Homer

c.800 BC

THE ODYSSEY

translated by Samuel Butler

Book I

In a Council of the Gods, Poseidon absent, Pallas procureth an order for the
restitution of Odysseus; and appearing to his son Telemachus, in human shape,
adviseth him to complain of the Wooers before the Council of the people, and then
go to Pylos and Sparta to inquire about his father.

Tell me, Muse, of that man, so ready at need, who wandered far and wide, after
he had sacked the sacred citadel of Troy, and many were the men whose towns he
saw and whose mind he learnt, yea, and many the woes he suffered in his heart
upon the deep, striving to win his own life and the return of his company. Nay,
but even so he saved not his company, though he desired it sore. For through the
blindness of their own hearts they perished, fools, who devoured the oxen of Helios
Hyperion: but the god took from them their day of returning. Of these things,
goddess, daughter of Zeus, whencesoever thou hast heard thereof, declare thou
even unto us.

Now all the rest, as many as fled from sheer destruction, were at home, and
had escaped both war and sea, but Odysseus only, craving for his wife and for
his homeward path, the lady nymph Calypso held, that fair goddess, in her hollow
caves, longing to have him for her lord. But when now the year had come in the
courses of the seasons, wherein the gods had ordained that he should return home
to Ithaca, not even there was he quit of labours, not even among his own; but
all the gods had pity on him save Poseidon, who raged continually against godlike
Odysseus, till be came to his own country. Howbeit Poseidon had now departed for
the distant Ethiopians, the Ethiopians that are sundered in twain, the uttermost
of men, abiding some where Hyperion sinks and some where he rises. There he looked
to receive his hecatomb of bulls and rams, there he made merry sitting at the
feast, but the other gods were gathered in the halls of Olympian Zeus. Then among
them the father of gods and men began to speak, for he bethought him in his heart
of noble Aegisthus, whom the son of Agamemnon, farfamed Orestes, slew. Thinking
upon him he spake out among the Immortals:

‘Lo you now, how vainly mortal men do blame the gods! For of us they say comes
evil, whereas they even of themselves through the blindness of their own hearts,
have sorrows beyond that which is ordained. Even as of late Aegisthus, beyond
that which was ordained, took to him the wedded wife of the son of Atreus, and
killed her lord on his return, and that with sheer doom before his eyes, since
we had warned him by the embassy of Hermes the keen-sighted, the slayer of Argos,
that he should neither kill the man, nor woo his wife. For the son of Atreus shall
be avenged at the hand of Orestes, so soon as he shall come to man’s estate and
long for his own country. So spake Hermes, yet he prevailed not on the heart of
Aegisthus, for all his good will; but now hath he paid one price for all.’

And the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, answered him, saying: ‘O father, our father
Cronides, throned in the highest; that man assuredly lies in a death that is his
due; so perish likewise all who work such deeds! But my heart is rent for wise
Odysseus, that happless one, who far from his friends this long while suffereth
affliction in a seagirt isle, where is the navel of the sea, as woodland isle,
and therein a goddess hath her habitation, the daughter of the wizard Atlas, who
knows the depths of every sea, and himself upholds the tall pillars which keep
earth and sky asunder. His daughter it is that holds the hapless man in sorrow:
and ever with soft and guileful tales she is wooing him to forgetfulness of Ithaca.
But Odysseus yearning to see if it were but the smoke leap upwards from his own
land, hath a desire to die. As for thee, thine heart regardeth it not at all,
Olympian! What! did not Odysseus by the ships of the Argives make thee free offering
of sacrifice in the wide Trojan land? Wherefore wast thou then so wroth with him,
O Zeus?’

And Zeus the cloud-gatherer answered her, and said, ‘My child, what word hath
escaped the door of thy lips? Yea, how should I forget divine Odysseus, who in
understanding is beyond mortals and beyond all men hath done sacrifice to the
deathless gods, who keep the wide heaven? Nay, but it is Poseidon, the girdler
of the earth, that hath been wroth continually with quenchless anger for the Cyclops’
sake whom he blinded of his eye, even godlike Polyphemus whose power is mightiest
amongst all the Cyclopes. His mother was the nymph Thoosa, daughter of Phorcys,
lord of the unharvested sea, and in the hollow caves she lay with Poseidon. From
that day forth Poseidon the earth-shaker doth not indeed slay Odysseus, but driveth
him wandering from his own country. But come, let us here one and all take good
counsel as touching his returning, that he may be got home; so shall Poseidon
let go his displeasure, for he will in no wise be able to strive alone against
all, in despite of all the deathless gods.’

Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, answered him, and said: ‘O father, our
father Cronides, throned in the highest, if indeed this thing is now well pleasing
to the blessed gods, that wise Odysseus should return to his own home, let us
then speed Hermes the Messenger, the slayer of Argos, to the island of Ogygia.
There with all speed let him declare to the lady of the braided tresses our unerring
counsel, even the return of the patient Odysseus, that so he may come to his home.
But as for me I will go to Ithaca that I may rouse his son yet the more, planting
might in his heart, to call an assembly of the long-haired Achaeans and speak
out to all the wooers who slaughter continually the sheep of his thronging flocks,
and his kine with trailing feet and shambling gait. And I will guide him to Sparta
and to sandy Pylos to seek tidings of his dear father’s return, if peraventure
he may hear thereof and that so he may be had in good report among men.’

She spake and bound beneath her feet her lovely golden sandals that wax not
old, and bare her alike over the wet sea and over the limitless land, swifth as
the breath of the wind. And she seized her doughty spear, shod with sharp bronze,
weighty and huge and strong, wherewith she quells the ranks of heroes with whomsoever
she is wroth, the daughter of the mighty sire. Then from the heights of Olympus
she came glancing down, and she stood in the land of Ithaca, at the entry of the
gate of Odysseus, on the threshold of the courtyard, holding in her hand the spear
of bronze, in the semblance of a stranger, Mentes the captain of the Taphians.
And there she found the lordly wooers: now they were taking their pleasure at
draughts in front of the doors, sitting on hides of oxen, which themselves had
slain. And of the henchmen and the ready squires, some were mixing for them wine
and water in bowls, and some again were washing the tables with porous sponges
and were setting them forth, and others were carving flesh in plenty.

And godlike Telemachus was far the first to descry her, for he was sitting
with a heavy heart among the wooers dreaming on his good father, if haply he might
come somewhence, and make a scattering of the wooers there throughout the palace,
and himself get honour and bear rule among his own possessions. Thinking thereupon,
as he sat among wooers, he saw Athene – and he went straight to the outer porch,
for he thought it blame in his heart that a stranger should stand long at the
gates: and halting nigh her he clasped her right hand and took from her the spear
of bronze, and uttered his voice and spake unto her winged words: ‘Hail, stranger,
with us thou shalt be kindly entreated, and thereafter, when thou hast tasted
meat, thou shalt tell us that whereof thou hast need.’

Therewith he led the way, and Pallas Athene followed. And when they were now
within the lofty house, he set spear that he bore against a tall pillar, within
the polished spear-stand, where stood many spears besides, even those of Odysseus
of the hardy heart; and he led the goddess and seated her on a goodly carven chair,
and spread a linen cloth thereunder, and beneath was a footstool for the feet.
For himself he placed an inlaid seat hard by, apart from the company of the wooers,
lest the stranger should be disquieted by the noise and should have a loathing
for the meal, being come among overweening men, and also that he might ask him
about his father that was gone from his home.

Then a handmaid bare water for the washing of hands in a goodly golden ewer,
and poured it forth over a silver basin to wash withal, and drew to their side
a polished table. And a grave dame bare wheaten bread and set it by them, and
laid on the board many dainties, giving freely of such things as she had by her.
And a carver lifted and placed by them platters of divers kinds of flesh, and
nigh them he set golden bowls, and a henchman walked to and fro pouring out to
them the wine.

Then in came the lordly wooers; and they sat them down in rows on chairs, and
on high seats, and henchmen poured water on their hands, and maidservants piled
wheaten bread by them in baskets, and pages crowned the bowls with drink; and
they stretched forth their hands upon the good cheer spread before them. Now when
the wooers had put from them the desire of meat and drink, they minded them of
other things, even of the song and dance: for these are the crown of the feast.
And a henchman placed a beauteous lyre in the hands of Phemius, who was minstrel
to the wooers despite his will. Yea and as he touched the lyre he lifted up his
voice in sweet songs.1

[Footnote 1: Or “So he touched the chords in prelude to his sweet singing.”]

But Telemachus spake unto grey-eyed Athene, holding his head close to her that
those others might not hear: ‘Dear stranger, wilt thou of a truth be wroth at
the word I shall say? Yonder men verily care for such things as these, the lyre
and song, lightly, as they that devour the livelihood of another without atonement,
of that man whose white bones, it may be, lie wasting in the rain upon the mainland,
or the billow rolls them in the brine. Were but these men to see him returned
to Ithaca, they all would pray rather for greater speed of foot than for gain
of gold and raiment. But now he hath perished, even so, an evil doom, and for
us is no comfort, no, not though any of earthly men should say that he will come
again. Gone is the day of his returning! But come declare me this, and tell me
all plainly: Who art thou of the sons of men, and whence? Where is thy city, where
are they that begat thee? Say, on what manner of ship didst thou come, and how
did sailors bring thee to Ithaca, and who did they avow themselves to be, for
in nowise do I deem that thou camest hither by land. And herein tell me true,
that I may know for a surety whether thou art a newcomer, or whether thou art
a guest of the house, seeing that many were the strangers that came to our home,
for that he too had voyaged much among men.’

Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, answered him: ‘Yea now, I will plainly
tell thee all. I avow me to be Mentes, son of wise Anchialus, and I bear rule
among the Taphians, lovers of the oar. And now am I come to shore, as thou seest,
with ship and crew, sailing over the wine-dark sea, unto men of strange speech,
even to Temesa,2 in quest of copper, and my cargo is shining iron. And there my
ship is lying toward the upland, away from the city, in the harbour of Rheithron
beneath wooded Neion: and we declare ourselves to be friends one of the other,
and of houses friendly, from of old. Nay, if thou wouldest be assured, go ask
the old man, the hero Laertes, who they say no more comes to the city, but far
away toward the upland suffers affliction, with an ancient woman for his handmaid,
who sets by him meat and drink, whensoever weariness takes hold of his limbs,
as he creeps along the knoll of his vineyard plot. And now am I come; for verily
they said that he, thy father, was among his people; but lo, the gods withhold
him from his way. For goodly Odysseus hath not yet perished on the earth; but
still, methinks, he lives and is kept on the wide deep in a seagirt isle, and
hard men constrain him, wild folk that hold him, it may be, sore against his will.
But now of a truth will I utter my word of prophecy, as the Immortals bring it
into my heart and as I deem it will be accomplished, though no soothsayer am I,
nor skilled in the signs of birds. Henceforth indeed for no long while shall he
be far from his own dear country, not though bonds of iron bind him; he will advise
him of a way to return, for he is a man of many devices. But come, declare me
this, and tell me all plainly, whether indeed, so tall as thou art, thou art sprung
from the loins of Odysseus. Thy head surely and they beauteous eyes are wondrous
like to his, since full many a time have we held converse together ere he embarked
for Troy, whither the others, aye the bravest of the Argives, went in hollow ships.
From that day forth neither have I seen Odysseus nor he me.’

[Footnote 2: Tamasia, in the mountainous centre of Cyprus.]

Then wise Telemachus answered her, and said: ‘Yea, sir, now will I plainly
tell thee all. My mother verily saith that I am his; for myself I know not, for
never man yet knew of himself his own descent. O that I had been the son of some
blessed man, whom old age overtook among his own possessions! But now of him that
is the most hapless of mortal men, his son they say that I am, since thou dost
question me hereof.’

Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, spake unto him, and said: ‘Surely no nameless
lineage have the gods ordained for thee in days to come, since Penelope bore thee
so goodly a man. But come, declare me this, and tell it all plainly. What feast,
nay, what rout is this? What hast thou to do therewith? Is it a clan drinking,
or a wedding feast, for here we have no banquet where each man brings his share?
In such wise, flown with insolence, do they seem to me to revel wantonly through
the house: and well might any man be wroth to see so many deeds of shame, whatso
wise man came among them.’

Then wise Telemachus answered her, and said: ‘Sir, forasmuch as thou questionest
me of these things and inquirest thereof, our house was once like to have been
rich and honourable, while yet that man was among his people. But now the gods
willed it otherwise, in evil purpose, who have made him pass utterly out of sight
as no man ever before. Truly I would not even for his death make so great sorrow,
had he fallen among his fellows in the land of the Trojans, or in the arms of
his friends when he had wound up the clew of war. Then would the whole Achaean
host have builded him a barrow, and even for his son would he have won great glory
in the after days. But now the spirits of the storm have swept him away inglorious.
He is gone, lost to sight and hearsay, but for me hath he left anguish and lamentation;
nor henceforth is it for him alone that I mourn and weep, since the gods have
wrought for me other sore distress. For all the noblest that are princes in the
isles, in Dulichium and Same and wooded Zacynthus, and as many as lord it in rocky
Ithaca, all these woo my mother and waste my house. But as for her she neither
refuseth the hated bridal, nor hath the heart to make an end: so they devour and
minish my house, and ere long will they make havoc likewise of myself.’

Then in heavy displeasure spake unto him Pallas Athene: ‘God help thee! thou
art surely sore in need of Odysseus that is afar, to stretch forth his hands upon
the shameless wooers. If he could but come now and stand at the entering in of
the gate, with helmet and shield and lances twain, as mighty a man as when first
I marked him in our house drinking and making merry what time he came up out of
Ephyra from Ilus son of Mermerus! For even thither had Odysseus gone on his swift
ship to seek a deadly drug, that he might have wherewithal to smear his bronze-shod
arrows: but Ilus would in nowise give it to him, for he had in awe the everliving
gods. But my father gave it him, for he bare him wondrous love. O that Odysseus
might in such strength consort with the wooers: so should they all have swift
fate and bitter wedlock! Howbeit these things surely lie on the knees of the gods,
whether he shall return or not, and take vengeance in his halls. But I charge
thee to take counsel how thou mayest thrust forth the wooers from the hall. Come
now, mark and take heed unto my words. On the morrow call the Achaean lords to
the assembly, and declare thy saying to all, and take the gods to witness. As
for the wooers bid them scatter them each one to his own, and for thy mother,
if her heart is moved to marriage, let her go back to the hall of that mighty
man her father, and her kinsfolk will furnish a wedding feast, and array the gifts
of wooing exceeding many, all that should go back with a daughter dearly beloved.
And to thyself I will give a word of wise counsel, if perchance thou wilt hearken.
Fit out a ship, the best thou hast, with twenty oarsmen, and go to inquire concerning
thy father that is long afar, if perchance any man shall tell thee aught, or if
thou mayest hear the voice from Zeus, which chiefly brings tidings to men. Get
thee first to Pylos and inquire of goodly Nestor, and from thence to Sparta to
Menelaus of the fair hair, for he came home the last of the mail-coated Achaeans.
If thou shalt hear news of the life and the returning of thy father, then verily
thou mayest endure the wasting for yet a year. But if thou shalt hear that he
is dead and gone, return then to thine own dear country and pile his mound, and
over it pay burial rites, full many as is due, and give thy mother to a husband.
But when thou hast done this and made an end, thereafter take counsel in thy mind
and heart, how thou mayest slay the wooers in thy halls, whether by guile or openly;
for thou shouldst not carry childish thoughts, being no longer of years thereto.
Or hast thou not heard what renown the goodly Orestes gat him among all men in
that he slew the slayer of his father, guileful Aegisthus, who killed his famous
sire? And thou, too, my friend, for I see that thou art very comely and tall,
be valiant, that even men unborn may praise thee. But I will now go down to the
swift ship and to my men, who methinks chafe much at tarrying for me; and do thou
thyself take heed and give ear unto my words.’

Then wise Telemachus answered her, saying: ‘Sir, verily thou speakest these
things out of a friendly heart, as a father to his son, and never will I forget
them. But now I pray thee abide here, though eager to be gone, to the end that
after thou hast bathed and had all thy heart’s desire, thou mayest wend to the
ship joyful in spirit, with a costly gift and very goodly, to be an heirloom of
my giving, such as dear friends give to friends.’

Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, answered him: ‘Hold me now no longer, that
am eager for the way. But whatsoever gift thine heart shall bid thee give me,
when I am on my way back let it be mine to carry home: bear from thy stores a
gift right goodly, and it shall bring thee the worth the eof in return.’

So spake she and departed, the grey-eyed Athene, and like an eagle of the sea
she flew away, but in his spirit she planted might and courage, and put him in
mind of his father yet more than heretofore. And he marked the thing and was amazed,
for he deemed that it was a god; and anon he went among the wooers, a godlike
man.

Now the renowned minstrel was singing to the wooers, and they sat listening
in silence; and his song was of the pitiful return of the Achaeans, that Pallas
Athene laid on them as they came forth from Troy. And from her upper chamber the
daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, caught the glorious strain, and she went down
the high stairs from her chamber, not alone, for two of her handmaids bare her
company. Now when the fair lady had come unto the wooers, she stood by the pillar
of the well-builded roof holding up her glistening tire before her face; and a
faithful maiden stood on either side of her. Then she fell a weeping, and spake
unto the divine minstrel:

‘Phemius, since thou knowest many other charms for mortals, deeds of men and
gods, which bards rehearse, some one of these do thou sing as thou sittest by
them, and let them drink their wine in silence; but cease from this pitiful strain,
that ever wastes my heart within my breast, since to me above all women hath come
a sorrow comfortless. So dear a head do I long for in constant memory, namely,
that man whose fame is noised abroad from Hellas to mid Argos.’

Then wise Telemachus answered her, and said: ‘O my mother, why then dost thou
grudge the sweet minstrel to gladden us as his spirit moves him? It is not minstrels
who are in fault, but Zeus, methinks, is in fault, who gives to men, that live
by bread, to each one as he will. As for him it is no blame if he sings the ill-faring
of the Danaans; for men always prize that song the most, which rings newest in
their ears. But let thy heart and mind endure to listen, for not Odysseus only
lost in Troy the day of his returning, but many another likewise perished. Howbeit
go to thy chamber and mind thine own housewiferies, the loom and distaff, and
bid thy handmaids ply their tasks. But speech shall be for men, for all, but for
me in chief; for mine is the lordship in the house.’

Then in amaze she went back to her chamber, for she laid up the wise saying
of her son in her heart. She ascended to her upper chamber with the women her
handmaids, and then was bewailing Odysseus, her dear lord, till grey – eyed Athene
cast sweet sleep upon her eyelids.

Now the wooers clamoured throughout the shadowy halls, and each one uttered
a prayer to be her bedfellow. And wise Telemachus first spake among them:

‘Wooers of my mother, men despiteful out of measure, let us feast now and make
merry and let there be no brawling; for, lo, it is a good thing to list to a minstrel
such as him, like to the gods in voice. But in the morning let us all go to the
assembly and sit us down, that I may declare my saying outright, to wit that ye
leave these halls: and busy yourselves with other feasts, eating your own substance,
going in turn from house to house. But if ye deem this a likelier and a better
thing, that one man’s goods should perish without atonement, then waste ye as
ye will; and I will call upon the everlasting gods, if haply Zeus may grant that
acts of recompense be made: so should ye hereafter perish within the halls without
atonement.’

So spake he, and all that heard him bit their lips and marvelled at Telemachus,
in that he spake boldly.

Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, answered him: ‘Telemachus, in very truth the
gods themselves instruct thee to be proud of speech and boldly to harangue. Never
may Cronion make thee king in seagirt Ithaca, which thing is of inheritance thy
right!’

Then wise Telemachus answered him, and said: ‘Antinous, wilt thou indeed be
wroth at the word that I shall say? Yea, at the hand of Zeus would I be fain to
take even this thing upon me. Sayest thou that this is the worst hap that can
befal a man? Nay, verily, it is no ill thing to be a king: the house of such an
one quickly waxeth rich and himself is held in greater honour. Howsoever there
are many other kings of the Achaeans in seagirt Ithaca, kings young and old; someone
of them shall surely have this kingship since goodly Odysseus is dead. But as
for me, I will be lord of our own house and thralls, that goodly Odysseus gat
me with his spear.’

Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered him, saying: ‘Telemachus, on the
knees of the gods it surely lies, what man is to be king over the Achaeans in
seagirt Ithaca. But mayest thou keep thine own possessions and be lord in thine
own house! Never may that man come, who shall wrest from thee thy substance violently
in thine own despite while Ithaca yet stands. But I would ask thee, friend, concerning
the stranger – whence he is, and of what land he avows him to be? Where are his
kin and his native fields? Doth he bear some tidings of thy father on his road,
or cometh he thus to speed some matter of his own? In such wise did he start up,
and lo, he was gone, nor tarried he that we should know him; – and yet he seemed
no mean man to look upon.’3

[Footnote 3: The yap explains the expression of surprise at the sudden departure
of the stranger.]

Then wise Telemachus answered him, and said: ‘Eurymachus, surely the day of
my father’s returning hath gone by. Therefore no more do I put faith in tidings,
whencesoever they may come, neither have I regard unto any divination, whereof
my mother may inquire at the lips of a diviner, when she hath bidden him to the
hall. But as for that man, he is a friend of my house from Taphos, and he avows
him to be Mentes, son of wise Anchialus, and he hath lordship among the Taphians,
lovers of the oar.’

So spake Telemachus, but in his heart he knew the deathless goddess. Now the
wooers turned them to the dance and the delightsome song, and made merry, and
waited till evening should come on. And as they made merry, dusk evening came
upon them. Then they went each one to his own house to lie down to rest.

But Telemachus, where his chamber was builded high up in the fair court, in
a place with wide prospect, thither betook him to his bed, pondering many thoughts
in his mind; and with him went trusty Eurycleia, and bare for him torches burning.
She was the daughter of Ops, son of Peisenor, and Laertes bought her on a time
with his wealth, while as yet she was in her first youth, and gave for her the
worth of twenty oxen. And he honoured her even as he honoured his dear wife in
the halls, but he never lay with her, for he shunned the wrath of his lady. She
went with Telemachus and bare for him the burning torches: and of all the women
of the household she loved him most, and she had nursed him when a little one.
Then he opened the doors of the well-builded chamber and sat him on the bed and
took off his soft doublet, and put it in the wise old woman’s hands. So she folded
the doublet and smoothed it, and hung it on a pin by the jointed bedstead, and
went forth on her way from the room, and pulled to the door with the silver handle,
and drew home the bar with the thong. There, all night through, wrapped in a fleece
of wool, he meditated in his heart upon the journey that Athene had showed him.