The Odyssey

enough,

O suitors, that while I was yet a child

Ye wasted on your revelries my large

And rich possessions? Now that I am grown,

And, when I hear the words of other men,

Discern their meaning, now that every day

Strengthens my spirit, I will make the attempt

To bring the evil fates upon your heads,

Whether I go to Pylos or remain

Among this people. I shall surely make

This voyage, and it will not be in vain.

Although I go a passenger on board

Another’s ship⁠—since neither ship have I

Nor rowers⁠—ye have judged that so were best.”
He spake, and quickly from the suitor’s hand

Withdrew his own. The others who prepared

Their banquet in the palace scoffed at him,

And flung at him their bitter taunts, and one

Among the insolent youths reviled him thus:⁠—
“Telemachus is certainly resolved

To butcher us. He goes to bring allies

From sandy Pylos or the Spartan coast,

He is so bent on slaughter. Or perhaps

He visits the rich land of Ephyrè

In search of deadly poisons to be thrown

Into a cup and end us all at once.”
Then said another of the haughty youths:⁠—

“Who knows but, wandering in his hollow barque,

He too may perish, far from all his friends,

Just as Ulysses perished? This would bring

Increase of labor; it would cast on us

The trouble to divide his goods, and give

His palace to his mother, and to him

Who takes the woman as his wedded wife.”
So spake they, but Telemachus went down

To that high-vaulted room, his father’s, where

Lay heaps of gold and brass, and garments store

In chests, and fragrant oils. And there stood casks

Of delicate old wine and pure, a drink

For gods, in rows against the wall, to wait

If ever, after many hardships borne,

Ulysses should return. Upon that room

Close-fitting double doors were shut, and there

Was one who night and day kept diligent watch,

A woman, Eurycleia, child of Ops,

Peisenor’s son. Telemachus went in

And called her to him, and bespake her thus:⁠—
“Nurse, let sweet wine be drawn into my jars,

The finest next to that which thou dost keep

Expecting our unhappy lord, if yet

The nobly born Ulysses shall escape

The doom of death and come to us again.

Fill twelve, and fit the covers close, and pour

Meal into well-sewn skins, and let the tale

Be twenty measures of the flour of wheat.

This none but thou must know. Let all these things

Be brought together; then, as night shuts in,

When to her upper chamber, seeking rest,

My mother shall withdraw, I come and take

What thou providest for me. I am bound

For Sparta and for Pylos in the sands,

To gather news concerning the return

Of my dear father, if I haply may.”
So spake the youth, and his beloved nurse

Sobbed, wept aloud, and spake these winged words:⁠—
“Why should there come, dear child, a thought like this

Into thy heart. Why wouldst thou wander forth

To distant regions⁠—thou an only son

And dearly loved? Ulysses, nobly born,

Has perished, from his native land afar,

’Mid a strange race. These men, when thou art gone,

At once will lay their plots to take thy life,

And share thy wealth among them. Stay thou here

Among thy people; need is none that thou

Shouldst suffer, roaming o’er the barren deep.”
Then spake discreet Telemachus again:⁠—

“Be of good cheer, O nurse, for my design

Is not without the sanction of a god;

But swear thou not to let my mother know

Of my intent until the eleventh day

Or twelfth shall pass, or till, in missing me,

She learn of my departure, lest she weep

And stain with tears the beauty of her face.”
He spake; the ancient woman solemnly

Swore by the gods, and when the rite was o’er

Drew wine into the jars, and poured the meal

Into the well-sewn skins. Telemachus

Entered the hall and joined the suitor train.
Then did the blue-eyed goddess turn her thoughts

To other plans, and taking on herself

The semblance of Telemachus, she ranged

The city, speaking to each man in turn,

And bidding him at nightfall to repair

To where the good ship lay. That gallant ship

She begged of the renowned Noëmon, son

Of Phronius, who with cheerful grace complied.
The sun went down, the city streets lay all

In shadow. Then she drew the good ship down

Into the sea, and brought and put on board

The appointments every well-built galley needs,

And moored her at the bottom of the port,

Where, in a throng, obedient to the word

Of Pallas, round her came her gallant crew.
With yet a new device the blue-eyed maid

Went to the palace of the godlike chief

Ulysses, where she poured a gentle sleep

Over the suitors. As they drank she made

Their senses wander, and their hands let fall

The goblets. Now no longer at the board

They sat, but sallied forth, and through the town

Went to their slumbers, for the power of sleep

Had fallen heavily upon their lids.

Then blue-eyed Pallas from those sumptuous halls

Summoned Telemachus. She took the form

And voice of Mentor, and bespake him thus:⁠—
“Telemachus, already at their oars

Sit thy well-armed companions and await

Thy coming; let us go without delay.”
Thus having spoken, Pallas led the way

With rapid footsteps which he followed fast;

Till having reached the galley and the sea

They found their long-haired comrades at the beach,

And thus the gallant prince Telemachus

Bespake them: “Hither, comrades, let us bring

The sea-stores from the dwelling where they lie;

My mother knows not of it, nor her maids;

The secret has been told to one alone.”
He spake, and went before them. In his steps

They followed. To the gallant barque they brought

The stores, and, as the well-beloved son

Of King Ulysses bade, they laid them down

Within the hull. Telemachus went up

The vessel’s side, but Pallas first embarked,

And at the stern sat down, while next to her

Telemachus was seated. Then the crew

Cast loose the fastenings and went all on board,

And took their places on the rowers’ seats,

While blue-eyed Pallas sent a favoring breeze,

A fresh wind from the west, that murmuring swept

The dark-blue main. Telemachus gave forth

The word to wield the tackle; they obeyed,

And raised the fir-tree mast, and, fitting it

Into its socket, bound it fast with cords,

And drew and spread with firmly twisted ropes

The shining sails on high. The steady wind

Swelled out the canvas in the midst; the ship

Moved on, the dark sea roaring round her keel,

As swiftly through the waves she cleft her way.

And when the rigging of that swift black ship

Was