Book 23: The bed
Penelope Eventually Recognises her Husband—Early in the Morning Ulysses, Telemachus, Eumaeus, and Philoetius Leave the Town.
Greek
Γρηὺς δ’ εἰς ὑπερῷ’ ἀνεβήσετο καγχαλόωσα,δεσποίνῃ ἐρέουσα φίλον πόσιν ἔνδον ἐόντα·γούνατα δ’ ἐρρώσαντο, πόδες δ’ ὑπερικταίνοντο.στῆ δ’ ἄρ’ ὑπὲρ κεφαλῆς καί μιν πρὸς μῦθον ἔειπεν·ἔγρεο, Πηνελόπεια, φίλον τέκος, ὄφρα ἴδηαιὀφθαλμοῖσι τεοῖσι τά τ’ ἔλδεαι ἤματα πάντα.ἦλθ’ Ὀδυσεὺς καὶ οἶκον ἱκάνεται, ὀψέ περ ἐλθών.μνηστῆρας δ’ ἔκτεινεν ἀγήνορας, οἵ θ’ ἑὸν οἶκονκήδεσκον καὶ κτήματ’ ἔδον βιόωντό τε παῖδα.Τὴν δ’ αὖτε προσέειπε περίφρων Πηνελόπεια·μαῖα φίλη, μάργην σε θεοὶ θέσαν, οἵ τε δύνανταιἄφρονα ποιῆσαι καὶ ἐπίφρονά περ μάλ’ ἐόντα,καί τε χαλιφρονέοντα σαοφροσύνης ἐπέβησαν·οἵ σέ περ ἔβλαψαν· πρὶν δὲ φρένας αἰσίμη ἦσθα.τίπτε με λωβεύεις πολυπενθέα θυμὸν ἔχουσανταῦτα παρὲξ ἐρέουσα καὶ ἐξ ὕπνου μ’ ἀνεγείρειςἡδέος, ὅς μ’ ἐπέδησε φίλα βλέφαρ’ ἀμφικαλύψας;οὐ γάρ πω τοιόνδε κατέδραθον, ἐξ οὗ Ὀδυσσεὺςοἴχετ’ ἐποψόμενος Κακοΐλιον οὐκ ὀνομαστήν.ἀλλ’ ἄγε νῦν κατάβηθι καὶ ἂψ ἔρχευ μέγαρόνδε.εἰ γάρ τίς μ’ ἄλλη γε γυναικῶν, αἵ μοι ἔασι,ταῦτ’ ἐλθοῦσ’ ἤγγειλε καὶ ἐξ ὕπνου ἀνέγειρε,τῷ κε τάχα στυγερῶς μιν ἐγὼν ἀπέπεμψα νέεσθαιαὗτις ἔσω μέγαρον· σὲ δὲ τοῦτό γε γῆρας ὀνήσει.Τὴν δ’ αὖτε προσέειπε φίλη τροφὸς Εὐρύκλεια·οὔ τί σε λωβεύω, τέκνον φίλον, ἀλλ’ ἔτυμόν τοιἦλθ’ Ὀδυσεὺς καὶ οἶκον ἱκάνεται, ὡς ἀγορεύω,ὁ ξεῖνος, τὸν πάντες ἀτίμων ἐν μεγάροισι.Τηλέμαχος δ’ ἄρα μιν πάλαι ἤδεεν ἔνδον ἐόντα,ἀλλὰ σαοφροσύνῃσι νοήματα πατρὸς ἔκευθεν,ὄφρ’ ἀνδρῶν τίσαιτο βίην ὑπερηνορεόντων.Ὣς ἔφαθ’, ἡ δ’ ἐχάρη καὶ ἀπὸ λέκτροιο θοροῦσαγρηὶ περιπλέχθη, βλεφάρων δ’ ἀπὸ δάκρυον ἧκε,καί μιν φωνήσασ’ ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα·εἰ δ’ ἄγε δή μοι, μαῖα φίλη, νημερτὲς ἐνίσπες,εἰ ἐτεὸν δὴ οἶκον ἱκάνεται, ὡς ἀγορεύεις,ὅππως δὴ μνηστῆρσιν ἀναιδέσι χεῖρας ἐφῆκεμοῦνος ἐών, οἱ δ’ αἰὲν ἀολλέες ἔνδον ἔμιμνον.Τὴν δ’ αὖτε προσέειπε φίλη τροφὸς Εὐρύκλεια·οὐ ἴδον, οὐ πυθόμην, ἀλλὰ στόνον οἷον ἄκουσακτεινομένων’ ἡμεῖς δὲ μυχῷ θαλάμων εὐπήκτωνἥμεθ’ ἀτυζόμεναι, σανίδες δ’ ἔχον εὖ ἀραρυῖαι,πρίν γ’ ὅτε δή με σὸς υἱὸς ἀπὸ μεγάροιο κάλεσσεΤηλέμαχος· τὸν γάρ ῥα πατὴρ προέηκε καλέσσαι.εὗρον ἔπειτ’ Ὀδυσῆα μετὰ κταμένοισι νέκυσσινἑσταόθ’· οἱ δέ μιν ἀμφὶ κραταίπεδον οὖδας ἔχοντεςκείατ’ ἐπ’ ἀλλήλοισιν· ἰδοῦσά κε θυμὸν ἰάνθηςαἵματι καὶ λύθρῳ πεπαλαγμένον ὥς τε λέοντα.νῦν δ’ οἱ μὲν δὴ πάντες ἐπ’ αὐλείῃσι θύρῃσινἀθρόοι, αὐτὰρ ὁ δῶμα θεειοῦται περικαλλές,πῦρ μέγα κηάμενος· σὲ δέ με προέηκε καλέσσαι.ἀλλ’ ἕπευ, ὄφρα σφῶϊν ἐὐφροσύνης ἐπιβῆτονἀμφοτέρω φίλον ἦτορ, ἐπεὶ κακὰ πολλὰ πέποσθε.νῦν δ’ ἤδη τόδε μακρὸν ἐέλδωρ ἐκτετέλεσται·ἦλθε μὲν αὐτὸς ζωὸς ἐφέστιος, εὗρε δὲ καὶ σὲκαὶ παῖδ’ ἐν μεγάροισι’ κακῶς δ’ οἵ πέρ μιν ἔρεζνμνηστῆρες, τοὺς πάντας ἐτίσατο ᾧ ἐνὶ οἴκῳ.Τὴν δ’ αὖτε προσέειπε περίφρων Πηνελόπεια·μαῖα φίλη, μή πω μέγ’ ἐπεύχεο καγχαλόωσα.οἶσθα γὰρ ὥς κ’ ἀσπαστὸς ἐνὶ μεγάροισι φανείηπᾶσι, μάλιστα δ’ ἐμοί τε καὶ υἱέϊ, τὸν τεκόμεσθα·ἀλλ’ οὐκ ἔσθ’ ὅδε μῦθος ἐτήτυμος, ὡς ἀγορεύεις,ἀλλά τις ἀθανάτων κτεῖνε μνηστῆρας ἀγαυούς,ὕβριν ἀγασσάμενος θυμαλγέα καὶ κακὰ ἔργα.οὔ τινα γὰρ τίεσκον ἐπιχθονίων ἀνθρώπων,οὐ κακὸν οὐδὲ μὲν ἐσθλόν, ὅτις σφέας εἰσαφίκοιτο·τῷ δι’ ἀτασθαλίας ἔπαθον κακόν· αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσεὺςὥλεσε τηλοῦ νόστον Ἀχαιΐδος, ὥλετο δ’ αὐτός.Τὴν δ’ ἠμείβετ’ ἔπειτα φίλη τροφὸς Εὐρύκλεια·τέκνον ἐμόν, ποῖόν σε ἔπος φύγεν ἕρκος ὀδόντων,ἣ πόσιν ἔνδον ἐόντα παρ’ ἐσχάρῃ οὔ ποτ’ ἔφησθαοἴκαδ’ ἐλεύσεσθαι· θυμὸς δέ τοι αἰὲν ἄπιστος.ἀλλ’ ἄγε τοι καὶ σῆμα ἀριφραδὲς ἄλλο τι εἴπω·οὐλήν, τήν ποτέ μιν σῦς ἤλασε λευκῷ ὀδόντι,τὴν ἀπονίζουσα φρασάμην, ἔθελον δὲ σοὶ αὐτῇεἰπέμεν· ἀλλά με κεῖνος ἑλὼν ἐπὶ μάστακα χερσὶνοὐκ ἔα εἰπέμεναι πολυκερδείῃσι νόοιο.ἀλλ’ ἕπευ’ αὐτὰρ ἐγὼν ἐμέθεν περιδώσομαι αὐτῆς,αἴ κέν σ’ ἐξαπάφω, κτεῖναί μ’ οἰκτίστῳ ὀλέθρῳ.Τὴν δ’ ἠμείβετ’ ἔπειτα περίφρων Πηνελόπεια·μαῖα φίλη, χαλεπόν σε θεῶν αἰειγενετάωνδήνεα εἴρυσθαι, μάλα περ πολύϊδριν ἐοῦσαν·ἀλλ’ ἔμπης ἴομεν μετὰ παῖδ’ ἐμόν, ὄφρα ἴδωμαιἄνδρας μνηστῆρας τεθνηότας, ἠδ’ ὃς ἔπεφνεν.Ὃς φαμένη κατέβαιν’ ὑπερώϊα· πολλὰ δέ οἱ κῆρὅρμαιν’, ἢ ἀπάνευθε φίλον πόσιν ἐξερεείνοι,ἢ παρστᾶσα κύσειε κάρη καὶ χεῖρε λαβοῦσα.ἡ δ’ ἐπεὶ εἰσῆλθεν καὶ ὑπέρβη λάϊνον οὐδόν,ἕζετ’ ἔπειτ’ Ὀδυσῆος ἐναντίη, ἐν πυρὸς αὐγῇ,τοίχου τοῦ ἑτέρου· ὁ δ’ ἄρα πρὸς κίονα μακρὴνἧστο κάτω ὁρόων, ποτιδέγμενος εἴ τί μιν εἴποιἰφθίμη παράκοιτις, ἐπεὶ ἴδεν ὀφθαλμοῖσιν.ἡ δ’ ἄνεω δὴν ἧστο, τάφος δέ οἱ ἦτορ ἵκανεν·ὄψει δ’ ἄλλοτε μέν μιν ἐνωπαδίως ἐσίδεσκεν,ἄλλοτε δ’ ἀγνώσασκε κακὰ χροὶ εἵματ’ ἔχοντα.Τηλέμαχος δ’ ἐνένιπεν ἔπος τ’ ἔφατ’ ἔκ τ’ ὀνόμαζε·μῆτερ ἐμή, δύσμητερ, ἀπηνέα θυμὸν ἔχουσα,τίφθ’ οὕτω πατρὸς νοσφίζεαι, οὐδὲ παρ’ αὐτὸνἑζμένη μύθοισιν ἀνείρεαι οὐδὲ μεταλλᾷς;οὐ μέν κ’ ἄλλη γ’ ὧδε γυνὴ τετληότι θυμῷἀνδρὸς ἀφεσταίη, ὅς οἱ κακὰ πολλὰ μογήσαςἔλθοι ἐεικοστῷ ἔτεϊ ἐς πατρίδα γαῖαν·σοὶ δ’ αἰεὶ κραδίη στερεωτέρη ἐστὶ λίθοιο.Τὸν δ’ αὖτε προσέειπε περίφρων Πηνελόπεια·τέκνον ἐμόν, θυμός μοι ἐνὶ στήθεσσι τέθηπεν,οὐδέ τι προσφάσθαι δύναμαι ἔπος οὐδ’ ἐρέεσθαιοὐδ’ εἰς ὦπα ἰδέσθαι ἐναντίον. εἰ δ’ ἐτεὸν δὴἔστ’ Ὀδυσεὺς καὶ οἶκον ἱκάνεται, ἦ μάλα νῶϊγνωσόμεθ’ ἀλλήλων καὶ λώϊον· ἔστι γὰρ ἡμῖνσήμαθ’, ἃ δὴ καὶ νῶϊ κεκρυμμένα ἴδμεν ἀπ’ ἄλλων.Ὣς φάτο, μείδησεν δὲ πολύτλας δῖος Ὀδυσσεύς,αἶψα δὲ Τηλέμαχον ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα·Τηλέμαχ’, ἦ τοι μητέρ’ ἐνὶ μεγάροισιν ἔασονπειράζειν ἐμέθεν· τάχα δὲ φράσεται καὶ ἄρειον.νῦν δ’ ὅττι ῥυπόω, κακὰ δὲ χροὶ εἵματα εἶμαι,τοὔνεκ’ ἀτιμάζει με καὶ οὔ πώ φησι τὸν εἶναι.ἡμεῖς δὲ φραζώμεθ’ ὅπως ὄχ’ ἄριστα γένηται.καὶ γάρ τίς θ’ ἕνα φῶτα κατακτείνας ἐνὶ δήμῳ,ᾧ μὴ πολλοὶ ἔωσιν ἀοσσητῆρες ὀπίσσω,φεύγει πηούς τε προλιπὼν καὶ πατρίδα γαῖαν·ἡμεῖς δ’ ἕρμα πόληος ἀπέκταμεν, οἱ μέγ’ ἄριστοικούρων εἰν Ἰθάκῃ· τὰ δέ σε φράζεσθαι ἄνωγα.Τὸν δ’ αὖ Τηλέμαχος πεπνυμένος ἀντίον ηὔδα·αὐτὸς ταῦτά γε λεῦσσε, πάτερ φίλε· σὴν γὰρ ἀρίστηνμῆτιν ἐπ’ ἀνθρώπους φάσ’ ἔμμεναι, οὐδέ κέ τίς τοιἄλλος ἀνὴρ ἐρίσειε καταθνητῶν ἀνθρώπων.ἡμεῖς δ’ ἐμμεμαῶτες ἅμ’ ἑψόμεθ’, οὐδέ τί φημιἀλκῆς δευήσεσθαι, ὅση δύναμίς γε πάρεστιν.Τὸν δ’ ἀπαμειβόμενος προσέφη πολύμητις Ὀδυσσεύς·τοιγὰρ ἐγὼν ἐρέω ὥς μοι δοκεῖ εἶναι ἄριστα.πρῶτα μὲν ἂρ λούσασθε καὶ ἀμφιέσασθε χιτῶνας,δμῳὰς δ’ ἐν μεγάροισιν ἀνώγετε εἵμαθ’ ἑλέσθαι·αὐτὰρ θεῖος ἀοιδὸς ἔχων φόρμιγγα λίγειανἡμῖν ἡγείσθω φιλοπαίγμονος ὀρχηθμοῖο,ὥς κέν τις φαίη γάμον ἔμμεναι ἐκτὸς ἀκούων,ἢ ἀν’ ὁδὸν στείχων ἣ οἱ περιναιετάουσι·μὴ πρόσθε κλέος εὐρὺ φόνου κατὰ ἄστυ γένηταιἀνδρῶν μνηστήρων, πρίν γ’ ἡμέας ἐλθέμεν ἔξωἀγρὸν ἐς ἡμέτερον πολυδένδρεον. ἔνθα δ’ ἔπειταφρασσόμεθ’ ὅττι κε κέρδος Ὀλύμπιος ἐγγυαλίξῃ.Ὣς ἔφαθ’, οἱ δ’ ἄρα τοῦ μάλα μὲν κλύον ἠδ’ ἐπίθοντο.πρῶτα μὲν οὖν λούσαντο καὶ ἀμφιέσαντο χιτῶνας,ὅπλισθεν δὲ γυναῖκες· ὁ δ’ εἵλετο θεῖος ἀοιδὸςφόρμιγγα γλαφυρήν, ἐν δέ σφισιν ἵμερον ὦρσεμολπῆς τε γλυκερῆς καὶ ἀμύμονος ὀρχηθμοῖο.τοῖσιν δὲ μέγα δῶμα περιστεναχίζετο ποσσὶνἀνδρῶν παιζόντων καλλιζώνων τε γυναικῶν.ὧδε δέ τις εἴπεσκε δόμων ἔκτοσθεν ἀκούων·ἦ μάλα δή τις ἔγημε πολυμνήστην βασίλειαν·σχετλίη, οὐδ’ ἔτλη πόσιος οὗ κουριδίοιοεἴρυσθαι μέγα δῶμα διαμπερές, ἧος ἵκοιτο.Ὣς ἄρα τις εἴπεσκε, τὰ δ’ οὐ ἴσαν ὡς ἐτέτυκτο.αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσῆα μεγαλήτορα ᾧ ἐνὶ οἴκῳΕὐρυνόμη ταμίη λοῦσεν καὶ χρῖσεν ἐλαίῳ,ἀμφὶ δέ μιν φᾶρος καλὸν βάλεν ἠδὲ χιτῶνα·αὐτὰρ κὰκ κεφαλῆς χεῦεν πολὺ κάλλος Ἀθήνημείζονά τ’ ἐσιδέειν καὶ πάσσονα’ κὰδ δὲ κάρητοςοὔλας ἧκε κόμας, ὑακινθίνῳ ἄνθει ὁμοίας.ὡς δ’ ὅτε τις χρυσὸν περιχεύεται ἀργύρῳ ἀνὴρἴδρις, ὃν Ἥφαιστος δέδαεν καὶ Παλλὰς Ἀθήνητέχνην παντοίην, χαρίεντα δὲ ἔργα τελείει,ὡς μὲν τῷ περίχευε χάριν κεφαλῇ τε καὶ ὦμοις.ἐκ δ’ ἀσαμίνθου βῆ δέμας ἀθανάτοισιν ὁμοῖος·ἂψ δ’ αὖτις κατ’ ἄρ’ ἕζετ’ ἐπὶ θρόνου ἔνθεν ἀνέστη,ἀντίον ἧς ἀλόχου, καί μιν πρὸς μῦθον ἔειπε·δαιμονίη, περὶ σοί γε γυναικῶν θηλυτεράωνκῆρ ἀτέραμνον ἔθηκαν Ὀλύμπια δώματ’ ἔχοντες·οὐ μέν κ’ ἄλλη γ’ ὧδε γυνὴ τετληότι θυμῷἀνδρὸς ἀφεσταίη, ὅς οἱ κακὰ πολλὰ μογήσαςἔλθοι ἐεικοστῷ ἔτεϊ ἐς πατρίδα γαῖαν.ἀλλ’ ἄγε μοι, μαῖα, στόρεσον λέχος, ὄφρα καὶ αὐτὸςλέξομαι· ἦ γὰρ τῇ γε σιδήρεον ἐν φρεσὶν ἦτορ.Τὸν δ’ αὖτε προσέειπε περίφρων Πηνελόπεια·δαιμόνι’, οὔτ’ ἄρ τι μεγαλίζρμαι οὔτ’ ἀθερίζωοὔτε λίην ἄγαμαι, μάλα δ’ εὖ οἶδ’ οἷος ἔησθαἐξ Ἰθάκης ἐπὶ νηὸς ἰὼν δολιχηρέτμοιο.ἀλλ’ ἄγε οἱ στόρεσον πυκινὸν λέχος, Εὐρύκλεια,ἐκτὸς ἐὐσταθέος θαλάμου, τόν ῥ’ αὐτὸς ἐποίει·ἔνθα οἱ ἐκθεῖσαι πυκινὸν λέχος ἐμβάλετ’ εὐνήν,κώεα καὶ χλαίνας καὶ ῥήγεα σιγαλόεντα.Ὣς ἄρ’ ἔφη πόσιος πειρωμένη· αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσεὺςὀχθήσας ἄλοχον προσεφώνεε κεδνὰ ἰδυΐαν·ὦ γύναι, ἣ μάλα τοῦτο ἔπος θυμαλγὲς ἔειπες.τίς δέ μοι ἄλλοσε θῆκε λέχος; χαλεπὸν δέ κεν εἴηκαὶ μάλ’ ἐπισταμένῳ, ὅτε μὴ θεὸς αὐτὸς ἐπελθὼνῥηϊδίως ἐθέλων θείη ἄλλῃ ἐνὶ χώρῃ.ἀνδρῶν δ’ οὔ κέν τις ζωὸς βροτός, οὐδὲ μάλ’ ἡβῶν,ῥεῖα μετοχλίσσειεν, ἐπεὶ μέγα σῆμα τέτυκταιἐν λέχει ἀσκητῷ· τὸ δ’ ἐγὼ κάμον οὐδέ τις ἄλλος.θάμνος ἔφυ τανύφυλλος ἐλαίης ἕρκεος ἐντός,ἀκμηνὸς θαλέθων· πάχετος δ’ ἣν ἠΐτε κίων.τῷ δ’ ἐγὼ ἀμφιβαλὼν θάλαμον δέμον, ὄφρ’ ἐτέλεσσα,πυκνῇσιν λιθάδεσσι, καὶ εὖ καθύπερθεν ἔρεψα,κολλητὰς δ’ ἐπέθηκα θύρας, πυκινῶς ἀραρυίας.καὶ τότ’ ἔπειτ’ ἀπέκοψα κόμην τανυφύλλου ἐλαίης,κορμὸν δ’ ἐκ ῥίζης προταμὼν ἀμφέξεσα χαλκῷεὖ καὶ ἐπισταμένως, καὶ ἐπὶ στάθμην ἴθυνα,ἑρμῖν’ ἀσκήσας, τέτρηνα δὲ πάντα τερέτρῳ.ἐκ δὲ τοῦ ἀρχόμενος λέχος ἔξεον, ὄφρ’ ἐτέλεσσα,δαιδάλλων χρυσῷ τε καὶ ἀργύρῳ ἠδ’ ἐλέφαντι·ἐν δ’ ἐτάνυσσ’ ἱμάντα βοὸς φοίνικι φαεινόν.οὕτω τοι τόδε σῆμα πιφαύσκομαι· οὐδέ τι οἶδα,ἤ μοι ἔτ’ ἔμπεδόν ἐστι, γύναι, λέχος, ἦέ τις ἤδηἀνδρῶν ἄλλοσε θῆκε, ταμὼν ὕπο πυθμέν’ ἐλαίης.Ὣς φάτο, τῆς δ’ αὐτοῦ λύτο γούνατα καὶ φίλον ἦτορ,σήματ’ ἀναγνούσῃ τά οἱ ἔμπεδα πέφραδ’ Ὀδυσσεύς·δακρύσασα δ’ ἔπειτ’ ἰθὺς δράμεν, ἀμφὶ δὲ χεῖραςδειρῇ βάλλ’ Ὀδυσῆϊ, κάρη δ’ ἔκυσ’ ἠδὲ προσηύδα·μή μοι, Ὀδυσσεῦ, σκύζευ, ἐπεὶ τά περ ἄλλα μάλισταἀνθρώπων πέπνυσο· θεοὶ δ’ ὥπαζον ὀϊζύν,οἱ νῶϊν ἀγάσαντο παρ’ ἀλλήλοισι μένοντεἥβης ταρπῆναι καὶ γήραος οὐδὸν ἱκέσθαι.αὐτὰρ μὴ νῦν μοι τόδε χώεο μηδὲ νεμέσσα,οὕνεκά σ’ οὐ τὸ πρῶτον, ἐπεὶ ἴδον, ὧδ’ ἀγάπησα.αἰεὶ γάρ μοι θυμὸς ἐνὶ στήθεσσι φίλοισινἐρρίγει μή τίς με βροτῶν ἀπάφοιτο ἔπεσσινἐλθών· πολλοὶ γὰρ κακὰ κέρδεα βουλεύουσιν.οὐδέ κεν Ἀργείη Ἑλένη, Διὸς ἐκγεγαυῖα,ἀνδρὶ παρ’ ἀλλοδαπῷ ἐμίγη φιλότητι καὶ εὐνῇ,εἰ ἤδη ὅ μιν αὖτις ἀρήϊοι υἷες Ἀχαιῶνἀξέμεναι οἵκόνδε φίλην ἐς πατρίδ’ ἔμελλον.τὴν δ’ ἢ τοι ῥέξαι θεὸς ὥρορεν ἔργον ἀεικές·τὴν δ’ ἄτην οὐ πρόσθεν ἑῷ ἐγκάτθετο θυμῷλυγρήν, ἐξ ἧς πρῶτα καὶ ἡμέας ἵκετο πένθος.νῦν δ’, ἐπεὶ ἤδη σήματ’ ἀριφραδέα κατέλεξαςεὐνῆς ἡμετέρης, τὴν οὐ βροτὸς ἄλλος ὀπώτπει,ἀλλ’ οἷοι σύ τ’ ἐγώ τε καὶ ἀμφίπολος μία μούνη,Ἀκτορίς, ἥν μοι δῶκε πατὴρ ἔτι δεῦρο κιούσῃ,ἣ νῶϊν εἴρυτο θύρας πυκινοῦ θαλάμοιο,πείθεις δή μευ θυμόν, ἀπηνέα περ μάλ’ ἐόντα.Ὣς φάτο, τῷ δ’ ἔτι μᾶλλον ὑφ’ ἵμερον ὦρσε γόοιο·κλαῖε δ’ ἔχων ἄλοχον θυμαρέα, κεδνὰ ἰδυῖαν.ὡς δ’ ὅτ’ ἂν ἀσπάσιος γῆ νηχομένοισι φανήῃ,ὧν τε Ποσειδάων εὐεργέα νῆ’ ἐνὶ πόντῳῥαίσῃ, ἐπειγομένην ἀνέμῳ καὶ κύματι πηγῷ·παῦροι δ’ ἐξέφυγον πολιῆς ἁλὸς ἤπειρόνδενηχόμενοι, πολλὴ δὲ περὶ χροὶ τέτροφεν ἅλμη,ἀσπάσιοι δ’ ἐπέβαν γαίης, κακότητα φυγόντες·ὡς ἄρα τῇ ἀσπαστὸς ἔην πόσις εἰσοροώσῃ,δειρῆς δ’ οὔ πω πάμπαν ἀφίετο πήχεε λευκώ.καί νύ κ’ ὀδυρομένοισι φάνη ῥοδοδάκτυλος Ἠώς,εἰ μὴ ἄρ’ ἄλλ’ ἐνόησε θεὰ γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη.νύκτα μὲν ἐν περάτῃ δολιχὴν σχέθεν, Ἠῶ δ’ αὖτεῥύσατ’ ἐπ’ Ὠκεανῷ χρυσόθρονον, οὐδ’ ἔα ἵππουςζεύγνυσθ’ ὠκύποδας, φάος ἀνθρώποισι φέροντας,Λάμπον καὶ Φαέθονθ’, οἵ τ’ Ἠῶ πῶλοι ἄγουσι.καὶ τότ’ ἄρ’ ἣν ἄλοχον προσέφη πολύμητις Ὀδυσσεύς·ὦ γύναι, οὐ γάρ πω πάντων ἐπὶ πείρατ’ ἀέθλωνἤλθομεν, ἀλλ’ ἔτ’ ὄπισθεν ἀμέτρητος πόνος ἔσται,πολλὸς καὶ χαλεπός, τὸν ἐμὲ χρὴ πάντα τελέσσαι.ὡς γάρ μοι ψυχὴ μαντεύσατο Τειρεσίαοἤματι τῷ ὅτε δὴ κατέβην δόμον Αἴδος εἴσω,νόστον ἑταίροισιν διζήμενος ἠδ’ ἐμοὶ αὐτῷ.ἀλλ’ ἔρχευ, λέκτρονδ’ ἴομεν, γύναι, ὄφρα καὶ ἤδηὕπνῳ ὕπο γλυκερῷ ταρπώμεθα κοιμηθέντε.Τὸν δ’ αὖτε προσέειπε περίφρων Πηνελόπεια·εὐνὴ μὲν δὴ σοί γε τότ’ ἔσσεται ὁππότε θυμῷσῷ ἐθέλῃς, ἐπεὶ ἄρ σε θεοὶ ποίησαν ἱκέσθαιοἶκον ἐὐκτίμενον καὶ σὴν ἐς πατρίδα γαῖαν·ἀλλ’ ἐπεὶ ἐφράσθης καί τοι θεὸς ἔμβαλε θυμῷ,εἴπ’ ἄγε μοι τὸν ἄεθλον, ἐπεὶ καὶ ὄπισθεν, ὀΐω,πεύσομαι, αὐτίκα δ’ ἐστὶ δαήμεναι οὔ τι χέρειον.Τὴν δ’ ἀπαμειβόμενος προσέφη πολύμητις Ὀδυσσεύς·δαιμονίη, τί τ’ ἄρ’ αὖ με μάλ’ ὀτρύνουσα κελεύειςεἰπέμεν; αὐτὰρ ἐγὼ μυθήσομαι οὐδ’ ἐπικεύσω.οὐ μέν τοι θυμὸς κεχαρήσεται· οὐδὲ γὰρ αὐτὸςχαίρω, ἐπεὶ μάλα πολλὰ βροτῶν ἐπὶ ἄστε’ ἄνωγενἐλθεῖν, ἐν χείρεσσιν ἔχοντ’ εὐῆρες ἐρετμόν,εἰς ὅ κε τοὺς ἀφίκωμαι οἱ οὐ ἴσασι θάλασσανἀνέρες, οὐδέ θ’ ἅλεσσι μεμιγμένον εἶδαρ ἔδουσιν·οὐδ’ ἄρα τοὶ ἴσασι νέας φοινικοπαρῇους,οὐδ’ εὐήρε’ ἐρετμά, τά τε πτερὰ νηυσὶ πέλονται.σῆμα δέ μοι τόδ’ ἔειπεν ἀριφραδές, οὐδέ σε κεύσω.ὁππότε κεν δή μοι ξυμβλήμενος ἄλλος ὁδίτηςφήῃ ἀθηρηλοιγὸν ἔχειν ἀνὰ φαιδίμῳ ὥμῳ,καὶ τότε μ’ ἐν γαίῃ πήξαντ’ ἐκέλευσεν ἐρετμόν,ἔρξανθ’ ἱερὰ καλὰ Ποσειδάωνι ἄνακτι,ἀρνειὸν ταϑρόν τε συῶν τ’ ἐπιβήτορα κάπρον,οἴκαδ’ ἀποστείχειν, ἔρδειν θ’ ἱερὰς ἑκατόμβαςἀθανάτοισι θεοῖσι, τοὶ οὐρανὸν εὐρὺν ἔχουσι,πᾶσι μάλ’ ἑξείης· θάνατος δέ μοι ἐξ ἁλὸς αὐτῷἀβληχρὸς μάλα τοῖος ἐλεύσεται, ὅς κέ με πέφνῃγήρᾳ ὕπο λιπαρῷ ἀρημένον· ἀμφὶ δὲ λαοὶὄλβιοι ἔσσονται· τὰ δέ μοι φάτο πάντα τελεῖσθαι.Τὸν δ’ αὖτε προσέειπε περίφρων Πηνελόπεια·εἰ μὲν δὴ γῆράς γε θεοὶ τελέουσιν ἄρειον,ἐλπωρή τοι ἔπειτα κακῶν ὑπάλυξιν ἔσεσθαι.Ὣς οἱ μὲν τοιαῦτα πρὸς ἀλλήλους ἀγόρευον·τόφρα δ’ ἄρ’ Εὐρυνόμη τε ἰδὲ τροφὸς ἔντυον εὐνὴνἐσθῆτος μαλακῆς, δαΐδων ὕπο λαμπομενάων.αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ στόρεσαν πυκινὸν λέχος ἐγκονέουσαι,γρηῦς μὲν κείουσα πάλιν οἵκόνδε βεβήκει,τοῖσιν δ’ Εὐρυνόμη θαλαμηπόλος ἡγεμόνευενἐρχομένοισι λέχοσδε, δάος μετὰ χερσὶν ἔχουσα·ἐς θάλαμον δ’ ἀγαγοῦσα πάλιν κίεν. οἱ μὲν ἔπειταἀσπάσιοι λέκτροιο παλαιοῦ θεσμὸν ἵκοντο.αὐτὰρ Τηλέμαχος καὶ βουκόλος ἠδὲ συβώτηςπαῦσαν ἄρ’ ὀρχηθμοῖο πόδας, παῦσαν δὲ γυναῖκας,αὐτοὶ δ’ εὐνάζονντο κατὰ μέγαρα σκιόεντα.Τὼ δ’ ἐπεὶ οὖν φιλότητος ἐταρπήτην ἐρατεινῆς,τερπέσθην μύθοισι, πρὸς ἀλλήλους ἐνέποντε,ἡ μὲν ὅσ’ ἐν μεγάροισιν ἀνέσχετο δῖα γυναικῶν,ἀνδρῶν μνηστήρων ἐσορῶσ’ ἀΐδηλον ὅμιλον,οἱ ἕθεν εἵνεκα πολλά, βόας καὶ ἴφια μῆλα,ἔσφαζον, πολλὸς δὲ πίθων ἠφύσσετο οἶνος·αὐτὰρ ὁ διογενὴς Ὀδυσεὺς ὅσα κήδε’ ἔθηκενἀνθρώποις ὅσα τ’ αὐτὸς ὀϊζύσας ἐμόγησε,πάντ’ ἔλεγ’· ἡ δ’ ἄρ’ ἐτέρπετ’ ἀκούουσ’, οὐδέ οἱ ὕπνοςπῖπτεν ἐπὶ βλεφάροισι πάρος καταλέξαι ἅπαντα.Ἄρξατο δ’ ὡς πρῶτον Κίκονας δάμασ’, αὐτὰρ ἔπειταἦλθ’ ἐς Λωτοφάγων ἀνδρῶν πίειραν ἄρουραν·ἠδ’ ὅσα Κύκλωψ ἔρξε, καὶ ὡς ἀπετίσατο ποινὴνἰφθίμων ἑτάρων, οὗς ἤσθιεν οὐδ’ ἐλέαιρεν·ἠδ’ ὡς Αἴολον ἵκεθ’, ὅ μιν πρόφρων ὑπέδεκτοκαὶ πέμπ’, οὐδέ πω αἶσα φίλην ἐς πατρίδ’ ἱκέσθαιἤην, ἀλλά μιν αὗτις ἀναρπάξασα θύελλαπόντον ἐπ’ ἰχθυόεντα φέρεν βαρέα στενάχοντα·ἠδ’ ὡς Τηλέπυλον Λαιστρυγονίην ἀφίκανεν,οἱ νῆάς τ’ ὄλεσαν καὶ ἐὐκνήμιδας ἑταίρουςπάντας· Ὀδυσσεὺς δ’ οἷος ὑπέκφυγε νηὶ μελαίνῃ.καὶ Κίρκης κατέλεξε δόλον πολυμηχανίην τε,ἠδ’ ὡς εἰς Ἀἴδεω δόμον ἤλυθεν εὐρώεντα,ψυχῇ χρησόμενος Θηβαίου Τειρεσίαο,νηὶ πολυκλήϊδι, καὶ ἔσιδε πάντας ἑταίρουςμητέρα θ’, ἥ μιν ἔτικτε καὶ ἔτρεφε τυτθὸν ἐόντα·ἠδ’ ὡς Σειρήνων ἁδινάων φθόγγον ἄκουσεν,ὥς θ’ ἵκετο ΠΠλαγκτὰς πέτρας δεινήν τε ΧάρυβδινΣκύλλην θ’, ἣν οὔ πώ ποτ’ ἀκήριοι ἄνδρες ἄλυξαν·ἠδ’ ὡς Ἠελίοιο βόας κατέπεφνον ἑταῖροι·ἠδ’ ὡς νῆα θοὴν ἔβαλε ψολόεντι κεραυνῷΖεὺς ὑψιβρεμέτης, ἀπὸ δ’ ἔφθιθεν ἐσθλοὶ ἑταῖροιπάντες ὁμῶς, αὐτὸς δὲ κακὰς ὑπὸ κῆρας ἄλυξεν·ὥς θ’ ἵκετ’ Ὠγυγίην νῆσον νύμφην τε Καλυψώ,ἣ δή μιν κατέρυκε λιλαιομένη πόσιν εἶναιἐν σπέσσι γλαφυροῖσι, καὶ ἔτρεφεν ἠδὲ ἔφασκεθήσειν ἀθάνατον καὶ ἀγήρων ἤματα πάντα·ἀλλὰ τοῦ οὔ ποτε θυμὸν ἐνὶ στήθεσσιν ἔπειθεν·ἠδ’ ὡς ἐς Φαίηκας ἀφίκετο πολλὰ μογήσας,οἱ δή μιν περὶ κῆρι θεὸν ὡς τιμήσαντοκαὶ πέμψαν σὺν νηὶ φίλην ἐς πατρίδα γαῖαν,χαλκόν τε χρυσόν τε ἅλις ἐσθῆτά τε δόντες.τοῦτ’ ἄρα δεύτατον εἶπεν ἔπος, ὅτε οἱ γλυκὺς ὕπνοςλυσιμελὴς ἐπόρουσε, λύων μελεδήματα θυμοῦ.Ἡ δ’ αὖτ’ ἄλλ’ ἐνόησε θεὰ γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη·ὁππότε δὴ ῥ’ Ὀδυσῆα ἐέλπετο ὃν κατὰ θυμὸνεὐνῆς ἧς ἀλόχου ταρπήμεναι ἠδὲ καὶ ὕπνου,αὐτίκ’ ἀπ’ Ὠκεανοῦ χρυσόθρονον ἠριγένειανὦρσεν, ἵν’ ἀνθρώποισι φόως φέροι· ὦρτο δ’ Ὀδυσσεὺςεὐνῆς ἐκ μαλακῆς, ἀλόχῳ δ’ ἐπὶ μῦθον ἔτελλεν·ὦ γύναι, ἤδη μὲν πολέων κεκορήμεθ’ ἀέθλωνἀμφοτέρῳ, σὺ μὲν ἐνθάδ’ ἐμὸν πολυκηδέα νόστονκλαίουσ’. αὐτὰρ ἐμὲ Ζεὺς ἄλγεσι καὶ θεοὶ ἄλλοιἱέμενον πεδάασκον ἐμῆς ἀπὸ πατρίδος αἴης.νῦν δ’ ἐπεὶ ἀμφοτέρω πολυήρατον ἱκόμεθ’ εὐνήν,κτήματα μὲν τά μοί ἐστι κομιζέμεν ἐν μεγάροισι,μῆλα δ’ ἅ μοι μνηστῆρες ὑπερφίαλοι κατέκειραν,πολλὰ μὲν αὐτὸς ἐγὼ ληΐσσομαι, ἄλλα δ’ Ἀχαιοὶδώσουσ’, εἰς ὅ κε πάντας ἐνιπλήσωσιν ἐπαύλους.ἀλλ’ ἦ τοι μὲν ἐγὼ πολυδένδρεον ἀγρὸν ἔπειμι,ὀψόμενος πατέρ’ ἐσθλόν, ὅ μοι πυκινῶς ἀκάχηται·σοὶ δέ, γύναι, τάδ’ ἐπιτέλλω πινυτῇ περ ἐούσῃ·αὐτίκα γὰρ φάτις εἶσιν ἅμ’ ἠελίῳ ἀνιόντιἀνδρῶν μνηστήρων, οὓς ἔκτανον ἐν μεγάροισιν·εἰς ὑπερῷ’ ἀναβᾶσα σὺν ἀμφιπόλοισι γυναιξὶνἧσθαι, μηδέ τινα προτιόσσεο μηδ’ ἐρέεινε.Ἦ ῥα καὶ ἀμφ’ ὥμοισιν ἐδύσετο τεύχεα καλά,ὦρσε δὲ Τηλέμαχον καὶ βουκόλον ἠδὲ συβώτην,πάντας δ’ ἔντε’ ἄνωγεν ἀρήϊα χερσὶν ἑλέσθαι.οἱ δέ οἱ οὐκ ἀπίθησαν, ἐθωρήσσοντο δὲ χαλκῷ,ὥϊξαν δὲ θύρας, ἐκ δ’ ἤϊον· ἄρχε δ’ Ὀδυσσεύς.ἤδη μὲν φάος ἦεν ἐπὶ χθόνα, τοὺς δ’ ἄρ’ Ἀθήνηνυκτὶ κατακρύψασα θοῶς ἐξῆγε πόληος.
English
Euryclea now went upstairs laughing to tell her mistress that her dear husband had come home. Her aged knees became young again and her feet were nimble for joy as she went up to her mistress and bent over her head to speak to her. “Wake up Penelope, my dear child,” she exclaimed, “and see with your own eyes something that you have been wanting this long time past. Ulysses has at last indeed come home again, and has killed the suitors who were giving so much trouble in his house, eating up his estate and ill treating his son.”
“My good nurse,” answered Penelope, “you must be mad. The gods sometimes send some very sensible people out of their minds, and make foolish people become sensible. This is what they must have been doing to you; for you always used to be a reasonable person. Why should you thus mock me when I have trouble enough already—talking such nonsense, and waking me up out of a sweet sleep that had taken possession of my eyes and closed them? I have never slept so soundly from the day my poor husband went to that city with the ill-omened name. Go back again into the women’s room; if it had been any one else who had woke me up to bring me such absurd news I should have sent her away with a severe scolding. As it is your age shall protect you.”
“My dear child,” answered Euryclea, “I am not mocking you. It is quite true as I tell you that Ulysses is come home again. He was the stranger whom they all kept on treating so badly in the cloister. Telemachus knew all the time that he was come back, but kept his father’s secret that he might have his revenge on all these wicked people.”
Then Penelope sprang up from her couch, threw her arms round Euryclea, and wept for joy. “But my dear nurse,” said she, “explain this to me; if he has really come home as you say, how did he manage to overcome the wicked suitors single handed, seeing what a number of them there always were?”
“I was not there,” answered Euryclea, “and do not know; I only heard them groaning while they were being killed. We sat crouching and huddled up in a corner of the women’s room with the doors closed, till your son came to fetch me because his father sent him. Then I found Ulysses standing over the corpses that were lying on the ground all round him, one on top of the other. You would have enjoyed it if you could have seen him standing there all bespattered with blood and filth, and looking just like a lion. But the corpses are now all piled up in the gatehouse that is in the outer court, and Ulysses has lit a great fire to purify the house with sulphur. He has sent me to call you, so come with me that you may both be happy together after all; for now at last the desire of your heart has been fulfilled; your husband is come home to find both wife and son alive and well, and to take his revenge in his own house on the suitors who behaved so badly to him.”
“My dear nurse,” said Penelope, “do not exult too confidently over all this. You know how delighted every one would be to see Ulysses come home—more particularly myself, and the son who has been born to both of us; but what you tell me cannot be really true. It is some god who is angry with the suitors for their great wickedness, and has made an end of them; for they respected no man in the whole world, neither rich nor poor, who came near them, and they have come to a bad end in consequence of their iniquity; Ulysses is dead far away from the Achaean land; he will never return home again.”
Then nurse Euryclea said, “My child, what are you talking about? but you were all hard of belief and have made up your mind that your husband is never coming, although he is in the house and by his own fire side at this very moment. Besides I can give you another proof; when I was washing him I perceived the scar which the wild boar gave him, and I wanted to tell you about it, but in his wisdom he would not let me, and clapped his hands over my mouth; so come with me and I will make this bargain with you—if I am deceiving you, you may have me killed by the most cruel death you can think of.”
“My dear nurse,” said Penelope, “however wise you may be you can hardly fathom the counsels of the gods. Nevertheless, we will go in search of my son, that I may see the corpses of the suitors, and the man who has killed them.”
On this she came down from her upper room, and while doing so she considered whether she should keep at a distance from her husband and question him, or whether she should at once go up to him and embrace him. When, however, she had crossed the stone floor of the cloister, she sat down opposite Ulysses by the fire, against the wall at right angles [to that by which she had entered], while Ulysses sat near one of the bearing-posts, looking upon the ground, and waiting to see what his brave wife would say to him when she saw him. For a long time she sat silent and as one lost in amazement. At one moment she looked him full in the face, but then again directly, she was misled by his shabby clothes and failed to recognise him, till Telemachus began to reproach her and said:
“Mother—but you are so hard that I cannot call you by such a name—why do you keep away from my father in this way? Why do you not sit by his side and begin talking to him and asking him questions? No other woman could bear to keep away from her husband when he had come back to her after twenty years of absence, and after having gone through so much; but your heart always was as hard as a stone.”
Penelope answered, “My son, I am so lost in astonishment that I can find no words in which either to ask questions or to answer them. I cannot even look him straight in the face. Still, if he really is Ulysses come back to his own home again, we shall get to understand one another better by and by, for there are tokens with which we two are alone acquainted, and which are hidden from all others.”
Ulysses smiled at this, and said to Telemachus, “Let your mother put me to any proof she likes; she will make up her mind about it presently. She rejects me for the moment and believes me to be somebody else, because I am covered with dirt and have such bad clothes on; let us, however, consider what we had better do next. When one man has killed another—even though he was not one who would leave many friends to take up his quarrel—the man who has killed him must still say good bye to his friends and fly the country; whereas we have been killing the stay of a whole town, and all the picked youth of Ithaca. I would have you consider this matter.”
“Look to it yourself, father,” answered Telemachus, “for they say you are the wisest counsellor in the world, and that there is no other mortal man who can compare with you. We will follow you with right good will, nor shall you find us fail you in so far as our strength holds out.”
“I will say what I think will be best,” answered Ulysses. “First wash and put your shirts on; tell the maids also to go to their own room and dress; Phemius shall then strike up a dance tune on his lyre, so that if people outside hear, or any of the neighbours, or some one going along the street happens to notice it, they may think there is a wedding in the house, and no rumours about the death of the suitors will get about in the town, before we can escape to the woods upon my own land. Once there, we will settle which of the courses heaven vouchsafes us shall seem wisest.”
Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said. First they washed and put their shirts on, while the women got ready. Then Phemius took his lyre and set them all longing for sweet song and stately dance. The house re-echoed with the sound of men and women dancing, and the people outside said, “I suppose the queen has been getting married at last. She ought to be ashamed of herself for not continuing to protect her husband’s property until he comes home.”
This was what they said, but they did not know what it was that had been happening. The upper servant Eurynome washed and anointed Ulysses in his own house and gave him a shirt and cloak, while Minerva made him look taller and stronger than before; she also made the hair grow thick on the top of his head, and flow down in curls like hyacinth blossoms; she glorified him about the head and shoulders just as a skilful workman who has studied art of all kinds under Vulcan or Minerva—and his work is full of beauty—enriches a piece of silver plate by gilding it. He came from the bath looking like one of the immortals, and sat down opposite his wife on the seat he had left. “My dear,” said he, “heaven has endowed you with a heart more unyielding than woman ever yet had. No other woman could bear to keep away from her husband when he had come back to her after twenty years of absence, and after having gone through so much. But come, nurse, get a bed ready for me; I will sleep alone, for this woman has a heart as hard as iron.”
“My dear,” answered Penelope, “I have no wish to set myself up, nor to depreciate you; but I am not struck by your appearance, for I very well remember what kind of a man you were when you set sail from Ithaca. Nevertheless, Euryclea, take his bed outside the bed chamber that he himself built. Bring the bed outside this room, and put bedding upon it with fleeces, good coverlets, and blankets.”
She said this to try him, but Ulysses was very angry and said, “Wife, I am much displeased at what you have just been saying. Who has been taking my bed from the place in which I left it? He must have found it a hard task, no matter how skilled a workman he was, unless some god came and helped him to shift it. There is no man living, however strong and in his prime, who could move it from its place, for it is a marvellous curiosity which I made with my very own hands. There was a young olive growing within the precincts of the house, in full vigour, and about as thick as a bearing-post. I built my room round this with strong walls of stone and a roof to cover them, and I made the doors strong and well-fitting. Then I cut off the top boughs of the olive tree and left the stump standing. This I dressed roughly from the root upwards and then worked with carpenter’s tools well and skilfully, straightening my work by drawing a line on the wood, and making it into a bed-prop. I then bored a hole down the middle, and made it the centre-post of my bed, at which I worked till I had finished it, inlaying it with gold and silver; after this I stretched a hide of crimson leather from one side of it to the other. So you see I know all about it, and I desire to learn whether it is still there, or whether any one has been removing it by cutting down the olive tree at its roots.”
When she heard the sure proofs Ulysses now gave her, she fairly broke down. She flew weeping to his side, flung her arms about his neck, and kissed him. “Do not be angry with me Ulysses,” she cried, “you, who are the wisest of mankind. We have suffered, both of us. Heaven has denied us the happiness of spending our youth, and of growing old, together; do not then be aggrieved or take it amiss that I did not embrace you thus as soon as I saw you. I have been shuddering all the time through fear that someone might come here and deceive me with a lying story; for there are many very wicked people going about. Jove’s daughter Helen would never have yielded herself to a man from a foreign country, if she had known that the sons of Achaeans would come after her and bring her back. Heaven put it in her heart to do wrong, and she gave no thought to that sin, which has been the source of all our sorrows. Now, however, that you have convinced me by showing that you know all about our bed (which no human being has ever seen but you and I and a single maidservant, the daughter of Actor, who was given me by my father on my marriage, and who keeps the doors of our room) hard of belief though I have been I can mistrust no longer.”
Then Ulysses in his turn melted, and wept as he clasped his dear and faithful wife to his bosom. As the sight of land is welcome to men who are swimming towards the shore, when Neptune has wrecked their ship with the fury of his winds and waves; a few alone reach the land, and these, covered with brine, are thankful when they find themselves on firm ground and out of danger—even so was her husband welcome to her as she looked upon him, and she could not tear her two fair arms from about his neck. Indeed they would have gone on indulging their sorrow till rosy-fingered morn appeared, had not Minerva determined otherwise, and held night back in the far west, while she would not suffer Dawn to leave Oceanus, nor to yoke the two steeds Lampus and Phaethon that bear her onward to break the day upon mankind.
At last, however, Ulysses said, “Wife, we have not yet reached the end of our troubles. I have an unknown amount of toil still to undergo. It is long and difficult, but I must go through with it, for thus the shade of Teiresias prophesied concerning me, on the day when I went down into Hades to ask about my return and that of my companions. But now let us go to bed, that we may lie down and enjoy the blessed boon of sleep.”
“You shall go to bed as soon as you please,” replied Penelope, “now that the gods have sent you home to your own good house and to your country. But as heaven has put it in your mind to speak of it, tell me about the task that lies before you. I shall have to hear about it later, so it is better that I should be told at once.”
“My dear,” answered Ulysses, “why should you press me to tell you? Still, I will not conceal it from you, though you will not like it. I do not like it myself, for Teiresias bade me travel far and wide, carrying an oar, till I came to a country where the people have never heard of the sea, and do not even mix salt with their food. They know nothing about ships, nor oars that are as the wings of a ship. He gave me this certain token which I will not hide from you. He said that a wayfarer should meet me and ask me whether it was a winnowing shovel that I had on my shoulder. On this, I was to fix my oar in the ground and sacrifice a ram, a bull, and a boar to Neptune; after which I was to go home and offer hecatombs to all the gods in heaven, one after the other. As for myself, he said that death should come to me from the sea, and that my life should ebb away very gently when I was full of years and peace of mind, and my people should bless me. All this, he said, should surely come to pass.”
And Penelope said, “If the gods are going to vouchsafe you a happier time in your old age, you may hope then to have some respite from misfortune.”
Thus did they converse. Meanwhile Eurynome and the nurse took torches and made the bed ready with soft coverlets; as soon as they had laid them, the nurse went back into the house to go to her rest, leaving the bed chamber woman Eurynome to show Ulysses and Penelope to bed by torch light. When she had conducted them to their room she went back, and they then came joyfully to the rites of their own old bed. Telemachus, Philoetius, and the swineherd now left off dancing, and made the women leave off also. They then laid themselves down to sleep in the cloisters.
When Ulysses and Penelope had had their fill of love they fell talking with one another. She told him how much she had had to bear in seeing the house filled with a crowd of wicked suitors who had killed so many sheep and oxen on her account, and had drunk so many casks of wine. Ulysses in his turn told her what he had suffered, and how much trouble he had himself given to other people. He told her everything, and she was so delighted to listen that she never went to sleep till he had ended his whole story.
He began with his victory over the Cicons, and how he thence reached the fertile land of the Lotus-eaters. He told her all about the Cyclops and how he had punished him for having so ruthlessly eaten his brave comrades; how he then went on to Aeolus, who received him hospitably and furthered him on his way, but even so he was not to reach home, for to his great grief a hurricane carried him out to sea again; how he went on to the Laestrygonian city Telepylos, where the people destroyed all his ships with their crews, save himself and his own ship only. Then he told of cunning Circe and her craft, and how he sailed to the chill house of Hades, to consult the ghost of the Theban prophet Teiresias, and how he saw his old comrades in arms, and his mother who bore him and brought him up when he was a child; how he then heard the wondrous singing of the Sirens, and went on to the wandering rocks and terrible Charybdis and to Scylla, whom no man had ever yet passed in safety; how his men then ate the cattle of the sun-god, and how Jove therefore struck the ship with his thunderbolts, so that all his men perished together, himself alone being left alive; how at last he reached the Ogygian island and the nymph Calypso, who kept him there in a cave, and fed him, and wanted him to marry her, in which case she intended making him immortal so that he should never grow old, but she could not persuade him to let her do so; and how after much suffering he had found his way to the Phaeacians, who had treated him as though he had been a god, and sent him back in a ship to his own country after having given him gold, bronze, and raiment in great abundance. This was the last thing about which he told her, for here a deep sleep took hold upon him and eased the burden of his sorrows.
Then Minerva bethought her of another matter. When she deemed that Ulysses had had both of his wife and of repose, she bade gold-enthroned Dawn rise out of Oceanus that she might shed light upon mankind. On this, Ulysses rose from his comfortable bed and said to Penelope, “Wife, we have both of us had our full share of troubles, you, here, in lamenting my absence, and I in being prevented from getting home though I was longing all the time to do so. Now, however, that we have at last come together, take care of the property that is in the house. As for the sheep and goats which the wicked suitors have eaten, I will take many myself by force from other people, and will compel the Achaeans to make good the rest till they shall have filled all my yards. I am now going to the wooded lands out in the country to see my father who has so long been grieved on my account, and to yourself I will give these instructions, though you have little need of them. At sunrise it will at once get abroad that I have been killing the suitors; go upstairs, therefore, and stay there with your women. See nobody and ask no questions.”
As he spoke he girded on his armour. Then he roused Telemachus, Philoetius, and Eumaeus, and told them all to put on their armour also. This they did, and armed themselves. When they had done so, they opened the gates and sallied forth, Ulysses leading the way. It was now daylight, but Minerva nevertheless concealed them in darkness and led them quickly out of the town.