1 Tell me, O Muse, of the man of many devices, who wandered very many ways after he had sacked the sacred citadel of Troy. Many were the men whose cities he saw and whose mind he learned, yes, and many the woes he suffered in his heart upon the sea, 5 seeking to win his own life and the return of his comrades. Yet even so he did not save his comrades, though he desired it greatly, for through their own blind folly they perished—fools, who devoured the cattle of Helios Hyperion; but he took from them the day of their returning. 10 Of these things, goddess, daughter of Zeus, beginning where you will, tell us as well. Now all the rest, as many as had escaped sheer destruction, were at home, safe from both war and sea, but Odysseus alone, filled with longing for his return and for his wife, did the queenly nymph Calypso, that bright goddess, 15 keep back in her hollow caves, yearning that he should be her husband. But when, as the seasons revolved, the year came in which the gods had ordained that he should return home to Ithaca, not even there was he free from toils, even among his own folk. And all the gods pitied him 20 save Poseidon; but he continued to rage unceasingly against godlike Odysseus until at length he reached his own land. But Poseidon had gone among the far-off Ethiopians—the Ethiopians who dwell divided in two, the farthermost of men, some where Hyperion sets and some where he rises, 25 there to receive a hecatomb of bulls and rams, and there he was taking his joy, sitting at the feast; but the other gods were gathered together in the halls of Olympian Zeus. Among them the father of gods and men was first to speak, for in his heart he thought of noble Aegisthus, 30 whom far-famed Orestes, Agamemnon's son, had slain. Thinking on him he spoke among the immortals, and said: “Look now, how ready mortals are to blame the gods. It is from us, they say, that evils come, but they even of themselves, through their own blind folly, have sorrows beyond that which is ordained. 35 Even as now Aegisthus, beyond that which was ordained, took to himself the wedded wife of the son of Atreus, and slew him on his return, though well he knew of sheer destruction, seeing that we spoke to him before, sending Hermes, the keen-sighted Argeiphontes, that he should neither slay the man nor woo his wife; 40 for from Orestes shall come vengeance for the son of Atreus when once he has come to manhood and longs for his own land. So Hermes spoke, but for all his good intent he did not prevail upon the heart of Aegisthus; and now he has paid the full price of all.” Then the goddess, flashing-eyed Athena, answered him: 45 “Father of us all, you son of Cronos, high above all lords, yes, truly that man lies low in a destruction that is his due; so, too, may any other also be destroyed who does such deeds. But my heart is torn for wise Odysseus, hapless man, who far from his friends has long been suffering woes 50 in a sea-girt isle, where is the navel of the sea. It is a wooded isle, and in it dwells a goddess, daughter of Atlas of baneful mind, who knows the depths of every sea, and himself holds the tall pillars which keep earth and heaven apart. 55 His daughter it is that keeps back that wretched, sorrowing man; and always with soft and wheedling words she beguiles him that he may forget Ithaca. But Odysseus, in his longing to see were it but the smoke leaping up from his own land,⁠a yearns to die. Yet your 60 heart does not regard it, Olympian. Did not Odysseus beside the ships of the Argives offer you sacrifice without stint in the broad land of Troy? Why then did you conceive such wrath against him, O Zeus?” Then Zeus, the cloud-gatherer, answered her and said: “My child, what a word has escaped the barrier of your teeth? 65 How should I, then, forget godlike Odysseus, who is beyond all mortals in wisdom, and beyond all has paid sacrifice to the immortal gods, who hold broad heaven? No, it is Poseidon, the earth-enfolder, who is always filled with stubborn wrath because of the Cyclops, whom Odysseus blinded of his eye— 70 even the godlike Polyphemus, whose might is greatest among all the Cyclopes; and the nymph Thoosa bore him, daughter of Phorcys who rules over the unresting sea; for in the hollow caves she lay with Poseidon. From that time forth Poseidon, the earth-shaker, 75 does not indeed slay Odysseus, but makes him a wanderer from his native land. But come, let us who are here all take thought of his return, that he may come home; and Poseidon will let go his anger, for he will in no way be able, against all the immortal gods and in spite of them, to contend alone.” 80 Then the goddess, flashing-eyed Athena, answered him: “Father of us all, you son of Cronos, high above all lords, if indeed this is now well pleasing to the blessed gods, that the wise Odysseus should return to his own home, let us send forth Hermes, the messenger, Argeiphontes, 85 to the isle Ogygia, that with all speed he may declare to the fair-tressed nymph our fixed resolve, even the return of Odysseus of the steadfast heart, that he may come home. But, as for me, I will go to Ithaca, that I may the more arouse his son, and set courage in his heart 90 to call to an assembly the long-haired Achaeans, and speak out his word to all the suitors, who are always slaying his thronging sheep and his sleek cattle of shambling gait. And I will guide him to Sparta and to sandy Pylos, to seek tidings of the return of his dear father, if perhaps he may hear of it, 95 that good report may be his among men.” So she spoke, and bound beneath her feet her beautiful sandals, immortal, golden, which used to bear her both over the waters of the sea and over the boundless land swift as the blasts of the wind. And she took her mighty spear, tipped with sharp bronze, 100 heavy and huge and strong, with which she vanquishes the ranks of men—of warriors, with whom she is angry, she, the daughter of the mighty sire. Then she went darting down from the heights of Olympus, and took her stand in the land of Ithaca at the outer gate of Odysseus, on the threshold of the court. In her hand she held the spear of bronze, 105 and she was in the likeness of a stranger, Mentes, the leader of the Taphians. There she found the proud suitors. They were taking their pleasure at draughts in front of the doors, sitting on the hides of oxen which they themselves had slain; and of the heralds and busy squires, 110 some were mixing wine and water for them in bowls, others again were washing the tables with porous sponges and setting them out, while still others were portioning out meat in abundance. Her the godlike Telemachus was far the first to see, for he was sitting among the suitors, sad at heart, 115 seeing in thought his noble father, should he perhaps come from somewhere and make a scattering of the suitors in the palace, and himself win honor and rule over his own house. As he thought of these things, sitting among the suitors, he beheld Athena, and he went straight to the outer door; for in his heart he counted it a shame 120 that a stranger should stand long at the gates. So, drawing near, he clasped her right hand, and took from her the spear of bronze; and he spoke, and addressed her with winged words: “Hail, stranger; in our house you shall find entertainment and then, when you have tasted food, you shall tell of what you need.” 125 So saying, he led the way, and Pallas Athena followed. And when they were within the lofty house, he bore the spear and set it against a tall pillar in a polished spear-rack, where were set many spears besides, even those of Odysseus of the steadfast heart. 130 Athena herself he led and seated on a chair, spreading a linen cloth beneath—a beautiful chair, richly-wrought, and below was a footstool for the feet. Beside it he placed for himself an inlaid seat, apart from the others, the suitors, lest the stranger, vexed by their din, should loathe the meal, seeing that he was in the company of overweening men; 135 and also that he might ask him about his father that was gone. Then a handmaid brought water for the hands in a fair pitcher of gold, and poured it over a silver basin for them to wash, and beside them drew up a polished table. And the grave housekeeper brought and set before them bread, 140 and with it delicacies in abundance, giving freely of her store. And a carver lifted up and placed before them platters of all kinds of meat, and set by them golden goblets, while a herald constantly walked to and fro pouring them wine. Then in came the proud suitors, and after that 145 sat down in rows on chairs and high seats. Heralds poured water over their hands, and maid-servants heaped by them bread in baskets, and youths filled the bowls brim full of drink; and they put out their hands to the good cheer lying ready before them. 150 Now after the suitors had put from them the desire of food and drink, their hearts turned to other things, to song and to dance; for these things are the crown of a feast. And a herald put the beautiful lyre in the hands of Phemius, who sang under compulsion among the suitors; 155 and he struck the chords in prelude to his sweet lay. But Telemachus spoke to flashing-eyed Athena, holding his head close, that the others might not hear: “Dear stranger, will you be angry with me for the word that I shall say? These men care for things like these, the lyre and song, 160 very easily, seeing that without atonement they devour the livelihood of another, of a man whose white bones, it may be, rot in the rain as they lie upon the mainland, or the wave rolls them in the sea. Were they to see him returned to Ithaca, they would all pray to be swifter of foot, 165 rather than richer in gold and in clothing. But now he has thus perished by an evil doom, nor for us is there any comfort, no, not though any one of men upon the earth should say that he will come; gone is the day of his returning. But come, tell me this, and declare it truly. 170 Who are you among men, and from where? Where is your city and where your parents? On what kind of ship did you come, and how did sailors bring you to Ithaca? Who did they declare themselves to be? For in no way, I think, did you come here on foot. And tell me this also truly, that I may know very well, 175 whether this is your first coming here, or whether you are indeed a friend of my father's house. For many were the men who came to our house as strangers, since he, too, had gone to and fro among men.” Then the goddess, flashing-eyed Athena, answered him: “Therefore in truth I will frankly tell you all. 180 I declare that I am Mentes, the son of wise Anchialus, and I am lord over the oar-loving Taphians. And now I have put in here, as you see, with ship and crew, while sailing over the wine-dark sea to men of strange speech, on my way to Temese for copper; and I bear with me shining iron. 185 My ship lies over there beside the fields away from the city, in the harbor of Rheithron, under woody Neion. Friends of one another we declare ourselves to be, even as our fathers were, friends from of old. Indeed, if you will, go and ask the old warrior Laertes, who, they say, 190 comes no more to the city, but far off in the fields suffers woes attended by an aged woman as his handmaid, who sets before him food and drink, after weariness has laid hold of his limbs, as he creeps along the slope of his vineyard plot. And now I have come, for in truth men said that he, 195 your father, was among his people; but see, the gods are thwarting him of his return. For not yet has noble Odysseus perished on the earth, but still, I think, he lives and is held back on the broad sea in a sea-girt isle, and cruel men keep him, a savage folk, that constrain him, perhaps much against his will. 200 Indeed, I will now prophesy to you, as the immortals put it in my heart, and as I think it shall be brought to pass, though I am in no way a soothsayer, nor one versed in the signs of birds. Not much longer shall he be absent from his dear native land, no, not though bonds of iron hold him. 205 He will contrive a way to return, for he is a man of many devices. But come, tell me this and declare it truly, whether indeed, tall as you are, you are the son of Odysseus himself. Wondrously like his are your head and beautiful eyes; for very often did we consort with one another 210 before he embarked for the land of Troy, where others, too, the bravest of the Argives, went in their hollow ships. But since that day neither have I seen Odysseus, nor he me.” Then wise Telemachus answered her: “Therefore in truth, stranger, I will frankly tell you all. 215 My mother says that I am his child; but I do not know, for never yet did any man of himself know his own parentage. Ah, would that I had been the son of some blessed man, whom old age overtook among his own possessions. But now of him who was the most ill-fated of mortal men 220 they say that I am sprung, since you ask me of this.” Then the goddess, flashing-eyed Athena, answered him: “Surely, then, no nameless lineage have the gods appointed for you in time to come, seeing that Penelope bore you such as you are. But come, tell me this and declare it truly. 225 What feast, what throng is this? What need have you of it? Is it a drinking bout, or a wedding feast? For this plainly is no meal to which each brings his portion, with such outrage and overweening do they seem to me to be feasting in your halls. Angered would a man be at seeing all these shameful acts, any man of sense who should come among them.” 230 Then wise Telemachus answered her: “Stranger, since indeed you ask and question me of this, our house once seemed likely to be rich and honorable, so long as that man was still among his people. But now the gods have willed otherwise in their evil devising, 235 seeing that they have caused him to pass from sight as they have no other man. For I should not so grieve for his death, if he had been slain among his comrades in the land of the Trojans, or had died in the arms of his friends, when he had wound up the skein of war. Then would the whole host of the Achaeans have made him a tomb, 240 and for his son, too, he would have won great glory in days to come. But as it is, the spirits of the storm have swept him away and left no tidings: he is gone out of sight, out of hearing, and for me he has left anguish and weeping; nor do I in any way mourn and wail for him alone, seeing that the gods have brought upon me other grievous troubles. 245 For all the princes who hold sway over the islands—Dulichium and Same and wooded Zacynthus—and those who lord it over rocky Ithaca, all these woo my mother and lay waste my house. And she neither refuses the hateful marriage, 250 nor is she able to make an end; but they with feasting consume my substance: before long they will bring me, too, to ruin.” Then, stirred to anger, Pallas Athena spoke to him: “Alas! You have in truth great need of Odysseus who is gone, that he might put forth his hands upon the shameless suitors. 255 Would that he might come now and take his stand at the outer gate of the house, with helmet and shield and two spears, such a man as he was when I first saw him in our house drinking and making merry, on his way back from Ephyre, from the house of Ilus, son of Mermerus. 260 For there, too, went Odysseus in his swift ship in search of a deadly drug, that he might have something with which to smear his bronze-tipped arrows; yet Ilus did not give it to him, for he stood in awe of the gods that are forever; but my father gave it, for he held him strangely dear. 265 Would, I say, that in such strength Odysseus might come among the suitors; then would they all find swift destruction and bitterness in their wooing. Yet these things truly lie on the knees of the gods, whether he shall return and wreak vengeance in his halls, or whether he shall not; but for yourself, I urge you to take thought 270 how you may thrust out the suitors from the hall. Come now, give ear, and listen to my words. Tomorrow call to an assembly the Achaean lords, and speak out your word to all, and let the gods be your witnesses. As for the suitors, order them to scatter, each to his own; 275 and for your mother, if her heart urges her to marry, let her go back to the hall of her mighty father, and there they will prepare a wedding feast, and make ready the gifts, very many—yes, all that should follow after a well-loved daughter. And to you I will give wise counsel, if you will listen. 280 Man with twenty rowers the best ship you have, and go to seek tidings of your father, who has long been gone, if perhaps any mortal may tell you, or you may hear a voice from Zeus, which most often brings tidings to men. First go to Pylos and question noble Nestor, 285 and from there to Sparta to fair-haired Menelaus; for he was the last to reach home of the brazen-coated Achaeans. If you should hear that your father is alive and coming home, then truly, though you are greatly afflicted, you could endure for a year more. But if you should hear that he is dead and gone, 290 then return to your dear native land and heap up a mound for him, and over it pay funeral rites, very many as is due, and give your mother to a husband. Then when you have done all this and brought it to an end, after that take thought in mind and heart 295 how you may slay the suitors in your halls whether by guile or openly; for it does not befit you to practise childish ways, since you are no longer of such an age. Or have you not heard what fame the noble Orestes won among all mankind when he slew his father's murderer, 300 the guileful Aegisthus, because he slew his glorious father? You too, my friend, for I see that you are handsome and tall, be valiant, that many a one of men yet to be born may praise you. But now I will go down to my swift ship and my comrades, who, I think, are chafing much at waiting for me. 305 For yourself, give heed and have regard to my words.” Then wise Telemachus answered her: “Stranger, in truth you speak these things with kindly thought, as a father to his son, and never will I forget them. But come now, stay a while, eager though you are to be gone, 310 in order that when you have bathed and satisfied your heart to the full, you may go to your ship glad in spirit, and bearing a gift costly and very beautiful, which shall be to you an heirloom from me, such a gift as dear friends give to friends.” Then the goddess, flashing-eyed Athena, answered him: 315 “Do not keep me now any longer, when I am eager to be gone, and whatever gift your heart urges you to give me, give it when I come back, to bear to my home, choosing a truly beautiful one; it shall bring you its worth in return.” So spoke the goddess, flashing-eyed Athena, and departed, 320 flying upward as a bird; and in his heart she put strength and courage, and made him think of his father even more than before. And in his mind he noticed her and marvelled, for he deemed that she was a god; and at once he went among the suitors, a godlike man. 325 For them the famous minstrel was singing, and they sat in silence listening; and he sang of the return of the Achaeans—the woeful return from Troy which Pallas Athena laid upon them. And from her upper chamber the daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, heard his wondrous song, 330 and she went down the high stairway from her chamber, not alone, for two handmaids attended her. Now when the fair lady had come to the suitors, she stood by the door-post of the well-built hall, holding before her face her shining veil; 335 and a faithful handmaid stood on either side of her. Then she burst into tears, and spoke to the divine minstrel: “Phemius, many other things you know to charm mortals, deeds of men and gods which minstrels make famous. Sing them one of these, as you sit here, 340 and let them drink their wine in silence. But cease from this woeful song which always harrows the heart in my breast, for upon me above all women has come a sorrow not to be forgotten. So dear a head do I always remember with longing, even my husband, whose fame is wide through Hellas and mid-Argos.” 345 Then wise Telemachus answered her: “My mother, why do you begrudge the good minstrel to give pleasure in whatever way his heart is moved? It is not minstrels that are to blame, but Zeus, I think, is to blame, who gives to men that live by toil, to each one as he will. 350 With this man no one can be angry if he sings of the evil doom of the Danaans; for men praise that song the most which comes the newest to their ears. For yourself, let your heart and soul endure to listen; for not Odysseus alone lost 355 in Troy the day of his return, but many others likewise perished. No, go to your chamber, and busy yourself with your own tasks, the loom and the distaff, and order your handmaids to ply their tasks; but speech shall be for men, for all, but most of all for me; since mine is the authority in the house.” 360 She then, seized with wonder, went back to her chamber, for she laid to heart the wise saying of her son. Up to her upper chamber she went with her handmaids, and then bewailed Odysseus, her dear husband until flashing-eyed Athena cast sweet sleep upon her eyelids. 365 But the suitors broke into uproar throughout the shadowy halls, and all prayed, each that he might lie by her side. And among them wise Telemachus was the first to speak: “Suitors of my mother, overweening in your insolence, for the present let us make merry with feasting, 370 but let there be no brawling; for this is a fine thing, to listen to a minstrel such as this man is, like the gods in voice. But in the morning let us go to the assembly and take our seats, one and all, that I may declare my word to you outright that you depart from these halls. Prepare other feasts, 375 eating your own substance and changing from house to house. But if this seems in your eyes to be a better and more profitable thing, that one man's livelihood should be ruined without atonement, waste it. But I will call upon the gods that are forever, if perhaps Zeus may grant that deeds of requital may be wrought. 380 Without atonement, then, should you perish within my halls.” So he spoke, and they all bit their lips and marvelled at Telemachus, because he spoke boldly. Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, answered him: “Telemachus, truly the gods themselves are teaching you 385 to be a man of vaunting tongue, and to speak with boldness. May the son of Cronos never make you king in sea-girt Ithaca, which thing is by birth your heritage.” Then wise Telemachus answered him: “Antinous, will you be angry with me for the word that I shall say? 390 Even this should I be glad to accept from the hand of Zeus. Do you think indeed that this is the worst fate among men? No, it is no bad thing to be a king. At once one's house grows rich and oneself is held in greater honor. However, there are other kings of the Achaeans 395 very many in seagirt Ithaca, both young and old. One of these perhaps may have this place, since noble Odysseus is dead. But I will be lord of our own house and of the slaves that noble Odysseus won for me.” Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered him: 400 “Telemachus, this matter truly lies on the knees of the gods, who of the Achaeans shall be king in sea-girt Ithaca; but as for your possessions, you may keep them yourself, and be lord in your own house. Never may that man come who by violence and against your will shall wrest your possessions from you, while men yet live in Ithaca. 405 But I am eager, good sir, to ask you about the stranger, where this man comes from. Of what land does he declare himself to be? Where are his kinsmen and his native fields? Does he bring some tidings of your father's coming, or did he come here in furtherance of some matter of his own? 410 How he started up, and was at once gone! Nor did he wait to be known; and yet he seemed no base man to look upon.” Then wise Telemachus answered him: “Eurymachus, surely my father's home-coming is lost and gone. No longer do I put trust in tidings, from wherever they may come, 415 nor do I heed any prophecy which my mother perhaps may learn from a prophet, when she has called him to the hall. But this stranger is a friend of my father's house from Taphos. He declares that he is Mentes, son of wise Anchialus, and he is lord over the oar-loving Taphians.” 420 So spoke Telemachus, but in his heart he knew the immortal goddess. Now the suitors turned to the dance and to gladsome song, and made merry, and waited till evening should come; and as they made merry dark evening came upon them. Then they went, each man to his house, to take their rest. 425 But Telemachus, where his chamber was built in the beautiful court, high, in a place of wide outlook, there went to his bed, pondering many things in mind; and with him, bearing blazing torches, went true-hearted Eurycleia, daughter of Ops, son of Peisenor. 430 Her long ago Laertes had bought with his wealth, when she was in her first youth, and gave for her the price of twenty oxen; and he honored her even as he honored his faithful wife in his halls, but he never lay with her in love, for he shunned the wrath of his wife. She it was who bore for Telemachus the blazing torches; 435 for she of all the handmaids loved him most, and had nursed him when he was a child. He opened the doors of the well-built chamber, sat down on the bed, and took off his soft tunic and laid it in the wise old woman's hands. And she folded and smoothed the tunic 440 and hung it on a peg beside the corded bedstead, and then went out from the chamber, drawing the door to by its silver handle, and driving the bolt home with the thong. So there, the night through, wrapped in a fleece of wool, he pondered in his mind upon the journey which Athena had shown him.