The Odyssey

a heart of steel were his.

But now dismiss us to our beds, that there,

Couched softly, we may welcome balmy sleep.”
He spake, and Argive Helen called her maids

To make up couches in the portico,

And throw fair purple blankets over them,

And tapestry above, and cover all

With shaggy cloaks. Forth from the palace halls

They went with torches, and made ready soon

The couches; thither heralds led the guests.

There in the vestibule Telemachus,

The hero, and with him the eminent son

Of Nestor, took their rest. Meanwhile the son

Of Atreus lay within an inner room

Of that magnificent pile, and near to him

The glorious lady, long-robed Helen, slept.

But when at length the daughter of the Dawn,

The rosy-fingered Morning, brought her light,

Then Menelaus, great in battle, rose,

Put on his garments, took his trenchant sword,

And, having hung it on his shoulder, laced

The shapely sandals to his shining feet,

And issued from his chamber like a god

In aspect. Near Telemachus he took

His seat, and calling him by name he spake:⁠—
“What urgent cause, my brave Telemachus,

Brings thee to sacred Lacedaemon o’er

The breast of the great ocean? Frankly say,

Is it a private or a public need?”
And thus discreet Telemachus replied:⁠—

“Atrides Menelaus, reared by Jove,

Ruler of nations! I am come to ask

News of my father, if thou knowest aught.

My heritage is wasting; my rich fields

Are made a desolation. Enemies

Swarm in my palace, and from day to day

Slaughter my flocks and slow-paced horned herds;

My mother’s suitors they, and measureless

Their insolence. And therefore am I come

To clasp thy knees, and pray thee to relate

The manner of my father’s sorrowful death

As thou hast seen it with thine eyes, or heard

Its story from some wandering man⁠—for sure

His mother brought him forth to wretchedness

Beyond the common lot. I ask thee not

To soften aught in the sad history

Through tenderness to me, or kind regard,

But tell me plainly all that thou dost know;

And I beseech thee, if at any time

My father, good Ulysses, brought to pass

Aught that he undertook for thee in word

Or act while ye were in the realm of Troy,

Where the Greeks suffered sorely, bear it now

In mind, and let me have the naked truth.”
Then Menelaus of the amber locks

Drew a deep sigh, and thus in answer said:⁠—

“Heavens! they would climb into a brave man’s bed,

These craven weaklings. But as when a hart

Has hid her newborn suckling fawns within

The lair of some fierce lion, and gone forth

Herself to range the mountainsides and feed

Among the grassy lawns, the lion comes

Back to the place and brings them sudden death,

So will Ulysses bring a bloody fate

Upon the suitor crew. O father Jove,

And Pallas, and Apollo! I could wish

That now, with prowess such as once was his

When he, of yore, in Lesbos nobly built,

Rising to strive with Philomela’s son,

In wrestling threw him heavily, and all

The Greeks rejoiced, Ulysses might engage

The suitors. Short were then their term of life,

And bitter would the nuptial banquet be.

Now for the questions thou hast put, and craved

From me a true reply, I will not seek

To pass them by with talk of other things,

Nor yet deceive thee, but of all that once

Was told me by the Ancient of the Deep,

Whose words are truth, I shall keep nothing back.
“In Egypt still, though longing to come home,

The gods detained me; for I had not paid

The sacrifice of chosen hecatombs,

And ever do the gods require of us

Remembrance of their laws. There is an isle

Within the billowy sea before you reach

The coast of Egypt⁠—Pharos is its name⁠—

At such a distance as a ship could pass

In one whole day with a shrill breeze astern.

A sheltered haven lies within that isle,

Whence the good ships go forth with fresh supplies

Of water. There the gods constrained my stay

For twenty days, and never in that time

Blew favoring winds across the waters, such

As bear the galley over the great deep.

Now would our stores of food have been consumed,

Now would the courage of my men have died,

Had not a goddess pitied me, and come

To my relief, by name Eidothea, born

To the great Proteus, Ancient of the Deep.

For she was moved by my distress, and came

To me while I was wandering alone,

Apart from all the rest. They through the isle

Roamed everywhere from place to place, and, pinched

With hunger, threw the hook for fish. She came,

And, standing near, accosted me and said:⁠—
“ ‘Stranger, thou art an idiot, or at least

Of careless mood, or else art willingly

Neglectful, and art pleased with suffering,

That thou dost linger in this isle so long

And find no means to leave it, while the hearts

Of thy companions faint with the delay.’
“She spake, and I replied: ‘Whoe’er thou art,

goddess, let me say, not willingly

I linger here. I surely must have sinned

Against the immortal dwellers of high heaven;

But tell me⁠—for the gods know all things⁠—who

Of all the immortals holds me windbound here,

Hindering my voyage; tell me also how

To reach my home across the fishy deep.’
“I ended, and the glorious goddess said

In answer: ‘Stranger, I will truly speak;

The deathless Ancient of the Deep, whose words

Are ever true, Egyptian Proteus, oft

Here makes his haunt. To him are fully known⁠—

For he is Neptune’s subject⁠—all the depths

Of the great ocean. It is said I owe

To him my birth. If him thou canst insnare

And seize, he will disclose to thee thy way

And all its distances, and tell thee how

To reach thy home across the fishy deep;

And further will reveal, if so he choose,

O foster-child of Jove, whate’er of good

Or ill has in thy palace come to pass,

While thou wert wandering long and wearily.’
“So said the goddess, and I spake again:⁠—

‘Explain by what device to snare and hold

The aged deity, lest he foreknow

Or else suspect our purpose and escape.

’Twere hard for mortals to constrain a god.’
“I ended, and the glorious goddess thus

Made answer: ‘When the climbing sun has reached

The middle heaven, the Ancient of the Deep,

Who ne’er deceives, emerges from the waves,

And, covered with the dark scum of the sea,

Walks forth, and in a cavern vault lies down.

Thither fair Halosydna’s progeny,

The sea-calves from the hoary ocean, throng,

Rank with the bitter odor of the brine,

And slumber near him. With the break of day

I will conduct thee thither and appoint

Thy place,