Book VI

Thuswise the goodly Odysseus, the toil-stout, slumbered there,
By sleep and weariness laden; but therewith did Athene fare
To the folk of those Phæacians and the burg where they abide:
Who dwelt in days passed over by Hypereia the wide,
Anigh unto the Cyclops of the haughty minds and high,
Who were wont with war to waste them; for they had the mastery.
Till Nausithoüs the godlike stirred them, and brought them then
To the sure abode of Scheria, far from gain-pursuing men.
And he drew a wall round the city, and the houses he upreared,
And the shrines of the Gods he fashioned, and the fruitful acres shared;
But when by doom he was vanquished, and to Hades went to dwell,
In his stead was Alcinoüs ruling with god-craft furnished well.

To the house of him did Athene, the Goddess, the Grey-eyed, wend,
For Odysseus the mighty-hearted devising the wandering's end;
And she came to the fair-wrought chamber where asleep was a damsel laid
Who no worser of her body than the Deathless Ones was made,
E'en Nausicaä, the daughter of Alcinoüs great of heart;
And two handmaids, to whose fairness gave the Graces share and part,
Were on either side of the door-posts, and shut was the shining door.
But she as the night-wind's breathing towards the maiden's bedside bore,

And above her head was she standing as she uttered forth the word
In the likeness of the daughter of Dymas, ship-famed lord,
Of like age with the damsel, of her heart full well beloved.
Of such fashion was Athene as the word to her she moved.

"Nausicaä, how did thy mother so heedless thee beget?
Whereas the gleaming raiment lies all unheeded yet,
And near at hand is thy wedding, when both thou fair dight shouldst be,
And shouldst give withal to the others, yea those that marry thee.
For hereby shall a good report among menfolk fare forth,
And therein shall thy father rejoice, and thy mother of worship and worth.
So let us fare forth to the washing with the first of the dawn of the day,
And I will go with thee a helping, that all this ye may swiftly array.
For now but a little longer shall endure thy maidenhood,
Since amidst this folk and city by the mightiest art thou wooed,
The chiefs of the folk Phæacian, the race whence thou wert born.
Pray then thy noble father in the early tide of morn,
To set forth for thee the yoke-mules, and the wain to bear aright
All those the gowns and the girdles and the mantles glittering bright,
And thyself withal, for far fairer it is such wise to wend
Than afoot; for the washing-places are far from the township's end."
She spake, and forth to Olympus Grey-eyed Athene passed,
Where men say is the House of the Godfolk for ever firm and fast;
And by no wind is it shaken, nor wet by the rainy drift,
Nor the snow comes ever anigh it; but the utter cloudless lift
Is spread o'er all, and white splendour runs through it everywhere;
And therein the Gods, the Happy, all days in gladness wear.
Thereto departed the Grey-eyed, having taught the may with a word.
Now come was the Fair-throned Morning, and the maid to waking stirred
Nausicaä the well-clad, who fell to wondering
Of her dream, and went through the houses to tell them of the thing,
Her father dear and her mother: and them within she found;
On the hearth was her mother sitting with her handmaids all around
Twining the yarn sea-purpled: but in the doorway there
She met her father minded for the famous kings and fair
And the Council, thither summoned by the great Phæacian folk.
So she stood by her father beloved, and these words to him she spoke:

"Dear father, will ye not dight me a wain well-wheeled and high,
That those my goodly garments that befouled about me lie,
I may have away to the washing amidst the river's flow?
For both thou thyself it befitteth, when thou with the chiefs dost go,
Areding the redes, that thou carry fresh raiment on thy skin.
And five sons moreover hast thou these halls that were born within,
And two thereof are wedded, but three swains in the spring of youth;
And ever will they be having new-washen weed forsooth
When unto the dance they wend them: of all which hath my mind the care."

So spake she, shamefaced to name it unto her father dear,
Her freshly growing wedding; but he knew it all and spake:
"My child, no mules I grudge thee, nor aught else that thou wouldst take.
Go then, and the serving-people the wain for thee shall array,
Full high, all tilted over and well-wheeled for the way."

He spake and the thralls commanded, and they his bidding wrought,
And there without the mule-wain light running forth they brought,
And dight it, and the yoke-mules beneath the yokes did lead.
Then the damsel from the chamber brought down the seemly weed,
And laid all that together within the well-smoothed wain;
And in a chest laid her mother meat good for the body's gain:

Meats diverse, yea and dainties; and wine in a bottle of skin
She poured withal, and the damsel laid all the wain within.
And wet oil in a cruse all golden she gave unto her there,
That she and her handmaidens might sleek them well and fair.

Then the damsel took up the mule-whip, and hand to the bright reins laid,
And smote the mules to be going, and the mules much clatter made
As they strained and stretched unflagging with the raiment and the may;
Nor her alone, for with her went the handmaids on the way.

So when they were come to the river and its streams exceeding fair,
Where were washing-wells unfailing, and the lovely water there
Welled up exceeding plenteous to cleanse all grime and stain,
Then therewithal the yoke-mules they loose from under the wain,
And there along they drive them by the eddying river's drift,
To browse the grass sweet-waxing; and lay hands to the wain, and lift
The raiment thence, and bear it adown to the water black
And tread it in the trenches, and the strife is nowise slack.
So, having washed it and cleansed it of the dirt-stains all and each,
They lay it out in order along the salt-sea beach,
Where the pebbles are the cleanest by the sea-wash on the shore.
Then they bathe and with smooth olive they sleek their bodies o'er,
And then they take their dinner adown by the river side,
While for their garments' drying in the sunbeams they abide.
But when the maid and her maidens of the meat had had their will,
Then there they do off their head-gear, and get to the ball-play's skill,
And Nausicaä the white-armed amidst them raised the song.
And e'en as Artemis fareth shaft-fain the ridges along,
O'er Erymanthus' side or Taygetus measureless high,
Full fain of the chase of the boar, and the hart swift-footed to fly,
And the Daughters of Zeus the Shielded, the Woodland Women, play
All round about and about her, and glad is Leto that day;

And she by the head and the frontal o'ertops them every one,
And all are fair and lovely, but she wendeth her easily known,
E'en so the maid unwedded her maidens all outwent.

But when for the road she was ready and on home again intent, no
Having yoked the mules to the waggon and folded the raiment fair,
Then the Goddess, the Grey-eyed Athene, of other things had care,
That Odysseus might awaken and behold the fair-faced may
Who to the Burg Phæacian should lead him on the way.
So unto one of her handmaids the Queen-maid cast the ball,
And she missed it, and into the eddy and the deep of the stream did it fall,
And far went their crying aloud, and the goodly Odysseus awoke,
And he sat up and fell pondering, and two ways his pondering took.

"O me, in what land of menfolk, of mortals am I beguiled?
Are they men unrighteous-minded and fierce and woodland wild?
Or are they men guest-kindly and God-fearing men of mood?
For a fresh cry round me ringeth of the damsels of the wood,
The maids that hold the mountains and the heathlands high aloft,
And the wells of the flowing river and the marshlands grassy soft.
But meseemeth unto menfolk speech-wont am I come anigh,
So now for myself will I see it and myself the matter try."
Forth then from under the bushes came Odysseus as he spake,
And a leafy bough of the thicket with his heavy hand he brake,
His man's unseemly members to cover up from sight.
So he went as a fell-bred lion that trusteth in his might
As he goes through the wind and the rain-drift, and his eyes they gleam
As after the neat he goeth and forth for the sheep doth fare,
And after the wild-deer wendeth; for his belly biddeth him on and glare
To try for the flock, and betake him to the garth well-builded and done.
E'en so did Odysseus betake him, for as naked as he were
To consort with the well-tressed damsels, now need was come so near.
And he seemed to them but dreadful, befouled with the brine all o'er,
And they fled scared hither and thither about the bays of the shore.
But alone stood Alcinoüs' daughter, for Athene made her bold
Of her heart, and from her body all trembling did withhold;
So she stood in her place to meet him, and he pondered diversely
Whether he should pray to the fair-faced, laying hand upon her knee,
Or aloof from where he was standing with honied speech to pray
That she would give him a garment and tell of the townward way.
And so to him bethinking at last it seemed but good
With honied words to beseech her aloof from where he stood,
Lest the maid should be wrathful of heart if his hand her knees should
So honied words and gainful thenceforth withal he spake:
"O Queen, to thy knees I betake me, be'est thou God or of mortal race, take.
But if thou art of the Godfolk who hold the heavenly space,
Then in form and stature and breeding I may liken thee to none
Save Artemis, the Daughter of Zeus the Mighty One.
But if thou art of menfolk and the dwellers of the earth,
Thrice blessed then thy father, and the Queen that gave thee birth!
And thrice blessed are thy brethren! for their souls full certainly
With joy and gladness ever are fain because of thee,
When they look on thee entering the dance, such a fair and blossoming
But yet of all men of menfolk is his heart the happiest now
Who with many gifts hath prevailed to lead thee home and away. bough;
For none such of men that are mortal have my eyes beheld on a day,
Neither of men nor of women: awe holds me looking on thee.
At Delos, indeed, on a day a sight e'en so dear did I see,
A fig-sapling waxing aloft by Apollo's altar-stone.
For indeed I was faring thither, and much people followed me on

By the road that was fated to bring me to labour and many an ill.
E'en so when that sight I beheld long did wonder my spirit fulfil,
Since never as yet had I seen from the earth such a tree-bole upspring.
And in such wise at thee do I wonder and glory, and tremble to cling
To thy knees: though most heavy, O maiden, the trouble on me hath
Yestreen, on the twentieth day from the wine-dark sea I fled,
For so long had the billows borne me, and the storm-blast driven me on, been sped,
From the island of Ogygia, till the God here cast me adown,

That yet more of ill I may suffer e'en here: for thereof I see
No end; but many a trouble will the Gods bring ere that be.
But pity me, Queen; for to thee, having suffered many a woe,
Do I come the first; and none other of all the men I know
Of those who hold this city and dwell on this earth and ground.
Then show me the burg, and give me a rag to wrap me around;
For with some wrap of the linen perchance thou earnest here.
And so may the high Gods give thee whatso thine heart holds dear,
A husband and a homestead, and concord whole and sound.
For nothing sure more goodly or better may be found
Than man and woman holding one house with one goodwill.
Thus many a grief are they giving to those that wish them ill,
But great joy to their well-willers; and they wot it best of all."

But Nausicaä the white-armed, she answered him withal:
"O guest, forsooth thou seemest no fool, and no man of ill.
But Zeus the Olympian giveth to menfolk after his will,
To each, be he good, be he evil, his share of the happy day;
And these things shall be of his giving; so bear it as ye may.
But since to our land and our city thou hast come thus wandering,
Thou shalt neither lack for raiment nor any other thing
That is meet for a toil-worn suppliant who hath happed on our dwelling- place.
Now the city will I show thee, and will name our folk and our race:

For it is the Folk Phæacian this burg and land that hold,
And I am Alcinoüs' daughter, the great-heart king, the bold;
And of him indeed it cometh what might Phæacians have."

She spake, and unto her handmaids well-tressed the bidding gave:
"Stay now I bid ye, handmaids! from a man's sight flee ye so?
Perchance then ye are thinking that he cometh hither a foe.
But no mortal man is living, nor shall ever come to birth,
Who shall fare to the folk Phæacian, and this people of the earth,
With war in hand: for the Deathless hold us exceeding dear;
For amid the sea-waves' clashing aloof are we dwelling here,
The outermost of menfolk, with no other mortals blent.
But this man, a hapless wanderer, to usward now is sent,
And him is it meet to cherish; since from Zeus come guestfolk all
And suppliants; and full welcome is the gift, albeit but small.
So unto our guest, O handmaids, give meat and drink enow,
And bathe him in the river where never a blast may blow."
So spake she; and they stayed them and called out, maid to maid;
And Odysseus into a shelter they brought as the damsel bade,
Nausicaä, the daughter of Alcinoüs, heart of pride;
And raiment withal, a kirtle and a cloak, they set by his side,
And in a cruse all golden wet oil to him they gave,
And bade him wash him straightway in the running river's wave.

But therewith unto the handmaids goodly Odysseus spake:
"Stand off I bid you, damsels, while the work in hand I take,
And wash the brine from my shoulders, and sleek them all around.
Since verily now this long while sweet oil they have not found.

But before you nought will I wash me, for shame I have indeed,
Amidst of fair-tressed damsels to be all bare of weed."
So he spake and aloof they gat them, and thereof they told the may,
But Odysseus with the river from his body washed away
The brine from his back and his shoulders wrought broad and mightily,
And from his head was he wiping the foam of the untilled sea;
But when he had throughly washed him, and the oil about him had shed,
He did upon him the raiment the gift of the maid unwed.
But Athene, Zeus-begotten, dealt with him in such wise
That bigger yet was his seeming, and mightier to all eyes,
With the hair on his head crisp curling as the bloom of the daffodil.
And as when the silver with gold is o'erlaid by a man of skill,
Yea, a craftsman whom Hephæstus and Pallas Athene have taught
To be master over masters, and lovely work he hath wrought;
So she round his head and his shoulders shed grace abundantly.
But he went aloof thereafter and sat down by the side of the sea,
In glory and grace fair gleaming, and at him much marvelled the maid;
And therewithal to her damsels fair-tressed she answered and said:
"Now hearken, all ye damsels white-armed, till my word is told!
By no means against the willing of all Gods that Olympus hold
Among the godlike Phæacians is this man come to be.
Forsooth e'en now uncomely was he seeming unto me;
But now is he like to the Godfolk who hold the heavens wide.
Might but such be called my husband and ever here to abide!
And O that it might please him to dwell within our land!
But now for the guest, O handmaids, bring meat and drink to hand."
She spake and they heard, and straightway her bidding they obeyed,
And so before Odysseus the meat and the drink they laid:
And the toil-stout goodly Odysseus fell to full eagerly
On the meat and the drink: for this long while"fasting of all was he.
But Nausicaä the white-armed heeded other matters yet,
For the garments all she folded and within the fair wain set,
And the strong-hoofed mules she yoked and gat her up on the wain,
And she heartened up Odysseus, and hailed him and spake again:
"Up, guest, and get thee townward, that thee I hence may flit
To the house of my wise-heart father: and there I do thee to wit
Thou shall hap upon Phæacians, all the noblest that there be.
But now shalt thou do in thuswise: for no fool thou seemest to be.
The while we wend through the meadows and the tillage wrought of men,
Along with these my handmaids do thou get thee speedily then,
Beside the wain and the yoke-mules, and the way will I lead for all.
But when we come up to the city, around it goeth a wall
High-towered, and each side of the burg there lieth a haven fair,
Strait-mouthed; and the curving ships on the road are drawn up there;
For all men there have a ship-stead, to each keel his meeted ground.
There too is their place of assembly, Poseidon's house around,
And with dragged-on stones is it furnished, in earth embedded deep:
And there the black ships' tackling they care for and they keep,
As the sails thereof and the cables; and the oars are shaven there.
For of neither bow nor quiver Phæacian men have care,
But of masts and keel and oar-bank, and the shapely ships wherein
They have all joy and pleasure o'er the grey sea way to win.
Now the hard word of these would I shun lest they cast a blame on me,
For some among the people most overbearing be;
And perchance one of these of the worser might come across me and say:
'This stranger so great and so goodly, that Nausicaä leads by the way,
Where then will she have found him, her very lord to be?
From her ship then will she have taken some wanderer over the sea
Of the men that aloof are living, for none such dwell anear;
Or else some God prayer-wearied hath come down for her prayer
From the heavens aloft, and henceforward he shall have her all her days.
Yea better elsewhere that she wed her as she cometh and goeth her ways.
For ever will she be scorning us Phæacian men indeed,
Though many amidst the people were her wooers good at need.'
In such wise would they be speaking, and thence shame to me should grow,
And with her should I be angry that suchlike things should do,
And against the will of her father and mother alive and dear,
Should mix and mingle with menfolk ere her open wedding were.
But, O guest, do thou hearken my word, that as swiftly as may be
Thou may'st find of my father speeding to thy land across the sea.
A glorious grove of Athene shalt thou find, the way beside,
Of poplars, wherein is a well, and about it a meadow wide:
And there is the garth of my father and his garden growing fair,
E'en just so far from the city as a shouting man ye may hear,
There sit thee down and abide a while of time, till we come
Amidst of the very city and reach my father's home.
But when thou deemest us gotten unto that house of his,
Then go to the burg Phæacian, and ask of where it is,
The homestead of Alcinoüs my father great and glad.
But right easy is it to wot of, and forsooth a little lad
Would show it thee: for the others of Phæacian folk in nought
Are builded there and fashioned as the hero's house is wrought
But when the house and the forecourt have hid thee from the street,
Go swiftly through to the chamber, and my mother there shall ye meet:
On the hearth thereof she sitteth and twines in the firelight
The yarn of the sea-born purple, a wonder to the sight.
'Gainst a pillar is she leaning, and her handmaids sit behind,
And withal the chair of my father touching hers ye there shall find,
Where e'en as a God undying he sitteth and drinketh the wine.
But pass him by, and straightway on the knees of that mother mine
Lay hand, that in speedy fashion and in joy o,f heart ye may see
The day of your returning, for as far off as ye be.

For if she be well-willing and her heart of thee be fain,
Then good hope may'st thou cherish to look on thy friends again,
And come back to the land of thy fathers and thine house well builded and strong."

She spake the word, and the yoke-mules she smote with the shining thong,
And they left the streams of the river right soon, and fared full fleet,
And well on the way were they running, and speedily ambled their feet
But she drave the waggon wisely that on foot they might follow anigh,
Odysseus and the handmaids, and the thong plied craftily.

So set the sun, and they gat them to the grove of great renown,
The holy place of Athene; and there sat Odysseus adown,
And unto ihe Daughter of Zeus, the Almighty, he fell to pray:
"Hearken, O child of the Shielded, Zeus-born, unvanquished May!
Yea, now indeed may'st thou hear me since before thou heardest me not,
When the great Earth-shaker smote me and wrack and ruin I got
Now give me to reach these Phæacians a man well pitied and dear!"
So he prayed; and Pallas Athene she hearkened to his prayer,
But showed not there before him; for somewhat dreaded she
The wrath of her father's brother: who was wroth vehemently
Against the Godlike Odysseus till within his land he were.