1 And they came to the hollow land of Lacedaemon with its many ravines, and drove to the palace of glorious Menelaus. Him they found giving a marriage feast to his many kinsfolk for his noble son and daughter within his house. 5 His daughter he was sending to the son of Achilles, breaker of the ranks of men, for in the land of Troy he first had promised and pledged that he would give her, and now the gods were bringing their marriage to pass. Her then he was sending forth with horses and chariots to go her way to the glorious city of the Myrmidons, over whom her lord was king; 10 but for his son he was bringing to his home from Sparta the daughter of Alector, for the stalwart Megapenthes, who was his well-beloved son, born of a slave woman; for to Helen the gods granted no more children after she had at the first borne her lovely child, Hermione, who had the beauty of golden Aphrodite. 15 So they were feasting in the great high-roofed hall, the neighbors and kinsfolk of glorious Menelaus, and making merry; and among them a divine minstrel was singing to the lyre, and two tumblers whirled up and down through the midst of them, as he began his song. 20 Then the two, the prince Telemachus and the glorious son of Nestor, halted at the gateway of the palace, they and their two horses. And the lord Eteoneus came forth and saw them, the busy squire of glorious Menelaus; and he went through the hall to bear the tidings to the shepherd of the people. 25 So he came near and spoke to him winged words: “Here are two strangers, Menelaus, fostered of Zeus, two men that are like the seed of great Zeus. But tell me, shall we unyoke for them their swift horses, or send them on their way to some other host, who will give them entertainment?” 30 Then, stirred to deep displeasure, fair-haired Menelaus spoke to him: “Before now you were not accustomed to be a fool, Eteoneus, son of Boethous, but now like a child you talk folly. Surely we two ate very often the hospitable cheer of other men, before we came here in the hope that Zeus 35 would hereafter grant us respite from sorrow. No, unyoke the strangers' horses, and lead the men forward into the house, that they may feast.” So he spoke, and the other hastened through the hall, and called to the other busy squires to follow along with him. They loosed the sweating horses from beneath the yoke 40 and tied them at the stalls of the horses, and flung before them spelt, and mixed with it white barley. Then they tilted the chariot against the bright entrance walls, and led the men into the divine palace. But at the sight they marvelled as they passed through the palace of the king, fostered of Zeus; 45 for there was a gleam as of sun or moon over the high-roofed house of glorious Menelaus. But when they had satisfied their eyes with gazing they went into the polished baths and bathed. And when the maids had bathed them and anointed them with oil, 50 and had cast about them fleecy cloaks and tunics, they sat down on chairs beside Menelaus, son of Atreus. 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. 55 And the grave housekeeper brought and set before them bread, 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 meats, and set by them golden goblets. Then fair-haired Menelaus greeted the two and said: 60 “Take of the food, and be glad, and then when you have eaten, we will ask you who among men you are; for in you two the breed of your fathers is not lost, but you are of the breed of men that are sceptred kings, fostered of Zeus; for lowborn men could not father such sons as you.” 65 So saying he took in his hands roast meat and set it before them, the fat ox-chine which they had set before him as a portion of honor. So they put forth their hands to the good food lying ready before them. But when they had put from them the desire of food and drink, then Telemachus spoke to the son of Nestor, 70 holding his head close to him, that the others might not hear: “Son of Nestor, dear to this heart of mine, see the flashing of bronze throughout the echoing halls, and the flashing of gold, of electrum, of silver, and of ivory. Of such sort, I think, is the court of Olympian Zeus within, 75 such untold wealth is here; amazement holds me as I look.” Now as he spoke fair-haired Menelaus heard him, and he spoke and addressed them with winged words: “Dear children, with Zeus truly no mortal man could vie, for everlasting are his halls and his possessions; 80 but of men another might vie with me in wealth or perhaps might not. For in truth after many woes and wide wanderings I brought my wealth home in my ships and came in the eighth year. Over Cyprus and Phoenicia I wandered, and Egypt, and I came to the Ethiopians and the Sidonians and the Erembi, 85 and to Libya, where the lambs are horned from their birth. For there the ewes bear their young three times within the full course of the year; there neither master nor shepherd has any lack of cheese or of meat or of sweet milk, but the flocks always yield milk to the milking the year through. 90 While I wandered in those lands gathering much livelihood, meanwhile another slew my brother by stealth and unawares, by the guile of his accursed wife. Thus, you may see, I have no joy in being lord of this wealth; and you may well have heard of this from your fathers, whoever they 95 may be, for very much did I suffer, and let fall into ruin a stately house, one stored with much fine treasure. I wish that I lived in my halls with only a third part of this wealth, and that those men were safe who then perished in the broad land of Troy far from horse-pasturing Argos. 100 And yet, though I often sit in my halls weeping and sorrowing for them all—one moment indeed I ease my heart with weeping, and then again I stop, for men soon have their fill of chill lament—yet for them all I do not mourn so much, despite my grief, 105 as for one only, who makes me loathe both sleep and food, when I think of him; for no one of the Achaeans toiled so much as Odysseus toiled and endured. But to himself, as it seems, his portion was to be only woe, and for me there is sorrow never to be forgotten for him, in that he is gone so long, nor do we know anything 110 of whether he is alive or dead. Mourned he is, I think, by the old man Laertes, and by constant Penelope, and by Telemachus, whom he left a new-born child in his house.” So he spoke, and in Telemachus he roused the desire to weep for his father. Tears from his eyelids he let fall upon the ground, when he heard his father's name, 115 and with both hands held up his purple cloak before his eyes. And Menelaus noticed him, and debated in mind and heart whether he should leave him to speak of his father himself, or whether he should first question him and test him in each thing. 120 While he pondered this in mind and heart, forth then from her fragrant high-roofed chamber came Helen, like Artemis of the golden arrows; and with her came Adraste, and placed for her a chair, beautifully wrought, and Alcippe brought a rug of soft wool 125 and Phylo a silver basket, which Alcandre had given her, the wife of Polybus, who lived in Thebes of Egypt, where the greatest store of wealth is laid up in men's houses. He gave to Menelaus two silver baths and two tripods and ten talents of gold. 130 And besides these, his wife gave to Helen also beautiful gifts,—a golden distaff and a basket with wheels beneath did she give, a basket of silver, and with gold were its rims gilded. This then the handmaid, Phylo, brought and placed beside her, filled with finely-spun yarn, and across it 135 was laid the distaff laden with violet-dark wool. So Helen sat down upon the chair, and below was a footstool for the feet; and at once she questioned her husband on each matter, and said: “Do we know, Menelaus, fostered of Zeus, who these men declare themselves to be who have come to our house? 140 Shall I disguise my thought, or speak the truth? No, my heart bids me speak. For never yet, I declare, have I seen one so like another, whether man or woman—amazement holds me, as I look—as this man is like the son of great-hearted Odysseus, Telemachus, whom that warrior left a new-born child in his house, when for the sake of shameless me you Achaeans came up under the walls of Troy, pondering in your hearts fierce war.” Then fair-haired Menelaus answered her: “I myself now notice it as well, wife, as you notice the likeness. Such were his feet, such his hands, 150 and the glances of his eyes, and his head and hair above. And indeed just now, as I made mention of Odysseus and was telling of all the woe and toil he endured for my sake, this youth let fall a bitter tear from beneath his brows, holding up his purple cloak before his eyes.” 155 Then Peisistratus, son of Nestor, answered him: “Menelaus, son of Atreus, fostered of Zeus, leader of hosts, his son indeed this youth is, as you say. But he is of prudent mind and feels shame at heart thus on his first coming to make a show of forward words 160 in your presence, in whose voice we both take delight as in a god's. But the horseman, Nestor of Gerenia, sent me forth to go with him as his guide, for he was eager to see you, that you might put in his heart some word or some deed. For many sorrows has a son 165 in his halls when his father is gone, when there are no others to be his helpers, just as it is now with Telemachus; his father is gone, and there are no others among the people who might ward off ruin.” Then fair-haired Menelaus answered him and said: “See now, truly there has come to my house the son of a well-beloved man, 170 who for my sake endured many toils. And I thought that if he came back I would welcome him beyond all the other Argives, if Olympian Zeus, whose voice is borne afar, had granted to us two a return in our swift ships over the sea. And in Argos I would have given him a city to live in, and would have built him a house, 175 when I had brought him from Ithaca with his goods and his son and all his people, driving out the dwellers of some one city among those that lie round about and obey me myself as their lord. Then, living here, we would often have met together, nor would anything have parted us, loving and rejoicing in one another, 180 until the black cloud of death enfolded us. But of this, I think, the god himself must have been jealous, who to that unlucky man alone granted no return.” So he spoke, and in them all aroused the desire of lament. Argive Helen wept, the daughter of Zeus, 185 Telemachus wept, and Menelaus, son of Atreus, nor could the son of Nestor keep his eyes tearless. For he thought in his heart of peerless Antilochus, whom the glorious son of the bright Dawn had slain. Thinking of him, he spoke winged words: 190 “Son of Atreus, old Nestor used always to say that you were wise above all men, whenever we made mention of you in his halls and questioned one another. And now, if it may in any way be, listen to me, for I take no joy in weeping at supper time,—and moreover 195 early dawn will soon be here. I count it indeed no blame to weep for any mortal who has died and met his fate. Yes, this is the only due we pay to miserable mortals, to cut the hair and let a tear fall from the cheeks. For a brother of mine, too, is dead, by no means the meanest 200 of the Argives, and you may well have known him. As for me, I never met him nor saw him; but men say that Antilochus was above all others pre-eminent in speed of foot and as a warrior.” Then fair-haired Menelaus answered him and said: “My friend, truly you have said all that a wise man 205 might say or do, even one that was older than you; for from such a father are you sprung, and so you also speak wisely. Easily known is the seed of that man for whom the son of Cronos spins the thread of good fortune at marriage and at birth, just as now he has granted to Nestor throughout all his days continually that 210 he should himself reach a sleek old age in his halls, and that his sons in their turn should be wise and most valiant with the spear. But we will cease the weeping which just now was made, and let us once more think of our supper, and let them pour water over our hands. Tales there will be in the morning also 215 for Telemachus and me to tell to one another to the full.” So he spoke, and Asphalion poured water over their hands, the busy squire of glorious Menelaus. And they put forth their hands to the good food lying ready before them. Then Helen, daughter of Zeus, took other counsel. 220 At once she cast into the wine of which they were drinking a drug to quiet all pain and strife, and bring forgetfulness of every ill. Whoever should drink this down, when it is mingled in the bowl, would not in the course of that day let a tear fall down over his cheeks, 225 no, not though his mother and father should lie there dead, or though before his face men should slay with the sword his brother or dear son, and his own eyes beheld it. Such cunning drugs had the daughter of Zeus, drugs of healing, which Polydamna, the wife of Thon, had given her, a woman of Egypt, for there the earth, the giver of grain, bears the greatest store 230 of drugs, many that are healing when mixed, and many that are baneful; there every man is a physician, wise above humankind; for they are of the race of Paeeon. Now when she had cast in the drug, and had ordered the wine poured out, again she made answer, and said: 235 “Menelaus, son of Atreus, fostered of Zeus, and you that are here, sons of noble men—though now to one and now to another Zeus gives good and ill, for he can do all things,—now truly sit in the halls and feast, and take joy in telling tales, for I will tell what fits the time. 240 All things I cannot tell or recount, all the labours of Odysseus of the steadfast heart; but what a thing was this which that mighty man wrought and endured in the land of the Trojans, where you Achaeans suffered woes! Marring his own body with cruel blows, 245 and flinging a wretched garment about his shoulders, in the fashion of a slave he entered the broad-wayed city of the foe, and he hid himself under the likeness of another, a beggar, he who was in no way such a one at the ships of the Achaeans. In this likeness he entered the city of the Trojans, and all of them were as babes. 250 I alone recognized him in this disguise, and questioned him, but he in his cunning sought to avoid me. But when I was bathing him and anointing him with oil, and had put clothing on him, and sworn a mighty oath not to make him known among the Trojans as Odysseus 255 before he reached the swift ships and the huts, then at length he told me all the purpose of the Achaeans. And when he had slain many of the Trojans with the long sword, he returned to the company of the Argives and brought back plentiful tidings. Then the other Trojan women wailed aloud, but my soul 260 was glad, for already my heart was turned to go back to my home, and I groaned for the blindness that Aphrodite gave me,⁠a when she led me there from my dear native land, forsaking my child and my bridal chamber, and my husband, a man who lacked nothing, whether in wisdom or in beauty.” 265 Then fair-haired Menelaus answered her and said: “Yes indeed, all this, wife, you have spoken rightly. Before now I have come to know the counsel and the mind of many warriors, and have travelled over the wide earth, but never yet have my eyes beheld such a one 270 as was Odysseus of the steadfast heart. What a thing was this, too, which that mighty man wrought and endured in the carven horse, in which all we chiefs of the Argives were sitting, bearing to the Trojans death and fate! Then you came there, and it must be that you were bidden 275 by some god, who wished to grant glory to the Trojans, and godlike Deiphobus followed you on your way. Three times you went around the hollow ambush, trying it with your touch, and you named aloud the chieftains of the Danaans by their names, likening your voice to the voices of the wives of all the Argives. 280 Now I and the son of Tydeus and noble Odysseus sat there in the midst and heard how you called, and we two were eager to rise up and come forth, or else to answer at once from within, but Odysseus held us back and restrained us, despite our eagerness. 285 Then all the other sons of the Achaeans held their peace, but Anticlus alone was eager to speak and answer you; but Odysseus firmly closed his mouth with strong hands, and saved all the Achaeans, and held him so until Pallas Athena led you away.” 290 Then wise Telemachus answered him: “Menelaus, son of Atreus, fostered of Zeus, leader of hosts, all the more grievous is it; for in no way did this ward off from him woeful destruction, no, not even if the heart within him had been of iron. But come, send us to bed, that lulled now 295 by sweet sleep we may rest and take our joy.” Thus he spoke, and Argive Helen told her handmaids to place bedsteads beneath the portico, and to lay on them fair purple blankets, and to spread coverlets over them, and on these to put fleecy cloaks for clothing. 300 But the maids went forth from the hall with torches in their hands and spread the couch, and a herald led forth the guests. So they slept there in the fore-hall of the palace, the prince Telemachus and the glorious son of Nestor; but the son of Atreus slept in the inmost chamber of the lofty house, 305 and beside him lay long-robed Helen, peerless among women. As soon as early Dawn appeared, the rosy-fingered, up from his bed arose Menelaus, good at the war-cry, and put on his clothing. About his shoulders he slung his sharp sword, and beneath his shining feet bound his fair sandals, 310 and went forth from his chamber like a god to look upon. Then he sat down beside Telemachus, and spoke, and addressed him: “What need has brought you here, prince Telemachus, to fair Lacedaemon over the broad back of the sea? Is it a public matter, or your own? Tell me the truth of this.” 315 Then wise Telemachus answered him: “Menelaus, son of Atreus, fostered of Zeus, leader of hosts, I came in case you might tell me some tidings of my father. My home is being devoured and my rich lands are ruined; with men that are foes my house is filled, who are always 320 slaying my thronging sheep and my sleek cattle of shambling gait, the suitors of my mother, overbearing in their insolence. Therefore I have now come to your knees, in case you will be willing to tell me of his woeful death, whether you perhaps saw it with your own eyes, or heard from some other the story 325 of his wanderings; for beyond all men did his mother bear him to sorrow. And do not out of compassion or pity for me speak soothing words, but tell me truly how you came to behold him. I beseech you, if ever my father, noble Odysseus, promised anything to you of word or deed and fulfilled it 330 in the land of the Trojans, where you Achaeans suffered woes, be mindful of it now, I pray you, and tell me the truth.” Then, stirred to deep displeasure, fair-haired Menelaus spoke to him: “Shame on them, for truly in the bed of a man of valiant heart they wished to lie, who are themselves cowards. 335 Just as when in the thicket-lair of a mighty lion a hind has laid to sleep her new-born suckling fawns, and roams over the mountain slopes and grassy vales seeking pasture, and then the lion comes to his lair and upon the two lets loose a cruel doom, 340 so will Odysseus let loose a cruel doom upon these men. I wish, O father Zeus and Athena and Apollo, that in such strength as when once in fair-stablished Lesbos he rose up and wrestled a match with Philomeleides and threw him mightily, and all the Achaeans rejoiced, 345 in just such strength Odysseus might come among the suitors; then would they all find swift destruction and bitterness in their wooing. But in this matter of which you ask and beseech me, truly I will not swerve aside to speak of other things, nor will I deceive you; but of all that the unerring old man of the sea told me 350 not one thing will I hide from you or conceal. “In Egypt, eager though I was to journey here, the gods still held me back, because I did not offer them hecatombs that bring fulfillment, and the gods always wished that men should be mindful of their commands. Now there is an island in the surging sea 355 in front of Egypt, and men call it Pharos, distant as far as a hollow ship runs in a whole day when the shrill wind blows fair behind her. In it is a harbor with good anchorage, from where men launch the shapely ships into the sea, when they have drawn supplies of black water. 360 There for twenty days the gods kept me, nor ever did the winds that blow over the deep spring up, which speed men's ships over the broad back of the sea. And now all my stores would have been spent and the strength of my men, had not one of the gods taken pity on me and saved me, Eidothea, 365 daughter of mighty Proteus, the old man of the sea; for her heart above all others had I moved. She met me as I wandered alone apart from my comrades, who were always roaming about the island, fishing with bent hooks, for hunger pinched their bellies; 370 and she came close to me, and spoke, and said: “‘Are you so very foolish, stranger, and slack of wit, or are you remiss of your own will, and take pleasure in suffering woes? So long you are pent in the isle and can find no sign of deliverance and the heart of your comrades grows faint.’ 375 “So she spoke, and I made answer and said: ‘I will speak out and tell you, whoever among goddesses you are, that in no way am I pent here of my own will, but it must be that I have sinned against the immortals, who hold broad heaven. But tell me—for the gods know all things— 380 who of the immortals fetters me here, and has hindered me from my path, and tell me of my return, how I may go over the teeming deep.’ “So I spoke, and the beautiful goddess at once made answer: ‘Then truly, stranger, I will frankly tell you all. There often comes here the unerring old man of the sea, 385 immortal Proteus of Egypt, who knows the depths of every sea, and is the servant of Poseidon. He, they say, is my father that fathered me. If you could in any way lie in wait and catch him, he will tell you your way and the measure of your path, 390 and of your return, how you may go over the teeming deep. Yes, and he will tell you, you fostered of Zeus, if you so wish, what evil and what good has been wrought in your halls, while you have been gone on your long and grievous way.’ “So she spoke, and I made answer and said: 395 ‘Now devise a means yourself of lying in wait for the divine old man, lest perhaps he see me beforehand and, aware of my purpose, avoid me. For hard is a god for a mortal man to master.’ “So I spoke, and the beautiful goddess at once made answer: ‘Then truly, stranger, I will frankly tell you all. 400 When the sun has reached mid-heaven, the unerring old man of the sea is accustomed to come forth from the brine at the breath of the West Wind, hidden by the dark ripple. And when he has come forth, he lies down to sleep in the hollow caves; and around him the seals, the brood of the fair daughter of the sea, 405 sleep in a herd, coming forth from the gray water, and bitter is the smell they breathe of the depths of the sea. There I will lead you at break of day and lay you all in a row; for you must choose carefully three of your companions, who are the best you have in your well-benched ships. 410 And I will tell you all the wizard wiles of that old man. First he will count the seals, and go over them; but when he has counted them all off by fives, and beheld them, he will lay himself down in their midst, as a shepherd among his flocks of sheep. Now as soon as you see him laid to rest, 415 from then on let your hearts be filled with strength and courage, and hold him there despite his striving and struggling to escape. For try he will, and will assume all kinds of shapes of all things that move upon the earth, and of water, and of wondrous blazing fire. Yet hold him unflinchingly and grip him all the more. 420 But when at length of his own will he speaks and questions you in that shape in which you saw him laid to rest, then, hero, stay your might, and set the old man free, and ask him who of the gods is angry with you, and of your return, how you may go over the teeming deep.’ 425 “So saying she plunged beneath the surging sea, but I went to my ships, where they stood on the sand, and many things did my heart darkly ponder as I went. But when I had come down to the ship and to the sea, and we had made ready our supper, and immortal night had come on, 430 then we lay down to rest on the shore of the sea. And as soon as early Dawn appeared, the rosy-fingered, I went along the shore of the broad-wayed sea, praying earnestly to the gods; and I took with me three of my comrades, in whom I trusted most for every adventure. 435 “She meanwhile had plunged beneath the broad bosom of the sea, and had brought forth from the deep the skins of four seals, and all were newly flayed; and she devised a plot against her father. She had scooped out lairs in the sand of the sea, and sat waiting; and we came very near to her, 440 and she made us lie down in a row, and cast a skin over each. Then our ambush would have proved most terrible, for terribly did the deadly stench of the brine-bred seals distress us—who would lay himself down by a beast of the sea?—but she of herself delivered us, and devised a great boon; 445 she brought and placed ambrosia of a very sweet fragrance beneath each man's nose, and destroyed the stench of the beast. So all the morning we waited with steadfast heart, and the seals came forth from the sea in throngs. These then lay down in rows along the shore of the sea, 450 and at noon the old man came forth from the sea and found the fatted seals; and he went over all, and counted their number. Among the creatures he counted us first, nor did his heart guess that there was guile; and then he too lay down. At this we rushed upon him with a shout, and 455 threw our arms about him, nor did that old man forget his crafty wiles. No, at the first he turned into a bearded lion, and then into a serpent, and a leopard, and a huge boar; then he turned into flowing water, and into a tree, high and leafy; but we held on unflinchingly with steadfast heart. 460 But when at last that old man, skilled in wizard arts, grew weary, then he questioned me, and spoke, and said: “‘Who of the gods, son of Atreus, took counsel with you that you might lie in wait for me, and take me against my will? What do you need?’ “So he spoke, and I made answer, and said: 465 ‘You know, old man—why do you seek to put me off with this question?—how long a time I am pent in this isle, and can find no sign of deliverance, and my heart grows faint within me. But tell me—for the gods know all things—who of the immortals fetters me here, and has hindered me from my path, and tell me 470 of my return, how I may go over the teeming deep.’ “So I spoke, and he at once made answer, and said: ‘No, surely you ought to have made fair offerings to Zeus and the other gods before embarking, that with greatest speed you might have come to your country, sailing over the wine-dark sea. 475 For it is not your fate to see your friends, and reach your well-built house and your native land, before you have once more gone to the waters of Aegyptus, the heaven-fed river, and have offered holy hecatombs to the immortal gods who hold broad heaven. 480 Then at length shall the gods grant you the journey you desire.’ “So he spoke, and my spirit was broken within me, because he ordered me to go again over the misty deep to Aegyptus, a long and weary way. Yet even so I made answer, and said: 485 “‘All this I will perform, old man, just as you bid. But come now, tell me this, and declare it truly. Did all the Achaeans return unscathed in their ships, all those whom Nestor and I left, as we set out from Troy? Or did any perish by a cruel death on board his ship, 490 or in the arms of his friends, when he had wound up the skein of war?’ “So I spoke, and he at once made answer, and said: ‘Son of Atreus, why do you question me about this? In no way is it fitting for you to know, or to learn my mind; nor, I think, will you long be free from tears, when you have heard all rightly. 495 For many of them were slain, and many were left; but two chieftains alone of the brazen-coated Achaeans perished on their homeward way (as for the fighting, you yourself were there), and one, I think, still lives, and is held back on the broad deep. “‘Aias truly was lost amid his long-oared ships. 500 Upon the great rocks of Gyrae Poseidon at first drove him, but saved him from the sea; and he would have escaped his doom, hated by Athena though he was, had he not uttered a boastful word in great blindness of heart. He declared that it was in spite of the gods that he had escaped the great gulf of the sea; 505 and Poseidon heard his boastful speech, and at once took his trident in his mighty hands, and struck the rock of Gyrae and split it apart. And one part stayed in its place, but the sundered part fell into the sea, the part on which Aias sat at the first when his heart was greatly blinded, 510 and it bore him down into the boundless surging deep. So there he perished, when he had drunk the salt water. “‘But your brother escaped, indeed, the fates and shunned them with his hollow ships, for queenly Hera saved him. But when he was now about 515 to reach the steep height of Malea, then the storm-wind caught him up and bore him over the teeming deep, groaning heavily, to the border of the land, where in former days Thyestes lived, but where now lived Thyestes' son Aegisthus. But when from there too a safe return was shown him, 520 and the gods changed the course of the wind so that it blew fair, and they reached home, then truly with rejoicing did Agamemnon set foot on his native land, and he clasped his land and kissed it, and many were the hot tears that streamed from his eyes, for welcome to him was the sight of his land. Now from his place of watch a watchman saw him, whom 525 guileful Aegisthus took and set there, promising him as a reward two talents of gold; and he had been keeping guard for a year, lest Agamemnon should pass by him unseen, and be mindful of his furious might. So he went to the palace to bear the tidings to the shepherd of the people, and Aegisthus at once planned a treacherous device. 530 He chose out twenty men, the best in the land, and set them to lie in wait, but on the further side of the hall he ordered a feast prepared. Then he went with chariot and horses to summon Agamemnon, shepherd of the people, his mind pondering a dastardly deed. So he brought him up all unaware of his doom, 535 and when he had feasted him he slew him, as one slays an ox at the stall. And not one of the comrades of the son of Atreus was left, of all that followed him, nor one of the men of Aegisthus, but they were all slain in the halls.’ “So he spoke, and my spirit was broken within me, and I wept, as I sat on the sands, nor had my heart 540 any longer desire to live and to behold the light of the sun. But when I had had my fill of weeping and writhing, then the unerring old man of the sea said to me: “‘No more, son of Atreus, weep for a long time like this without ceasing, for in it we shall find no help. No, rather, with all the speed you can, 545 strive that you may come to your native land, for either you will find Aegisthus alive, or perhaps Orestes may have forestalled you and slain him, and you may chance upon his funeral feast.’ “So he spoke, and my heart and spirit were again warmed with comfort in my breast despite my grief, 550 and I spoke, and addressed him with winged words: “‘Of these men now I know, but name the third, who he is that still lives, and is held back upon the broad sea, or is perhaps dead. Gladly would I hear, despite my grief.’ “So I spoke, and he at once made answer, and said: 555 ‘It is the son of Laertes, whose home is in Ithaca. Him I saw in an island, shedding big tears, in the halls of the nymph Calypso, who keeps him there by force, and he cannot come to his native land, for he has at hand no ships with oars and no comrades 560 to send him on his way over the broad back of the sea. But for yourself, Menelaus, fostered of Zeus, it is not ordained that you should die and meet your fate in horse-pasturing Argos, but to the Elysian plain and the bounds of the earth will the immortals convey you, where fair-haired Rhadamanthus lives, 565 and where life is easiest for men. No snow is there, nor heavy storm, nor ever rain, but always Ocean sends up blasts of the shrill-blowing West Wind that they may give cooling to men; for you have Helen as your wife, and are in their eyes the husband of the daughter of Zeus.’ 570 “So saying he plunged beneath the surging sea, but I went to my ships with my god like comrades, and many things did my heart darkly ponder as I went. But when I had come down to the ship and to the sea, and we had made ready our supper, and immortal night had come on, 575 then we lay down to rest on the shore of the sea. And as soon as early Dawn appeared, the rosy-fingered, our ships first of all we drew down to the bright sea, and set the masts and the sails in the shapely ships, and the men, too, went on board and sat down upon the benches, 580 and sitting well in order struck the grey sea with their oars. So back again to the waters of Aegyptus, the heaven-fed river, I sailed, and there moored my ships and offered hecatombs that bring fulfillment. But when I had stayed the wrath of the gods that are forever, I heaped up a mound to Agamemnon, that his fame might be unquenchable. 585 Then, when I had made an end of this, I set out for home, and the immortals gave me a fair wind, and brought me swiftly to my dear native land. But come now, stay in my halls until the eleventh or the twelfth day has come. Then I will send you forth with honor and give you splendid gifts, 590 three horses and a well-polished chariot; and besides I will give you a beautiful cup, that you may pour libations to the immortal gods, and remember me all your days.” Then wise Telemachus answered him: “Son of Atreus, do not keep me here long, 595 for truly for a year I would be content to sit in your house, nor would desire for home or parents come upon me; for wondrous is the pleasure I take in listening to your tales and your speech. But even now my comrades are chafing in sacred Pylos, and you are keeping me here a long time. 600 And whatever gift you would give me, let it be some treasure; but horses I will not take to Ithaca, but will leave them here for yourself to delight in, for you are lord of a wide plain, in which is lotus in abundance, and galingale and wheat and spelt, and broad-eared white barley. 605 But in Ithaca there are no widespread courses nor any meadow-land. It is a pasture-land of goats and pleasanter than one that pastures horses. For not one of the islands that lean upon the sea is fit for driving horses, or rich in meadows, and Ithaca least of all.” So he spoke, and Menelaus, good at the war-cry, smiled, 610 and stroked him with his hand, and spoke, and addressed him: “You are of noble blood, dear child, that you speak this way. Therefore I will change these gifts, for well I may. Of all the gifts that lie stored as treasures in my house, I will give you that one which is fairest and costliest. 615 I will give you a well-wrought mixing bowl. All of silver it is, and with gold are its rims gilded, the work of Hephaestus; and the warrior Phaedimus, king of the Sidonians, gave it to me, when his house sheltered me as I came there, and now I am minded to give it to you.” 620 Thus they spoke to one another, and meanwhile the banqueters came to the palace of the divine king. They drove up sheep, and brought strengthening wine, and their wives with beautiful veils sent them bread. Thus they were busied about the feast in the halls. 625 But the suitors in front of the palace of Odysseus were making merry, throwing the discus and the javelin in a levelled place, as their custom was, in insolence of heart; and Antinous and godlike Eurymachus were sitting there, the leaders of the suitors, who in valor were far the best of all. 630 To them Noemon, son of Phronius, drew near, and he questioned Antinous, and spoke, and said: “Antinous, do we know at all in our hearts, or do we not know, when Telemachus will return from sandy Pylos? He is gone, taking a ship of mine, and I have need of her 635 to cross over to spacious Elis, where I have twelve brood mares, and at the teat sturdy mules as yet unbroken. Of these I would gladly drive one off and break him in.” So he spoke, and they marvelled at heart, for they did not suppose that Telemachus had gone to Neleian Pylos, but that he was somewhere there 640 on his lands, among the flocks or with the swineherd. Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, spoke to him, saying: “Tell me the truth; when did he go, and what youths went with him? Were they chosen youths of Ithaca, or hirelings and slaves of his own? Able would he be to accomplish even that. 645 And tell me this truly, that I may know full well. Was it by force and against your will that he took the black ship from you? or did you give it to him freely of your own will, because he begged you?” Then Noemon, son of Phronius, answered him: “I myself freely gave it to him. What else could any man do, 650 when a man like him, his heart laden with care, makes entreaty? It would be hard to deny the gift. The youths that are the noblest in the land after ourselves, these have gone with him; and among them I noticed one going on board as their leader, Mentor, or a god, who was in all things like Mentor. 655 But at this I marvel. I saw noble Mentor here yesterday at early dawn; but at that time he embarked for Pylos.” So saying he departed to his father's house, but of those two the proud hearts were angered. The suitors they at once made sit down and cease from their games; 660 and among them spoke Antinous, son of Eupeithes, in displeasure; and with rage was his black heart wholly filled, and his eyes were like blazing fire. “Curse him, truly a proud deed has been insolently brought to pass by Telemachus, this journey, and we thought that he would never see it accomplished. 665 In defiance of all of us here the lad is gone without more ado, launching a ship, and choosing the best men in the land. He will begin before long to be our bane; but to his own undoing may Zeus destroy his might before ever he reaches the measure of manhood. But come, give me a swift ship and twenty men, 670 that I may watch in ambush for him as he passes in the strait between Ithaca and rugged Samos. Thus shall his voyaging in search of his father come to a sorry end.” So he spoke, and they all praised his words, and told him to act. And at once they rose up and went to the house of Odysseus. 675 Now Penelope was not long without knowledge of the plans which the suitors were plotting in the deep of their hearts; for the herald Medon told her, who heard their counsel as he stood outside the court and they within were weaving their plot. So he went through the hall to bear the tidings to Penelope; 680 and as he stepped across the threshold Penelope spoke to him and said: “Herald, why have the lordly suitors sent you forth? Was it to tell the handmaids of divine Odysseus to cease from their tasks, and make ready a feast for them? Never wooing any more, nor consorting together elsewhere, 685 may they now feast here their latest and their last—you who are always thronging here and wasting much livelihood, the wealth of wise Telemachus. Surely you did not listen at all in olden days, when you were children, when your fathers told what kind of man Odysseus was among those that fathered you, 690 in that he did no wrong in deed or word to any man in the land, as the custom is of divine kings—one man they hate and another they love. Yet he never did iniquity at all to any man. But your mind and your unseemly deeds 695 are plain to see, nor is there in after days any gratitude for good deeds done.” Then Medon, wise of heart, answered her: “I wish, O queen, that this were the greatest evil. But another far greater and more grievous the suitors are planning, which I pray that the son of Cronos may never bring to pass. 700 They are minded to slay Telemachus with the sharp sword on his homeward way; for he went in quest of tidings of his father to sacred Pylos and to fair Lacedaemon.” So he spoke, and her knees were loosened where she sat, and her heart melted. For a long time she was speechless, and both her eyes 705 were filled with tears, and the flow of her voice was checked. But at last she made answer, and said to him: “Herald, why is my son gone? He had no need to go on board swift-faring ships, which serve men as horses of the deep, and cross over the wide waters of the sea. 710 Was it that not even his name should be left among men?” Then Medon, wise of heart, answered her: “I do not know whether some god impelled him, or whether his own heart was moved to go to Pylos, that he might learn either of his father's return or what fate he had met.” 715 So he spoke, and departed through the house of Odysseus, and on her fell a cloud of soul-consuming grief, and she no longer had the heart to sit upon one of the many seats that were in the room, but down upon the threshold of her fair-wrought chamber she sank, moaning piteously, and round about her wailed her handmaids, 720 all that were in the house, both young and old. Among these with sobs of lamentation spoke Penelope: “Hear me, my friends, for to me the Olympian has given sorrow above all the women who were bred and born with me. For long ago I lost my noble husband of the lion heart, 725 pre-eminent in every kind of worth among the Danaans, my noble husband, whose fame is wide through Hellas and mid-Argos. And now again my well-loved son have the storm-winds swept away from our halls without tidings, nor did I hear of his setting forth. Cruel, that you are! Not even you took thought, any one of you, 730 to rouse me from my couch, though in your hearts you knew full well when he went on board the hollow black ship. For had I learned that he was pondering this journey, he would truly have stayed here, however eager to be gone, or he would have left me dead in the halls. 735 But now let someone hasten to call here the aged Dolius, my servant, whom my father gave me before I ever came here, and who keeps my garden of many trees, that he may at once go and sit by Laertes, and tell him of all these things. So perhaps Laertes may weave some plan in his heart, 740 and go forth and with weeping make his plea to the people, who are minded to destroy his race and that of godlike Odysseus.” Then the good nurse Eurycleia answered her: “Dear lady, you may truly slay me with the pitiless sword or let me stay in the house, yet I will not hide my word from you. 745 I knew all this, and gave him whatever he asked of me, bread and sweet wine. But he took from me a mighty oath not to tell you until at least the twelfth day should come, or you should yourself miss him and hear that he was gone, that you might not mar your fair flesh with weeping. 750 But now bathe, and take clean clothing for your body, and then go up to your upper chamber with your handmaids and pray to Athena, the daughter of Zeus who bears the aegis; for she may then save him even from death. And do not trouble a troubled old man; for 755 the race of the son of Arceisius is not, I think, utterly hated by the blessed gods, but there shall still be one, I believe, to hold the high-roofed halls and the rich fields far away.” So she spoke, and lulled Penelope's laments, and made her eyes cease from weeping. She then bathed, and took clean clothing for her body, 760 and went up to her upper chamber with her handmaids, and placing barley grains in a basket prayed to Athena: “Hear me, child of Zeus who bears the aegis, unwearied one. If ever Odysseus, of many wiles, burned to you in his halls fat thigh-pieces of heifer or ewe, 765 remember these things now, I pray you, and save my dear son, and ward off from him the suitors in their evil insolence.” So saying she raised the sacred cry, and the goddess heard her prayer. But the suitors broke into uproar throughout the shadowy halls, and thus would one of the proud youths speak: 770 “Yes, surely the queen, wooed by many, is preparing our marriage, nor does she know at all that death has been made ready for her son.” So would one of them speak; but they did not know how these things were to be. And Antinous addressed their company, and said: “Good sirs, shun haughty speech 775 of every kind alike, lest someone report your speech even within the house. No, come, in silence thus let us arise and put into effect our plan which pleased us one and all at heart.” So he spoke, and chose twenty men that were best, and they went their way to the swift ship and the shore of the sea. 780 The ship first of all they drew down to the deep water, and set the mast and sail in the black ship, and fitted the oars in the leather thole-straps, all in due order, and spread the white sail. And proud squires brought them their weapons. 785 Well out in the roadstead they moored the ship, and themselves disembarked. There then they took supper, and waited till evening should come. But she, the wise Penelope, lay there in her upper chamber, touching no food, tasting neither food nor drink, pondering whether her peerless son would escape death, 790 or be slain by the insolent suitors. And just as a lion is seized with fear and broods amid a throng of men, when they draw their crafty ring about him, so was she pondering when sweet sleep came upon her. And she sank back and slept, and all her joints relaxed. 795 Then the goddess, flashing-eyed Athena, took other counsel. She made a phantom, and likened it in form to a woman, Iphthime, daughter of great-hearted Icarius, whom Eumelus wedded, whose home was in Pherae. And she sent it to the house of divine Odysseus, 800 to Penelope in the midst of her wailing and lamenting, to bid her cease from weeping and tearful lamentation. So into the chamber it passed by the thong of the bolt, and stood above her head, and spoke to her, and said: “Are you sleeping, Penelope, your heart deeply stricken? 805 No, the gods that live at ease do not allow you to weep or be distressed, seeing that your son is yet to return; for in no way is he a sinner in the eyes of the gods.” Then wise Penelope answered her, as she slumbered very sweetly at the gates of dreams: 810 “Why, sister, have you come here? You have not before now been accustomed to come, for you live in a home far away. And you bid me cease from my grief and the many pains that distress me in mind and heart. Long ago I lost my noble husband of the lion heart, 815 pre-eminent in every kind of worth among the Danaans, my noble husband whose fame is wide in Hellas and mid-Argos. And now again my well-loved son has gone forth in a hollow ship, a mere child, knowing nothing of toils and the gatherings of men. For him I sorrow even more than for that other, 820 and tremble for him, and fear lest anything befall him, whether it be in the land of the men to whom he has gone, or on the sea. For many foes are plotting against him, eager to slay him before he comes back to his native land.” Then the dim phantom answered her, and said: 825 “Take heart, and do not be too greatly afraid in your mind; since such a guide goes with him as men have very often begged to stand by their side, for she has power,—Pallas Athena. And she pities you in your sorrow, for she it is that has sent me forth to tell you this.” 830 Then again wise Penelope answered her: “If you are indeed a god, and have listened to the voice of a god, come, tell me, I pray you, also of that unhappy one, whether he still lives and beholds the light of the sun, or whether he is already dead and in the house of Hades.” 835 And the dim phantom answered her, and said: “No, of him I may not speak at length, whether he is alive or dead; it is an ill thing to speak words vain as wind.” So saying the phantom glided away by the bolt of the door into the breath of the winds. And 840 the daughter of Icarius started up from sleep, and her heart was warmed with comfort, that so clear a vision had sped to her in the darkness of night. But the suitors embarked, and sailed over the watery ways, pondering in their hearts utter murder for Telemachus. There is a rocky isle in the midst of the sea, 845 midway between Ithaca and rugged Samos, Asteris, of no great size, but in it is a harbor where ships may lie, with an entrance on either side. There it was that the Achaeans lingered, lying in wait for Telemachus.