HOMER: "ODYSSEY": BOOK XXI: THE GREAT BOW.

HOMER: "ODYSSEY": BOOK XXI: THE GREAT BOW. 

Introduction:

Book XXI sees the continuance of the Odyssey's 39th day of action. After Penelope has fetched the bow and the iron axes, Telemachus sets up the arrangements for the trial. He nearly strings the bow himself, but is then warned off by his father. Some of the suitors try to string it too, but they fail. Odysseus then reveals himself to Eumaeus and Philoetius, and Eurycleia is told to bar the doors of the hall. Telemachus asserts himself and, at his behest, his mother retires to her bedchamber to sleep. When Odysseus asks to be allowed to try to string the bow, the suitors abuse him, but he eventually persuades the suitors to let him do so. Then he strings the bow with ease and shoots an arrow through the handle-holes of the axes. 

Ll. 1-41. Odysseus acquires the bow as a gift from his friend Iphitus. 

The goddess, bright-eyed Athene, put it into the mind of Icarius' daughter, wise Penelope, to confront the  suitors in the palace of Odysseus with his bow and grey iron (i.e. the twelve axes) as the (materials for) a contest and the source of their destruction. Then, she climbed the lofty staircase to her chamber, and she took her well-curved key in her sturdy hand, (made of) beautiful bronze (it was); and its handle was (made) of ivory. And she made her way with her attendant women to a remote storeroom; and there lay the treasures of her lord, bronze, and gold and iron wrought with much toil. And there lay the bent-back bow and his arrow-holding quiver, and many grief-laden arrows were in (it), gifts which his friend Iphitus, son of Eurytus, (a man) like the immortals, had given him when they met in Lacedaemon. 

Now, the two of them had met one another in Messene, in the house of wise Ortilochus. In truth, Odysseus had come after a debt, which the whole people owed him; for men from Messene had carried off from Ithaca in their many-benched ships three hundred sheep and their shepherds (with them). Odysseus came a long way on an embassy in quest of these (things), when he was (but) a youth; for his father and the other elders had sent (him) forth. Iphitus, for his part, was searching for a dozen mares, which he had lost, with sturdy mules at the teat; but to him thereafter did they bring death and doom, when he came back to the stout-hearted son of Zeus, the man Heracles, privy to mighty deeds, who ruthlessly slew him in his house, though he was his guest, and he had regard neither for the wrath of the gods, nor for the table which he had set before him; but after that he slew him, and he himself kept the strong-hooved mares in his halls. While searching for these, he (i.e. Iphitus) met Odysseus and gave him the bow, which mighty Eurytus had once borne, and at his death in his lofty house he bequeathed (it) to his son. And to him Odysseus gave a sharp sword and a mighty spear as the origin of a warm friendship; yet, they never knew one another at the table; for before that (could happen) the son of Zeus had killed Iphitus, son of Eurytus, that man who resembled the immortals, who had given him the bow. Godlike Odysseus would never take it (with him) on the black ships when going forth to war, but it lay in his palace in memory of his dear friend, and he carried it in his own land.  

Ll. 42-79. Penelope outlines the contest.

Now when the most divine of women (i.e. Penelope) had come to the storeroom, and had set foot on the oaken threshold, which a carpenter had once skilfully carved, and made it straight to the line - and he had fitted doorposts on (them) and had placed shining doors on (them) - straightway she quickly loosed the thong from the handle, and thrust in the key, and pushed back the bolts of the doors with a straight aim; and just as a bull foams away when grazing in a meadow, so did the fair doors rattle when smitten by the key, and they quickly flew open before her.  Then, she stepped on the high floor-boards; and here stood the chests, in which lay fragrant clothing. Then, she stretched out (her hands) and took the bow from its peg, together with its bow-case, which brightly surrounded it. And there she sat down, and placed (them) on her knees, and she wept very loudly, while she was taking the bow of her lord (i.e. Odysseus) out from (its case) . And, when she had thus had her fill of tearful wailing, she made her way to the hall to meet with the noble wooers, bearing in her hands the bent-back bow and its arrow-holding quiver; and there were within (it) many groan-causing arrows. And together with her (came) her serving women bearing a metal box, wherein lay an abundance of iron and bronze, the prizes won by her lord. Now, when she reached the wooers, the most divine of women stood by the pillar of the well-built chamber, holding a shining veil before her cheeks. And a trusty handmaid stood on either side of her. And straightway she spoke among the wooers and said these words: "Hear me, (you) proud wooers, who have got what you need to eat and drink in this house ever without end, (as) its master has been absent for a long time; nor could you offer any other pretext for your conduct, save your desire to wed me and take (me) to wife. But come (now, you) suitors, since this prize stands clearly (before you). For I will place (before you) the great bow of divine Odysseus; and (he) who shall string the bow in his hands, and shall shoot an arrow through all twelve axes, with him shall I go, forsaking this house, (to which I came as) a bride, (a house) most fine and full of livelihood, which I think I shall ever remember, even in my dreams."   

Ll. 80-117. Both Antinous and Telemachus indicate their desire to string the bow.

So she spoke, and she bid Eumaeus, the goodly swineherd, to hand over the bow and the grey iron (axes) to the suitors. Then, Eumaeus burst into tears, as he took (them) and laid (them) down; and elsewhere the herdsman (i.e. Philoetius) began to cry, when he saw his master's bow. Then, Antinous rebuked (them) and spoke these words when he addressed them: "(You) stupid yokels, who have no though for the morrow, what a miserable pair (you are), why now do you shed tears and trouble the soul in the lady's breast? Otherwise her heart lies in pain, since she has lost her dear husband. But do you sit and feast in silence, or go forth and weep, and leave the bow behind (here) as a decisive contest for the suitors; for I do not think this polished bow is easily to be strung. For there is no such man among all these (here) as Odysseus was; and I myself saw him, for I do remember (him), though I was still a young child." 

So he (i.e. Antinous) spoke, but the heart in his breast had hoped that he would string the bow and shoot an arrow through the iron (axes). In fact, he was destined (to be) the first to sample an arrow from the hands of peerless Odysseus, whom he was then dishonouring as he sat in the hall and urged on all his comrades. 

Then, the sacred force of Telemachus spoke among them: "O, how extraordinary, for in truth Zeus, the son of Cronos, has made me witless; my dear mother, wise though she is, says that she will go with another, forsaking this house; yet I laugh and am glad in my crazy heart. But come (now, you) wooers, since this is shown (to be) your prize, a lady whose like is not now in the land of the Achaeans, neither in sacred Pylos, nor in Argos, nor in Mycenae; nor yet in Ithaca itself, nor on the dark mainland; but you know this yourselves; why do I need to speak in praise of my mother? Come now, do not draw (the matter) aside with excuses, and do not any more turn away too long from the drawing of the bow, so we may see (the result). Yes, and I myself would make a trial of the bow; if I should string (it) and shoot an arrow through the iron (axes), it would not vex me that my queenly mother should leave this house and go with another, when I have been left behind, able now to take up the prizes won by my father."

Ll. 118-162. Telemachus and the suitor Leodes try to string the bow, but without success.

As he spoke, he flung the purple cloak from off his back, and sprang straight up, and he removed the sharp sword from his shoulders. Then, firstly, he set up the axes and dug one long trench for everyone, and made (it) straight to the line, and he stamped on the earth around (them); and amazement seized all those who saw (him), that he arranged (them) so well; for until then he had never seen them before, Then, he went and stood upon the threshold, and began to make trial of the bow. And three times he made (it) quiver in his eagerness to draw (it), and three times he relaxed his efforts, though in his heart he hoped to string the bow and shoot an arrow through the iron (axes). And now in his might he would have strung the bow, as for the fourth time he sought to draw it, but Odysseus shook his head and checked him, eager though (he was). Then, the sacred force of Telemachus spoke among them once more: "Alas, perhaps I shall then turn out to be a coward and a weakling, or I am too young, and it may be that I cannot trust my hands to ward off a man, when he has previously grown angry (with me). But come (now, you) who are mightier in strength than I (am), make trial of the bow, and let us bring this contest to an end."

So saying, he put the bow away from him on the ground, leaning it against the closely-joined planks of the well-polished (door), and he rested his swift arrow against the fair door-handle, and then he sat down again on the seat from which he had risen. 

Then, Antinous, the son of Eupeithes, spoke among them: " Rise up, one by one from left to right, all my companions, beginning from the place from where (the cup-bearer) pours the wine."

So spoke Antinous, and his words were pleasing to them. Then, Leodes, son of Oenops, rose up first, (he) who was their chief sacrificer, and who always sat by the fair mixing-bowl in the farthest corner (of the hall); acts of folly were hateful to him alone, and he resented (the conduct) of all of the suitors; then he (was) the first (to) take hold of the bow and the swift arrow. And he went and stood upon the threshold and began to make trial of the bow, but he could not string it; for long before he could string (it) his unworn delicate hands grew weary; and he spoke among the wooers (as follows): "I shall not string it, but let another (man) take over. For this bow will break the heart and spirit of many of the best (men here), since it is far better to die than to live on after failure in that for which we always assemble here in expectation every day. Now, many a man of you is hoping in his heart, and longing, to marry Odysseus' wife, Penelope. But, when he has made trial of the bow and seen (the outcome), then, mindful of his wedding gifts, shall he woo another one of the fair-robed Achaean (women); then shall she marry (the one) who offers her most and (who) comes as her destined lord."  

Ll. 163-204. The younger suitors fail to string the bow.

So he (i.e. Leodes) spoke, and he placed the bow away from him, leaning (it) against the closely-joined planks of the well-polished (door), and he rested his swift arrow against the fair door-handle, and then he sat down again on the seat from which he had risen. 

But Antinous rebuked (him) and addressed these words (to him) in a loud voice: "Leodes, what words have come out of your mouth (lit. escaped from the barrier of your teeth), dread (words) and grievous (ones they are), - and I am angered to hear (them) - if, indeed, this bow is to rob the best men of life and spirit, since you cannot string (it). For your queenly mother did not bring you forth (into this world) for such a purpose as to string a bow and shoot arrows; but other noble suitors shall quickly string (it)." 

So he (i.e. Antinous) spoke, and gave an order to the goatherd Melanthius: "Come now, and light a fire in the hall, Melanthius, and set beside (it) a large stool with a fleece upon it, and bring forth a great cake of tallow that is within (the stores), so that (we) youngsters may warm (the bow) and anoint (it) with fat, and give a trial to the bow, and bring the contest to an end."  

So he spoke, and Melanthius at once rekindled the still glowing fire,  and set a large stool beside (it) and put a fleece upon it, and brought forth a great cake of tallow that was within (the stores); so the young (men) warmed (the bow) and put (it) to the test; but they could not string (it), for they were greatly lacking in strength.  

Now, Antinous was still holding back, as was the godlike Eurymachus, the leaders of the suitors; and they were by far the best in valour. But those (other) two had gone forth from the house both together at the same moment, the herdsman (i.e. Philoetius) and the swineherd (i.e. Eumaeus) of godlike Odysseus; but, when they were now outside the gates and the courtyard too, he spoke and addressed them with gentle words: "(You) herdsman, and (you) too, swineherd, shall I say something, or myself keep (it) hidden? But my spirit bids me tell (it). What sort of man would you be to defend Odysseus, if he were to come from somewhere so very suddenly, and some god were to bring him? Would you fight for the wooers or for Odysseus? Speak out as your heart and spirit bid you."

Then, the herdsman of the cattle answered him: "Father Zeus, if only you would fulfil this wish, that that man would come back and that some god would guide him; then would you know what kind of might (is) mine, and that my hands would follow."

And so, in like manner, did Eumaeus pray to all of the gods that wise Odysseus would return to his home. 

Ll. 205-255. Odysseus reveals himself to Eumaeus and Philoetius, while Eurymachus also fails to string the bow.

But now, when he knew their mind with certainty, he spoke these words to them once more, and said: "Now I myself (am) here in this house after suffering many tribulations, and in the twentieth year I have come back to my native-land. And I know that by you two alone of my servants is my return longed for; but I have not heard a single one of the others praying that I should return and come back to my home. But to you two I will tell the truth, even as it shall be. If a god shall subject the lordly wooers unto me, I shall bring a wife to each of you, and I shall give you possessions, and I shall build (you) a house near to my own; and you shall then be companions and brothers of Telemachus. But come on now, and I shall show (you) some other clearly visible sign that you may know me well and shall be persuaded in your heart, (that is) the scar (of the wound) which a boar once inflicted on me with his white tusk, when I went to (Mount) Parnassus with the sons of Autolycus (i.e. Odysseus' maternal uncles and the brothers of his mother Anticleia, the daughter of Autolycus)." 

As he spoke, he drew aside the rags from the great scar. And, when the two of them had seen (it) and had marked everything well, they wept, and then they flung their arms around wise Odysseus, and kept kissing his head and shoulders with great affection, just as Odysseus kissed their heads and hands in a similar fashion. And now the light of the sun would have gone down on them as they wept, if Odysseus himself had not restrained (them) and said: "Cease this weeping and wailing, lest someone should come from the hall and see (us), and tell those inside (about it) as well. But let us go inside one after another, and not all together, with myself first and you afterwards, and let this sign be our signal; for now all the others, such as the lordly wooers, will not allow the bow and quiver to be given to me; but do you, goodly Eumaeus, as you are bearing the bow through the hall, place (it) in my hands, and tell the women to shut the close-fitting doors of the hall, but, if anyone of them should hear the sound of groaning or the noise of the men within our walls, let her not go outside at all, but remain at her work in silence. But, divine Philoetius, I enjoin (you) to fasten the gates of the courtyard with a bar, and swiftly to cast a cord upon (them)."  

Thus having spoken, he entered the stately palace, and then went and sat down on the seat from which he had just risen; and then the two servants of divine Odysseus went in as well.  

Now by this time Eurymachus was managing the bow with his hands, warming (it) on this side and that by the light of the fire; but even so he could not string it, and he groaned loudly in his noble heart; then, in a frenzy of anger, he spoke out in a loud voice: "For shame, this pain of mine is for myself and for all of us; it is not at all about the marriage that I mourn so greatly, grieved though (I am); for there are many other Achaean (women), some in sea-girt Ithaca itself, and some in other cities; but to think that we are so much inferior to godlike Odysseus in strength, seeing that we cannot string his bow: (that is) a disgrace that even future generations will learn about."

Ll. 256-310. Odysseus seeks to try the bow.

But, then, Antinous, the son of Eupeithes, answered him: "It will not be like that, Eurymachus; and you yourself also know (it). For today (there is) a public holiday to that sacred god. And (on it) who would bend their bow? But let him put (it) down and be at rest; then, (as to) the axes, what if we should let them all stand? For I do not think that anyone is going to come to the house of Laertes' son, Odysseus, to carry (them) off. But come, let the wine-steward pour a drop into each cup, so that we can offer our libations and lay down our curved bows; and, in the morning, tell the goat-herd Melanthius to bring in the goats which are the very best in all of his herds to Apollo, the famous archer, and (then) try out the bow and end the contest." 

Thus spoke Antinous; and his words were pleasing to them. Then, squires poured water on their hands, and pages filled the mixing-bowl with wine, and they served everyone, beginning afresh with the cups. So, when they had poured a libation, and drunk as much as their hearts desired, the wily Odysseus addressed them in a crafty manner: "Listen to me, (you) suitors of our famous queen, so that I can tell (you) the (things which) the heart in my breast bids me; and I especially entreat Eurymachus and godlike Antinous, since their words have been rightly spoken, to set aside the bow now, and entrust (the matter) to the gods; and tomorrow the god will give strength to the one whom he favours. But come, give me the well-polished bow, so that with you I can try out the strength of my hands, (to see) whether in my case there is still any power in those limbs, which were once so supple, or whether my ceaseless wanderings and want of care have by now robbed me (of it)."  

So he (i.e. Odysseus) spoke; and they were all excessively angry, fearing that he might string the well-polished bow. And Antinous turned on (him) and spoke these words in a loud voice: "Ah, (you) wretched stranger, there is not the slightest sense in you; are you not content to dine in peace with your betters, and not to be deprived at all of your share of the feast, while you can hear our words and speech? And no other stranger or beggar can hear our words. The mellow wine is damaging you, and it harms all those who take it down in gulps and who do not drink (it) in a moderate manner. It was wine that befuddled even the famous Centaur Eurytion in the palace of great-hearted Peirithous (i.e. King of the Lapithae in Thessaly, whose wife, Hippodameia, Eurytion had attempted to rape at her wedding feast), when he was visiting the Lapithae; and, since he had stupefied his mind with wine, he did those evil (things) in the home of Peirithous while (he was) madly drunk; distress took hold of the demigods, and they arose and dragged him outside through the porch, and they sliced off his ears and his nose with piteous bronze; and he staggered off stupefied in his mind, bearing (the burden of) his folly in his infatuated heart. Through him the feud between Centaurs and men began, and he himself was the first to devise evil through drunkenness, so in your case I declare great suffering if you should string this bow; for you will not receive any kind treatment in our (part of the) country, and we shall send you off forthwith in a black ship to King Echetus (i.e. a king of North-Western Greece noted for his cruelty), the destroyer of all mortals; but keep on drinking in peace and do not seek to compete with younger men." 

Ll. 311-353. Telemachus asserts his authority. 

However, wise Penelope then addressed him: "Antinous, (it is) neither fair nor just to maltreat any of the guests of Telemachus, who may come to this house. Do you believe that, if this stranger should string the great bow of Odysseus with his hands and prevail by his strength, he should lead me to his home and make (me) his wife? Nor has he himself any such hope anywhere in his breast; do not anyone of you have dinner grieving in his heart for that (reason), since that is certainly not fitting."

Then, Eurymachus, son of Polybus, said to her in reply: "Daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, we do not  imagine that this (man) is at all likely to win your (hand); but I do feel shame at the talk among men and women, lest any other of the low-born Achaeans should ever say: ' How much worse (can they be), these men (who) wish to court the wife of that excellent man, nor can they string that well-polished bow in any way; but some other poor man came begging, he strings the bow with ease, and shoots an arrow through the iron (axes).' So they will say; and such disgrace shall come upon us." 

Then, wise Penelope addressed him once more: "There is not going to be any public respect (for those men) who dishonour and devour the household of a nobleman; so why would that remark bring disgrace on you? Now this guest of ours (is) a very big and well-built (man), and in his birth he claims to be the son of a noble father. But come, give him the well-polished bow, so we can see (what happens). For so I proclaim, and this will be brought to pass: if he shall string it and Apollo answers his prayer, I shall dress him in a cloak and tunic, fine garments (both), and I shall give him a sharp javelin to ward off dogs and men, as well as a two-edged sword; and I shall give (him) sandals beneath his feet, and I shall send (him) to wherever his heart and soul bids him go."    

Then shrewd Telemachus said to her once more in reply: "My mother, (as for) the bow, not one of the Achaeans has a better right than I to give (it) or deny (it) to whomever I wish, neither those who are chieftains in rugged Ithaca, nor those who (are rulers) in the islands in the direction of horse-rearing Elis; not one of them can force me to act against my will, even if I should wish to give this bow to the stranger once and for all to take away (with him). But go to your room to take care of your own tasks, the loom and the spindle, and tell your attendants to get on with their work; now the bow is the concern of all men, and me especially; for the master in this house is me."

Ll. 354-400. Odysseus receives the bow.

Full of astonishment, she went back to her room; for she laid her son's shrewd speech in her heart. And, going up to the upper story (of the house) with her attendant women, then she wept for Odysseus, her beloved husband, until bright-eyed Athene cast sweet sleep on her eyelids.  

Meanwhile the goodly swineherd (i.e. Eumaeus) had picked up the curved bow and was carrying (it) along; then, all the suitors let out loud shouts in the hall; and one of the haughty young men spoke as follows: "Where are you taking that curved bow, (you) wretched swineherd, (you) vagabond? Moreover, those speedy dogs that you have bred will soon devour you out there among your pigs and far away from (other) men, if Apollo and the other immortal gods should be gracious unto us." 

So they spoke; then he took it and put it down in that very place, full of apprehension because many in the hall were shouting. But Telemachus in a threatening voice called out loudly from the other side: "Come on, old fellow, you'll soon find it hard to obey everyone; lest, younger than you though I am, I shall chase you into the fields, pelting (you) with a shower of stones; for in strength I am better (than you). Would that I were so much stronger in my hands and muscles than all of those suitors who are (here) in this house!  Then, to their regret, I would soon be packing them off to depart from this house of mine, when they hatch their wicked (plots)."

So he spoke; and then all the suitors laughed pleasantly at him, and gave up their bitter wrath against Telemachus; then, the swineherd carried the bow down the hall, until he stood beside wise Odysseus and put (it) in his hands. Then, he called the nurse Eurycleia from (her quarters) and said to (her): "Telemachus calls upon you, wise Eurycleia, to shut the close-fitting doors of the hall; but if anyone should hear (the sound of) groaning, or the noise of men within our walls, they are not to go outside at all, but to remain at their work in silence."

So then he spoke; but with her the word stayed unwinged (i.e. she made no reply), and she locked the doors of the hall that was well-filled with people.  

And Philoetius slipped silently out of the house, and then he barred the doors leading to the well-fenced courtyard. Now a fresh cable, made of Egyptian papyrus, lay curled up under the portico, and with it he bound fast the doors, and then he went inside himself. Then he went and sat down on the stool from which he had just risen, and he gazed upon Odysseus. And now he (i.e. Odysseus) had control of the bow, and was turning (it) about on every side and trying (it) out at both ends, for fear that worms might have eaten the horns in the absence of its master. And so, with each man glancing at his neighbour, one (of them) said: "This man who is an admirer of bows is also given to stealing. Doubtless he wishes such (things) to lie in his home, or (he wishes) to make one, so the vagabond, practised in evil (things as he is), turns (it) up and down in his hands."

Ll. 401-434. Odysseus proves himself with the bow.

And then another one of the arrogant youths said: "Would that (he has) as much luck in doing that as he can ever have in stringing this (one)!" So did the suitors talk; but Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, at once lifted up the great bow and checked (it) on every side, as when a man, skilled at the lyre and in song, easily stretches a fresh string around a leather strap, fixing the well-twisted sheep-gut on both sides, so did Odysseus string the great bow without haste. Then, he took up the string in his right hand and tested (it), and under (his touch) it sang sweetly, like the voice of a swallow. Then, great distress came over (the minds of) the suitors, and in all of them their complexion changed its colour.  And Zeus thundered loudly in the display of his signs. Then, the much-enduring godlike Odysseus was delighted that the son of crooked-thinking Cronos had sent him an omen. And he seized a swift arrow, which lay beside him uncovered on the table; and the others, which the Achaeans were soon destined to experience, lay inside the hollow quiver. Taking it (and putting it) on the bridge of the bow, he drew back the string and its notches from the very stool where he sat and shot the arrow, and of all the axes he did not miss a single handle-hole, and the brass-burdened arrow came out right through (them); then, he said to Telemachus: "Telemachus, the stranger who sits in your hall brings no shame upon you, nor did I miss the mark in any way, or labour long at all in stringing the bow; my strength is still unbroken, not as the wooers scornfully taunt me. But now is the time for supper to be prepared for the Achaeans in the daylight, and then to find other amusements with song and with the lyre; for these (things) are the adornments of a feast."

He spoke, and gave a signal with his eyebrows; then, Telemachus, the beloved son of divine Odysseus, girded on his sharp sword, and put his hand around his spear, and stood by the chair beside his (father), armed with glittering bronze.      

HOMER: "ODYSSEY": BOOK XX: PRELUDE TO THE CRISIS.

HOMER: "ODYSSEY": BOOK XX: PRELUDE TO THE CRISIS.

Introduction:

Book XX sees the beginning of the Odyssey's 39th day of action, the day in which Odysseus takes his revenge on the suitors. During the night, Odysseus has lain sleepless in the porch, angered at the sight of some of the housemaids going to make love with the suitors, but Athene calms him, so he can sleep. In the morning, the suitors return to their feasting and revelling. Preparations are made for the festival of Apollo. Further insults are directed against Odysseus by the goat-herd Melanthius. He is then introduced by Eumaeus to a friendly herdsman, named Philoetius, who takes his side. The suitors are dissuaded from killing Telemachus by an unfavourable omen. One of the suitors, Ctesippus, throws a cow's foot at Odysseus, who just manages to dodge it. Ctesippus is then rebuked by Telemachus, whom another suitor, Agelaus, then seeks to appease. At the end of the Book Theoclymenus reappears, and in a ghastly vision prophesies the suitors' impending doom. But the suitors laugh at him and turn him out, and then resume their feasting. 

Ll. 1-43. Athene visits Odysseus. 

But the godlike Odysseus lay down to sleep in the entrance hall of the house; on the (ground) he spread an untanned oxhide, and above (it) many fleeces of sheep, which the Achaeans (i.e. the suitors) were accustomed to slaughter; and Eurynome (i.e. Penelope's house-keeper) put a blanket over him as he lay there. Odysseus lay there wide awake, contemplating evils in his heart for the wooers; and the women came forth from the hall, (those) that had formerly been wont to lie with the wooers. But his heart was stirred in his breast; and he pondered many (things) in his mind and in his heart, whether he should rush after (them) and deal death to each one, or whether he should still allow (them) to lie with the arrogant suitors for the last and final time, and his heart growled within him. And, as a bitch, standing (guard) over her tender whelps, growls and wants to fight a man she had failed to recognise, so he growled within him in anger at their wicked deeds; But, smiting his breast, he rebuked his heart with these words: "Hold out, my heart! for you once endured something more shaming (than this), on that day when the Cyclops, irrepressible in might (i.e. Polyphemus), devoured your sturdy comrades; but endure you did, until your cunning got you out of that cave where you expected you would die." 

So he spoke, upbraiding the dear heart in his breast; but his heart remained bound within, doggedly enduring; but he turned around this way and that. As when a man in the blaze of a great fire tosses this way and that a paunch stuffed with fat and blood, and longs (for it) to be very quickly roasted, so he is tossed from side to side, wondering how he might lay his hands upon the shameless wooers, being (one man) alone among many. Then, Athene descended  from heaven and came close to him; she looked like a woman in shape; and she stood above his head and said these words to him: "Why, pray, are you awake then, (you who are) ill-fated beyond all men? For this is your house, and this is your wife in the house, and your child, such (a man) as I believe anyone would wish to be his son." 

Then, Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, said to her in reply: "Yes, goddess, all these (things) you say (are) true; but the heart in my breast is worrying about something, (namely) this: how I am going to lay my hands on these shameful suitors, when I am alone; for they are always here in a throng. And I am pondering in my heart about this (thing that is) even more difficult still: for even if I were to slay (them) by the will of Zeus and of yourself, how could I escape vengeance (i.e. on the part of the suitors' relatives)? I enjoin you to consider these (things)."    

Ll. 44-90. Penelope wishes that her life should end. 

Then, the bright-eyed goddess Athene spoke to him again: "(You) incorrigible (fellow), one that puts his trust in a weaker companion (than I am), (one) that is mortal and knows no such tricks (as I do); but I am a goddess, and I shall guard you always in all your toils. And I will speak to you quite openly: if fifty companies of men endowed with speech should surround the two of us, eager to slay (us) in battle, you would even drive off their cattle and fat sheep. But now, let sleep take hold of you; it is distressing to stay awake and keep watch the whole night through, and even now you will rise above your troubles."   

So she spoke, and shed sleep upon his eyelids, but she, herself, that most divine of goddesses went back to Olympus.

When sleep took hold of him, easing the cares of his heart, and relaxing his limbs, his trusty knowing wife awoke and wept as she sat upon her soft bed. But, since she had had her fill of weeping in accordance with her heart's desire, that most divine of women (i.e. Penelope) prayed first of all to Artemis: "Artemis, queenly goddess, daughter of Zeus, if only you would cast an arrow in my breast and take away my spirit now at this very hour, or that a storm-wind might snatch me up and rush along carrying me down murky paths and drop me at the mouth of the backward-flowing Ocean. (It was) like when the storm-winds carried off the daughters of Pandareus (i.e. a legendary king of Crete); the gods had slain their parents and they were left (as) orphans in the palace, and divine Aphrodite nourished (them) on cheese and sweet honey and mellow wine; then, Hera gave them beauty and wisdom above all women, and chaste Artemis gave (them) height, and Athene gave them the skills (i.e. spinning and weaving) to make beautiful (things). While the divine Aphrodite went to high Olympus to ask for the fulfilment of a happy marriage for the girls - (she went) to Zeus, who delights in thunder, for he knows all (things) well, both the destiny and the ill-fortune of mortal men - ; meanwhile, the storm-winds snatched away the girls and gave (them) to the hateful Erinyes (i.e. the Fates) to deal with; (you) who have your dwellings on Olympus (i.e the gods), may you annihilate me like that, or may the fair-tressed Artemis smite me, so that I may sink beneath the hateful earth with Odysseus still vivid in my mind, and not gladden in any way the mind of a lesser man. But grief is bearable, whenever one can weep during the day, with one's heart grieving exceedingly, but at night sleep takes hold of one - for it brings forgetfulness of everything, good and bad (alike), once it envelops the eyelids - but a god also sends me bad dreams. For during this night there again slept by my side (one) like him, such as he was when he went away with the army; but my heart rejoiced, since I considered it was no dream, but now (it was) reality.   

Ll. 91-133. Zeus sends favourable omens.

So she spoke, and golden-throned Dawn came at once. And as she (i.e. Penelope) wept, godlike Odysseus heard her voice; then, he pondered, and it seemed to his heart that (she,) already recognising (him), was standing beside his head. He took up the cloak and sheepskins, in which he slept, and put (them) down on a chair in the hall, and he carried the oxhide to the door and put (it) down, and, lifting his hands, he prayed to Zeus: "Father Zeus, if at your wish (you gods) have brought me over dry land and sea to my own country, after you have (so) sorely maltreated me, let one of those men who are awaking utter a word of good omen for me inside (the palace), and let some other portent of Zeus appear outside (it)."   

So she spoke in prayer; and Zeus the counsellor heard him, and at once thundered from a clear sky high above the clouds; and godlike Odysseus rejoiced. And a female slave grinder let out some words from within a building in a place nearby, where sat the mill-stones belonging to the shepherd of the people, (and) all twelve women got on with their task of grinding barley and wheat, the marrow of men's (diet). Now, the others were sleeping, for they had ground their wheat, but she alone had not yet ceased, for she was the weakest at this work; then, she stopped her mill-stone and spoke these words as a sign to her master: "Father Zeus, (you) who rules over both gods and men, loudly indeed have you thundered from a starry sky, for there is no cloud anywhere; now this must be a portent that you show some (man). Now tell even the wretched me the words that I shall speak; and may the wooers hold their welcome feast this day in the halls of Odysseus for the last and final time; and those who have loosened my knees by bitter labour as I made their barley-meal, may they now sup their last." 

So she spoke, and godlike Odysseus was glad at the words of omen, and at the thunder of Zeus; for he thought that the sinners would be punished. 

The other handmaids had come together in the fine palace of Odysseus, and made up the tireless fire on the hearth. And the godlike man Telemachus rose from his bed and put on his clothing; and he slung his sharp sword about his shoulder; and beneath his feet he bound some beautiful sandals, and he took up his mighty spear, tipped with sharp bronze. And then he went and stood upon the threshold, and spoke to Eurycleia: "Dear nurse, have you honoured the stranger in our house with a bed and some food, or does he lie neglected? For such (is the way of) my mother, wise though she is; for she rashly honours one (who is) a lesser man among mortals, but she sends away the better (man) without honour."  

Ll. 134-182. The servants prepare the house.

Then, the wise Eurycleia spoke to him once more: "Now, child do not blame her, (when she is) blameless. For he sat (there) and drank wine for as long as he wanted, but, as for food, he was not hungry at all; for she asked him. But, when he came to think of going to bed and sleeping, she bade the handmaids lay out his bed, but, he, as one wholly wretched and unhappy, did not want to sleep on a bed and among blankets, but on an untanned oxhide and the fleeces of sheep, and he slept in the hallway; and we spread a cloak over (him)." 

So she spoke, and Telemachus went along through the hall, holding his spear, and two swift-footed hounds followed him. And he went his way to the place of assembly to join the well-greaved Achaeans. But the most divine of women, Eurycleia, the daughter of Ops, the son of Peisenor, called out to her handmaids, (saying): "Come on (now), may some of you work hard at sweeping the hall, and sprinkling (water on it), and may you throw the purple coverlets on to those well-made chairs; and let others wipe all the tables with sponges, and cleanse the mixing-bowls and well-wrought double cups; and let others go to the spring for water, and go and bring (it here) as quickly as possible. For the suitors will not be away from the hall for long, but they will return quite early, since (it is) a feast day for all (of us)."  

So she spoke; and they readily hearkened to her and obeyed. Twenty of them went to the spring of dark water, and the others busied themselves there in the house in skilful fashion. Then in came the men-servants; and they split logs well and skilfully, and the women came back from the spring; and after them came the swineherd (i.e. Eumaeus), driving three fatted hogs, which were the pick of all (his beasts). And then he himself spoke warm (words) to Odysseus: "Stranger, do the Achaeans look at you with any more respect, or do they dishonour you in the house. just like (they did) before?"   

Then, Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, spoke to him in reply: "Now if only, Eumaeus, the gods, might make them pay for the mistreatment which these (men), in their blind folly, insultingly devise in another (man)'s house, nor do they have any place for shame. 

While they were saying such (things) to each other, Melanthius, the herder of goats, came near to them, driving the she-goats, that were the best in all the herds, for the suitors' dinner. And two herdsmen followed after him. And he tethered the (goats) beneath the echoing portico, and then he himself spoke these stinging (words) to Odysseus: "Are you still even now a source of vexation (to us) here in the hall, begging men (for alms), but not taking yourself off outside? Plainly I think, the two of us shall not part company until we have tasted each other's fists, since you do not beg in a decent manner; also, there are other feasts of the Achaeans."   

Ll. 183-225. Philoetius, the loyal cowherd. 

So he spoke, but Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, said nothing to him, but shook his head in silence, and meditated evil (things) in the depths of his heart.

And in addition to them, there came a third (man), Philoetius, a leader of men, driving a barren heifer and plump she-goats for the suitors. Ferrymen had brought these (men) over, and they conduct other men too, whoever may come to them. The (beasts) he firmly tethered beneath the echoing portico, but he himself stood close to the swineherd and asked (him) this: "Who (is) this stranger, (who) has recently come to our home? From what men does he profess (himself) to be (sprung) from? Where now (are) his family and his native-land? An ill-starred (man he is), yet, in truth, in his bearing he is like a lordly king; but the gods plunge much-wandering men into misery, whenever they assign (to them the threads of) woe, even (though they are) kings."

And at this he (i.e. Philotheus) stood beside (him) (i.e. Odysseus), and greeted (him) with his right hand, and, in speaking to him, he said these winged words: "Welcome, old friend! May happiness come to you in the future, though now you bear many troubles. Father Zeus, no other one of the gods (is) more baneful than you; you have no pity on men, even when you yourself give birth (to them), (but) you acquaint (them) with grief and miserable woes. When I saw (you), I began to sweat, and my eyes fill with tears when I think of Odysseus, for he too, I think has on such rags and wanders around among men like a beggar. if, indeed, he still lives and beholds the light of the sun. But, if he is already dead and (is) in the halls of Hades, then woe is me, for the wonderful Odysseus, who set me over his cattle, when I was still a youth, in the country of the Cephallenians. And now they are beyond counting, and in no other way, for a man at any rate, could a stock of broad-fronted cattle be increased in number like ears of corn; but strangers bid me bring them for themselves to eat; and they have no concern at all for the son in the house, nor do they fear the vengeance of the gods; for now they are eager to divide among themselves the possessions of our lord, absent as he has been for so long. But the heart in my own dear breast keeps revolving (this matter) constantly: a very evil (thing it is), while there is a son present, to go with my cattle and come to a land of strangers, among alien folk; but it (is) more horrible to remain here, and to suffer woes while encamped among cattle (that have passed) into (the hands) of others. Now might I have fled long ago and come to another of the very mighty kings, since (things) are no longer endurable; but I still think of that unhappy (man), if perchance he may return and make a scattering of the suitor-men throughout his palace."  

Ll. 226-267. Odysseus among the suitors.

Then the astute Odysseus said to him in reply: "Herdsman, since you seem to be neither a bad (man) nor (one) without sense, and I can see for myself that you have an understanding heart, therefore I shall speak to you and I shall swear a binding oath: now I swear by Zeus before (all) the gods and by the hospitable table and hearth of the blameless Odysseus, to which I am come, that, while you are here, Odysseus will come home, and you will see with your own eyes, if you wish, the slaying of the wooers who lord (it) here." Then, the herdsman of the cattle addressed him again: "If only, (O) stranger, the son of Cronos would fulfil these words (of yours); then you would know what sort of strength (is) mine and (how) my hands would follow." 

And so in like manner did Eumaeus pray to all the gods that the very sagacious Odysseus might come back to his own home. 

So they said such (things) to one another, and the suitors were planning death and doom for Telemachus; but a bird came to them on their left, a soaring eagle (it was), and it was clutching a timid dove. Then, Amphinomus spoke to them in their assembly and said: "My friends, this plot (of ours) to murder Telemachus will not go well for us; so let us concentrate on the feast." 

So spoke Amphinomus, and his words were pleasing to them. Then, going into the house of godlike Odysseus, they put down their cloaks on the chairs and high seats, and they began to sacrifice great sheep and fat goats, and they slew fattened swine and cattle from the herd; then, they roasted the entrails and distributed (them), and they mixed the wine in the bowls; and the swineherd (i.e. Eumaeus) gave out the cups, and Philoetius, leader of men, handed them bread in a beautiful basket, and Melanthius poured the wine. And they put forth their hands to the (good) food set down just in front of (them)

But Telemachus, revolving shrewd thoughts in his mind, made Odysseus sit within the well-built hall beside the stone threshold, and put down (for him) a battered stool and a small table; and beside (him) he set portions of the entrails and poured wine in a gold cup, and he said these words to him: "Now, sit down here among these men, as you drink your wine; and I myself shall ward off from you the insults and blows of all the wooers, for this, let me tell you, is not a public house, but it belongs to Odysseus, and he acquired (it) for me. And for your part, (you) wooers, do keep insults and blows away from your thoughts, so that no strife and brawl may arise." 

Ll. 268-298. Ctesippus prepares to abuse Odysseus. 

So he spoke, and they all bit their lips with their teeth and marvelled at Telemachus, who spoke (so) boldly. Then, Antinous, son of Eupeithes, addressed them: "Hard though it be, Achaeans, let us accept the words of Telemachus; but he does speak to us in a very threatening manner. For Zeus, the son of Cronos, did allow (it), otherwise we should have stopped him in the halls already, shrill speaker though he is."

Thus spoke Antinous; but he (i.e. Telemachus) paid no heed to his words. Meanwhile, the heralds were leading through the town the holy hecatomb of the gods (i.e. the hundred beasts destined for sacrifice); and the long-haired Achaeans gathered together in the shady grove of Apollo the Far-shooter. But, when they had roasted the outer flesh and taken (it) off (the spit), they divided up the portions and laid on a glorious feast; and (those) who laboured put beside Odysseus the same-sized portion as they themselves had obtained; for so Telemachus, the dear son of Odysseus, had commanded. 

But Athene would by no means allow the arrogant suitors to abandon their grievous insults, so that (bitter) anguish might sink still further into the heart of Laertes' son, Odysseus. There was among the wooers a certain man bent on lawlessness, and his name was Ctesippus, and he dwelt in a house in Same (i.e. an island near Ithaca, now called Cephellonia); then he, trusting in his wondrous possessions, went on wooing the wife of Odysseus, who had been gone for so long. (He it was) who now spoke among the haughty wooers: "Hear me (you) proud wooers, so that I may say something: now the stranger has long had an equal portion, as seems suitable, for it is neither fair nor just to deprive any of the guests of Telemachus who may come to this house. But come I will give him a gift suitable for a visitor, so that he himself may also give a present to the bath-attendant or to some other of the servant-women who (are) in the house of godlike Odysseus."

Ll. 299-344. Telemachus rebukes Ctesippus.                               

Thus speaking, he (i.e. Ctesippus) flung with his strong hand the hoof of an ox, taking it from the basket (where it) lay; but Odysseus avoided (it) by quickly turning his head, and, in his anger, he gave a most bitter smile; and it struck the well-built wall of the house. Then, Telemachus rebuked Ctesippus with these words: "For sure, Ctesippus, it was beneficial to you in your heart that you did not hit the stranger; for he himself avoided your missile. for otherwise, I would have struck you in the midst with my sharp spear, and instead of a wedding feast your father would have had to provide a funeral here in this place. Therefore, let no man bring about an outrage in my house; for now I appreciate and understand everything, both the good and the bad; whereas before I was still a child. But, all the same, we still have to endure the sight of these (things), the sheep being slaughtered and the wine and the food being consumed; for hard (it is) for one man to curb many, But come, no longer do me harm of your own ill-will; but if, even now, you are minded to slay me myself with the sword, I would prefer even that, and indeed it would be much better to die, than continually to behold these disgraceful deeds, that is, strangers being maltreated and women servants being shamefully dragged through these fair chambers." 

So he spoke, and in the silence they all fell silent; but, at last, Agelaus, the son of Damastor, then spoke out: "No man, having been accosted by things that were justly spoken, would show anger with wrangling words; do not maltreat the stranger in any way, nor any of the slaves that are in the household of the divine Odysseus. But to Telemachus and his mother I would say a gentle word, if it should be pleasing to the hearts of both of them. So long as the hearts in your breasts had cause to hope that wise Odysseus would return to his own house, then there were no grounds for resentment that you waited and restrained the suitors in your halls, for this was the better (course), should Odysseus have returned and come back to his house; but now (it is) clear that he is no longer coming home. But come, sit beside your mother and tell (her) this, that she must marry whoever (is) the best man and offers (her) the most (gifts), so that you can enjoy the disbursement of all your fathers food and drink, and she can look after another (man's) house."

Then, wise Telemachus said to him in reply: "Nay, by Zeus, Agelaus, and by the woes of my father, who has perished or is wandering around somewhere far from Ithaca, in no way am I hindering the marriage of my mother, but I bid (her) marry whatever (man) she wished, and, besides, I am offering (her) unspeakably great gifts. But I should be ashamed to drive (her) from this house against her will by a  word of compulsion; may God never bring such (a thing) to pass." 

Ll. 345-394. The vision of Theoclymenus.

So spoke Telemachus; but Pallas Athene aroused uncontrollable laughter in the suitors and befuddled their wits. And now they laughed with the mouths of others, and the meat they ate was bespattered with blood; and their eyes were filled with tears, and their hearts foretold weeping; then, godlike Theoclymenus also addressed them: "Ah, (you) wretched (men), what (is) this evil you are suffering? Shrouded in night (are) your heads and your faces, and the knees beneath (them). And lamentation blazes forth and your cheeks are wet with tears, and the walls and the fair rafters are dripping with blood; and the door-way (is) full of ghosts, and the courtyard (is) also full (of them), on their way down to Erebos (and) into the darkness; and the sun is blotted out of heaven, and an evil mist hovers over (everything)." 

So he spoke, but they all laughed pleasantly at him. Then, among them Eurymachus, son of Polybus, began to speak: "Mad is the stranger (who has) newly come from abroad. But quick, boys, send him out of the house to make his way to the place of assembly, since he thinks this (place) is like night."

Then, godlike Theoclymenus spoke again to him: "In no way do I urge you to send me escorts; I have eyes, and ears, and two feet, and a mind in my breast (that is) not all meanly fashioned. With these, I shall go forth outside, since I foresee evil coming upon you that not one of (you) suitors can secretly escape or avoid, (you) who insult men and devise wicked (schemes) in the house of godlike Odysseus."

So saying, he left the stately halls and came to Peiraeus, who readily received him. But all the wooers, looking at one another, sought to provoke Telemachus (by) laughing at his guests; and thus did one of the proud youths say: "There is no other man more unlucky than you in his guests: for you keep such a man as this needy vagabond, (always) wanting bread and wine, and skilled neither in the works (of husbandry) nor of war, but just a dead-weight on the earth. And now this other man has stood up and prophesied. But if you would listen to me a little, this would be a much better (thing to do): let us sling these strangers into a well-benched ship and send (them) to the Sicilians, and this would fetch you a  worthy (price)." So spoke the wooers; yet he paid no attention to their words, but he silently looked at his father, awaiting (the moment) when he would lay his hands on the shameless suitors.

But the daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, had placed her very beautiful chair over against (them), and heard the words of each of the men in the hall. For they had prepared their meal in the midst of their laughing, sweet and agreeable to the taste (it was), for they had slaughtered a great many (beasts); but never could a meal be more unappetising than the one which a goddess and a mighty man would soon set before (them); for previously they (i.e. the suitors) were devising (deeds of) shame. 

HOMER: "ODYSSEY": BOOK XIX: EURYCLEIA RECOGNISES ODYSSEUS

HOMER: "ODYSSEY": BOOK XIX: EURYCLEIA RECOGNISES ODYSSEUS 

Introduction:

This book sees the completion of the Odyssey's 38th day of action. When the planned meeting between Penelope and Odysseus, disguised as a beggar, takes place, the beggar persuades Penelope that he has heard of Odysseus, and she orders her elderly serving-woman and Odysseus' former nurse, Eurycleia, to wash him. It is then that Eurycleia recognises Odysseus from an ancient scar that he has above his knee, and a description then follows as to how he acquired the wound as a boy when hunting on Mount Parnassus. Odysseus, however, then swears Eurycleia to secrecy, where his mother is concerned. Penelope then tells the disguised Odysseus about a strange dream she has, in which her domestic geese are killed by an eagle. While Odysseus interprets the dream favourably, Penelope is not convinced. Still unaware of the beggar's true identity, Penelope announces that on the next day she will set up a contest for the suitors, by which whoever can shoot an arrow through the twelve axes will win her hand in marriage. She then goes to bed sadly.  

Ll. 1-46. Odysseus and Telemachus hide the weapons. 

Then, the godlike Odysseus was left behind in the hall, contemplating with Athene the slaying of the suitors; and at once he spoke these winged words to Telemachus: "Telemachus, we must hide away absolutely all of our martial weapons (i.e. the spoils of war hanging on the walls as trophies); but you must beguile the suitors with placatory words (such as these), when they miss (them) and question you: 'I have removed (them) from the smoke, since they are no longer like the ones that Odysseus left behind, when he went to Troy, but they have been damaged as the draught from the fire has reached (them). And, furthermore, this greater (fear) has a god put in my heart, that, under the influence of drink, you might pick a quarrel among yourselves and wound one another, and thus bring shame upon the feast and your wooing; for iron of itself lures a man on.' "

So he spoke, and Telemachus was persuaded by his father, and called forth nurse Eurycleia and said to (her): "Good mother, I want you to keep the women in their quarters, until I can stow away my father's fine weapons in the store-room; these (things now lie) around my house neglected in my father's absence; and I was still a child (when he left). But now I wish to stow them away, so that the draught from the fire cannot reach (them)."

Then, his dear (old) nurse Eurycleia answered him: "Now, if only you would one day take the trouble to look after your house and protect all your possessions. But come, (tell me) who is to go along with you and carry the light? For you would not let the maids go, even though they were ready (to do so)."

Then, wise Telemachus said to her in reply: "The stranger (will do) this; for whoever lays hold of my rations, I shall not keep idle, even though he has come from afar." 

So he spoke, and she did not say a word (in reply), but she locked the doors of the stately hall. Then the two of them sprang up, Odysseus and his glorious son, and began to bear helmets, and bossed shields, and sharp-pointed spears; and before (them) Pallas Athene, carrying a golden lamp, made a most beautiful light. Then, Telemachus suddenly spoke to his father: "O Father, this (is) surely a great marvel (that) I am beholding with my eyes. After all, the walls of the hall, and the lovely pedestals, and pine-wood beams, and the pillars (that are) held aloft (all) shine forth in my eyes as if (in the light of) a blazing fire. For sure, one of the gods who inhabit Olympus (must be) there."

Then, Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, answered him and said: "Be quiet, and check your thoughts, and ask no questions; this, let me tell you, is the way of the gods, who live on Olympus. But do you go and take your rest, and I shall remain here, so that I may arouse the maids and your mother still more; and she, in her distress, will ask me about everything." 

Ll. 47-88. Melantho abuses Odysseus once more, but he responds firmly.

So he spoke, and Telemachus went along through the hall by the light of shining torches to his chamber to lie down, (the place) where he had previously gone to rest, whenever sweet sleep came upon him; now there he also lay down, and awaited divine Dawn. Yet, the godlike Odysseus was left in the hall, plotting the slaying of the suitors with (the help of) Athene.  

Then, the wise Penelope came forth from her bed-chamber, looking like Artemis or golden Aphrodite. And for her they put down by the fire, where she was accustomed to sit, a couch inlaid with ivory and silver; the craftsman Icmalius once made it, and beneath (it) he had placed a footstool for the feet, (that was) growing out from it, on which a large fleece was laid. There wise Penelope then took her seat. And white-armed handmaids came from the (women's) hall. And they began to take away the abundant food, and the tables and the cups from which those arrogant men were drinking; and they cast the embers from the braziers on to the floor, and piled fresh logs upon them in abundance, so there was light and warmth. 

Then, Melantho abused Odysseus again for a second time: "Are you still here now plaguing (us all) through the night, prowling round the house and ogling the women? But get you to the door, you wretched man, and be thankful for your feast; or you will shortly be pelted out of the house with a firebrand." 

Then, quick-witted Odysseus looked at her with a scowl and gave (her) this answer: "Good woman, why do you set upon me in this way with an angry heart? Is it because I am dirty and wear ragged raiment, and go around the country begging? For necessity drives (me) on. Beggars and vagrants are such men. For I too once lived in a house among men, a rich (man) in a wealthy (house), and I often used to give to a vagrant such as myself, whoever he might be and with whatever needs he might come; and I had slaves past counting, and many other (things) on account of which (men) live well and are reputed (to be) wealthy. But Zeus, son of Cronos, ruined my life; for he surely willed (it). So (beware) now, lest you should ever utterly lose all of that splendid position, in which you now excel among the handmaids; (and take care) lest your mistress should perhaps turn against (you) in her anger, or Odysseus should return; for (there is) still the chance of hope (being fulfilled). But if, as (you think), he is dead, and is no longer going to return, yet now, by the grace of Apollo, (he has) a son like him, (namely) Telemachus; and it does not escape his notice, if anyone of the women in the palace behave badly, since he is no longer of childish age.    

Ll. 89-147. Penelope and Odysseus converse. 

So she spoke, and wise Penelope heard him, and she rebuked the handmaid, and spoke these words as she addressed (her): "By no means, you presumptuous (woman), you shameless bitch, does your behaviour escape my notice in any way, an outrageous deed (it was), which you shall wipe from your own head (like a stain): for full well did you know that I was intending to question the stranger in my own halls about my husband, since I am exceedingly distressed."

So then, she also spoke to the housekeeper Eurynome and said these words to (her): "Now bring a chair (here), Eurynome, and a fleece (to go) on it, so that the stranger may sit down and tell his story and listen to me; for I wish to ask him questions." 

So she spoke, and she most speedily brought a well-polished chair and set (it) down, and on it she cast a fleece; then, the long-suffering godlike Odysseus sat down there. Then, wise Penelope began their conversation: "Stranger, this (question) I myself will ask you first: who are you (and) from where (do you come)? Where (is) your city and (who are) your parents?" 

Then, the ever-ready Odysseus said to her in reply: "My lady, (there is) not one man on this boundless earth (who) could ever find fault with you; for your fame reaches the broad heaven, like that of some blameless king, who is the god-fearing lord over many men, and he upholds justice, and the dark soil bears wheat and barley, and the trees are laden with fruit, and the flocks continually bring forth (young), and the sea yields fish through his good governance, and the people prosper under him. So, now (that I am) in your house, ask me any other questions, but do not inquire about my ancestry and my native-land, lest you fill my heart with pain the more I recall (the past), and I become very sorrowful; nor is it at all fitting that I should sit weeping and wailing in another's house, since endless lamentation (is) always rather tiresome; (I fear) that one of the housemaids, or even you yourself, might be displeased with me and say that I am full of tears because my mind is inundated with wine."

Then, wise Penelope answered him: "To be sure, stranger, the immortals destroyed my goodness, both in face and form, (on that day) when the Argives went off to Ilium, and my husband Odysseus went with them. If he were but to come and take charge of my life, so would my fame be greater and fairer. But now I am in mourning; for so many woes has some god brought down on me.  For all the chieftains who hold sway over the islands, Dulichium, and Same, and wooded Zacynthus, and those who dwell around far-seen Ithaca itself, they woo me against my will and lay waste my house. As a result, I do not take care of my guests or of my suppliants, or even of the heralds who are (here) on public business. But in my longing for Odysseus I eat my heart out. So they promote my marriage; and I contrive tricks (to deceive them). First, some god infused my mind with (the idea of) erecting a great loom in my halls, in order to weave a large and delicate robe; and at once I said to them: '(You) young men, my suitors, although godlike Odysseus is dead, eager (though you are) for that marriage of mine, be patient until I have completed this robe  - let not my threads be vainly wasted - (for it is) a shroud for lord Laertes, when the fell fate of remorseless death shall take him down. I fear lest any one of the Achaean (women) across this land should blame me, if he who has amassed so much wealth should be laid to rest without a shroud.' 

Ll. 148-189. Odysseus spins a yarn. 

"So I spoke, and their proud hearts consented. Then by day I would weave my great web, and at night I would unravel (it), when I set torches beside (it). Thus, for three years I kept the Achaeans from knowing and I misled (them); but, when the fourth year came and the seasons slipped by, and the months waned, and many days had completely run their course, then, through (the connivance of) my housemaids, shameless and irresponsible (as they are), they came upon (me) and caught (me at it), and they reproached me with words (of anger). So, I completed it perforce, and against my will; and now I can neither escape marriage, nor yet find any other counsel; now my parents are very much encouraging (me) to get married, and my son is aggrieved because he is aware that our estate is being drained; for now (he is) the sort of man who can especially take charge of a house, to which Zeus attaches honour. But even so, do tell me of the stock from which you are (sprung). For you are not (sprung) from the proverbial oak-tree or rock."  

Then, Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, answered her and said: "O honoured wife of Odysseus, son of Laertes, will you never stop inquiring about my ancestry? But I will tell you of (it); yet, in truth, you will be giving me more pains than (the ones) I have; for such is the case, whenever a man has been so far from his native-land as long as I (have) now, wandering through the many cities of men, while suffering sore distress; but even so I will tell (you) what (it is) you ask and inquire of me. In the midst of the wine-dark sea there lies a land (called) Crete, lovely and rich (it is) and surrounded by water; and on (it) there are many men, boundless in number, and ninety cities. And one tongue (is) mixed with others; and on (it there dwell) the Achaeans, and the great-hearted native Cretans, and the Cydonians, and the Dorians in their three tribes, and the noble Pelasgians. And (located) among them (is) Cnossus, a mighty city, and Minos was king there, (and) every nine years (he had) mighty Zeus (as) a companion, and he was the father of my father, the high-minded Deucalion, and Deucalion fathered myself and lord Idomeneus. But he had gone to Ilium in his beaked ships as an equal with the sons of Atreus (i.e. Agamemnon and Menelaus), and I, with the good name of Aethon, (was) younger by birth; but he was the older and the better (man). There I saw Odysseus and gave (him gifts of) friendship. For the force of the wind had driven him to Crete, having blown (him) off course at (Cape) Maleia (i.e. the south-eastern tip of the Peloponnese), when bound for Troy. So he put in his ships at a difficult harbour in Amnisus (i.e. the harbour of Cnossus), where the cave of Eileithyia (i.e. a goddess of childbirth) (is), and he only just escaped the storm winds.  

Ll. 190-240. Distressed though she is, Penelope continues to question Odysseus.  

Then, he went at once to the city and asked for Idomeneus; for he declared that he was his beloved and honoured friend. But it was now the tenth or eleventh day since he had gone with his beaked ships to Ilium. So I took him to the palace and entertained (him) well, heartily welcoming (him) from the great (store of goods) that was within the house; and, as for the rest of his comrades who were accompanying him, I gathered up and gave (them), at the public expense, barley meal and sparkling wine, and cattle to be slaughtered, so that their hearts might be satisfied. Now there the noble Achaeans waited for twelve days; for a strong North wind confined (them there), and would not even allow them to keep their feet on the ground, for some hostile god had aroused (it). But on the thirteenth (day) the wind dropped, and they put out to sea.   

As he spoke, he made his many falsehoods seem like the truth. And as she listened to (him), the tears flowed and her cheeks were drenched, and as the snow melts on the lofty mountains, so the East Wind thaws it, when the West Wind has let it fall; and, as it melts, the rivers fill up as they flow; so did the tears she shed drench her fair cheeks, as she wept for the her husband, who was sitting at her side. But while Odysseus had pity in his heart for his weeping wife, his eyes remained steady between their lids as if (they were made of) horn or iron; and with guile did he conceal his tears. 

And so, when she had had her fill of tearful wailing, she answered (him) again and spoke these words to him: "Now then, stranger, I mean to put you to the test, (to see) if you really did entertain my husband, together with his godlike companions, there in your palace, as you say (you did). Tell me, what sort of clothes he was wearing around his body, and what he looked like, and the companions who were accompanying him."      

Then, Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, answered her and said: "My lady, (it is) hard (for one) who has been parted (from him) for such a long time to tell (you this); for it is now twenty years from the time when he left this place and departed from my native-land; but I will tell you, as my mind pictures (him). Godlike Odysseus was wearing a fleecy purple cloak, (and it was) doubly-folded. And a golden brooch of his was fixed into a pair of sheaths; and on the front of it there was a curious (device): a hound was holding a dappled fawn, seizing (it) tightly as it writhed; and everyone marvelled at this, how, although they were made of gold, the (hound) was throttling the fawn as he held (it), but the (fawn) was writhing with its feet as it was striving to escape. And I noticed the glistening tunic around his body, (glistening) like the skin over a dried onion. So silky was it, and it was shining like the sun; and, indeed, many of the women gazed at it (in wonder). And I will tell you something else, and do you take (it) to heart. I do not know whether Odysseus wore these (clothes) around his body at home, or whether one of his comrades gave (it to him) when he embarked on his swift ship, or whether perhaps one of his guest-friends (did so), since Odysseus was a friend to many men; for few of the Achaeans were like (him).

Ll. 241-276. Odysseus prophesies his own return.

"I also gave him a sword of bronze and a fair purple double-folded cloak, and sent (him) off with honour on his well-benched ship. A herald also accompanied him, a little older than he (was); I will tell you of him too, what kind (of man) he was indeed. (He was) round-shouldered, dark-skinned, (and) curly-haired, and Eurybates was his name; and Odysseus honoured him above his other comrades, because he had thoughts in his mind that matched his own." 

So he spoke, and he aroused in her still more the desire to weep, as she recognised the sure tokens that Odysseus had shown her. But, when she had had her fill of tearful lamentation, then she said these words to him in reply:  

"Now, in truth, stranger, though before you were pitied by me, you will be beloved and honoured in my halls; for (it was) I myself (who) gave (him) this raiment, folded in the way you describe, (and) from the storeroom I brought forth the shining brooch to be a thing of delight to him; but I shall never welcome him back home again on his return to his dear native-land. Therefore, (it was) through an evil fate that Odysseus set forth in his hollow ship in search of that wicked (place called) Ilium (that it is better) not to name."

Then, quick-witted Odysseus said to her in reply: "O honoured wife of Laertes' son Odysseus, do not now mar your face any longer, nor let your heart melt away at all in weeping for your husband. Not that I would blame (you); for any (woman) would cry, when she loses her lawfully-wedded husband, by whom she has conceived children after having lain (with him) in love-making, (though he be) different from Odysseus, whom (men) say is like the gods. Yet do you cease from weeping and hearken unto my words: for I shall tell you truthfully, and will hold nothing back, that I now have news of the return of Odysseus, (and that he is) nearby (and) alive in the rich land of the men of Thesprotia (i.e. in Epirus in North-Western Greece); and he is bringing (home) many rich treasures, which he has begged from (the people of) that land. But he lost (all) his faithful companions and his hollow ship on the wine-dark sea, as he sailed from the island of Thrinacia (i.e. Sicily perhaps); for Zeus and Helios were at odds with Odysseus; for his comrades had slain the latter's cattle.  

Ll. 277-316. The disguised Odysseus continues to tell of the preparations he is making to return. 

"So they all perished in the stormy sea; but the waves cast him from the keel of the ship on to dry land in the country of the Phaeacians, who are akin to gods, and they honoured him most heartily, as if (he were) a god, and they gave him many (gifts) and wished themselves to send him home unscathed. And Odysseus could have been here a long time ago; but it seemed more profitable to his mind to gather goods by begging while he was travelling over the wide earth; so does Odysseus know beyond all mortal men (how to acquire) much wealth, nor could any other mortal vie with (him in this). So did Pheidon, king of the Thesprotians, tell me this tale: and as he was pouring drink offerings in his palace, he swore to me that the ship was launched and the crew were ready who would convey him to his native-land. But he sent me off before (him); for a ship (full) of Thesprotian men happened to be going to Dulichium, rich in corn. And he showed me all the treasure that Odysseus had gathered together; and now would it feed (a man and) his heirs down to the tenth generation, so great (is) the treasure (that) is lying (ready) for him in the halls of the king. But he said that he had gone to Dodona (i.e. a town in Thesprotia, which housed the most ancient oracle of Zeus, whose responses were delivered by the rustling of oak-trees in its sacred grove), to hear the will of Zeus from the lofty foliage of the god's oak-tree, as to how he should return to his own native-land, having now been away for so long, whether openly or in disguise. So thus he is safe and will soon be here, (as he is) very near, nor will he still be far away from his friends and his native-land for long; at all events, I will give you an oath. Now may Zeus, the best and the greatest of the gods know (this) first, and then the hearth of the peerless Odysseus, to which I have come, that, in truth, all these (things) will happen as I say. (In the course) of this very month, both at the waning of the moon and at its beginning, Odysseus will be here."

Then, wise Penelope answered him: "(O) stranger, if only this word (of yours) might be fulfilled; then would you know at once of my kindness and of the many gifts from me, so that anyone who meets you would call (you) blessed. But thus it seems in my heart, even as it shall be; neither shall Odysseus ever come home, nor shall you obtain an escort (from here), since there are not such leaders in this house as Odysseus was among men, if ever there was (such a man), to welcome strangers with honour and send (them) on their way.  

Ll. 317-360. Penelope offers the stranger hospitality. 

(1) But (come), my maids, wash his (hands and feet), and make ready his bed, mattress, and coverlets and glossy blankets, so he may keep well warm till gold-enthroned Dawn should come. And, right early in the morning, do you bathe (him) and anoint (him) with oil, so that in our house at the side of Telemachus he may be mindful of food, as he sits in our hall; and, if any of those (men) should abuse that (man) in a spiteful manner, the worse (it will be) for him; he will no longer achieve anything here, however he may rage most terribly. For how will you learn of me, stranger, whether I, in any way, surpass other women in wit and wise counsel, if you should eat in my hall, bedraggled and clothed in  rags; and men are short-lived. Whoever is hard-hearted himself, and his hardness is evident, upon him do all mortal (men) invoke curses for the future while he is alive, and, when he is dead, all (men) mock (him); but if a man himself is blameless, and his blamelessness is evident, his guest-friends spread abroad his reputation widely among all men, and many speak well of him."

Then, quick-witted Odysseus spoke to her in reply: "O honoured wife of Laertes' son Odysseus, in truth coverlets and glossy blankets became hateful to me, (on the day) when I first turned my back upon the snow-capped mountains of Crete and sailed off in my long-oared ship, and so I will lie down, just as I have often spent sleepless nights upon an unseemly bed and waited for heavenly Dawn on her beautiful throne. Water for washing my feet brings no pleasure at all to my heart; nor shall any woman, of all those serving women in your hall, touch my feet, unless there is some old woman, trusty (and) knowing, who has suffered as much in her heart as I (have). I would not begrudge her touching my feet."      

Then, wise Penelope spoke to him once more: "Dear friend - for never yet has any man as discreet (as you), of (those who are) strangers from afar, come to my house as a more welcome (guest), as you say all your wise (words) with such eloquence; I have an old dame who has wise counsels in her breast, who tenderly nursed and reared my poor husband, having taken (him) in her arms, when his mother first bore him. She will wash your feet, rather frail though she is. But come now, wise Eurycleia, get up (and) wash the feet) of (someone who is) of the same age as your master; no doubt, Odysseus now has such hands and feet as his; for men age quickly in misfortune."     

Ll. 361-404. Eurycleia considers that the stranger is very similar in appearance to her master. 

So she spoke, and the old lady covered her face with her hands, and shed hot tears, and spoke these words of grief: "Woe is me, my child, as I can do nothing for you; Zeus must indeed have hated you above (all other) men, though you had a god-fearing heart. For no other mortal ever burnt so many fat thigh-pieces, nor such choice hecatombs, as you gave him, when you prayed that you might reach a comfortable old age and raise a glorious son; but now from you alone has he wholly cut off the day of your home-coming. Perhaps the women from some strange far away country mocked him in this way too, whenever he came to some man's glorious house, just as all these bitches (here) have mocked you, and now, in order to avoid this maltreatment and the many insults, you did not allow them to wash (your feet); but wise Penelope, daughter of Icarius, has told me (to do so), and I am not unwilling. Therefore, I shall wash your feet, for the sake of both Penelope herself and you, for the heart within me is stirred with sorrow. But come now, pay attention to these words that I would say: now many much-suffering strangers have come here, but I do not think that I have ever seen a man so like another, as you, in bodily shape, and voice and feet, are like Odysseus."

Then, quick-witted Odysseus said to her in reply: "Old woman, so they say who have set eyes on us both, that we are very alike one another, just as you yourself so shrewdly state." 

So he spoke, and the old woman took a shining cauldron to thoroughly wash his feet, and she poured much cold water and then (some that was) hot. Odysseus was sitting by the fireplace, but he quickly turned to face the darkness; for he suddenly had an anxious thought, that, when she took hold of him, she might notice the scar and his secret would become known. Then, she came nearer and began to wash her master; and at once she recognised the scar, which a boar had once inflicted on him with a white tusk, when he had gone to (Mount) Parnassus with Autolycus and his sons, (him being) his mother's (i.e. Anticleia's) noble father, who surpassed (all other) men in thievery and oath-taking; and the god Hermes himself gave him (these skills); for for him he was pleased to burn the thigh-pieces of lambs and kids; and he (i.e. Hermes) readily supported him (i.e. Autolycus). Now, when Autolycus came to the rich land of Ithaca, he came upon his daughter's new born son; then, when he had finished his supper, Eurycleia laid the (boy) upon his knees, and spoke these words and addressed (him) by name: "Autolycus, you must now find a name which you can give to the dear child of your child; for, to be sure, he is much prayed for."

Ll. 405-454. The young man, whom Autolycus has named Odysseus, kills the wild boar that had wounded him. 

Then, Autolycus answered her and said: "My son-in-law (i.e. Laertes) and daughter (i.e. Anticleia), do you give him whatever name I say; for I come hither wishing suffering on many men and women over the fruitful earth; so let his name be Odysseus in signification (of this). But, when he shall attain manhood, and shall come to the great house of his mother's kin at Parnassus, to the place where my possessions are, I shall give some of them to him, and I shall send him back rejoicing." 

Odysseus had come on account of these (things), in order that he might give him these glorious gifts. Then, Autolycus and the sons of Autolycus greeted him with (open) arms and words of welcome; and his mother's mother, Amphithea, clasped Odysseus in her arms, and kissed his forehead and both his fine eyes. Then, Autolycus told his glorious sons to prepare a meal; and they hearkened to his call, and at once they led in a five-year-old bull; and they flayed (it) and tended (it), and cut it up into little pieces, and they skilfully chopped (them) and stuck (them) on spits, and they carefully roasted (them), and distributed the helpings. Then all day long until sunset they banqueted, nor did their hearts feel at all the want of an equal feast; but, when the sun set and darkness came on, so then they lay down to rest and took the gift of sleep. 

But, when the early Dawn appeared, rosy-fingered (as she is), they went their way to the hunt, the hounds as well as the sons of Autolycus; and with them went godlike Odysseus; and they climbed the steep mountain of Parnassus, clothed in forest, and soon they reached its windy clefts. Now the Sun was just striking the fields with his rays, (as he rose) from the soft-flowing deep-streaming Ocean, when the huntsmen came to a glen; ahead of them went the hounds, keeping track of footprints, and behind (them came) the sons of Autolycus; and with them, close to the hounds, came the godlike Odysseus, brandishing his long-shafted spear. Now there a mighty wild boar was lying in a dense thicket; yet not even the moist strength of blowing winds could penetrate it, nor could the bright Sun beat it with its rays, nor could the rain drive right through (it); so thick it was then, even though there was very much shedding of leaves. Then around him came the noise of the feet of both men and dogs, as they came on in the chase; and out he came from his lair with his back bristling strongly and flashing fire in his eyes, and then he stood nearby them; then, first of all, Odysseus sprang forward, holding up his long spear in his stout hand. eager to smite (him); but, in anticipation, the boar struck him above the knee and darting at him from the side he tore a long (gash in) his flesh, but it failed to reach the man's bone. Then, Odysseus happened to strike him on the right shoulder, and the point of his shining spear went right through, and down he fell in the dust with a groan, and the life flew from (him).   

Ll. 455-498. Eurycleia recognises Odysseus.

Then, the dear sons of Autolycus took charge of the (boar's carcass), and they skilfully bound up the wound of noble godlike Odysseus, and staunched the dark blood with an incantation, and soon they were back at their father's palace. Now, when Autolycus and the sons of Autolycus had fully healed him and had given (him) glorious gifts, they sent him quickly back home in happiness to his native-land of Ithaca. Then, his father  (i.e. Laertes) and his queenly mother (i.e. Anticleia) rejoiced at his return and inquired into everything, (and) how he got his wound; and he told them in detail how a wild boar had wounded him with a white tusk as he was hunting, when he had gone to Parnassus with the sons of Autolycus.  

This (scar) the old woman (i.e. Eurycleia) felt and recognised as she passed over (it) with the flat of her hand, and then she let fall the foot she was holding. Then, his shin fell in the basin, and the bronze vessel clattered as it keeled over to one side; and the water spilt on the floor. Then joy and grief seized her soul at the same time, and so her eyes were filled with tears and and her sturdy voice stuck (in her throat). Then, she touched Odysseus on the chin and said: "For sure you are Odysseus, my dear child; and I did not know you before, until I touched my master all over."

So she (i.e. Eurycleia) spoke, and turned her eyes towards Penelope, wishing to tell (her) that her husband was at home. But she (i.e. Penelope) could not meet her gaze nor pay her any attention, for Athene had turned her thoughts aside; but Odysseus, feeling for her (i.e. Eurycleia's) throat, gripped (it) with his right hand, and drew her closer (to him) with the other, and whispered: "Good mother, why do you wish to destroy me? You, yourself, did nurse me at that breast of yours; and now, after suffering many grievous woes, I have come home after twenty years to my native-land. But, since you have discovered (this), and a god has put (it) in your heart, keep silent, so that no one else in the house shall become aware of (it). For otherwise I will tell (you), and, verily, it shall be brought to pass: if some god shall shall subdue these fine suitors under me, I will not spare you, my nurse though you are, when I shall slay the other serving-women in my halls."  

Then, the wise Eurycleia addressed him again: "My child, what a statement has escaped the barrier of your teeth! You know how strong and unyielding my spirit (is), and I shall be held in check as though I were (a piece of) solid stone or iron. And another (thing) I will tell you, and do you lay (it) in your heart: if a god shall subdue the lordly wooers under you, then (shall I go through) the women in your halls and pick out (those) who are dishonouring you and (those) who are guiltless." 

Ll. 499-543. Penelope's dream.

The quick-witted Odysseus replied to her in answer: "Why do you mention them? There is no need at all for you (to do so). Now I myself will consider the position carefully and look at each one (of them); but you must keep silent about this plan, and entrust (matters) to the gods." 

So then he spoke; and the old lady went right through the hall to fetch water to wash his feet; for earlier it had all been spilt. Now, when she had washed (them) and anointed (them) richly with olive-oil, Odysseus drew his stool closer to the fire once more, so as to keep warm, and he covered the scar with his rags. Then, wise Penelope began speaking to them: "Friend, I myself still have to ask you this: for it will soon be time for sweet rest, at least for anyone to whom sweet sleep may come, despite their being distressed. But, in my case, a god has given me an immense grief; for by day I have my fill of weeping (and) sighing, as I go about my tasks, and keep myself busy in the house; but, when night comes and brings sleep to everyone (else), I lie on my bed and sharp sufferings throng around my throbbing heart (and) disturb me as I lament. As when the daughter of Pandareus (i.e. King of Crete), the olive-green nightingale (i.e. Aedon), sings sweetly, when spring is newly come, as she sits amid the thick foliage of the trees, and with frequent twists and turns she pours forth her many-toned voice, as she laments her child Itylus, the son of king Zethus (i.e. King of Thebes), whom through her folly she had one day slain with a sword, even so my heart is torn in two directions, this way and that, whether I should abide with my son and firmly guard everything, my possessions, my slaves, and my great high-roofed house, out of respect for my husband's bed and for public opinion, or whether I should now go away with one of the suitors (here) in the palace, (the one) who is the best of the Achaeans in giving out countless wedding gifts. When my son was still a child and dependent, it was not permissible for me to leave my husband's house and get married (again); but now that he is grown up and has reached the prime of youth, now indeed he prays for me to go away from the house, concerned (as he is) for his property, which the Achaeans are squandering. But come (now), hear this dream of mine and interpret (it for me). I (keep) twenty geese (here) in my house, (that came forth) from the water to eat wheat, and I delight in looking at them; but there came forth from the mountain a great eagle with a crooked beak, and it broke their necks and killed them all; and they lay strewn in a heap in the hall, and he was borne aloft into the bright sky. Now, I wept and wailed, even though (it was) in a dream, and Achaean (women) with beautiful tresses gathered around me, as I grieved piteously that an eagle had killed my geese. 

Ll. 544-575. Penelope proposes a challenge for the suitors.

"Back then he (i.e. the eagle) came, and perched on a projecting roof-beam, and checked (my tears) by speaking in a human voice: 'Be of good cheer, daughter of far-famed Icarius; (this is) no dream, but (it is) a reality (and) a good (one), which will surely find fulfilment. The geese (are) the wooers, and I, (who) before was an eagle to you, have now come back as your husband, who will inflict a cruel death on all of the wooers.' So he spoke, and, looking around, I saw the geese in the halls, feeding on wheat beside the trough where they used (to feed)."  

Then, Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, spoke to her in reply: "It is not possible to interpret this dream to give another meaning, since Odysseus himself has surely shown you how he will bring it about; the downfall of all the suitors is plainly to be seen, and not one (of them) will escape death and his fate." 

Now, wise Penelope addressed him again: "Dreams, my friend, are baffling and confusing (things), nor does everything come true at all in the case of men. For there are two gates of fleeting dreams: of these, those that pass through (the gates) of sawn ivory, they are deceivers (of men), and bring forth fruitless words; but those that pass through the gates of polished horn, they shall bring to pass true (things), when any mortal shall see (them). But, in my case, I do not think my uncanny dream came from there; truly, that would have been welcome to me and my son. But I will tell you something else, and do you lay (it) on your heart: the hateful day is (drawing near), that will draw me from the house of Odysseus; for now I shall lay down for a contest the axes which he used to set up in a row in his halls like props (under a new keel), twelve in all, then, standing some distance away, he used to shoot an arrow through (them).    

Ll. 576-604. Prior to the contest, Penelope withdraws to her bedchamber. 

"And now I shall launch this contest between the wooers; whichever one (of them) shall string a bow in his hands most easily, and shoot an arrow through all twelve axes, with him will I go and turn my back on this home (of mine), (a house) most fair and full of life, which I think I shall always remember, even in my dreams."

Then, in reply to her, the resourceful Odysseus said: "O honoured wife of Laertes' son Odysseus, do not now delay this contest in your palace any longer; for, let me tell you, Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, will be here long before those (men), as they fondle the polished bow, should have strung a bow-spring and shot an arrow through the iron (rings)."

Then, wise Penelope addressed him again: "If, my friend, you would only sit here in my hall and give me the pleasure (of your company), sleep should never fall upon my eyelids. But it is not possible that men shall be forever sleepless; for the gods, let me tell you, have given mortals a proper time for everything upon the fruitful earth. But, now indeed, I shall go upstairs and lie down on my bed, which, in my case, is the cause of groans, (as it is) ever soiled by my tears, from the time when Odysseus went away to Evil-Ilium, which I choose not to name. There I shall lie down; as for you, lie down somewhere in the house, either spread bedding on the floor, or let (the servants) set down a couch for you."

So speaking, she went up to her bright upper chamber, not alone but her handmaids went with her as well. And, when she had gone upstairs with her serving women, then she wept for Odysseus, her beloved husband, until bright-eyed Athene cast sweet sleep upon her eyelids.