drink they had worn the longing away,
The care of other matters in the Wooers' hearts had place;
Yea even the song and the dance, the banquet's -glory and grace.
So in the hand of Phemius a harp the herald set,

Perforce he sang to the Wooers, and was their minstrel yet.
So his hands with the harp were dealing and he smote the song awake.
Now therewithal to the Grey-eyed a word Telemachus spake,
Holding his head to her head that the others might not hear:
"Dear guest, for the word that I speak what anger wilt thou bear?
Such men of such things have heed, the harp and the singing sweet,
Since the life and the goods of another all unavenged they eat,
Whose white bones somewhere are wasting in the mainland rain may be,
Or the billows roll them around and around in the salt of the sea,
And yet if they knew him returning to this Ithacan land on a day
Full surely each of these wooers for the speedy foot would pray
Rather than increase of gold and the gain of goodly weed.
—He is dead by an evil doom, and for us is no cherishing rede;
Nay, not though perchance some man of the earth-dwelling folk should say
That he yet shall come again — stark dead is his home-coming day.
But come now, tell me of this and speak to me closely herein,
From whence thou art of menfolk, and what is thy city and kin?
In what manner of keel didst thou come? What like did the seafarers fare
Who hither to Ithaca brought thee, and what gave they out that they were?
Since afoot and aland, meseemeth, thou earnest to us not.
Tell all in truth and in deed, for clearly would I wot
If thou be a new-come guest, or the homestead's wonted friend;
For many indeed were the strangers that would to usward wend;
Since forsooth he would be dealing with many a manner of men."
But the Grey-eyed, the goddess Athene, thus spake and answered again:
"Yea of all shall I do thee to wit as clear as it may be done.
For know that I am Mentes, the wise Anchialus' son,
And lord am I of the Taphians, the lovers of the oar.
So with ship and with fellow-farers as now am I come to shore.

But to men of alien speech I sail o'er the wine-dark sea
To Temesa seeking for brass, and bright iron I bear with me.
My ship afar from the city by field and acre rides
In the haven-stead of Reithron, neath the woody Neion's sides.
And surely each of each we are house-friends from of old.
Go now to the elder, Laertes, and e'en thus shalt thou be told
By the warrior ancient of days, who now no more doth go
To the city, but out in the acres wears through his weary woe,
And he with an hoary handmaid, who whiles before him lays
The meat and the drink for his solace, when toil on his body weighs,
As to and fro he creepeth where his fat land wine doth bear.
Now hither I came; for they told me that thy father now was here
Amid his folk; but it seemeth that the Gods his coming let.
Yet hath not Odysseus the godlike from the earth departed yet;
Alive he is and hoarded, meseems, amidst of the deep,
In an isle by the sea begirdled; hard men his body keep,
Fierce men, and him unwilling belike they hoard apart.
But somewhat will I foretell thee as the thing falls into my heart
How the end is doomed by the Deathless, and whitherward all shall go.
Though nought of a seer I be, nor the wisdom of fowl do I know.
For long now he shall not be lacking from the land of his fathers of old j
Yea e'en were he shackled with iron it should not his coming withhold;
Somehow return shall he win him; he is wise in many a gin.
But come and tell me of one thing, and clear be thy telling herein:
Thou fair, well waxen lad, art thou Odysseus' seed?
For full like is thy head unto his and thine eyes are his indeed.
And often we twain together in speech and deed were blent,
Before unto Troy he fared in the days when the others went,
The blossom of the Argives, in the hollow ships of the sea.
But thenceforward nought have I seen him, nor yet hath he looked upon me.'

But Telemachus the heedful to speaking thus befell:
"O guest, exceeding clearly the story will I tell;
My mother saith I am his; but myself I know it not,
For no man of his father, meseemeth, can indeed and throughly wot.
But for me, O would that I were the child of some happy one,
Whom amidst his home and his havings old age should over-run:
Yet now since hereof thou askest, they say that I had my birth
From that most hapless man of all men that dwell on the earth."

Thereto the Grey-eyed, the goddess, Athene, answered again:
"No nameless line hereafter did the Gods for thee ordain,
When Penelope thy mother thus bore thee as thou art.
But what is this cheer and assembly, what therein is thy part?
Is it a gild or a wedding? No meeted meal can it be;
For men that with pride are swollen, men masterful here I see
Throughout the homestead revelling; hereto if a wise man came
Wroth would he be amongst them beholding many a shame."
But Telemachus the heedful thereto the answer gave:
"O guest, since hereof thou askest, and full answer thou wouldst have,
Time was when this house that thou seest was on a goodly road
Towards riches and great honour, while that man with his folk abode.
Now the Gods have otherwise willed it, and evil things they plan,
For more unseen have they made him than any son of man.
Yea I had known of him dead with no such grief and pain,
If he mid his battle-fellows mid the folk of Troy had been slain,
Or lay dead in the hands of his folk when the spindle of war he had wound,
For then would the host together, the Achæans, have heaped his mound,
And great renown had he gotten for his son in the coming day;
But now the Wights of the Whirlwind have snatched him fameless away.
He is gone unseen and unheard of, and hath left me lamenting and moan.
Nor withal amidst my sorrow must I wail for him alone.
For look you, in these our islands, as many as lord it o'er
Dulichium or Samos, or Zacynthus' woody shore,
Or in Ithaca the rocky the rule o'er the people bear,
All these are wooing my mother and our house they waste and wear.
And she the loathly wedding doth not utterly gainsay
Nor bring it to any ending, while my house they are eating away;
And me at last will they come to and rend me utterly."
Then answered Pallas Athene, her anger swelling high:
"Out on it! Sorely thou needest Odysseus wandering afar
To lay hand on these wasting Wooers as shameless as they are.
Lo now might he come to the house and there by the foredoor stand,
And he with helm and with shield and with two great spears in his hand;
He even such as I saw him when he came to our house and our hall,
And there he sat at the drink, and was blithe and merry withal.
From Ephyra then was he faring, from Ilus that Mermerus' son,
For there in his fleet-faring ship o'er the sea had Odysseus gone,
And he sought for a deadly venom, and the bane of men would he have
For the smearing of brazen arrows, but this nowise Ilus gave,
Since he feared the Gods of heaven and the folk that never die.
But my father gave it him straight, for he loved him utterly.
Ah might he but deal with these Wooers e'en such as I know of his ways;
Then bitter would be their wedding and speedy the doom of their days.
But whether he come back again, and in his hall built high
Avenge him of all; these things on the knees of the God they lie.
But thee, I bid thee consider, and seek till thou find a rede
Whereby from out of thine homestead these Wooers ye may speed.
Come now and hearken to me, and take heed unto my words;
To-morrow unto the meeting thou shalt call the Achæan lords
And speak out the word before all men with the Gods to witness it,
Bidding the Wooers to scatter and home to their own to flit:
But thy mother, if in her heart for wedlock she doth yearn,
Then home to her father the mighty, to his house let her return.
And men will make her a wedding, and goodly and fair and great
Shall they dight the gifts of the wedding for a well-loved daughter meet.
But a rede will I set in thy heart if thou wilt hearken and heed:
Do thou dight thee a twenty-banked ship right good, and therewith speed
To ask tidings of thy father so long away from his home,
If a man of men may tell thee or from Zeus a word may come,
Who most of all to menfolk bears tidings of renown.
And first of the glorious Nestor ask thou in Pylos town;
Then of tawny Menelaus when to Sparta thou hast come,
For of all brass-clad Achæans was he last to get him home.
Then if of thy father living and returning thou dost hear,
Thou may'st then outwear this wasting for yet another year;
But if thou hear of him dead and no longer living on earth,
Then getting thee back to thy folk-land, the dear land of thy father's birth,
There heap up the howe, and be giving great gifts of the burial bed,
As great and as good as befitteth: but some man thy mother shall wed.
And when thou hast done all this and these things to the end hast wrought,
Then in thy heart and thy soul thou shalt hold and cherish the thought
What wise in thy very homestead these Wooers ye may slay,
Whether by guile it be done or straight out in the face of the day:
For thou of years so waxen childs' play befitteth no more.
Or hast thou not heard of the fame which the great Orestes bore
Amid all the folk of mankind, when he slew his father's bane
Ægistheus the guileful of rede who his glorious sire had slain?
And thou, dear heart, for both great and fair do I look on thee,
Be valiant and gather fair fame of the men who are going to be.
But now to my ship swift-faring must I get me aback at this tide
And unto my fellow-farers, who downcast my coming abide,
But thou, be heedful of all and ponder the words I have said."

But Telemachus the heedful to her the answer sped:
"O guest, with words full friendly hast thou spoken with all goodwill
As a father speaks to a son, and I shall remember it still.

But come now, abide yet a little, although thou be pressed to depart,
Until well washen and merry, with all content in thy heart
Thou may'st wend to thy ship in joyance bearing a gift with thee,
Dear-bought, exceeding beauteous, an heirloom given by me,
Such as dear guests beloved will give for guests to take."

But therewithal the Goddess, grey-eyed Athene spake.
"Nay hoard me no longer as now, for I long for the road and the way,
And the gift that thy dear heart biddeth thou shalt give on another day;
When I come again thou shalt give it, and home shall I bear it indeed
And thou bearing out things goodly shalt have goodly things for thy meed."

So spake the Grey-eyed Athene, and departed e'en as a fowl,

In an eagle-shape she flew; but in the young man's soul
Stoutness and might had she planted, and ever more and more
He bethought him of his father; so he turned these matters o'er
And his soul was fulfilled of wonder, for he deemed it a God to be.
So he got him back to the Wooers, and e'en as a God was he.

Now to these was the minstrel singing, and silent there they sat,
And hearkened the sad returning the Achæan war-host gat
From Troy-town, all the story of Pallas' heavy doom.
But the child of Icarius heard it from above in the upper room;
Wise-heart Penelope hearkened and caught up the holy song:
Down then from the stair high-builded of her house she cometh along,
But not alone, for behind her there follow maidens twain.

But when that Glory of Women the Wooers' band doth gain,
She standeth beside the door-post of that strong-builded stead,
Before her cheeks yet holding the gleaming gear of her head,
On each hand a heedful maiden beside her in the hall.
So to the glorious singer she speaketh, and weepeth withal:

"O Phemius, since for man's solace thou knowest full many a thing,
The deeds of men and of Godfolk, such fame as minstrels sing,
Sit, while they drink and are silent, and sing to them somewhat of these.
But from this woful rhyme, this lamenting, I bid thee to cease,
For the heart that is dear in my breast doth it ever waste and wear,
Since I, and I above all a ceaseless sorrow bear,
For so dear a head sore longing, remembering still the man
Whose fame was abroad in Hellas, and through mid Argos ran."

But Telemachus the heedful to her thus answered and spake:
"O mother, and why dost thou grudge it that the faithful minstrel should make
Such glee as his heart would have him? Nor lay we on singers sweet
This blame, but on Zeus let us lay it, he that to each doth mete,
Yea to each of men gainseeking such measure as he will.
Blame not the man though he singeth of the Danaans' doom of ill;
For ever to men that hearken will minstrels make no doubt
To tell of the newest tidings, if such be floating about.
But the tale of such-like things thy soul must hear and abide,
For it was not only Odysseus that lost his returning-tide,
But by Troy-town moreover fell many another man.
But come now, go to thy bower, and deal with such things as ye can:
With the rock and the loom be busy, and thine handmaids order and teach,
That they speed the work and the weaving: but for men is the word and
the speech;

For all, but for me the chiefest, for here am I the might and the power.'
She wondered and back again she wended unto her bower,
And deep in her heart was she holding the heedful word he had said.
To her bower aloft was she gone with wife and with serving-maid;
There she wept for her man beloved, for Odysseus, till at last
Sweet slumber and sleep on her eyelids Grey-eyed Athene cast
But again rose the din of the Wooers through the shadowy halls and wide,
And each and all were they longing to lie in the bed by her side.
Then Telemachus the heedful took up the word again:
"O Wooers of my mother, O measureless masterful men!
Now speed we the feast in joyance, nor din of riot raise,
For lovely it is to be hearkening to such a minstrel's lays,
Whose speech is the voice of a God, so fair it is and fit.
But wend we all in the dawning and in assembly sit,
That there I may speak before you, and a downright word ye may hear:
To wit, from this house be ye wending, and seek your meat elsewhere,
Yourselves your own wealth eating from house to house in turn
But if it like you better, and if for the sweetness ye yearn
Of wasting another's life-store, and no atonement to pay,
Rejoice therein! But for me to the Deathless Gods will I pray,
If for deed the deed's requital perchance from Zeus may come,
And unavenged shall ye perish one day in this house and home."
So spake, and all the Wooers they bit their lips in wrath,
And at Telemachus marvelled, so boldly spake he forth.,
But him Antinoüs answered, Eupeithes' son was he:
"Telemachus, the Godfolk are surely teaching thee
To speak out high and haughty, and put forth the daring word?
So may the son of Cronos ne'er make thee king and lord
O'er Ithaca the seagirt the heirloom that ye take."
But Telemachus the heedful these words in answer spake:
"Antinoüs, art thou angry with the shapen word of my voice?
This thing, if of Zeus it were given, I should take it and rejoice;
Or of all that befalleth manfolk dost thou deem it the evillest thing?
For look you, I deem it no evil to become a lord and a king,
For in wealth his house is waxen and most glorious doth he grow.
But many a King of Achæans meseems there is e'en now
In Ithaca the seagirt, both young and old; and one
Amidst these may chance on the lordship since Odysseus' days are done.
But o'er this my house and my war-thralls will I verily be the king,
E'en they that Odysseus gat me in his gainful warfaring."

Then Eurymachus, Polybus' child, thus answering, spake on high:
"Telemachus, as for this thing on the knees of the Gods doth it lie,
Which man shall be King of Achæans in Ithaca girt by the sea;
And surely thine own shalt thou have, and King in thine house shalt thou be:
And ne'er may the man come hither to force thee against thy will,
And wrest thy wealth from thine hand while men live in Ithaca still.
But now, O friend, would I ask thee of the guest that dealt with thee,
Whence was the man among menfolk? Of what land did he boast him to be?
What was the earth that begat him and the fields of his father's land?
Came he with tidings and message that thy father is nigh unto hand?
Or seeking some need of his own thus wise has he hitherward hied?
But he leapt up and straightway was gone, nor here to be known would abide,
And yet by his mien and his visage was he nowise one of the base."

But Telemachus the heedful thus answered to the case:
"Eurymachus, gone is the day of my father's coming home,
Nor yet would I trust a message if from anywhere any should come.
Nor would I heed foretelling if perchance my mother should bring
Some wizard unto the homestead to ask him of the thing.

But as for my guest, e'en Mentes he gave himself out for to be,
The wise Anchialus' son, from Taphos of the sea;
And he lordeth it over the Taphians the lovers of the oar."

So spake he; but certain knowledge of the Deathless Goddess he bore.
But they, they gat to the dance, and the lovesome song's delight,
And there they abode in joyance the coming on of night;
And as they rejoiced and were merry, was the dark night on them come,
And they went each one to his place to slumber and sleep at home.

But Telemachus went to his chamber high-built in a far-looking stead,
Of the house exceeding beauteous, and there he came to his bed,
While many things in his mind was he heedfully turning o'er.
But the burning brand for his lighting a trusty woman bore,
Euryclea, daughter of Ops, that was Pisenor's seed;
But her with his wealth and his treasure had Laertes bought indeed
In the very bloom of her youth, and twenty beeves was her price;
And he honoured her in the house as his wife the prudent and wise.
But abed he lay not with her, for the wrath of his wife did he fear.
So she bore the brands a-flaming, and of all the handmaids there
She loved him the most, and had nursed him while yet but a babe was he.
So he opened the door of the chamber wrought well and heedfully,
And sat him down on the bed, and put off his dainty weed
And gave it unto the goodwife, to the hands of the heedful of rede:
And she folded up the garment and smoothed it out with care,
And hung it up on a pin by the jointed bedstead fair.
Then forth from the chamber she wended, and the door thereof pulled to
By the handle-ring of silver, and the bolt with a thong she drew.
There night long well enfolded in the flower of the fleece he lay
And pondered the word of Athene and the Goddess-bidden way.