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

“Stranger, wilt thou forever be a pest,
Ranging the house at night to play the spy
Upon the women? Leave the hall, thou wretch!
And gorge thyself without, else wilt thou go
Suddenly, driven by blows and flaming brands.”

The sage Ulysses frowned on her, and said:
“Pert creature! why so fiercely rail at me?
Is it that I am squalid and ill-clad,
And forced by want to beg from hand to hand?
Such is the fate of poor and wandering men.
I too was opulent once, inhabiting
A plenteous home among my fellow-men,
And often gave the wanderer alms, whoe’er
He might be and in whatsoever need;
And I had many servants, and large store
Of things by which men lead a life of ease
And are called rich. But Jupiter, the son
Of Saturn, put an end to this, for so
It pleased the god. Now, therefore, woman, think
That thou mayst lose the beauty which is now
Thy pride among the serving-women here;
Thy mistress may be wroth, and make thy life
A hard one; or Ulysses may come back⁠—
And there is hope of that. Or if it be
That he has perished, and returns no more,
There still remains his son Telemachus,
Who by Apollo’s grace is now a man,
And no one of the women in these halls
May think to misbehave, and yet escape
His eye, for he no longer is a boy.”

He spake; Penelope, the prudent, heard,
And, calling to her maid, rebuked her thus:⁠—

“O bold and shameless! I have taken note
Of thy behavior; thou hast done a wrong
For which thy head should answer. Well thou know’st,
For thou hast heard me say, that I would ask
The stranger in these halls if aught he knows
Of my Ulysses, for whose sake I grieve.”

Then to the matron of the household turned
The queen, and thus bespake Eurynomè:⁠—

“Bring now a seat, Eurynomè, and spread
A fleece upon it, where the stranger guest
May sit at ease, and hear what I shall say,
And answer me, for I have much to ask.”

She spake; the ancient handmaid brought with speed
A polished seat, and o’er it spread a fleece.
Ulysses, much-enduring chief, sat down,
And thus the sage Penelope began:⁠—

“First will I ask thee who thou art, and whence,
Where is thy birthplace, and thy parents who?”

Ulysses, the sagacious, answered thus:
“O lady, none in all the boundless earth
Can speak of thee with blame. Thy fame has reached
To the great heavens. It is like the renown
Of some most excellent king, of godlike sway
O’er many men and mighty, who upholds
Justice in all his realm. The dark-soiled earth
Brings wheat and barley forth; the trees are bowed
With fruit; the meadows swarm with noble herds,
The sea with fish, and under his wise reign
The people prosper. Therefore ask, I pray,
Of other things, while I am underneath
Thy palace-roof, but of my race and home
Inquire not, lest thou waken in my mind
Unhappy memories. I am a man
Of sorrow, and it would become me ill
To sit lamenting in another’s house
And shedding tears. Besides, a grief indulged
Doth grow in violence. Thy maids would blame,
And thou perhaps, and ye would call my tears
The maudlin tears of one o’ercome with wine.”

Then spake the sage Penelope again:
“Stranger, such grace of feature and of form
As once I had the immortals took away,
What time the Argive warriors sailed for Troy,
And my Ulysses with them. Could he now
Return to rule my household as of yore,
The wider and the brighter were my fame.
But now I lead a wretched life, so great
And many are the evils which some god
Heaps on me. For the chieftains who bear sway
Over the isles⁠—Dulichium, and the fields
Of Samos, and Zacynthus dark with woods,
And those who rule in sunny Ithaca⁠—
Woo me against my will, and waste away
My substance. Therefore have I small regard
For strangers and for suppliants, and the tribe
Of heralds, servants of the public weal,
But, pining for Ulysses, wear away
My life. The suitors urge the marriage rite,
And I with art delay it. Once some god
Prompted me to begin an ample web,
Wide and of subtle texture, in my rooms.
And then I said: ‘Youths, who are pressing me
To marriage, since Ulysses is no more,
Urge me no further till I shall complete⁠—
That so the threads may not be spun in vain⁠—
This shroud for old Laertes, when grim fate
And death’s long sleep at last shall overtake
The hero; else among the multitude
Of Grecian women I shall bear the blame,
If one whose ample wealth so well was known
Should lie in death without a funeral robe.’
I spake, and easily their minds were swayed
By what I said, and I began to weave
The ample web, but ravelled it again
By torchlight every evening. For three years
I foiled them thus; but when the fourth year came,
And brought its train of hours and changing moons,
And many days had passed, they came on me,
And through my maidens’ fault, a careless crew,
They caught me at my fraud, and chid me sore.
sSo, though unwilling, I was forced to end
My task, and cannot longer now escape
The marriage, nor is any refuge left.
My parents both exhort me earnestly
To choose a husband, and my son with grief
Beholds the suitors wasting his estate,
And he already is a man and well
Can rule his household; Jupiter bestows so.
Such honor on him. Now, I pray, declare
Thy lineage, for thou surely art not sprung
From the old fabulous oak, nor from a rock.”

Ulysses, the sagacious, answered her:
“O royal consort of Laertes’ son!
Wilt thou still ask my lineage? I will then
Disclose it, but thou wakest in my heart
New sorrows. So it ever is with one
Who long, like me, is far away from home,
Wandering in many realms, and suffering much;
But since thou dost require it, thou shalt hear.

“Crete is a region lying in the midst
Of the black deep, a fair and fruitful land,
Girt by the waters. Many are the men,
Nay, numberless, who make it their abode,
And ninety are its cities. Different