The Odyssey · Homer · openearbooks.com
Book One
THE GODS IN COUNCIL. ATHENA’S VISIT TO ITHACA. THE CHALLENGE FROM TELEMACHUS TO THE SUITORS.
Butler used the Roman names common in his day, and we have restored the Greek ones Homer used, so this is Odysseus and Athena rather than Ulysses and Minerva.
Butler's translation is unabridged. His text is the 1900 revision, checked against an independent transcription of the 1898 printing, which found three errors and corrected them.
The classic translation · 1
Tell me, O Muse, of that ingenious hero who travelled far and wide after he had sacked the famous town of Troy. Many cities did he visit, and many were the nations with whose manners and customs he was acquainted; moreover he suffered much by sea while trying to save his own life and bring his men safely home; but do what he might he could not save his men, for they perished through their own sheer folly in eating the cattle of the Sun-god Hyperion; so the god prevented them from ever reaching home. Tell me, too, about all these things, oh daughter of Zeus, from whatsoever source you may know them.
Plain English · 1
Muse, tell me about the clever man who traveled far and wide after he sacked the famous town of Troy. He saw many cities. He learned how many different peoples lived. He suffered greatly at sea, trying to save his own life and get his men home. But he could not save them, however hard he tried. They died by their own stupidity. They ate the cattle of Hyperion, the Sun-god, and the god never let them come home. Tell me about all of it, daughter of Zeus, wherever you learned it.
The classic translation · 2
So now all who escaped death in battle or by shipwreck had got safely home except Odysseus, and he, though he was longing to return to his wife and country, was detained by the goddess Calypso, who had got him into a large cave and wanted to marry him. But as years went by, there came a time when the gods settled that he should go back to Ithaca; even then, however, when he was among his own people, his troubles were not yet over; nevertheless all the gods had now begun to pity him except Poseidon, who still persecuted him without ceasing and would not let him get home.
Plain English · 2
By now every man who had escaped death in battle or at sea was home safe. Every man but Odysseus. He was longing to get back to his wife and his own country, and the goddess Calypso would not let him go. She had him in a great cave, and she wanted to marry him. The years went by. In the end the gods decided he should go back to Ithaca. Even then his troubles would not be finished, not once he was home among his own people. By now every god pitied him. Every god but Poseidon, who went on hounding him and would not let him reach home.
The classic translation · 3
Now Poseidon had gone off to the Ethiopians, who are at the world’s end, and lie in two halves, the one looking West and the other East. He had gone there to accept a hecatomb of sheep and oxen, and was enjoying himself at his festival; but the other gods met in the house of Olympian Zeus, and the sire of gods and men spoke first. At that moment he was thinking of Aegisthus, who had been killed by Agamemnon’s son Orestes; so he said to the other gods:
Plain English · 3
Poseidon had gone off to visit the Ethiopians. They live at the ends of the earth, in two groups, one in the west and one in the east. He had gone to take a sacrifice of a hundred sheep and oxen, and he was enjoying the feast. The other gods were meeting in the house of Olympian Zeus. Zeus, the father of gods and men, spoke first. He was thinking about Aegisthus just then. Agamemnon's son Orestes had killed him. So Zeus said to the other gods:
The classic translation · 4
“See now, how men lay blame upon us gods for what is after all nothing but their own folly. Look at Aegisthus; he must needs make love to Agamemnon’s wife unrighteously and then kill Agamemnon, though he knew it would be the death of him; for I sent Hermes to warn him not to do either of these things, inasmuch as Orestes would be sure to take his revenge when he grew up and wanted to return home. Hermes told him this in all good will but he would not listen, and now he has paid for everything in full.”
Plain English · 4
"Look at the way men blame us gods, when the trouble is of their own making. Take Aegisthus. He had to have Agamemnon's wife, though she was not his to take, and then he killed Agamemnon. He knew what it would cost him. I sent Hermes to warn him off both things. Orestes would grow up, Hermes said, and want to come home, and he would take his revenge. Hermes meant it kindly. Aegisthus would not listen, and now he has paid for the whole of it."
The classic translation · 5
Then Athena said, “Father, son of Cronus, King of kings, it served Aegisthus right, and so it would any one else who does as he did; but Aegisthus is neither here nor there; it is for Odysseus that my heart bleeds, when I think of his sufferings in that lonely sea-girt island, far away, poor man, from all his friends. It is an island covered with forest, in the very middle of the sea, and a goddess lives there, daughter of the magician Atlas, who looks after the bottom of the ocean, and carries the great columns that keep heaven and earth asunder. This daughter of Atlas has got hold of poor unhappy Odysseus, and keeps trying by every kind of blandishment to make him forget his home, so that he is tired of life, and thinks of nothing but how he may once more see the smoke of his own chimneys. You, sir, take no heed of this, and yet when Odysseus was before Troy did he not propitiate you with many a burnt sacrifice? Why then should you keep on being so angry with him?”
Plain English · 5
Then Athena said, "Father, son of Cronus, king of kings, Aegisthus deserved what he got, and so does anyone who does what he did. But Aegisthus is not who I came to talk about. It is Odysseus I am grieving for. He is suffering on a lonely island far out at sea, poor man, cut off from everyone he loves. The island is covered in forest, right out in the middle of the water. A goddess lives there. She is the daughter of Atlas the magician, who watches the floor of the ocean and holds up the great pillars that keep the sky and the earth apart. She has hold of poor unhappy Odysseus. She coaxes him and flatters him, day after day, to make him forget his home. He is tired of living now. All he wants is to see the smoke going up from his own chimney again. And you take no notice of it, sir. Yet when Odysseus was at Troy, did he not burn sacrifice after sacrifice to please you? Why do you go on being so angry with him?"
The classic translation · 6
And Zeus said, “My child, what are you talking about? How can I forget Odysseus than whom there is no more capable man on earth, nor more liberal in his offerings to the immortal gods that live in heaven? Bear in mind, however, that Poseidon is still furious with Odysseus for having blinded an eye of Polyphemus king of the Cyclopes. Polyphemus is son to Poseidon by the nymph Thoosa, daughter to the sea-king Phorcys; therefore though he will not kill Odysseus outright, he torments him by preventing him from getting home. Still, let us lay our heads together and see how we can help him to return; Poseidon will then be pacified, for if we are all of a mind he can hardly stand out against us.”
Plain English · 6
And Zeus said, "My child, what are you talking about? How could I forget Odysseus? There is no abler man on earth. Nobody has been more generous with sacrifices to us gods in heaven. But remember this. Poseidon is still in a rage with him for blinding the eye of Polyphemus, the king of the Cyclopes. Polyphemus is Poseidon's son. His mother was the nymph Thoosa, and her father was Phorcys, a king of the sea. So Poseidon will not kill Odysseus outright. He torments him instead, by keeping him from home. Still, let us put our heads together and find a way to get him home. Poseidon will come round then. If the rest of us are of one mind, he can hardly hold out against us all."
The classic translation · 7
And Athena said, “Father, son of Cronus, King of kings, if, then, the gods now mean that Odysseus should get home, we should first send Hermes to the Ogygian island to tell Calypso that we have made up our minds and that he is to return. In the meantime I will go to Ithaca, to put heart into Odysseus’ son Telemachus; I will embolden him to call the Achaeans in assembly, and speak out to the suitors of his mother Penelope, who persist in eating up any number of his sheep and oxen; I will also conduct him to Sparta and to Pylos, to see if he can hear anything about the return of his dear father—for this will make people speak well of him.”
Plain English · 7
And Athena said, "Father, son of Cronus, king of kings, if the gods have made up their minds that Odysseus is to get home, then let Hermes go first. Send him to the island of Ogygia. He can tell Calypso our decision, and that she is to let Odysseus go. I will go to Ithaca myself in the meantime. Telemachus is his son, and I will put some heart into him. I will give him the nerve to call the Achaeans to a meeting and speak out against the men courting his mother Penelope. They are killing his sheep and his cattle by the score and eating them. And I will take him to Sparta and to Pylos, to see if he can hear news of his father coming home. People will think the better of him for going."
The classic translation · 8
So saying she bound on her glittering golden sandals, imperishable, with which she can fly like the wind over land or sea; she grasped the redoubtable bronze-shod spear, so stout and sturdy and strong, wherewith she quells the ranks of heroes who have displeased her, and down she darted from the topmost summits of Olympus, whereon forthwith she was in Ithaca, at the gateway of Odysseus’ house, disguised as a visitor, Mentes, chief of the Taphians, and she held a bronze spear in her hand. There she found the lordly suitors seated on hides of the oxen which they had killed and eaten, and playing draughts in front of the house. Men-servants and pages were bustling about to wait upon them, some mixing wine with water in the mixing-bowls, some cleaning down the tables with wet sponges and laying them out again, and some cutting up great quantities of meat.
Plain English · 8
With that she bound on her sandals. They are gold, they never wear out, and they carry her over land and sea as fast as the wind. She took up her spear. It is bronze-tipped, thick and heavy and strong, and with it she brings down whole ranks of men who have angered her. Then she darted down from the topmost peaks of Olympus. In a moment she stood in Ithaca, at the gate of Odysseus's court, holding the bronze spear in her hand. She had taken the shape of a stranger, Mentes, chief of the Taphians. The proud suitors were there in front of the house. They sat on the hides of the oxen they had killed and eaten, playing checkers. Menservants and boys were hurrying about to wait on them. Some were mixing wine and water in the bowls. Some were wiping the tables with wet sponges and setting them out again. Others were carving up great quantities of meat.
The classic translation · 9
Telemachus saw her long before any one else did. He was sitting moodily among the suitors thinking about his brave father, and how he would send them flying out of the house, if he were to come to his own again and be honoured as in days gone by. Thus brooding as he sat among them, he caught sight of Athena and went straight to the gate, for he was vexed that a stranger should be kept waiting for admittance. He took her right hand in his own, and bade her give him her spear. “Welcome,” said he, “to our house, and when you have partaken of food you shall tell us what you have come for.”
Plain English · 9
Telemachus saw her long before anyone else did. He was sitting among the suitors in a black mood, thinking about his father. Suppose the great man walked in and sent them all flying out of the house. Suppose he got back everything that was his, and the honor he used to have. He was sitting there thinking it when he caught sight of Athena, and he went straight to the gate. It annoyed him that a stranger should be left waiting at the door. He took her right hand in his own and asked her for her spear. "Welcome to our house," he said. "Have something to eat first. Then you shall tell us what you have come for."
The classic translation · 10
He led the way as he spoke, and Athena followed him. When they were within he took her spear and set it in the spear-stand against a strong bearing-post along with the many other spears of his unhappy father, and he conducted her to a richly decorated seat under which he threw a cloth of damask. There was a footstool also for her feet, and he set another seat near her for himself, away from the suitors, that she might not be annoyed while eating by their noise and insolence, and that he might ask her more freely about his father.
Plain English · 10
He led the way as he spoke, and Athena followed. Inside, he took her spear and set it in the spear stand, against a stout pillar, alongside the many other spears of his unlucky father. Then he brought her to a richly worked chair and spread a patterned cloth over it. There was a footstool for her feet. He set another chair beside her for himself, well away from the suitors. He did not want their noise and their rudeness spoiling her meal, and he wanted to ask her about his father without their listening.
The classic translation · 11
A maidservant then brought them water in a beautiful golden ewer and poured it into a silver basin for them to wash their hands, and she drew a clean table beside them. An upper servant brought them bread, and offered them many good things of what there was in the house, the carver fetched them plates of all manner of meats and set cups of gold by their side, and a manservant brought them wine and poured it out for them.
Plain English · 11
A maid brought them water in a fine gold jug and poured it into a silver basin for them to wash their hands. Then she drew a clean table up beside them. A senior servant brought bread and set out the best the house had. The carver brought platters of every sort of meat and put gold cups beside them. A manservant brought the wine and poured it for them.
The classic translation · 12
Then the suitors came in and took their places on the benches and seats. Forthwith men servants poured water over their hands, maids went round with the bread-baskets, pages filled the mixing-bowls with wine and water, and they laid their hands upon the good things that were before them. As soon as they had had enough to eat and drink they wanted music and dancing, which are the crowning embellishments of a banquet, so a servant brought a lyre to Phemius, whom they compelled perforce to sing to them. As soon as he touched his lyre and began to sing Telemachus spoke low to Athena, with his head close to hers that no man might hear.
Plain English · 12
Then the suitors came in and took their places on the benches and chairs. Servants poured water over their hands. Maids went round with the bread baskets. Boys filled the great bowls with wine and water, and the suitors reached out for the food in front of them. When they had eaten and drunk as much as they wanted, they called for music and dancing, which are what round off a feast. So a servant put a lyre into the hands of Phemius, and made him sing to them whether he wanted to or not. The moment he touched the strings, Telemachus leaned his head close to Athena's and spoke low, so that no one else would hear.
The classic translation · 13
“I hope, sir,” said he, “that you will not be offended with what I am going to say. Singing comes cheap to those who do not pay for it, and all this is done at the cost of one whose bones lie rotting in some wilderness or grinding to powder in the surf. If these men were to see my father come back to Ithaca they would pray for longer legs rather than a longer purse, for money would not serve them; but he, alas, has fallen on an ill fate, and even when people do sometimes say that he is coming, we no longer heed them; we shall never see him again. And now, sir, tell me and tell me true, who you are and where you come from. Tell me of your town and parents, what manner of ship you came in, how your crew brought you to Ithaca, and of what nation they declared themselves to be—for you cannot have come by land. Tell me also truly, for I want to know, are you a stranger to this house, or have you been here in my father’s time? In the old days we had many visitors for my father went about much himself.”
Plain English · 13
"I hope you will not take offense, sir, at what I am going to say. Music is cheap when you are not the one paying for it. Everything here is being paid for by a man whose bones lie rotting in some wilderness, or are being ground to powder in the surf. If these men saw my father walk into Ithaca again, they would give up praying for money and start praying for faster legs. Money would be no use to them then. But some evil fate has taken him. Even when people come and tell us he is on his way, we no longer believe them. We shall never see him again. Now tell me, sir, and tell me straight. Who are you? Where do you come from? What is your town, and who are your parents? What sort of ship did you come in? How did your crew bring you to Ithaca, and what people did they say they were? You did not come here on foot. And tell me this honestly too, because I want to know. Are you a stranger to this house, or did you come here in my father's day? We had visitors in plenty back then. My father was a great traveler himself."
The classic translation · 14
And Athena answered, “I will tell you truly and particularly all about it. I am Mentes, son of Anchialus, and I am King of the Taphians. I have come here with my ship and crew, on a voyage to men of a foreign tongue being bound for Temesa with a cargo of iron, and I shall bring back copper. As for my ship, it lies over yonder off the open country away from the town, in the harbour Rheithron under the wooded mountain Neritum. Our fathers were friends before us, as old Laertes will tell you, if you will go and ask him. They say, however, that he never comes to town now, and lives by himself in the country, faring hardly, with an old woman to look after him and get his dinner for him, when he comes in tired from pottering about his vineyard. They told me your father was at home again, and that was why I came, but it seems the gods are still keeping him back, for he is not dead yet not on the mainland. It is more likely he is on some sea-girt island in mid ocean, or a prisoner among savages who are detaining him against his will. I am no prophet, and know very little about omens, but I speak as it is borne in upon me from heaven, and assure you that he will not be away much longer; for he is a man of such resource that even though he were in chains of iron he would find some means of getting home again. But tell me, and tell me true, can Odysseus really have such a fine looking fellow for a son? You are indeed wonderfully like him about the head and eyes, for we were close friends before he set sail for Troy where the flower of all the Achaeans went also. Since that time we have never either of us seen the other.”
Plain English · 14
And Athena answered, "I will tell you the whole of it, exactly as it stands. I am Mentes, son of Anchialus, and I am king of the Taphians. I have come here with my own ship and crew. We are bound for Temesa, where they speak a language that is not ours, with a cargo of iron to trade for copper. My ship is lying over there, off the open country away from the town, in the harbor of Rheithron, under the wooded slopes of Neritum. Our fathers were friends before us. Ask old Laertes and he will tell you so. They say he never comes into town these days. He lives out in the country on his own, roughly enough, with one old woman to look after him and put his dinner in front of him when he comes in tired from his vines. I was told your father was home again. That is why I came. But it seems the gods are still keeping him back. He is not dead, and he is not on the mainland either. More likely he is on some island out in the open sea, or held prisoner by wild men who will not let him go. I am no prophet and I know little about reading omens. But heaven puts this into my mind, and I will say it: he will not be away much longer. He is a man of such resource that even in iron chains he would find a way home. Now tell me something. Can Odysseus really have a son as fine-looking as you? You are wonderfully like him about the head and the eyes. We were close friends before he sailed for Troy, where the best of the Achaeans went too. Neither of us has laid eyes on the other since."
The classic translation · 15
“My mother,” answered Telemachus, “tells me I am son to Odysseus, but it is a wise child that knows his own father. Would that I were son to one who had grown old upon his own estates, for, since you ask me, there is no more ill-starred man under heaven than he who they tell me is my father.”
Plain English · 15
"My mother says I am the son of Odysseus," Telemachus answered, "but no one can be certain who his own father is. I wish I were the son of some man who had grown old on his own farm. Since you ask me, they tell me my father is the unluckiest man alive."
The classic translation · 16
And Athena said, “There is no fear of your race dying out yet, while Penelope has such a fine son as you are. But tell me, and tell me true, what is the meaning of all this feasting, and who are these people? What is it all about? Have you some banquet, or is there a wedding in the family—for no one seems to be bringing any provisions of his own? And the guests—how atrociously they are behaving; what riot they make over the whole house; it is enough to disgust any respectable person who comes near them.”
Plain English · 16
And Athena said, "There is no danger of your family dying out, not while Penelope has a son like you. But tell me the truth about something. What is all this feasting? Who are these people? What is going on here? Is this a banquet of your own, or a wedding? It cannot be a shared meal. Nobody seems to have brought any food of his own. And the guests are behaving shockingly. Look at the uproar they are making all over the house. Any decent person coming in would be sickened by it."
The classic translation · 17
“Sir,” said Telemachus, “as regards your question, so long as my father was here it was well with us and with the house, but the gods in their displeasure have willed it otherwise, and have hidden him away more closely than mortal man was ever yet hidden. I could have borne it better even though he were dead, if he had fallen with his men before Troy, or had died with friends around him when the days of his fighting were done; for then the Achaeans would have built a mound over his ashes, and I should myself have been heir to his renown; but now the storm-winds have spirited him away we know not whither; he is gone without leaving so much as a trace behind him, and I inherit nothing but dismay. Nor does the matter end simply with grief for the loss of my father; heaven has laid sorrows upon me of yet another kind; for the chiefs from all our islands, Dulichium, Same, and the woodland island of Zacynthus, as also all the principal men of Ithaca itself, are eating up my house under the pretext of paying their court to my mother, who will neither point blank say that she will not marry, nor yet bring matters to an end; so they are making havoc of my estate, and before long will do so also with myself.”
Plain English · 17
"Sir," said Telemachus, "you ask, so I will tell you. While my father was here, all was well with us and with the house. But the gods took against us and willed otherwise. They have hidden him away more completely than any man has ever been hidden. I could have borne it better if he were dead. If he had gone down with his men at Troy, or died in the arms of his friends when the fighting was over, the Achaeans would have built a mound over his ashes, and his name would have come down to me. Instead the storm winds have snatched him away, and nobody knows where. He is gone and there is not a trace of him left. All that has come down to me is grief. And the grief for my father is not the end of it. Heaven has laid a second sorrow on me. The chiefs from all our islands, from Dulichium, from Same, from the wooded island of Zacynthus, and every leading man in Ithaca itself, are eating my house bare. They say they are courting my mother. She will not refuse them outright, and she will not bring the thing to an end. So they go on wrecking my estate, and before long they will wreck me with it."
The classic translation · 18
“Is that so?” exclaimed Athena, “then you do indeed want Odysseus home again. Give him his helmet, shield, and a couple of lances, and if he is the man he was when I first knew him in our house, drinking and making merry, he would soon lay his hands about these rascally suitors, were he to stand once more upon his own threshold. He was then coming from Ephyra, where he had been to beg poison for his arrows from Ilus, son of Mermerus. Ilus feared the ever-living gods and would not give him any, but my father let him have some, for he was very fond of him. If Odysseus is the man he then was these suitors will have a short shrift and a sorry wedding.
Plain English · 18
"Is that so," said Athena. "Then you need Odysseus home, and no mistake. Give him his helmet and his shield and a pair of spears. If he is the man he was when I first knew him, drinking and enjoying himself in our house, he would be among these worthless suitors in no time, if he could once stand in his own doorway. He was on his way back from Ephyra when I met him. He had gone there to ask Ilus, son of Mermerus, for poison to smear on his arrows. Ilus was afraid of the everlasting gods and would not give him any. My father gave him some, because he was very fond of him. If Odysseus is the man he was then, these suitors will not last long, and it will be a bitter wedding for whoever wins her.
The classic translation · 19
“But there! It rests with heaven to determine whether he is to return, and take his revenge in his own house or no; I would, however, urge you to set about trying to get rid of these suitors at once. Take my advice, call the Achaean heroes in assembly to morrow morning—lay your case before them, and call heaven to bear you witness. Bid the suitors take themselves off, each to his own place, and if your mother’s mind is set on marrying again, let her go back to her father, who will find her a husband and provide her with all the marriage gifts that so dear a daughter may expect. As for yourself, let me prevail upon you to take the best ship you can get, with a crew of twenty men, and go in quest of your father who has so long been missing. Some one may tell you something, or (and people often hear things in this way) some heaven-sent message may direct you. First go to Pylos and ask Nestor; thence go on to Sparta and visit Menelaus, for he got home last of all the Achaeans; if you hear that your father is alive and on his way home, you can put up with the waste these suitors will make for yet another twelve months. If on the other hand you hear of his death, come home at once, celebrate his funeral rites with all due pomp, build a barrow to his memory, and make your mother marry again. Then, having done all this, think it well over in your mind how, by fair means or foul, you may kill these suitors in your own house. You are too old to plead infancy any longer; have you not heard how people are singing Orestes’ praises for having killed his father’s murderer Aegisthus? You are a fine, smart looking fellow; show your mettle, then, and make yourself a name in story. Now, however, I must go back to my ship and to my crew, who will be impatient if I keep them waiting longer; think the matter over for yourself, and remember what I have said to you.”
Plain English · 19
"But there. Whether he comes home and takes his revenge in his own house is for heaven to say. What I urge on you is this: start getting rid of these suitors now. Take my advice. Call the Achaean chiefs to a meeting in the morning: put your case to them and call heaven to witness it. Tell the suitors to go, each man to his own place. And if your mother is set on marrying again, let her go back to her father's house. He will find her a husband and see she has the wedding gifts a well-loved daughter should have. As for you, hear me out. Get the best ship you can, put twenty men aboard her, and go looking for your father, who has been missing all these years. Someone may have news for you. Or heaven may send you word, as people often do come by things that way. Go to Pylos first and ask Nestor. Then go on to Sparta and see Menelaus, who was the last of all the Achaeans to reach home. If you hear your father is alive and on his way, then bear with the waste these suitors make for one more year. If you hear he is dead, come straight home. Give him his funeral rites in full, raise a mound in his memory, and let your mother marry. When all that is done, sit and think hard, and work out how to kill these suitors in your own house, by fair means or foul. You are past the age of hiding behind your childhood. Have you not heard the praise people give Orestes, who killed Aegisthus, the man who murdered his father? You are a fine, sharp-looking young man. Show them what you are made of, and give the singers something to sing about. But I must get back to my ship and my crew now. They will be growing impatient if I keep them any longer. Think this over yourself, and remember what I have said."
The classic translation · 20
“Sir,” answered Telemachus, “it has been very kind of you to talk to me in this way, as though I were your own son, and I will do all you tell me; I know you want to be getting on with your voyage, but stay a little longer till you have taken a bath and refreshed yourself. I will then give you a present, and you shall go on your way rejoicing; I will give you one of great beauty and value—a keepsake such as only dear friends give to one another.”
Plain English · 20
"Sir," Telemachus answered, "you have spoken to me as kindly as if I were your own son, and I will do everything you say. I know you are eager to be off. Still, stay a little. Take a bath and rest yourself first. Then I will give you a present, and you can go on your way glad you came. It will be something of real beauty and value: the kind of keepsake that only close friends give each other."
The classic translation · 21
Athena answered, “Do not try to keep me, for I would be on my way at once. As for any present you may be disposed to make me, keep it till I come again, and I will take it home with me. You shall give me a very good one, and I will give you one of no less value in return.”
Plain English · 21
Athena answered, "Do not hold me here. I want to be gone. Whatever present you have in mind for me, keep it until I come back, and I will carry it home then. Make it a good one, and you shall have one from me worth every bit as much."
The classic translation · 22
With these words she flew away like a bird into the air, but she had given Telemachus courage, and had made him think more than ever about his father. He felt the change, wondered at it, and knew that the stranger had been a god, so he went straight to where the suitors were sitting.
Plain English · 22
With that she flew off like a bird into the air. She had left courage in him, and had set him thinking about his father harder than ever. He felt the change in himself and wondered at it, and he understood that the stranger had been a god. Then he went straight back to where the suitors were sitting.
The classic translation · 23
Phemius was still singing, and his hearers sat rapt in silence as he told the sad tale of the return from Troy, and the ills Athena had laid upon the Achaeans. Penelope, daughter of Icarius, heard his song from her room upstairs, and came down by the great staircase, not alone, but attended by two of her handmaids. When she reached the suitors she stood by one of the bearing posts that supported the roof of the cloisters with a staid maiden on either side of her. She held a veil, moreover, before her face, and was weeping bitterly.
Plain English · 23
Phemius was singing still, and they sat listening without a sound. His song was the bitter one, about the journey back from Troy, and the sufferings Athena laid on the Achaeans. Penelope, daughter of Icarius, heard him from her room upstairs and came down the great staircase. She did not come alone. Two of her maids came with her. When she reached the suitors she stopped by one of the pillars that hold up the roof of the covered walkway, a maid standing quietly on either side of her. She held her veil up before her face, and she was weeping hard.
The classic translation · 24
“Phemius,” she cried, “you know many another feat of gods and heroes, such as poets love to celebrate. Sing the suitors some one of these, and let them drink their wine in silence, but cease this sad tale, for it breaks my sorrowful heart, and reminds me of my lost husband whom I mourn ever without ceasing, and whose name was great over all Hellas and middle Argos.”
Plain English · 24
"Phemius," she cried, "you know plenty of other tales about gods and heroes, the kind singers love. Sing them one of those, and let them drink their wine quietly. But leave off this one. It breaks my heart. It brings back my husband, whom I mourn and never stop mourning, and whose name was great across the whole of Hellas and middle Argos."
The classic translation · 25
“Mother,” answered Telemachus, “let the bard sing what he has a mind to; bards do not make the ills they sing of; it is Zeus, not they, who makes them, and who sends weal or woe upon mankind according to his own good pleasure. This fellow means no harm by singing the ill-fated return of the Achaeans, for people always applaud the latest songs most warmly. Make up your mind to it and bear it; Odysseus is not the only man who never came back from Troy, but many another went down as well as he. Go, then, within the house and busy yourself with your daily duties, your loom, your distaff, and the ordering of your servants; for speech is man’s matter, and mine above all others —for it is I who am master here.”
Plain English · 25
"Mother," Telemachus answered, "let the singer sing what he pleases. Singers do not make the troubles they sing about. Zeus makes them, and Zeus deals out good and bad to men as he sees fit. This man means no harm by singing of the Achaeans and their hard road home. People always want the newest song most. Set your mind to it and bear it. Odysseus is not the only man who never came back from Troy. Plenty of others went down with him. Go inside now, and see to your own work, your loom and your spinning, and keep the servants at theirs. Talking is men's business, and mine before anyone's: I am master in this house."
The classic translation · 26
She went wondering back into the house, and laid her son’s saying in her heart. Then, going upstairs with her handmaids into her room, she mourned her dear husband till Athena shed sweet sleep over her eyes. But the suitors were clamorous throughout the covered cloisters, and prayed each one that he might be her bed fellow.
Plain English · 26
She went back into the house astonished, and kept what her son had said in her heart. Then she went upstairs to her room with her maids, and cried for her husband until Athena laid sweet sleep on her eyelids. Down in the covered walkway the suitors were shouting, and every one of them was praying to be the man who shared her bed.
The classic translation · 27
Then Telemachus spoke, “Shameless,” he cried, “and insolent suitors, let us feast at our pleasure now, and let there be no brawling, for it is a rare thing to hear a man with such a divine voice as Phemius has; but in the morning meet me in full assembly that I may give you formal notice to depart, and feast at one another’s houses, turn and turn about, at your own cost. If on the other hand you choose to persist in spunging upon one man, heaven help me, but Zeus shall reckon with you in full, and when you fall in my father’s house there shall be no man to avenge you.”
Plain English · 27
Then Telemachus spoke up. "You shameless, insolent suitors," he said, "let us have our feast in peace tonight, and no brawling. It is a rare thing to hear a voice like Phemius's. But in the morning I want every one of you at the meeting, so that I can tell you formally to leave. Feast in one another's houses after this, taking it in turns, and pay for it yourselves. If you would rather go on living off one man's stores, then heaven help me, but Zeus will settle the reckoning with you. You will fall in my father's house, and there will be no one to avenge you."
The classic translation · 28
The suitors bit their lips as they heard him, and marvelled at the boldness of his speech. Then, Antinous, son of Eupeithes, said, “The gods seem to have given you lessons in bluster and tall talking; may Zeus never grant you to be chief in Ithaca as your father was before you.”
Plain English · 28
The suitors bit their lips at that, and wondered at his boldness. Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, said, "The gods must be teaching you to bluster and talk big, Telemachus. May Zeus never make you chief in Ithaca, as your father was before you."
The classic translation · 29
Telemachus answered, “Antinous, do not chide with me, but, god willing, I will be chief too if I can. Is this the worst fate you can think of for me? It is no bad thing to be a chief, for it brings both riches and honour. Still, now that Odysseus is dead there are many great men in Ithaca both old and young, and some other may take the lead among them; nevertheless I will be chief in my own house, and will rule those whom Odysseus has won for me.”
Plain English · 29
Telemachus answered, "Do not quarrel with me over it, Antinous. If god wills it, I mean to be chief too, if I can. Is that the worst thing you can wish on me? It is no bad thing to be a chief. It brings a man wealth and honor both. Still, there are many great men in Ithaca now that Odysseus is gone, old ones and young ones, and one of them may well take the lead. But I will be master in my own house, and I will rule the servants my father won for me."
The classic translation · 30
Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered, “It rests with heaven to decide who shall be chief among us, but you shall be master in your own house and over your own possessions; no one while there is a man in Ithaca shall do you violence nor rob you. And now, my good fellow, I want to know about this stranger. What country does he come from? Of what family is he, and where is his estate? Has he brought you news about the return of your father, or was he on business of his own? He seemed a well to do man, but he hurried off so suddenly that he was gone in a moment before we could get to know him.”
Plain English · 30
Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered him. "Which of us is to be chief in Ithaca is for heaven to settle. But you shall be master in your own house and of your own goods. While there is a man left alive in Ithaca, nobody will lay a hand on you or rob you. Now, my good fellow, tell me about this stranger. What country has he come from? What family is he from, and where does his land lie? Has he brought you news of your father coming home, or did he come on business of his own? He looked a man of means. He went off so quickly that he was gone before we could get to know him."
The classic translation · 31
“My father is dead and gone,” answered Telemachus, “and even if some rumour reaches me I put no more faith in it now. My mother does indeed sometimes send for a soothsayer and question him, but I give his prophecyings no heed. As for the stranger, he was Mentes, son of Anchialus, chief of the Taphians, an old friend of my father’s.” But in his heart he knew that it had been the goddess.
Plain English · 31
"My father is dead and gone," Telemachus answered. "A rumor reaches me now and then, but I put no faith in any of them any more. My mother still sends for a fortune-teller sometimes and questions him, but I pay no attention to what he says. As for the stranger, he was Mentes, son of Anchialus, chief of the Taphians, an old friend of my father's." But in his heart he knew it had been the goddess.
The classic translation · 32
The suitors then returned to their singing and dancing until the evening; but when night fell upon their pleasuring they went home to bed each in his own abode. Telemachus’s room was high up in a tower that looked on to the outer court; hither, then, he hied, brooding and full of thought. A good old woman, Euryclea, daughter of Ops, the son of Pisenor, went before him with a couple of blazing torches. Laertes had bought her with his own money when she was quite young; he gave the worth of twenty oxen for her, and shewed as much respect to her in his household as he did to his own wedded wife, but he did not take her to his bed for he feared his wife’s resentment. She it was who now lighted Telemachus to his room, and she loved him better than any of the other women in the house did, for she had nursed him when he was a baby. He opened the door of his bed room and sat down upon the bed; as he took off his shirt he gave it to the good old woman, who folded it tidily up, and hung it for him over a peg by his bed side, after which she went out, pulled the door to by a silver catch, and drew the bolt home by means of the strap. But Telemachus as he lay covered with a woollen fleece kept thinking all night through of his intended voyage and of the counsel that Athena had given him.
Plain English · 32
The suitors went back to their singing and dancing until evening came on. They were still at it when night fell, and then they went off home to bed, each to his own house. Telemachus's room was high up in a tower, looking out over the outer court. Up he went to it, with a great deal on his mind. A good old woman went ahead of him carrying a pair of blazing torches. She was Euryclea, daughter of Ops, the son of Pisenor. Laertes had bought her with his own money when she was a girl. He paid the price of twenty oxen for her, and he treated her with as much respect in his house as he showed his own wife, though he never took her to his bed, for fear of what his wife would say. She was the one who lit Telemachus to his room now. She loved him better than any other woman in the house, because she had nursed him when he was a baby. He opened his bedroom door and sat down on the bed. He pulled off his shirt and handed it to the old woman, who folded it neatly and hung it on the peg beside the bed. Then she went out. She pulled the door to by its silver catch and shot the bolt home with the strap. And Telemachus lay there under a woolen fleece, thinking all night long about the voyage ahead of him, and about what Athena had told him.
Reading text: plain text file. Public domain, reproduced as recorded.
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