Tis a shroud for the lord Laertes against his doom-day strong

  And the tide when Death shall seize him, that layeth men along:

  Lest from the Achaean women this blame upon me hap,

  There lieth a man that was wealthy, and he lacketh a linen lap.’

  “So she spake and we gave consent, and our noble hearts did she sway,

  And that web of worth thenceforward she was weaving ever by day,

  And ever by night would undo it when the torches were set beside.

  Three years she beguiled the Achaeans, and the thing by craft did hide;

  But when come was the fourth of the years, and season on season rolled

  Then one of her women who knew it the story to us told,

  And we found her there undoing that worthy web of cloth,

  And so to an end must she bring it perforce and exceeding loth.

  “But for thee, lo we the Wooers this answer to thee show,

  That thou in thy soul may’st know it, and that all the folk may know.

  Send thou thy mother away, and bid her a wedding to gain

  With whomso her father willeth, of whomso her heart may be fain.

  But if the Achaean children she troubleth so long a space,

  Still turning about in her mind the great gifts of Athene’s grace,

  — All the cunning of works most beauteous and crafty redes and fair,

  And gainful wiles so goodly that the like no man may hear,

  Nay not e’en of the fairhaired women of the old days of renown,

  As Tyro and Alcmene, and Mycene of the crown:

  Not one of these in her wisdom as Penelope was wise. —

  Yet this rede of hers hath she compassed in no such happy guise,

  For the Wooers shall eat thy life-store and waste thy treasury,

  While yet this mind she holdeth which the Gods who live on high

  Have set in her breast: for herself she wins glory great and good,

  But for thee but sorrowful longing for thy wasted livelihood;

  For neither to labour our lands nor elsewhere will we depart

  Till she weds that man of Achaeans who is lief and dear to her heart.”

  Then Telemachus the heedful thus answered and gan say;

  “Antinoiis, nought is it in me to thrust from my house away

  The woman that bore me and reared me, while aloof in other lands

  My father is living or dead: ill too to pay from my hands

  Great wealth to Icarius her father, for that willing I send her home:

  All ill from him shall I suffer; from the Gods too evil shall come

  When my mother cries on the Hateful, the Wreakers, as forth from the hall

  She fareth; and blame moreover on me from men should fall.

  No, never this word that ye bid me shall mouth of mine proclaim.

  But if the soul within you of these things thinketh shame,

  Then forth from my house be wending your meat elsewhere to earn,

  Yourselves your own wealth eating from house to house in turn.

  But if sweeter to you it seemeth, and by far the better way,

  To eat up the life of another and no atonement pay,

  Rejoice therein! But for me, on the Deathless Gods will I call

  If for deed the deed’s requital perchance from Zeus may fall,

  And all unavenged hereafter in my house and home shall ye die.”

  So he spake; but Zeus the Farseer sent him two ernes to fly

  Adown from the tops of the mountains that Meeting-stead to find.

  And they twain for awhile came flying along the breath of the wind

  With their wings outstretched together, as side by side they flew.

  But when to the midmost Assembly, the many-voiced, they drew,

  They whirled about thereover, and flapped their mighty wings,

  And looked o’er the heads of all men betokening deadly things;

  For each other, cheek and neck, they rent with their talons, and then

  Rightward they shot through the houses, and the city of those men.

  So at the fowl men marvelled, for they saw the sight as it was;

  And they pondered it all in their minds what things were coming to pass.

  But then spake Halitherses, the old lord, Mastor’s son:

  For of all that generation he outwent every one

  In the lore of fowl, and of telling how things foredoomed shall fall.

  So now of his goodwill he spake, and he said before them all:

  “Hearken, O Ithacan men, to the word I am going to say!

  And chiefly I speak to the Wooers and a word before them lay:

  For their bane is rolling upon them. For not much longer now

  Shall Odysseus be far from his friends; he draws near, and he fashions to grow

  The slaughter and the death-doom of all who are gathered here;

  And to many another who dwelleth in Ithaca shining out clear

  Is death and the evil fashioned. But before we get our bane

  Let us look to it how we may stay them; or themselves let them refrain.

  For so shall it all be better, as men shall speedily see;

  Nor untried am I in foretelling, but well knowing the thing that shall be.

  For I say that unto that man all verily came to pass

  In that very wise I foretold it, when to Troy the faring was;

  When the Argives went, and with them Odysseus of many a rede:

  To wit, that with evil laden and his folk all dead indeed,

  At last unknown of all men within the twentieth year

  He should come to his home and his people: and now the end draws near.”

  But Eurymachus, Polybus’ son, thus answering, spake on high:

  “Old man, get thee back to thine house, to thine own babes prophesy,

  Lest they suffer evil hereafter. Forsooth I tell thee now,

  That I of these things am foretelling in a better wise than thou.

  For many a manner of fowl goeth to and fro forsooth

  Beneath the beams of the sun, nor do all tell fateful truth.

  Far off is Odysseus and dead; and I would thou hadst perished as well;

  Then no words wouldst thou be making of fateful betokening to tell,

  Or be egging Telemachus here, who is ever as wroth as may be,

  Expecting a gift from thine household if perchance he may give it thee.

  But a thing I do thee to wit, and surely shall it be done

  If thou, who knowest so much, and such ancient lore, egg on

  A youngling unto anger with these wheedling words of thee.

  Then first of all unto him more grievous will it be,

  And by means of these moreover no prevailing may he get,

  And on thee a fine shall we lay, old man, that thy soul shall fret

  When thou payest the same unto us; and for thee hard sorrow shall grow.

  But unto Telemachus here, amidst all the road will I show:

  Let him straightway bid his mother to her father’s house to fare

  And there will men dight her a wedding, and the wedding gift outbear,

  Great gifts, such as well-loved daughters have with them on the way.

  Nor deem I ere this be accomplished that we sons of Achaeans will stay

  Our eager grievous wooing; for never a man do we dread,

  Nay, not Telemachus even, though plenteous speech he shed;

  Nor heed we the fateful tokens which thou, old man and hoar,

  Wilt thus be babbling vainly and thereby be hated more.

  But his wealth shall be evilly eaten, and bootless shall be the waste,

  While the woman wears out the wedding that we Achaeans would haste.

  Here too from day unto day will all we abide the end,

  And each strive to win her glory, nor with other women will wend,

  E’en such as were verily meet for each of us Wooers to wed.”

  But Telemachus the heedful thereto made answer and said:

  “Eurymachus, thou, and ye Wooers high-born who are here in the place,

  No more will I speak hereover, nor beseech you more in the case;

  Since now the Gods know it all, and all the Achaeans know.

  But come now, give me a ship, and a score of fellows to row,

  E’en such as may speed my ways from here to there of the land;

  For to Sparta would I get me, and to Pylos of the sand,

  To ask tidings of my father so long away from home,

  If a man of men may tell me, or from Zeus a word may come,

  Who most of all to men-folk bears tidings of renown.

  But if of my father’s life-days and returning I am shown

  Then may I endure this wasting for yet another year.

  But if he is gene from the earth, and of nought but his death I hear,

  Then getting me back to my folk-land, the dear earth where the fathers were bred,

  Shall I heap up his howe, and be giving great gifts of the burial bed,

  As meet as may be; but my mother will I give to a man among men.”

  So he spake and sat him adown; but to them rose Mentor then,

  The friend of the glorious Odysseus, who had given into his hand

  The charge of his house and his homestead when in ships he left the land,

  And all to obey the elder as the steadfast warder of all:

  Well-willing he spake amidst them, and such words from his mouth let fall:

  “Hearken, O Ithacan men, to the word I am going to speak!

  Let no sceptred king henceforward be kindly and blithe and meek,

  Nor practised in seemly knowledge befitting the mind of kings!

  But let him be hard and cruel to do unseemly things!

  Since no man of the people remembereth the goodly Odysseus to-day,

  The man who was king amongst us, and fatherly mild was his sway.

  But for these same wanton Wooers, forsooth I envy them not,

  Nor begrudge the masterful doings that with evil mind they plot

  For whereas the house of Odysseus perforce a prey they make

  And say ‘no more he returneth,’ their very heads they stake.

  But with all this folk am I angry, that in silence sit ye all

  And have no heart on these Wooers with words at least to fall,

  And make them cease from troubling: ye are many and they are few.”

  But Leocritus, son of Evenor, he answered thereunto:

  “O baneful, O wit-straying Mentor, what a word hath come from thee!

  That thou biddest these men to stay us; and forsooth full hard shall it be

  Even for you, the many, from our meat to drive us with war:

  Yea, e’en if the Ithacan came, if Odysseus were come once more,

  All hot of heart to be doing and forth from his house to drive

  The noble Wooers, that feasting about his homestead live,

  Yet scarce should his wife be rejoicing, though she long fqr his coming sore:

  For foul doom would he draw upon him if he battle the few with the more.

  So against due doom hast thou spoken, and thy word is nowise good.

  But now let the people sunder, each one to his livelihood;

  But let Mentor or Halitherses for the youngling speed the way,

  For they were his father’s fellows of old time in the earlier day.

  And yet meseemeth indeed that in Ithaca long will he sit,

  And as for this his way fare, he will never accomplish it”

  So went his voice abroad, and the Meeting was broken withal,

  And the folk therefrom they sundered, and each went to his house and his hall

  And into the house of Odysseus went the Wooers presently.

  But Telemachus, getting him gone apart by th* side of the sea,

  His hands in the grey wave washed, and besought Athene and said:

  “Hearken to me, thou Holy, who yesterday came to our stead

  Bidding me fare in a ship o’er the shadow-haunted main,

  Of my far-off father’s return some tidings to gather and gain,

  Lo, this thy rede and thy bidding the Achaeans hinder and let,

  Yea, these the masterful Wooers on evil counsel set”

  E’en so he spake beseeching; and Athene drew anear

  In the shape of Mentor’s body; and her voice was his to hear

  As the Goddess spake to himward, and set these words on the wing:

  “Telemachus, now shalt thou be no foolish faintheart thing.

  If of thy father’s good-heart in thee hath sprung the seed,

  Such a man for the word well-spoken, and fulfilment of the deed,

  Not in vain shall be thy faring, nor thy going forth be undone.

  But if of Penelope fair and of him thou be no son,

  Then nought is my hope hereover that thou bring about thy desire.

  Though not oft is the son meseemeth e’en such an one as his sire.

  Worser they be for the more part, and a few may be better forsooth.

  But since thou shalt be henceforward no foolish, faintheart youth,

  And the wise redes of Odysseus have not utterly gone from thee,

  So there is hope for thee yet that thou make this matter to be.

  Heed not these Wooers the witless, nor their purpose nor their rede,

  Since nought have they wit and wisdom, nor of righteousness have heed;

  And of death are they wotting nothing, and their black doom drawing anigh,

  That all these men together on one day shall they die.

  But this journey for which thou longest, it shall nowise letted be;

  For I, thy father’s fellow, will be such an one for thee

  As will dight thee a ship full speedy, and myself with thee will fare.

  But get thee aback to the homestead and consort with the Wooers there,

  And furnish forth thy victual; set all things in their vessels then;

  The wine in pitchers befitting, and meal the marrow of men

  In skins that are nothing leaky. But I through the folk will go

  And gather thee fellows well-willing. But for ships there are many enow,

  Both new, and old and wayworn, in Ithaca girt by the flood,

  And I will see unto it if one may be better than good,

  And in haste then will we dight her and sail the sea-plain wide.”

  So spake the daughter of Zeus; nor long did Telemachus bide

  When the voice and the words of counsel of the Goddess he had heard,

  But he went his ways to the homestead and heavy of heart he fared.

  There then in the palace he found them, the masterful Wooers a-playing,

  And there were they singeing the swine, and the goats in the fore-court flaying

  But unto Telemachus laughing came Antinoiis the lord,

  And took him straight by the hand, and named him and spake out the word:

  “Telemachus, high-flown of speech, unbridled of wrath, from thy heart

  Let all thought of the deed of evil and the wicked word depart,

  And be eating and drinking amongst us as it was thy wont to do,

  But all these matters of thine the Achaeans will look thereto,

  E’en the ship and the chosen rowers, that the swiftlier thou may’st fare-

  To the glorious goodly Pylos, some tale of thy father to hear.”

  But Telemachus the heedful thus spake and answered again:

  “Antinoiis, not any longer with this band of masterful men

  May I eat my meat in silence and be merry and at peace.

  Is it not enough, O Wooers, that ye would shear me and fleece

  Of my havings great and goodly, and a speechless babe was I then?

  But now am I grown unto manhood, and I hear the speech of men,

  And I know the tale; and within me my mood is waxen indeed,

  And I will try it upon you the evil doom to speed,

  Whether I fare into Pylos, or here mid the folk may be;

  For not in vain meseemeth shall I wend that road o’er the sea.

  As a merchant I go; for no master am I of rowers or keel,

  For even so would ye have it as more gainful to your weal.”

  He spake: from Antinoiis’ hand his hand he snatched forthright:

  And there as about the homestead the feast the Wooers dight

  They cast the jeers upon him, and spake with mocking words,

  And thus would a man be saying of those young and proud-heart lords:

  “Lo now Telemachus surely is compassing our bane,

  If he from sandy Pylos some help of men may gain,

  Or it may be out of Sparta, so sore he longs for the thing;

  Or belike unto Ephyra would he, that he therefrom may bring

  Some drug that man’s bane winneth from the fatness of the land,

  And into our cup would he cast it, that all we may die at his hand.”

  Then another of those proud younglings would speak and say e’en so:

  “But who knoweth if he betake him on the hollow ship to go

  But he shall die as Odysseus far off from any friend?

  And therewith a toil and a trouble on us the man shall send,

  The dealing out of his treasure, and the giving of his stead

  To his mother, that she mayhave it, and the man who thewoman shall wed.”

  So they spake; but down he wended to his father’s treasury,

  High-ceiled and vast, where in heaps did the gold and the copper lie,

  And the raiment in the coffers, and well-smelling oil good store.

  And there within stood the casks; sweet drinking, pressed from of yore,

  Unblended, glorious, and good was the drink within the same;

  Orderly ranged by the wall they stood till Odysseus came,

  Full many a woe outwearing returning home to his house.

  Thereto were the folding-doors, two-leaved and fitting close,

  And there by day and by night-tide a housewife abode apart,

  All things therein well warding in the wisdom of her heart;

  Euryclea daughter of Ops, Pisenor’s son, was she.

  Her then Telemachus hailed and called to the treasury:

  “Dame, draw me off into pitchers the wine that is sweet in the cup,

  The sweetest of all that thou hast after that which thou hoardest up

  Mindful of him the hapless, if yet from anywhere

  Odysseus, seed of Zeus, from the death and the doom may fare.

  Thereof now fill me twelve, and to each its due lid deal,

 

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