The Odyssey Homer (i want to read a book TXT) 📖

“He spake; my heart was breaking, and I wept,
While sitting on the sand, nor in my heart
Cared I to live, or longer to behold
The sweet light of the sun. But when there came
Respite from tears and writhing on the ground,
The Ancient of the Deep, who ne’er deceives,
Spake yet again: ‘Atrides, lose no time
In tears; they profit nothing. Rather seek
The means by which thou mayst the soonest reach
Thy native land. There thou perchance mayst find
Aegisthus yet alive, or haply first
Orestes may have slain him, and thyself
Arrive to see the funeral rites performed.’

“He spake, and though afflicted still, my heart
Was somewhat comforted; my spirit rose,
And thus I answered him with winged words:⁠—

“ ‘These men I know; name now the third, who still
Is kept from his return afar within
The mighty main⁠—alive, perchance, or dead;
For, though I dread to hear, I long to know.’

“I spake, and Proteus answered me again:⁠—
‘It is Laertes’ son, whose dwelling stands
In Ithaca. I saw him in an isle,
And in the cavern-palace of the nymph
Calypso, weeping bitterly, for she
Constrains his stay. He cannot leave the isle
For his own country; ship arrayed with oars
And seamen has he none to bear him o’er
The breast of the great ocean. But for thee,
’Tis not decreed that thou shalt meet thy fate
And die, most noble Menelaus, where
The steeds of Argos in her pastures graze.
The gods will send thee to the Elysian plain,
And to the end of earth, the dwelling-place
Of fair-haired Rhadamanthus. There do men
Lead easiest lives. No snow, no bitter cold,
No beating rains, are there; the ocean-deeps
With murmuring breezes from the West refresh
The dwellers. Thither shalt thou go; for thou
Art Helen’s spouse, and son-in-law of Jove.’

“He spake, and plunged into the billowy deep.
I to the fleet returned in company
With my brave men, revolving, as I went,
A thousand projects in my thought. I reached
My galley by the sea, and we prepared
Our evening meal. The hallowed night came down,
And there upon the ocean-beach we slept.
But when the rosy-fingered Morn appeared,
The daughter of the Dawn, we drew our ships
To the great deep, and raised the masts and spread
The sails; the crews, all entering, took their seats
Upon the benches, ranged in order due,
And beat the foaming water with their oars.
Again to Egypt’s coast I brought the fleet,
And to the river that descends from Jove,
And there I offered chosen hecatombs;
And having thus appeased the gods, I reared
A tomb to Agamemnon, that his fame
Might never die. When this was done I sailed
For home; the gods bestowed a favoring wind.
But now remain thou till the eleventh day,
Or till the twelfth, beneath my roof, and then
Will I dismiss thee with munificent gifts⁠—
Three steeds, a polished chariot, and a cup
Of price, with which to pour, from day to day,
Wine to the gods in memory of me.”

Then spake discreet Telemachus again:⁠—
“Atrides, seek not to detain me long,
Though I could sit contentedly a year
Beside thee, never longing for my home,
Nor for my parents, such delight I find
In listening to thy words; but even now,
In hallowed Pylos, my companions grow
Weary, while thou delayest my return.
The gifts⁠—whate’er thou choosest to bestow⁠—
Let them be such as I can treasure up.
The steeds to Ithaca I may not take,
I leave them to adorn thy retinue;
For thou art ruler o’er a realm of plains,
Where grows much lotus, and sweet grasses spring,
And wheat and rye, and the luxuriant stalks
Of the white barley. But in Ithaca
Are no broad grounds for coursing, meadows none.
Goats graze amid its fields, a fairer land
Than those where horses feed. No isle that lies
Within the deep has either roads for steeds
Or meadows, least of all has Ithaca.”

He spake; the valiant Menelaus smiled,
And kindly touched him with his hand and said:⁠—

“Dear son, thou comest of a generous stock;
Thy words declare it. I will change my gifts,
As well I may. Of all that in my house
Are treasured up, the choicest I will give,
And the most precious. I will give a cup
Wrought all of silver save its brim of gold.
It is the work of Vulcan. Phaedimus
The hero, King of Sidon, gave it me,
When I was coming home, and underneath
His roof was sheltered. Now it shall be thine.”

So talked they with each other. Meantime came
Those who prepared the banquet to the halls
Of the great monarch. Bringing sheep they came
And strengthening wine. Their wives, who on their brows
Wore showy fillets, brought the bread, and thus
Within the house of Menelaus all
Was bustle, setting forth the evening meal.

But in the well-paved court which lay before
The palace of Ulysses, where of late
Their insolence was shown, the suitor train
Amused themselves with casting quoits and spears,
While by themselves Antinoüs, and the youth
Of godlike mien, Eurymachus, who both
Were eminent above the others, sat.
To them Noëmon, son of Phronius, went,
Drew near, bespake Antinoüs and inquired:⁠—

“Is it among us known, or is it not,
Antinoüs, when Telemachus returns
From sandy Pylos? Thither he is gone
And in my galley, which I need to cross
To spacious Elis. There I have twelve mares
And hardy mule-colts with them yet untamed,
And some I must subdue to take the yoke.”

He spake, and they were both amazed; for they
Had never thought of him as visiting
Neleian Pylos, deeming that the youth
Was somewhere in his fields, among the flocks,
Or haply with the keeper of the swine.

Then did Antinoüs, Eupeithes’ son,
Make answer: “Tell me truly when he sailed,
And what young men of Ithaca he chose
To go with him. Were they his slaves, or hired
To be his followers? Tell, for I would know
The whole. Took he thy ship against thy will?
Or didst