Homer

c.800 BC

THE ODYSSEY

translated by Samuel Butler

Book XXIV

The Ithacans bury the wooers, and sitting in council
resolve on revenge. And coming near the house of Laertes, are met by Odysseus,
and Laertes with Telemachus and servants, the whole number twelve, and are
overcome, and submit.

Now Cyllenian Hermes called forth from the halls the souls
of the wooers, and he held in his hand his wand that is fair and golden,
wherewith he lulls the eyes of men, of whomso he will, while others again he
even wakens out of sleep. Herewith he roused and led the souls who followed
gibbering. And even as bats flit gibbering in the secret place of a wondrous
cave, when one has fallen down from the cluster on the rock, where they cling
each up aloft, even so the souls gibbered as they fared together, and Hermes,
the helper, led them down the dank ways. Past the streams of Oceanus and the
White Rock, past the gates of the Sun they sped and the land of dreams, and soon
they came to the mead of asphodel, where dwell the souls, the phantoms of men
outworn. There they found the soul of Achilles, son of Peleus, and the souls of
Patroclus, and of noble Antilochus, and of Aias, who in face and form was
goodliest of all the Danaans after the noble son of Peleus.

So these were flocking round Achilles, and the spirit of
Agamemnon, son of Atreus, drew nigh sorrowful; and about him were gathered all
the other shades, as many as perished with him in the house of Aegisthus, and
met their doom. Now the soul of the son of Peleus spake to him first, saying:

‘Son of Atreus, verily we deemed that thou above all other
heroes wast evermore dear to Zeus, whose joy is in the thunder, seeing that thou
wast lord over warriors, many and mighty men, in the land of the Trojans where
we Achaeans suffered affliction. But lo, thee too was deadly doom to visit
early, the doom that none avoids of all men born. Ah, would that in the fullness
of thy princely honour, thou hadst met death and fate in the land of the
Trojans! So would all the Achaean host have builded thee a barrow, yea and for
thy son thou wouldst have won great glory in the aftertime. But now it has been
decreed for thee to perish by a most pitiful death.’

Then the soul of the son of Atreus answered, and spake:
‘Happy art thou son of Peleus, godlike Achilles, that didst die in Troy-land far
from Argos, and about thee fell others, the best of the sons of Trojans and
Achaeans, fighting for thy body; but thou in the whirl of dust layest mighty and
mightily fallen, forgetful of thy chivalry. And we strove the livelong day, nor
would we ever have ceased from the fight, if Zeus had not stayed us with a
tempest. Anon when we had borne thee to the ships from out of the battle, we
laid thee on a bier and washed thy fair flesh clean with warm water and
unguents, and around thee the Danaans shed many a hot tear and shore their hair.
And forth from the sea came thy mother with the deathless maidens of the waters,
when they heard the tidings; and a wonderful wailing rose over the deep, and
trembling fell on the limbs of all the Achaeans. Yea, and they would have sprung
up and departed to the hollow ships, had not one held them back that knew much
lore from of old, Nestor, whose counsel proved heretofore the best. Out of his
good-will he made harangue, and spake among them:

‘”Hold, ye Argives, flee not, young lords of the Achaeans.
Lo, his mother from the sea is she that comes, with the deathless maidens of the
waters, to behold the face of her dead son.”

‘So he spake, and the high-hearted Achaeans ceased from
their flight. Then round thee stood the daughters of the ancient one of the sea,
holding a pitiful lament, and they clad thee about in raiment incorruptible. And
all the nine Muses one to the other replying with sweet voices began the dirge;
there thou wouldest not have seen an Argive but wept, so mightily rose up the
clear chant. Thus for seventeen days and nights continually did we all bewail
thee, immortal gods and mortal men. On the eighteenth day we gave thy body to
the flames, and many well-fatted sheep we slew around thee, and kine of
shambling gait. So thou wert burned in the garments of the gods, and in much
unguents and in sweet honey, and many heroes of the Achaeans moved mail-clad
around the pyre when thou wast burning, both footmen and horse, and great was
the noise that arose. But when the flame of Hephaestus had utterly abolished
thee, lo, in the morning we gathered together thy white bones, Achilles, and
bestowed them in unmixed wine and in unguents. Thy mother gave a two-handled
golden urn, and said that it was the gift of Dionysus, and the workmanship of
renowned Hephaestus. Therein lie thy white bones, great Achilles, and mingled
therewith the bones of Patroclus, son of Menoetias, that is dead, but apart is
the dust of Antilochus, whom thou didst honour above all thy other companions,
after Patroclus that was dead. Then over them did we pile a great and goodly
tomb, we the holy host of Argive warriors, high on a jutting headland over wide
Hellespont, that it might be far seen from off the sea by men that now are, and
by those that shall be hereafter. Then thy mother asked the gods for glorious
prizes in the games, and set them in the midst of the lists for the champions of
the Achaeans. In days past thou hast been at the funeral games of many a hero,
whenso, after some king’s death, the young men gird themselves and make them
ready for the meed of victory, but couldst thou have seen these gifts thou
wouldst most have marvelled in spirit, such glorious prizes did the goddess set
there to honour thee, even Thetis, the silver-footed; for very dear wert thou to
the gods. Thus not even in death hast thou lost thy name, but to thee shall be a
fair renown for ever among all men, Achilles. But what joy have I now herein,
that I have wound up the clew of war, for on my return Zeus devised for me an
evil end at the hands of Aegisthus and my wife accursed?’

So they spake one to the other. And nigh them came the
Messenger, the slayer of Argos, leading down the ghosts of the wooers by
Odysseus slain, and the two heroes were amazed at the sight and went straight
toward them. And the soul of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, knew the dear son of
Melaneus, renowned Amphimedon, who had been his host, having his dwelling in
Ithaca. The soul of the son of Atreus spake to him first, saying:

‘Amphimedon, what hath befallen you, that ye have come
beneath the darkness of earth, all of you picked men and of like age? it is even
as though one should choose out and gather together the best warriors in a city.
Did Poseidon smite you in your ships and rouse up contrary winds and the long
waves? Or did unfriendly men, perchance, do you hurt upon the land as ye were
cutting off their oxen and fair flocks of sheep, or while they fought to defend
their city and the women thereof? Answer and tell me, for I avow me a friend of
thy house. Rememberest thou not the day when I came to your house in Ithaca with
godlike Menelaus, to urge Odysseus to follow with me to Ilios on the decked
ships? And it was a full month ere we had sailed all across the wide sea, for
scarce could we win to our cause Odysseus, waster of cities.’

Then the ghost of Amphimedon answered him, and spake: ‘Most
famous son of Atreus, king of men, Agamemnon, I remember all these things, O
fosterling of Zeus, as thou declarest them, and I in turn will tell thee all the
tale well and truly, even our death and evil end, on what wise it befell. We
wooed the wife of Odysseus that was long afar, and she neither refused the hated
bridal nor was minded to make an end, devising for us death and black fate. Also
this other wile she contrived in her heart. She set up in her halls a mighty
web, fine of woof and very wide, whereat she would weave, and anon she spake
among us:

‘”Ye princely youths, my wooers, now that goodly Odysseus
is dead, do ye abide patiently, how eager soever to speed on this marriage of
mine, till I finish the robe. I would not that the threads peril to no avail,
even this shroud for the hero Laertes, against the day when the ruinous doom
shall bring him low, of death that lays men at their length. So shall none of
the Achaean women in the land count it blame in me, as well might be, were he to
lie without a widing-sheet, a man that had gotten great possessions.”

‘So spake she, and our high hearts consented thereto. So
then in the daytime she would weave the mighty web, and in the night unravel the
same, when she had let place the torches by her. Thus for the space of three
years she hid the thing by guile and won the minds of the Achaeans; but when the
fourth year arrived and the seasons came round, as the months waned and many
days were accomplished, then it was that one of her women who knew all declared
it, and we found her unravelling the splendid web. Thus she finished it perforce
and sore against her will. Now when she brought the robe to light, after she had
woven the great web and washed it, and it shone even as sun or moon, at that
very hour some evil god led Odysseus, I know not whence, to the upland farm,
where the swineherd abode in his dwelling. Thither too came the dear son of
divine Odysseus out of sandy Pylos, voyaging with his black ship. These twain
framed an evil death for the wooers, and came to the renowned town. Odysseus
verily came the later, and Telemachus went before and led the way. Now the
swineherd brought Odysseus clad in vile raiment, in the likeness of a beggar, a
wretched man and an old, leaning on a staff, and behold, he was clad about in
sorry raiment. And none of us, not even the elders, could know him for that he
was, on this his sudden appearing, but with evil words we assailed him and
hurled things at him. Yet for a while he hardened his heart to endure both the
hurlings and the evil words in his own halls; but at the last, when the spirit
of Zeus, lord of the aegis aroused him, by the help of Telemachus he took up all
the goodly weapons, and laid them by in the inner chamber and drew the bolts.
Next in his great craft he bade his wife to offer his bow and store of grey iron
to the wooers to be the weapons of our contest, luckless that we were, and the
beginning of death. Now not one of us could stretch the string of the strong
bow; far short we fell of that might. But when the great bow came to the hands
of Odysseus, then we all clamoured and forbade to give him the bow, how much
soever he might speak, but Telemachus alone was instant with him and commanded
him to take it. Then he took the bow into his hands, the steadfast goodly
Odysseus, and lightly he strung it, and sent the arrow through the iron. The
straight he went to the threshold and there took his stand, and poured forth the
swift arrows, glancing terribly around, and smote the king Antinous. Thereafter
on the others he let fly his bolts, winged for death, with straight aim, and the
wooers fell thick one upon another. Then was it known how that some god was
their helper, for pressing on as their passion drave them, they slew the men
right and left through the halls, and thence there arose a hideous moaning, as
heads were smitten and the floor all ran with blood. So we perished, Agamemnon,
and even now our bodies lie uncared for in the halls of Odysseus, for the
friends of each one at home as yet know nought, even they who might wash the
black-clotted blood out of our wounds, and lay out the bodies and wail the
dirge, for that is the due of the dead.’

Then the ghost of the son of Atreus answered him: ‘Ah,
happy son of Laertes, Odysseus of many devices, yea, for a wife most excellent
has thou gotten, so good was the wisdom of constant Penelope, daughter of
Icarius, that was duly mindful of Odysseus, her wedded lord. Wherefore the fame
of her virtue shall never perish, but the immortals will make a gracious song in
the ears of men on earth to the fame of constant Penelope. In far other wise did
the daughter of Tyndareus devise ill deeds, and slay her wedded lord, and
hateful shall the song of her be among men, and an evil repute hath she brought
upon all womankind, even on the upright.’

Even so these twain spake one to the other, standing in the
house of Hades, beneath the secret places of the earth.

Now when those others had gone down from the city, quickly
they came to the rich and well-ordered farm land of Laertes, that he had won for
himself of old, as the prize of great toil in war. There was his house, and all
about it ran the huts wherein the thralls were wont to eat and dwell and sleep,
bondsmen that worked his will. And in the house there was an old Sicilian woman,
who diligently cared for the old man, in the upland far from the city. There
Odysseus spake to his thralls and to his son, saying:

‘Do ye now get you within the well-builded house, and
quickly sacrifice the best of the swine for the midday meal, but I will make
trial of my father, whether he will know me again and be aware of me when he
sees me, or know me not, so long have I been away,’

Therewith he gave the thralls his weapons of war. Then they
went speedily to the house, while Odysseus drew near to the fruitful vineyard to
make trial of his father. Now he found not Dolius there, as he went down into
the great garden, nor any of the thralls nor of their sons. It chanced that they
had all gone to gather stones for a garden fence, and the old man at their head.
So he found his father alone in the terraced vineyard, digging about a plant. He
was clothed in a filthy doublet, patched and unseemly, with clouted leggings of
oxhide bound about his legs, against the scratches of the thorns, and long
sleeves over his hands by reason of the brambles, and on his head he wore a
goatskin cap, and so he nursed his sorrow. Now when the steadfast goodly
Odysseus saw his father thus wasted with age and in great grief of heart, he
stood still beneath a tall pear tree and let fall a tear. Then he communed with
his heart and soul, whether he should fall on his father’s neck and kiss him,
and tell him all, how he had returned and come to his own country, or whether he
should first question him and prove him in every word. And as he thought within
himself, this seemed to him the better way, namely, first to prove his father
and speak to him sharply. So with this intent the goodly Odysseus went up to
him. Now he was holding his head down and kept digging about the plant, while
his renowned son stood by him and spake, saying:

‘Old man, thou hast no lack of skill in tending a garden;
lo, thou carest well for all, nor is there aught whatsoever, either plant or
fig-tree, or vine, yea, or olive, or pear, or garden-bed in all the close, that
is not well seen to. Yet another thing will I tell thee and lay not up wrath
thereat in thy heart. Thyself art scarce so well cared for, but a pitiful old
age is on thee, and withal thou art withered and unkempt, and clad unseemly. It
cannot be to punish thy sloth that thy master cares not for thee; there shows
nothing of the slave about thy face and stature, for thou art like a kingly man,
even like one who should lie soft, when he has washed and eaten well, as is the
manner of the aged. But come declare me this and plainly tell it all. Whose
thrall art thou, and whose garden dost thou tend? Tell me moreover truly, that I
may surely know, if it be indeed to Ithaca that I am now come, as one yonder
told me who met with me but now on the way hither. He was but of little
understanding, for he deigned not to tell me all nor to heed my saying, when I
questioned him concerning my friend, whether indeed he is yet alive or is even
now dead and within the house of Hades. For I will declare it and do thou mark
and listen: once did I kindly entreat a man in mine own dear country, who came
to our home, and never yet has any mortal been dearer of all the strangers that
have drawn to my house from afar. He declared him to be by lineage from out of
Ithaca, and said that his own father was Laertes son of Arceisius. So I led him
to our halls and gave him good entertainment, with all loving-kindness, out of
the plenty that was within. Such gifts too I gave him as are the due of guests:
of well wrought gold I gave him seven talents, and a mixing bowl of flowered
work, all of silver, and twelve cloaks of single fold, and as many coverlets,
and as many goodly mantles and doublets to boot, and besides all these, four
women skilled in all fair works and most comely, the women of his choice.’

Then his father answered him, weeping: ‘Stranger, thou art
verily come to that country whereof thou askest, but outrageous men and froward
hold it. And these thy gifts, thy countless gifts, thou didst bestow in vain.
For if thou hadst found that man yet living in the land of Ithaca he would have
sent thee on thy way with good return of thy presents, and with all hospitality,
as is due to the man that begins the kindness. But come, declare me this and
plainly tell me all; how many years are passed since thou didst entertain him,
thy guest ill-fated and my child, – if ever such an one there was, – hapless
man, whom far from his friends and his country’s soil, the fishes, it may be,
have devoured in the deep sea, or on the shore he has fallen the prey of birds
and beasts. His mother wept not over him nor clad him for burial, nor his
father, we that begat him. Nor did his bride, whom men sought with rich gifts,
the constant Penelope, bewail her lord upon the bier, as was meet, nor closed
his eyes, as is the due of the departed. Moreover, tell me this truly, that I
may surely know, who art thou and whence of the sons of men? Where is thy city
and where are they that begat thee? Where now is thy swift ship moored, that
brought thee thither with thy godlike company? Hast thou come as a passenger on
another’s ship, while they set thee ashore and went away?’

Then Odysseus of many counsels answered him, saying: ‘Yea
now, I will tell thee all most plainly. From out of Alybas I come, where I dwell
in a house renowned, and am the son of Apheidas the son of Polypemon, the
prince, and my own name is Eperitus. But some god drave me wandering hither from
Sicania against my will, and yonder my ship is moored toward the upland away
from the city. But for Odysseus, this is now the fifth year since he went thence
and departed out of my country. Ill-fated was he, and yet he had birds of good
omen when he fared away, birds on the right; wherefore I sped him gladly on his
road, and gladly he departed, and the heart of us twain hoped yet to meet in
friendship on a day and to give splendid gifts.’

So he spake, and on the old man fell a black cloud of
sorrow. With both his hands he clutched the dust and ashes and showered them on
his gray head, with ceaseless groaning. Then the heart of Odysseus was moved,
and up through his nostrils throbbed anon the keen sting of sorrow at the sight
of his dear father. And he sprang towards him and fell on his neck and kissed
him, saying:

‘Behold, I here, even I, my father, am the man of whom thou
askest; in the twentieth year am I come to mine own country. But stay thy
weeping and tearful lamentation, for I will tell thee all clearly, though great
need there is of haste. I have slain the wooers in our halls and avenged their
bitter scorn and evil deeds.’

Then Laertes answered him and spake, saying: ‘If thou art
indeed Odysseus, mine own child, that art come hither, show me now a manifest
token, that I may be assured.’

Then Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: ‘Look
first on this scar and consider it, that the boar dealt me with his white tusk
on Parnassus, whither I had gone, and thou didst send me forth, thou and my lady
mother, to Autolycus my mother’s father, to get the gifts which when he came
hither he promised and covenanted to give me. But come, and I will even tell
thee the trees through all the terraced garden, which thou gavest me once for
mine own, and I was begging of thee this and that, being but a little child, and
following thee through the garden. Through these very trees we were going, and
thou didst tell me the names of each of them. Pear-trees thirteen thou gavest me
and ten apple-trees and figs two-score, and, as we went, thou didst name the
fifty rows of vines thou wouldest give me, whereof each one ripened at divers
times, with all manner of clusters on their boughs, when the seasons of Zeus
wrought mightily on them from on high.’

So he spake, and straightway his knees were loosened, and
his heart melted within him, as he knew the sure tokens that Odysseus showed
him. About his dear son he cast his arms, and the steadfast goodly Odysseus
caught him fainting to his breast. Now when he had got breath and his spirit
came to him again, once more he answered and spake, saying:

‘Father Zeus, verily ye gods yet bear sway on high Olympus,
if indeed the wooers have paid for their infatuate pride! But now my heart is
terribly afraid, lest straightway all the men of Ithaca come up against us here,
and haste to send messages everywhere to the cities of the Cephallenians.’

Then Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: ‘Take
courage, and let not thy heart be careful about these matters. But come, let us
go to the house that lies near the garden, for thither I sent forward Telemachus
and the neatherd and the swineherd to get ready the meal as speedily as may be.’

After these words the twain set out to the goodly halls.
Now when they had come to the fair-lying house, they found Telemachus and the
neatherd and the swineherd carving much flesh, and mixing the dark wine.
Meanwhile the Sicilian handmaid bathed high-hearted Laertes in his house, and
anointed him with olive-oil, and cast a fair mantle about him. Then Athene drew
nigh, and made greater the limbs of the shepherd of the people, taller she made
him than before and mightier to behold. Then he went forth from the bath, and
his dear son marvelled at him, beholding him like to the deathless gods in
presence. And uttering his voice he spake to him winged words:

‘Father, surely one of the gods that are from everlasting
hath made thee goodlier and greater to behold.’

Then wise Laertes answered him, saying: ‘Ah, would to
father Zeus and Athene and Apollo, that such as I was when I took Nericus, the
stablished castle on the foreland of the continent, being then the prince of the
Cephallenians, would that in such might, and with mail about my shoulders, I had
stood to aid thee yesterday in our house, and to beat back the wooers; so should
I have loosened the knees of many an one of them in the halls, and thou
shouldest have been gladdened in thine inmost heart!’

So they spake each with the other. But when the others had
ceased from their task and made ready the feast, they sat down all orderly on
chairs and on high seats. Then they began to put forth their hands on the meat,
and the old man Dolius drew nigh, and the old man’s sons withal came tired from
their labour in the fields, for their mother, the aged Sicilian woman, had gone
forth and called them, she that saw to their living and diligently cared for the
old man, now that old age had laid hold on him. So soon as they looked on
Odysseus and took knowledge of him, they stood still in the halls in great
amazement. But Odysseus addressed them in gentle words, saying:

‘Old man, sit down to meat and do ye forget your
marvelling, for long have we been eager to put forth our hands on the food, as
we abode in the hall alway expecting your coming.’

So he spake, and Dolius ran straight toward him stretching
forth both his hands, and he grasped the hand of Odysseus and kissed it on the
wrist, and uttering his voice spake to him winged words:

‘Beloved, forasmuch as thou hast come back to us who sore
desired thee, and no longer thought to see thee, and the gods have led thee home
again; hail to thee and welcome manifold, and may the gods give thee all good
fortune! Moreover tell me this truly, that I may assured, whether wise Penelope
yet knows well that thou hast come back hither, or whether we shall dispatch a
messenger.’

Then Odysseus of many counsels answered saying: ‘Old man,
already she knows all; what need to busy thyself herewith?’

Thereon the other sat him down again on his polished
settle. And in like wise the sons of Dolius gathered about the renowned
Odysseus, and greeted him well and clasped his hands, and then sat down all
orderly by Dolius their father.

So they were busy with the meal in the halls. Now Rumour
the messenger went swiftly all about the city, telling the tale of the dire
death and fate of the wooers. And the people heard it, and all at once gathered
together from every side with sighing and groaning before the house of Odysseus.
And each brought forth his dead from the halls, and buried them; but those that
came out of other cities they placed on swift ships and sent with fisherfolk,
each to be carried to his own home. As for them they all fared together to the
assembly place, in sorrow of heart. When they were all gathered and come
together, Eupeithes arose and spake among them, for a comfortless grief lay
heavy on his heart for his son Antinous, the first man that goodly Odysseus had
slain. Weeping for him he made harangue and spake among them:

‘Friends, a great deed truly hath this man devised against
the Achaeans. Some with his ships he led away, many men, and noble, and his
hollow ships hath he lost, and utterly lost of his company, and others again,
and those far the best of the Cephallenians he hath slain on his coming home. Up
now, before ever he gets him swiftly either to Pylos or to fair Elis, where the
Epeians bear sway, let us go forth; else even hereafter shall we have shame of
face for ever. For a scorn this is even for the ears of men unborn to hear, if
we avenge not ourselves on the slayers of our sons and of our brethren. Life
would no more be sweet to me, but rather would I die straightway and be with the
departed. Up, let us be going, lest these fellows be beforehand with us and get
them over the sea.’

Thus he spake weeping, and pity fell on all the Achaeans.
Then came near to them Medon and the divine minstrel, forth from the halls of
Odysseus, for that sleep had let them go. They stood in the midst of the
gathering, and amazement seized every man. Then Medon, wise of heart, spake
among them, saying:

‘Hearken to me now, ye men of Ithaca, for surely Odysseus
planned not these deeds without the will of the gods. Nay I myself beheld a god
immortal, who stood hard by Odysseus, in the perfect semblance of Mentor; now as
a deathless god was he manifest in front of Odysseus, cheering him, and yet
again scaring the wooers he stormed through the hall, and they fell thick one on
another.’

Thus he spake, and pale fear gat hold of the limbs of all.
Then the old man, the lord Halitherses, spake among them, the son of Mastor, for
he alone saw before and after. Out of his good will be made harangue and spake
among them, saying:

‘Hearken to me now, ye men of Ithaca, to the word that I
will say. Through your own cowardice, my friends, have these deeds come to pass.
For ye obeyed not me, nor Mentor, the shepherd of the people, to make your sons
cease from their foolish ways. A great villainy they wrought in their evil
infatuation, wasting the wealth and holding in no regard the wife of a prince,
while they deemed that he would never more come home. And now let things be on
this wise, and obey my counsel. Let us not go forth against him, lest haply some
may find a bane of their own bringing.’

So he spake, but they leapt up with great cry, the more
part of them, while the rest abode there together; for his counsel was not to
the mind of the more part, but they gave ear to Eupeithes, and swiftly
thereafter they rushed for their armour. So when they had arrayed them in
shining mail, they assembled together in front of the spacious town. And
Eupeithes led them in his witlessness, for he thought to avenge the slaying of
his son, yet himself was never to return, but then and there to meet his doom.

Now Athene spake to Zeus, the son of Cronos, saying: ‘O
Father, our father Cronides, throned in the highest, answer and tell me what is
now the hidden counsel of thy heart? Wilt thou yet further rouse up evil war and
the terrible din of battle, or art thou minded to set them at one again in
friendship?’

Then Zeus, the gatherer of the clouds, answered her saying:
‘My child, why dost thou thus straitly question me, and ask me this? Nay didst
not thou thyself devise this very thought, namely, that Odysseus should indeed
take vengeance on these men at his coming? Do as thou wilt, but I will tell thee
of the better way. Now that goodly Odysseus hath wreaked vengeance on the
wooers, let them make a firm covenant together with sacrifice, and let him be
king all his days, and let us bring about oblivion of the slaying of their
children and their brethren; so may both sides love one another as of old, and
let peace and wealth abundant be their portion.’

Therewith he roused Athene to yet greater eagerness, and
from the peaks of Olympus she came glancing down.

Now when they had put from them the desire of honey-sweet
food, the steadfast goodly Odysseus began to speak among them, saying:

‘Let one go forth and see, lest the people be already
drawing near against us.’

So he spake, and the son of Dolius went forth at his
bidding, and stood on the outer threshold and saw them all close at hand. Then
straightway he spake to Odysseus winged words:

‘Here they be, close upon us! Quick, let us to arms!’

Thereon they rose up and arrayed them in their harness,
Odysseus and his men being four, and the six sons of Dolius, and likewise
Laertes and Dolius did on their armour, grey-headed as they were, warriors
through stress of need. Now when they had clad them in shining mail, they opened
the gates and went forth and Odysseus led them.

Then Athene, daughter of Zeus, drew near them in the
likeness of Mentor, in fashion and in voice. And the steadfast goodly Odysseus
beheld her and was glad, and straightway he spake to Telemachus his dear son:

‘Telemachus, soon shalt thou learn this, when thou thyself
art got to the place of the battle where the best men try the issue, – namely,
not to bring shame on thy father’s house, on us who in time past have been
eminent for might and hardihood over all the world.’

Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: ‘Thou shalt see
me, if thou wilt, dear father, in this my mood no whit disgracing thy line,
according to thy word.’

So spake he, and Laertes was glad and spake, saying: ‘What
a day has dawned for me, kind gods; yea, a glad man am I! My son and my son’s
son are vying with one another in valour.’

Then grey-eyed Athene stood beside Laertes, and spake to
him: ‘O son of Arceisius that art far the dearest of all my friends, pray first
to the grey eyed maid and to father Zeus, then swing thy long spear aloft and
hurl its straightway.’

Therewith Pallas Athene breathed into him great strength.
Then he prayed to the daughter of mighty Zeus, and straightway swung his long
spear aloft and hurled it, and smote Eupeithes through his casque with the
cheek-piece of bronze. The armour kept not out the spear that went clean
through, and he fell with a crash, and his arms rattled about his body. Then
Odysseus and his renowned son fell on the fore-fighters, and smote them with
swords and two headed spears. And now would they have slain them all and cut off
their return, had not Athene called aloud, the daughter of Zeus lord of the
aegis, and stayed all the host of the enemy, saying:

‘Hold your hands from fierce fighting, ye men of Ithaca,
that so ye may be parted quickly, without bloodshed.’

So spake Athene, and pale fear gat hold of them all. The
arms flew from their hands in their terror and fell all upon the ground, as the
goddess uttered her voice. To the city they turned their steps, as men fain of
life, and the steadfast goodly Odysseus with a terrible cry gathered himself
together and hurled in on them, like an eagle of lofty flight. Then in that hour
the son of Cronos cast forth a flaming bolt, and it fell at the feet of the
grey-eyed goddess, the daughter of the mighty Sire. Then grey-eyed Athene spake
to Odysseus, saying:

‘Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many
devices, refrain thee now and stay the strife of even-handed war, lest perchance
the son of Cronos be angry with thee, even Zeus of the farborne voice.’

So spake Athene, and he obeyed and was glad at heart. And
thereafter Pallas Athene set a covenant between them with sacrifice, she, the
daughter of Zeus lord of the aegis, in the likeness of Mentor, both in fashion
and in voice.

Homer, thy song men liken to the sea,
With every note of music in his tone,
With tides that wash the dim dominion
Of Hades, and light waves that laugh in glee
Around the isles enchanted: nay, to me
Thy verse seems as the River of source unknown
That glasses Egypt’s temples overthrown,
In his sky-nurtur’d stream, eternally.
No wiser we than men of heretofore
To find thy mystic fountains guarded fast;
Enough-thy flood makes green our human shore
As Nilus, Egypt, rolling down his vast,
His fertile waters, murmuring evermore
Of gods dethroned, and empires of the Past.

A. L.

Source:

Homer: The Odyssey. Translated by S. H. Butcher
and A. Lang. With introd. and notes. New York, Collier, [1909] The Harvard
classics v. 22..