ὈΔΎΣΣΕΙΑ 2

Ἦμος δ' ἠριγένεια φάνη ῥοδοδάκτυλος Ἠώς,
ὤρνυτ' ἄρ' ἐξ εὐνῆφιν Ὀδυσσῆος φίλος υἱός,
εἵματα ἑσσάμενος, περὶ δὲ ξίφος ὀξὺ θέτ' ὤμῳ,
ποσσὶ δ' ὑπὸ λιπαροῖσιν ἐδήσατο καλὰ πέδιλα,
βῆ δ' ἴμεν ἐκ θαλάμοιο θεῷ ἐναλίγκιος ἄντην.

αἶψα δὲ κηρύκεσσι λιγυφθόγγοισι κέλευσε
κηρύσσειν ἀγορήνδε κάρη κομόωντας Ἀχαιούς.
οἱ μὲν ἐκήρυσσον, τοὶ δ' ἠγείροντο μάλ' ὦκα.
αὐτὰρ ἐπεί ῥ' ἤγερθεν ὁμηγερέες τ' ἐγένοντο,
βῆ ῥ' ἴμεν εἰς ἀγορήν, παλάμῃ δ' ἔχε χάλκεον ἔγχος,

οὐκ οἶος, ἅμα τῷ γε δύω κύνες ἀργοὶ ἕποντο.
θεσπεσίην δ' ἄρα τῷ γε χάριν κατέχευεν Ἀθήνη·
τὸν δ' ἄρα πάντες λαοὶ ἐπερχόμενον θηεῦντο.
ἕζετο δ' ἐν πατρὸς θώκῳ, εἶξαν δὲ γέροντες.
τοῖσι δ' ἔπειθ' ἥρως Αἰγύπτιος ἦρχ' ἀγορεύειν,
ὃς δὴ γήραϊ κυφὸς ἔην καὶ μυρία ᾔδη.
καὶ γὰρ τοῦ φίλος υἱὸς ἅμ' ἀντιθέῳ Ὀδυσῆϊ
Ἴλιον εἰς εὔπωλον ἔβη κοίλῃσ' ἐνὶ νηυσίν,
Ἄντιφος αἰχμητής· τὸν δ' ἄγριος ἔκτανε Κύκλωψ
ἐν σπῆϊ γλαφυρῷ, πύματον δ' ὁπλίσσατο δόρπον.

τρεῖς δέ οἱ ἄλλοι ἔσαν, καὶ ὁ μὲν μνηστῆρσιν ὁμίλει,
Εὐρύνομος, δύο δ' αἰὲν ἔχον πατρώϊα ἔργα·
ἀλλ' οὐδ' ὧς τοῦ λήθετ' ὀδυρόμενος καὶ ἀχεύων.
τοῦ ὅ γε δάκρυ χέων ἀγορήσατο καὶ μετέειπε·

«κέκλυτε δὴ νῦν μευ, Ἰθακήσιοι, ὅττι κεν εἴπω.
οὔτε ποθ' ἡμετέρη ἀγορὴ γένετ' οὔτε θόωκος
ἐξ οὗ Ὀδυσσεὺς δῖος ἔβη κοίλῃσ' ἐνὶ νηυσί.
νῦν δὲ τίς ὧδ' ἤγειρε; τίνα χρειὼ τόσον ἵκει
ἠὲ νέων ἀνδρῶν ἢ οἳ προγενέστεροί εἰσιν;
ἠέ τιν' ἀγγελίην στρατοῦ ἔκλυεν ἐρχομένοιο,
ἥν χ' ἥμιν σάφα εἴποι, ὅτε πρότερός γε πύθοιτο;
ἦέ τι δήμιον ἄλλο πιφαύσκεται ἠδ' ἀγορεύει;
ἐσθλός μοι δοκεῖ εἶναι, ὀνήμενος. εἴθε οἱ αὐτῷ
Ζεὺς ἀγαθὸν τελέσειεν, ὅ τι φρεσὶν ᾗσι μενοινᾷ.»

ὣς φάτο, χαῖρε δὲ φήμῃ Ὀδυσσῆος φίλος υἱός,
οὐδ' ἄρ' ἔτι δὴν ἧστο, μενοίνησεν δ' ἀγορεύειν,
στῆ δὲ μέσῃ ἀγορῇ· σκῆπτρον δέ οἱ ἔμβαλε χειρὶ
κῆρυξ Πεισήνωρ, πεπνυμένα μήδεα εἰδώς.
πρῶτον ἔπειτα γέροντα καθαπτόμενος προσέειπεν·

«ὦ γέρον, οὐχ ἑκὰς οὗτος ἀνήρ, τάχα δ' εἴσεαι αὐτός,
ὃς λαὸν ἤγειρα· μάλιστα δέ μ' ἄλγος ἱκάνει.
οὔτε τιν' ἀγγελίην στρατοῦ ἔκλυον ἐρχομένοιο,
ἥν χ' ὕμιν σάφα εἴπω, ὅτε πρότερός γε πυθοίμην,
οὔτε τι δήμιον ἄλλο πιφαύσκομαι οὐδ' ἀγορεύω,
ἀλλ' ἐμὸν αὐτοῦ χρεῖος, ὅ μοι κακὰ ἔμπεσεν οἴκῳ,
δοιά· τὸ μὲν πατέρ' ἐσθλὸν ἀπώλεσα, ὅς ποτ' ἐν ὑμῖν
τοίσδεσσιν βασίλευε, πατὴρ δ' ὣς ἤπιος ἦεν·
νῦν δ' αὖ καὶ πολὺ μεῖζον, ὃ δὴ τάχα οἶκον ἅπαντα
πάγχυ διαῤῥαίσει, βίοτον δ' ἀπὸ πάμπαν ὀλέσσει.
μητέρι μοι μνηστῆρες ἐπέχραον οὐκ ἐθελούσῃ,
τῶν ἀνδρῶν φίλοι υἷες οἳ ἐνθάδε γ' εἰσὶν ἄριστοι,
οἳ πατρὸς μὲν ἐς οἶκον ἀπεῤῥίγασι νέεσθαι
Ἰκαρίου, ὅς κ' αὐτὸς ἐεδνώσαιτο θύγατρα,
δοίη δ' ᾧ κ' ἐθέλοι καί οἱ κεχαρισμένος ἔλθοι·
οἱ δ' εἰς ἡμετέρου πωλεύμενοι ἤματα πάντα,
βοῦς ἱερεύοντες καὶ ὄϊς καὶ πίονας αἶγας,
εἰλαπινάζουσιν πίνουσί τε αἴθοπα οἶνον
μαψιδίως· τὰ δὲ πολλὰ κατάνεται. οὐ γὰρ ἔπ' ἀνήρ,
οἷος Ὀδυσσεὺς ἔσκεν, ἀρὴν ἀπὸ οἴκου ἀμῦναι.
ἡμεῖς δ' οὔ νύ τι τοῖοι ἀμυνέμεν· ἦ καὶ ἔπειτα
λευγαλέοι τ' ἐσόμεσθα καὶ οὐ δεδαηκότες ἀλκήν.
ἦ τ' ἂν ἀμυναίμην, εἴ μοι δύναμίς γε παρείη·
οὐ γὰρ ἔτ' ἀνσχετὰ ἔργα τετεύχαται, οὐδ' ἔτι καλῶς
οἶκος ἐμὸς διόλωλε· νεμεσσήθητε καὶ αὐτοί,
ἄλλους τ' αἰδέσθητε περικτίονας ἀνθρώπους,
οἳ περιναιετάουσι· θεῶν δ' ὑποδείσατε μῆνιν,
μή τι μεταστρέψωσιν ἀγασσάμενοι κακὰ ἔργα.
λίσσομαι ἠμὲν Ζηνὸς Ὀλυμπίου ἠδὲ Θέμιστος,
ἥ τ' ἀνδρῶν ἀγορὰς ἠμὲν λύει ἠδὲ καθίζει·
σχέσθε, φίλοι, καί μ' οἶον ἐάσατε πένθεϊ λυγρῷ
τείρεσθ', εἰ μή πού τι πατὴρ ἐμὸς ἐσθλὸς Ὀδυσσεὺς
δυσμενέων κάκ' ἔρεξεν ἐϋκνήμιδας Ἀχαιούς,
τῶν μ' ἀποτεινύμενοι κακὰ ῥέζετε δυσμενέοντες,
τούτους ὀτρύνοντες. ἐμοὶ δέ κε κέρδιον εἴη
ὑμέας ἐσθέμεναι κειμήλιά τε πρόβασίν τε·
εἴ χ' ὑμεῖς γε φάγοιτε, τάχ' ἄν ποτε καὶ τίσις εἴη·
τόφρα γὰρ ἂν κατὰ ἄστυ ποτιπτυσσοίμεθα μύθῳ
χρήματ' ἀπαιτίζοντες, ἕως κ' ἀπὸ πάντα δοθείη·
νῦν δέ μοι ἀπρήκτους ὀδύνας ἐμβάλλετε θυμῷ.»

ὣς φάτο χωόμενος, ποτὶ δὲ σκῆπτρον βάλε γαίῃ,
δάκρυ' ἀναπρήσας· οἶκτος δ' ἕλε λαὸν ἅπαντα.
ἔνθ' ἄλλοι μὲν πάντες ἀκὴν ἔσαν, οὐδέ τις ἔτλη
Τηλέμαχον μύθοισιν ἀμείψασθαι χαλεποῖσιν·
Ἀντίνοος δέ μιν οἶος ἀμειβόμενος προσέειπε·

«Τηλέμαχ' ὑψαγόρη, μένος ἄσχετε, ποῖον ἔειπες
ἡμέας αἰσχύνων, ἐθέλοις δέ κε μῶμον ἀνάψαι.
σοὶ δ' οὔ τι μνηστῆρες Ἀχαιῶν αἴτιοί εἰσιν,
ἀλλὰ φίλη μήτηρ, ἥ τοι περὶ κέρδεα οἶδεν.
ἤδη γὰρ τρίτον ἐστὶν ἔτος, τάχα δ' εἶσι τέταρτον,
ἐξ οὗ ἀτέμβει θυμὸν ἐνὶ στήθεσσιν Ἀχαιῶν.
πάντας μέν ῥ' ἔλπει, καὶ ὑπίσχεται ἀνδρὶ ἑκάστῳ,
ἀγγελίας προϊεῖσα· νόος δέ οἱ ἄλλα μενοινᾷ.
ἡ δὲ δόλον τόνδ' ἄλλον ἐνὶ φρεσὶ μερμήριξε·
στησαμένη μέγαν ἱστὸν ἐνὶ μεγάροισιν ὕφαινε,
λεπτὸν καὶ περίμετρον· ἄφαρ δ' ἡμῖν μετέειπε·
κοῦροι, ἐμοὶ μνηστῆρες, ἐπεὶ θάνε δῖος Ὀδυσσεύς,
μίμνετ' ἐπειγόμενοι τὸν ἐμὸν γάμον, εἰς ὅ κε φᾶρος
ἐκτελέσω, μή μοι μεταμώνια νήματ' ὄληται,
Λαέρτῃ ἥρωϊ ταφήϊον, εἰς ὅτε κέν μιν
μοῖρ' ὀλοὴ καθέλῃσι τανηλεγέος θανάτοιο,
μή τίς μοι κατὰ δῆμον Ἀχαιϊάδων νεμεσήσῃ,
αἴ κεν ἄτερ σπείρου κεῖται πολλὰ κτεατίσσας.
ὣς ἔφαθ', ἡμῖν δ' αὖτ' ἐπεπείθετο θυμὸς ἀγήνωρ.
ἔνθα καὶ ἠματίη μὲν ὑφαίνεσκεν μέγαν ἱστόν,

νύκτας δ' ἀλλύεσκεν, ἐπὴν δαΐδας παραθεῖτο.
ὣς τρίετες μὲν ἔληθε δόλῳ καὶ ἔπειθεν Ἀχαιούς·
ἀλλ' ὅτε τέτρατον ἦλθεν ἔτος καὶ ἐπήλυθον ὧραι,
καὶ τότε δή τις ἔειπε γυναικῶν, ἣ σάφα ᾔδη,
καὶ τήν γ' ἀλλύουσαν ἐφεύρομεν ἀγλαὸν ἱστόν.
ὣς τὸ μὲν ἐξετέλεσσε καὶ οὐκ ἐθέλουσ', ὑπ' ἀνάγκης·
σοὶ δ' ὧδε μνηστῆρες ὑποκρίνονται, ἵν' εἰδῇς
αὐτὸς σῷ θυμῷ, εἰδῶσι δὲ πάντες Ἀχαιοί·
μητέρα σὴν ἀπόπεμψον, ἄνωχθι δέ μιν γαμέεσθαι
τῷ ὅτεῴ τε πατὴρ κέλεται καὶ ἁνδάνει αὐτῇ.
εἰ δ' ἔτ' ἀνιήσει γε πολὺν χρόνον υἷας Ἀχαιῶν,
τὰ φρονέουσ' ἀνὰ θυμόν, ἅ οἱ περὶ δῶκεν Ἀθήνη,
ἔργα τ' ἐπίστασθαι περικαλλέα καὶ φρένας ἐσθλὰς
κέρδεά θ', οἷ' οὔ πώ τιν' ἀκούομεν οὐδὲ παλαιῶν,
τάων αἳ πάρος ἦσαν ἐϋπλοκαμῖδες Ἀχαιαί,
Τυρώ τ' Ἀλκμήνη τε ἐϋστέφανός τε Μυκήνη·
τάων οὔ τις ὁμοῖα νοήματα Πηνελοπείῃ
ᾔδη· ἀτὰρ μὲν τοῦτό γ' ἐναίσιμον οὐκ ἐνόησε. -
τόφρα γὰρ οὖν βίοτόν τε τεὸν καὶ κτήματ' ἔδονται,
ὄφρα κε κείνη τοῦτον ἔχῃ νόον, ὅν τινά οἱ νῦν
ἐν στήθεσσι τιθεῖσι θεοί· μέγα μὲν κλέος αὐτῇ
ποιεῖτ', αὐτὰρ σοί γε ποθὴν πολέος βιότοιο.
ἡμεῖς δ' οὔτ' ἐπὶ ἔργα πάρος γ' ἴμεν οὔτε πῃ ἄλλῃ,
πρίν γ' αὐτὴν γήμασθαι Ἀχαιῶν ᾧ κ' ἐθέλῃσι.»

τὸν δ' αὖ Τηλέμαχος πεπνυμένος ἀντίον ηὔδα·
«Ἀντίνο', οὔ πως ἔστι δόμων ἀέκουσαν ἀπῶσαι
ἥ μ' ἔτεχ', ἥ μ' ἔθρεψε, πατὴρ δ' ἐμὸς ἄλλοθι γαίης,
ζώει ὅ γ' ἦ τέθνηκε· κακὸν δέ με πόλλ' ἀποτίνειν
Ἰκαρίῳ, αἴ κ' αὐτὸς ἑκὼν ἀπὸ μητέρα πέμψω.
ἐκ γὰρ τοῦ πατρὸς κακὰ πείσομαι, ἄλλα δὲ δαίμων
δώσει, ἐπεὶ μήτηρ στυγερὰς ἀρήσετ' ἐρινῦς
οἴκου ἀπερχομένη· νέμεσις δέ μοι ἐξ ἀνθρώπων
ἔσσεται· ὣς οὐ τοῦτον ἐγώ ποτε μῦθον ἐνίψω.
ὑμέτερος δ' εἰ μὲν θυμὸς νεμεσίζεται αὐτῶν,
ἔξιτέ μοι μεγάρων, ἄλλας δ' ἀλεγύνετε δαῖτας
ὑμὰ κτήματ' ἔδοντες ἀμειβόμενοι κατὰ οἴκους.
εἰ δ' ὕμιν δοκέει τόδε λωΐτερον καὶ ἄμεινον
ἔμμεναι, ἀνδρὸς ἑνὸς βίοτον νήποινον ὀλέσθαι,
κείρετ'· ἐγὼ δὲ θεοὺς ἐπιβώσομαι αἰὲν ἐόντας,
αἴ κέ ποθι Ζεὺς δῷσι παλίντιτα ἔργα γενέσθαι·
νήποινοί κεν ἔπειτα δόμων ἔντοσθεν ὄλοισθε.»

ὣς φάτο Τηλέμαχος, τῷ δ' αἰετὼ εὐρύοπα Ζεὺς
ὑψόθεν ἐκ κορυφῆς ὄρεος προέηκε πέτεσθαι.
τὼ δ' ἕως μέν ῥ' ἐπέτοντο μετὰ πνοιῇσ' ἀνέμοιο,
πλησίω ἀλλήλοισι τιταινομένω πτερύγεσσιν·
ἀλλ' ὅτε δὴ μέσσην ἀγορὴν πολύφημον ἱκέσθην,
ἔνθ' ἐπιδινηθέντε τιναξάσθην πτερὰ πυκνά,
ἐς δ' ἰδέτην πάντων κεφαλάς, ὄσσοντο δ' ὄλεθρον·
δρυψαμένω δ' ὀνύχεσσι παρειὰς ἀμφί τε δειρὰς
δεξιὼ ἤϊξαν διά τ' οἰκία καὶ πόλιν αὐτῶν.
θάμβησαν δ' ὄρνιθας, ἐπεὶ ἴδον ὀφθαλμοῖσιν·
ὥρμηναν δ' ἀνὰ θυμὸν ἅ περ τελέεσθαι ἔμελλον.
τοῖσι δὲ καὶ μετέειπε γέρων ἥρως Ἁλιθέρσης
Μαστορίδης· ὁ γὰρ οἶος ὁμηλικίην ἐκέκαστο
ὄρνιθας γνῶναι καὶ ἐναίσιμα μυθήσασθαι·
ὅ σφιν ἐῢ φρονέων ἀγορήσατο καὶ μετέειπε·

«κέκλυτε δὴ νῦν μευ, Ἰθακήσιοι, ὅττι κεν εἴπω·
μνηστῆρσιν δὲ μάλιστα πιφαυσκόμενος τάδε εἴρω.
τοῖσιν γὰρ μέγα πῆμα κυλίνδεται· οὐ γὰρ Ὀδυσσεὺς
δὴν ἀπάνευθε φίλων ὧν ἔσσεται, ἀλλά που ἤδη
ἐγγὺς ἐὼν τοίσδεσσι φόνον καὶ κῆρα φυτεύει,
πάντεσσιν· πολέσιν δὲ καὶ ἄλλοισιν κακὸν ἔσται,
οἳ νεμόμεσθ' Ἰθάκην εὐδείελον. ἀλλὰ πολὺ πρὶν
φραζώμεσθ' ὥς κεν καταπαύσομεν· οἱ δὲ καὶ αὐτοὶ
παυέσθων· καὶ γάρ σφιν ἄφαρ τόδε λώϊόν ἐστιν.
οὐ γὰρ ἀπείρητος μαντεύομαι, ἀλλ' ἐῢ εἰδώς·
καὶ γὰρ κείνῳ φημὶ τελευτηθῆναι ἅπαντα,
ὥς οἱ ἐμυθεόμην, ὅτε Ἴλιον εἰσανέβαινον
Ἀργεῖοι, μετὰ δέ σφιν ἔβη πολύμητις Ὀδυσσεύς.
φῆν κακὰ πολλὰ παθόντ', ὀλέσαντ' ἄπο πάντας ἑταίρους,
ἄγνωστον πάντεσσιν ἐεικοστῷ ἐνιαυτῷ
οἴκαδ' ἐλεύσεσθαι· τὰ δὲ δὴ νῦν πάντα τελεῖται.»

τὸν δ' αὖτ' Εὐρύμαχος, Πολύβου πάϊς, ἀντίον ηὔδα·
«ὦ γέρον, εἰ δ' ἄγε δὴ μαντεύεο σοῖσι τέκεσσιν
οἴκαδ' ἰών, μή πού τι κακὸν πάσχωσιν ὀπίσσω·
ταῦτα δ' ἐγὼ σέο πολλὸν ἀμείνων μαντεύεσθαι.
ὄρνιθες δέ τε πολλοὶ ὑπ' αὐγὰς ἠελίοιο
φοιτῶσ', οὐδέ τε πάντες ἐναίσιμοι· αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσεὺς
ὤλετο τῆλ', ὡς καὶ σὺ καταφθίσθαι σὺν ἐκείνῳ
ὤφελες· οὐκ ἂν τόσσα θεοπροπέων ἀγόρευες,
οὐδέ κε Τηλέμαχον κεχολωμένον ὧδ' ἀνιείης,
σῷ οἴκῳ δῶρον ποτιδέγμενος, αἴ κε πόρῃσιν.
ἀλλ' ἔκ τοι ἐρέω, τὸ δὲ καὶ τετελεσμένον ἔσται·
αἴ κε νεώτερον ἄνδρα παλαιά τε πολλά τε εἰδὼς
παρφάμενος ἐπέεσσιν ἐποτρύνῃς χαλεπαίνειν,
αὐτῷ μέν οἱ πρῶτον ἀνιηρέστερον ἔσται,
πρῆξαι δ' ἔμπης οὔ τι δυνήσεται εἵνεκα τῶνδε·
σοὶ δὲ, γέρον, θῳὴν ἐπιθήσομεν, ἥν κ' ἐνὶ θυμῷ
τίνων ἀσχάλλῃς· χαλεπὸν δέ τοι ἔσσεται ἄλγος.
Τηλεμάχῳ δ' ἐν πᾶσιν ἐγὼν ὑποθήσομαι αὐτός·
μητέρα ἣν ἐς πατρὸς ἀνωγέτω ἀπονέεσθαι·
οἱ δὲ γάμον τεύξουσι καὶ ἀρτυνέουσιν ἔεδνα
πολλὰ μάλ', ὅσσα ἔοικε φίλης ἐπὶ παιδὸς ἕπεσθαι.
οὐ γὰρ πρὶν παύσεσθαι ὀΐομαι υἷας Ἀχαιῶν
μνηστύος ἀργαλέης, ἐπεὶ οὔ τινα δείδιμεν ἔμπης,
οὔτ' οὖν Τηλέμαχον, μάλα περ πολύμυθον ἐόντα,
οὔτε θεοπροπίης ἐμπαζόμεθ', ἣν σύ, γεραιέ,
μυθέαι ἀκράαντον, ἀπεχθάνεαι δ' ἔτι μᾶλλον.
χρήματα δ' αὖτε κακῶς βεβρώσεται, οὐδέ ποτ' ἶσα
ἔσσεται, ὄφρα κεν ἥ γε διατρίβῃσιν Ἀχαιοὺς
ὃν γάμον· ἡμεῖς δ' αὖ ποτιδέγμενοι ἤματα πάντα
εἵνεκα τῆς ἀρετῆς ἐριδαίνομεν, οὐδὲ μετ' ἄλλας
ἐρχόμεθ', ἃς ἐπιεικὲς ὀπυιέμεν ἐστὶν ἑκάστῳ.»

τὸν δ' αὖ Τηλέμαχος πεπνυμένος ἀντίον ηὔδα·
«Εὐρύμαχ' ἠδὲ καὶ ἄλλοι, ὅσοι μνηστῆρες ἀγαυοί,
ταῦτα μὲν οὐχ ὑμέας ἔτι λίσσομαι οὐδ' ἀγορεύω·
ἤδη γὰρ τὰ ἴσασι θεοὶ καὶ πάντες Ἀχαιοί.
ἀλλ' ἄγε μοι δότε νῆα θοὴν καὶ εἴκοσ' ἑταίρους,
οἵ κέ μοι ἔνθα καὶ ἔνθα διαπρήσσωσι κέλευθον.
εἶμι γὰρ ἐς Σπάρτην τε καὶ ἐς Πύλον ἠμαθόεντα,
νόστον πευσόμενος πατρὸς δὴν οἰχομένοιο,
ἤν τίς μοι εἴπῃσι βροτῶν, ἢ ὄσσαν ἀκούσω
ἐκ Διός, ἥ τε μάλιστα φέρει κλέος ἀνθρώποισιν.
εἰ μέν κεν πατρὸς βίοτον καὶ νόστον ἀκούσω,
ἦ τ' ἂν τρυχόμενός περ ἔτι τλαίην ἐνιαυτόν·
εἰ δέ κε τεθνηῶτος ἀκούσω μηδ' ἔτ' ἐόντος,
νοστήσας δὴ ἔπειτα φίλην ἐς πατρίδα γαῖαν
σῆμά τέ οἱ χείω καὶ ἐπὶ κτέρεα κτερεΐξω
πολλὰ μάλ', ὅσσα ἔοικε, καὶ ἀνέρι μητέρα δώσω.»

ἦ τοι ὅ γ' ὣς εἰπὼν κατ' ἄρ' ἕζετο, τοῖσι δ' ἀνέστη
Μέντωρ, ὅς ῥ' Ὀδυσῆος ἀμύμονος ἦεν ἑταῖρος,
καί οἱ ἰὼν ἐν νηυσὶν ἐπέτρεπεν οἶκον ἅπαντα,
πείθεσθαί τε γέροντι καὶ ἔμπεδα πάντα φυλάσσειν·
ὅ σφιν ἐῢ φρονέων ἀγορήσατο καὶ μετέειπε·

«κέκλυτε δὴ νῦν μευ, Ἰθακήσιοι, ὅττι κεν εἴπω·
μή τις ἔτι πρόφρων ἀγανὸς καὶ ἤπιος ἔστω
σκηπτοῦχος βασιλεύς, μηδὲ φρεσὶν αἴσιμα εἰδώς,
ἀλλ' αἰεὶ χαλεπός τ' εἴη καὶ αἴσυλα ῥέζοι,
ὡς οὔ τις μέμνηται Ὀδυσσῆος θείοιο
λαῶν, οἷσιν ἄνασσε, πατὴρ δ' ὣς ἤπιος ἦεν.
ἀλλ' ἦ τοι μνηστῆρας ἀγήνορας οὔ τι μεγαίρω
ἕρδειν ἔργα βίαια κακοῤῥαφίῃσι νόοιο·
σφὰς γὰρ παρθέμενοι κεφαλὰς κατέδουσι βιαίως
οἶκον Ὀδυσσῆος, τὸν δ' οὐκέτι φασὶ νέεσθαι.
νῦν δ' ἄλλῳ δήμῳ νεμεσίζομαι, οἷον ἅπαντες
ἧσθ' ἄνεω, ἀτὰρ οὔ τι καθαπτόμενοι ἐπέεσσι
παύρους μνηστῆρας κατερύκετε πολλοὶ ἐόντες.»

τὸν δ' Εὐηνορίδης Λειώκριτος ἀντίον ηὔδα·
«Μέντορ ἀταρτηρέ, φρένας ἠλεέ, ποῖον ἔειπες
ἡμέας ὀτρύνων καταπαυέμεν. ἀργαλέον δὲ
ἀνδράσι καὶ πλεόνεσσι μαχέσσασθαι περὶ δαιτί.
εἴ περ γάρ κ' Ὀδυσεὺς Ἰθακήσιος αὐτὸς ἐπελθὼν
δαινυμένους κατὰ δῶμα ἑὸν μνηστῆρας ἀγαυοὺς
ἐξελάσαι μεγάροιο μενοινήσει' ἐνὶ θυμῷ,
οὔ κέν οἱ κεχάροιτο γυνή, μάλα περ χατέουσα,

ἐλθόντ', ἀλλά κεν αὐτοῦ ἀεικέα πότμον ἐπίσποι,
εἰ πλεόνεσσι μάχοιτο· σὺ δ' οὐ κατὰ μοῖραν ἔειπες.
ἀλλ' ἄγε, λαοὶ μὲν σκίδνασθ' ἐπὶ ἔργα ἕκαστος,
τούτῳ δ' ὀτρυνέει Μέντωρ ὁδὸν ἠδ' Ἁλιθέρσης,
οἵ τέ οἱ ἐξ ἀρχῆς πατρώϊοί εἰσιν ἑταῖροι.
ἀλλ', ὀΐω, καὶ δηθὰ καθήμενος ἀγγελιάων
πεύσεται εἰν Ἰθάκῃ, τελέει δ' ὁδὸν οὔ ποτε ταύτην.»

ὣς ἄρ' ἐφώνησεν, λῦσεν δ' ἀγορὴν αἰψηρήν.
οἱ μὲν ἄρ' ἐσκίδναντο ἑὰ πρὸς δώμαθ' ἕκαστος,
μνηστῆρες δ' ἐς δώματ' ἴσαν θείου Ὀδυσῆος.

Τηλέμαχος δ' ἀπάνευθε κιὼν ἐπὶ θῖνα θαλάσσης,
χεῖρας νιψάμενος πολιῆς ἁλός, εὔχετ' Ἀθήνῃ·

«κλῦθί μευ, ὃ χθιζὸς θεὸς ἤλυθες ἡμέτερον δῶ
καί μ' ἐν νηῒ κέλευσας ἐπ' ἠεροειδέα πόντον,
νόστον πευσόμενον πατρὸς δὴν οἰχομένοιο,
ἔρχεσθαι· τὰ δὲ πάντα διατρίβουσιν Ἀχαιοί,
μνηστῆρες δὲ μάλιστα, κακῶς ὑπερηνορέοντες.»

ὣς ἔφατ' εὐχόμενος, σχεδόθεν δέ οἱ ἦλθεν Ἀθήνη,
Μέντορι εἰδομένη ἠμὲν δέμας ἠδὲ καὶ αὐδήν,
καί μιν φωνήσασ' ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα·

«Τηλέμαχ', οὐδ' ὄπιθεν κακὸς ἔσσεαι οὐδ' ἀνοήμων·
εἰ δή τοι σοῦ πατρὸς ἐνέστακται μένος ἠΰ,
οἷος κεῖνος ἔην τελέσαι ἔργον τε ἔπος τε,
οὔ τοι ἔπειθ' ἁλίη ὁδὸς ἔσσεται οὐδ' ἀτέλεστος.
εἰ δ' οὐ κείνου γ' ἐσσὶ γόνος καὶ Πηνελοπείης,
οὔ σε ἔπειτα ἔολπα τελευτήσειν ἃ μενοινᾷς.
παῦροι γάρ τοι παῖδες ὁμοῖοι πατρὶ πέλονται,
οἱ πλέονες κακίους, παῦροι δέ τε πατρὸς ἀρείους.
ἀλλ' ἐπεὶ οὐδ' ὄπιθεν κακὸς ἔσσεαι οὐδ' ἀνοήμων,
οὐδέ σε πάγχυ γε μῆτις Ὀδυσσῆος προλέλοιπεν,
ἐλπωρή τοι ἔπειτα τελευτῆσαι τάδε ἔργα.
τῶ νῦν μνηστήρων μὲν ἔα βουλήν τε νόον τε
ἀφραδέων, ἐπεὶ οὔ τι νοήμονες οὐδὲ δίκαιοι·
οὐδέ τι ἴσασιν θάνατον καὶ κῆρα μέλαιναν,
ὡς δή σφιν σχεδόν ἐστιν ἐπ' ἤματι πάντας ὀλέσθαι.
σοὶ δ' ὁδὸς οὐκέτι δηρὸν ἀπέσσεται ἣν σὺ μενοινᾷς·
τοῖος γάρ τοι ἑταῖρος ἐγὼ πατρώϊός εἰμι,
ὅς τοι νῆα θοὴν στελέω καὶ ἅμ' ἕψομαι αὐτός.
ἀλλὰ σὺ μὲν πρὸς δώματ' ἰὼν μνηστῆρσιν ὁμίλει,
ὅπλισσόν τ' ἤϊα καὶ ἄγγεσιν ἄρσον ἅπαντα,
οἶνον ἐν ἀμφιφορεῦσι καὶ ἄλφιτα, μυελὸν ἀνδρῶν,
δέρμασιν ἐν πυκινοῖσιν· ἐγὼ δ' ἀνὰ δῆμον ἑταίρους
αἶψ' ἐθελοντῆρας συλλέξομαι. εἰσὶ δὲ νῆες
πολλαὶ ἐν ἀμφιάλῳ Ἰθάκῃ, νέαι ἠδὲ παλαιαί·
τάων μέν τοι ἐγὼν ἐπιόψομαι ἥ τις ἀρίστη,
ὦκα δ' ἐφοπλίσσαντες ἐνήσομεν εὐρέϊ πόντῳ.»

ὣς φάτ' Ἀθηναίη, κούρη Διός· οὐδ' ἄρ' ἔτι δὴν
Τηλέμαχος παρέμιμνεν, ἐπεὶ θεοῦ ἔκλυεν αὐδήν.
βῆ δ' ἴμεναι πρὸς δῶμα, φίλον τετιημένος ἦτορ,
εὗρε δ' ἄρα μνηστῆρας ἐνὶ μεγάροισιν ἑοῖσιν
αἶγας ἀνιεμένους σιάλους θ' εὕοντας ἐν αὐλῇ.
Ἀντίνοος δ' ἰθὺς γελάσας κίε Τηλεμάχοιο·
ἔν τ' ἄρα οἱ φῦ χειρὶ ἔπος τ' ἔφατ' ἔκ τ' ὀνόμαζε·

«Τηλέμαχ' ὑψαγόρη, μένος ἄσχετε, μή τί τοι ἄλλο
ἐν στήθεσσι κακὸν μελέτω ἔργον τε ἔπος τε,
ἀλλὰ μάλ' ἐσθιέμεν καὶ πινέμεν, ὡς τὸ πάρος περ.
ταῦτα δέ τοι μάλα πάντα τελευτήσουσιν Ἀχαιοί,
νῆα καὶ ἐξαίτους ἐρέτας, ἵνα θᾶσσον ἵκηαι
ἐς Πύλον ἠγαθέην μετ' ἀγαυοῦ πατρὸς ἀκουήν.»

τὸν δ' αὖ Τηλέμαχος πεπνυμένος ἀντίον ηὔδα·
«Ἀντίνο', οὔ πως ἔστιν ὑπερφιάλοισι μεθ' ὑμῖν
δαίνυσθαί τ' ἀκέοντα καὶ εὐφραίνεσθαι ἕκηλον.
ἦ οὐχ ἅλις, ὡς τὸ πάροιθεν ἐκείρετε πολλὰ καὶ ἐσθλὰ
κτήματ' ἐμά, μνηστῆρες, ἐγὼ δ' ἔτι νήπιος ἦα;
νῦν δ' ὅτε δὴ μέγας εἰμί, καὶ ἄλλων μῦθον ἀκούων
πυνθάνομαι, καὶ δή μοι ἀέξεται ἔνδοθι θυμός,
πειρήσω, ὥς κ' ὔμμι κακὰς ἐπὶ κῆρας ἰήλω,
ἠὲ Πύλονδ' ἐλθὼν ἢ αὐτοῦ τῷδ' ἐνὶ δήμῳ.
εἶμι μέν, οὐδ' ἁλίη ὁδὸς ἔσσεται ἣν ἀγορεύω,
ἔμπορος· οὐ γὰρ νηὸς ἐπήβολος οὐδ' ἐρετάων
γίνομαι· ὥς νύ που ὔμμιν ἐείσατο κέρδιον εἶναι.»

ἦ ῥα, καὶ ἐκ χειρὸς χεῖρα σπάσατ' Ἀντινόοιο
ῥεῖα· μνηστῆρες δὲ δόμον κάτα δαῖτα πένοντο.
οἱ δ' ἐπελώβευον καὶ ἐκερτόμεον ἐπέεσσιν·
ὧδε δέ τις εἴπεσκε νέων ὑπερηνορεόντων·

«ἦ μάλα Τηλέμαχος φόνον ἥμιν μερμηρίζει.
ἤ τινας ἐκ Πύλου ἄξει ἀμύντορας ἠμαθόεντος,
ἢ ὅ γε καὶ Σπάρτηθεν, ἐπεί νύ περ ἵεται αἰνῶς·
ἠὲ καὶ εἰς Ἐφύρην ἐθέλει, πίειραν ἄρουραν,
ἐλθεῖν, ὄφρ' ἔνθεν θυμοφθόρα φάρμακ' ἐνείκῃ,
ἐν δὲ βάλῃ κρητῆρι καὶ ἡμέας πάντας ὀλέσσῃ.»

ἄλλος δ' αὖτ' εἴπεσκε νέων ὑπερηνορεόντων·
«τίς δ' οἶδ', εἴ κε καὶ αὐτὸς ἰὼν κοίλης ἐπὶ νηὸς
τῆλε φίλων ἀπόληται ἀλώμενος ὥς περ Ὀδυσσεύς;
οὕτω κεν καὶ μᾶλλον ὀφέλλειεν πόνον ἄμμιν·
κτήματα γάρ κεν πάντα δασαίμεθα, οἰκία δ' αὖτε
τούτου μητέρι δοῖμεν ἔχειν ἠδ' ὅς τις ὀπυίοι.»

ὣς φάν· ὁ δ' ὑψόροφον θάλαμον κατεβήσετο πατρός,
εὐρύν, ὅθι νητὸς χρυσὸς καὶ χαλκὸς ἔκειτο
ἐσθής τ' ἐν χηλοῖσιν ἅλις τ' εὐῶδες ἔλαιον.
ἐν δὲ πίθοι οἴνοιο παλαιοῦ ἡδυπότοιο
ἕστασαν, ἄκρητον θεῖον ποτὸν ἐντὸς ἔχοντες,
ἑξείης ποτὶ τοῖχον ἀρηρότες, εἴ ποτ' Ὀδυσσεὺς
οἴκαδε νοστήσειε καὶ ἄλγεα πολλὰ μογήσας.
κληϊσταὶ δ' ἔπεσαν σανίδες πυκινῶς ἀραρυῖαι,
δικλίδες· ἐν δὲ γυνὴ ταμίη νύκτας τε καὶ ἦμαρ
ἔσχ', ἣ πάντ' ἐφύλασσε νόου πολυϊδρείῃσιν,
Εὐρύκλει', Ὦπος θυγάτηρ Πεισηνορίδαο.
τὴν τότε Τηλέμαχος προσέφη θάλαμόνδε καλέσσας·

«μαῖ', ἄγε δή μοι οἶνον ἐν ἀμφιφορεῦσιν ἄφυσσον
ἡδύν, ὅτις μετὰ τὸν λαρώτατος, ὃν σὺ φυλάσσεις,
κεῖνον ὀϊομένη τὸν κάμμορον, εἴ ποθεν ἔλθοι
διογενὴς Ὀδυσεὺς θάνατον καὶ κῆρας ἀλύξας.
δώδεκα δ' ἔμπλησον καὶ πώμασιν ἄρσον ἅπαντας.
ἐν δέ μοι ἄλφιτα χεῦον ἐϋῤῥαφέεσσι δοροῖσιν·
εἴκοσι δ' ἔστω μέτρα μυληφάτου ἀλφίτου ἀκτῆς.
αὐτὴ δ' οἴη ἴσθι· τὰ δ' ἁθρόα πάντα τετύχθω·
ἑσπέριος γὰρ ἐγὼν αἱρήσομαι, ὁππότε κεν δὴ
μήτηρ εἰς ὑπερῷ' ἀναβῇ κοίτου τε μέδηται·
εἶμι γὰρ ἐς Σπάρτην τε καὶ ἐς Πύλον ἠμαθόεντα,
νόστον πευσόμενος πατρὸς φίλου, ἤν που ἀκούσω.»

ὣς φάτο, κώκυσεν δὲ φίλη τροφὸς Εὐρύκλεια,
καί ῥ' ὀλοφυρομένη ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα·

«τίπτε δέ τοι, φίλε τέκνον, ἐνὶ φρεσὶ τοῦτο νόημα
ἔπλετο; πῇ δ' ἐθέλεις ἰέναι πολλὴν ἐπὶ γαῖαν
μοῦνος ἐὼν ἀγαπητός; ὁ δ' ὤλετο τηλόθι πάτρης
διογενὴς Ὀδυσεὺς ἀλλογνώτῳ ἐνὶ δήμῳ.
οἱ δέ τοι αὐτίκ' ἰόντι κακὰ φράσσονται ὀπίσσω,
ὥς κε δόλῳ φθίῃς, τάδε δ' αὐτοὶ πάντα δάσωνται.
ἀλλὰ μέν' αὖθ' ἐπὶ σοῖσι καθήμενος· οὐδέ τί σε χρὴ
πόντον ἐπ' ἀτρύγετον κακὰ πάσχειν οὐδ' ἀλάλησθαι.»

τὴν δ' αὖ Τηλέμαχος πεπνυμένος ἀντίον ηὔδα·
«θάρσει, μαῖ', ἐπεὶ οὔ τοι ἄνευ θεοῦ ἥδε γε βουλή.
ἀλλ' ὄμοσον μὴ μητρὶ φίλῃ τάδε μυθήσασθαι,
πρίν γ' ὅτ' ἂν ἑνδεκάτη τε δυωδεκάτη τε γένηται,
ἢ αὐτὴν ποθέσαι καὶ ἀφορμηθέντος ἀκοῦσαι,
ὡς ἂν μὴ κλαίουσα κατὰ χρόα καλὸν ἰάπτῃ.»

ὣς ἄρ' ἔφη, γρηῢς δὲ θεῶν μέγαν ὅρκον ἀπώμνυ.
αὐτὰρ ἐπεί ῥ' ὄμοσέν τε τελεύτησέν τε τὸν ὅρκον,
αὐτίκ' ἔπειτά οἱ οἶνον ἐν ἀμφιφορεῦσιν ἄφυσσεν,
ἐν δέ οἱ ἄλφιτα χεῦεν ἐϋῤῥαφέεσσι δοροῖσι·
Τηλέμαχος δ' ἐς δώματ' ἰὼν μνηστῆρσιν ὁμίλει.

ἔνθ' αὖτ' ἄλλ' ἐνόησε θεὰ γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη·
Τηλεμάχῳ εἰκυῖα κατὰ πτόλιν ᾤχετο πάντῃ,
καί ῥα ἑκάστῳ φωτὶ παρισταμένη φάτο μῦθον,
ἑσπερίους δ' ἐπὶ νῆα θοὴν ἀγέρεσθαι ἀνώγει.
ἡ δ' αὖτε Φρονίοιο Νοήμονα φαίδιμον υἱὸν
ᾔτεε νῆα θοήν· ὁ δέ οἱ πρόφρων ὑπέδεκτο.

δύσετό τ' ἠέλιος σκιόωντό τε πᾶσαι ἀγυιαί·
καὶ τότε νῆα θοὴν ἅλαδ' εἴρυσε, πάντα δ' ἐν αὐτῇ
ὅπλ' ἐτίθει, τά τε νῆες ἐΰσσελμοι φορέουσι.
στῆσε δ' ἐπ' ἐσχατιῇ λιμένος, περὶ δ' ἐσθλοὶ ἑταῖροι
ἁθρόοι ἠγερέθοντο· θεὰ δ' ὤτρυνεν ἕκαστον.

ἔνθ' αὖτ' ἄλλ' ἐνόησε θεὰ γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη·

βῆ ῥ' ἴμεναι πρὸς δώματ' Ὀδυσσῆος θείοιο·
ἔνθα μνηστήρεσσιν ἐπὶ γλυκὺν ὕπνον ἔχευε,
πλάζε δὲ πίνοντας, χειρῶν δ' ἔκβαλλε κύπελλα.
οἱ δ' εὕδειν ὤρνυντο κατὰ πτόλιν, οὐδ' ἄρ' ἔτι δὴν
εἵατ', ἐπεί σφισιν ὕπνος ἐπὶ βλεφάροισιν ἔπιπτεν.
αὐτὰρ Τηλέμαχον προσέφη γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη
ἐκπροκαλεσσαμένη μεγάρων ἐὺ ναιεταόντων,
Μέντορι εἰδομένη ἠμὲν δέμας ἠδὲ καὶ αὐδήν·

«Τηλέμαχ', ἤδη μέν τοι ἐϋκνήμιδες ἑταῖροι
εἵατ' ἐπήρετμοι, τὴν σὴν ποτιδέγμενοι ὁρμήν·
ἀλλ' ἴομεν, μὴ δηθὰ διατρίβωμεν ὁδοῖο.»

ὣς ἄρα φωνήσασ' ἡγήσατο Παλλὰς Ἀθήνη
καρπαλίμως· ὁ δ' ἔπειτα μετ' ἴχνια βαῖνε θεοῖο.
αὐτὰρ ἐπεί ῥ' ἐπὶ νῆα κατήλυθον ἠδὲ θάλασσαν,
εὗρον ἔπειτ' ἐπὶ θινὶ κάρη κομόωντας ἑταίρους.
τοῖσι δὲ καὶ μετέειφ' ἱερὴ ἲς Τηλεμάχοιο·

«δεῦτε, φίλοι, ἤϊα φερώμεθα· πάντα γὰρ ἤδη
ἁθρό' ἐνὶ μεγάρῳ· μήτηρ δ' ἐμὴ οὔ τι πέπυσται,
οὐδ' ἄλλαι δμῳαί, μία δ' οἴη μῦθον ἄκουσεν.»

ὣς ἄρα φωνήσας ἡγήσατο, τοὶ δ' ἅμ' ἕποντο.
οἱ δ' ἄρα πάντα φέροντες ἐϋσσέλμῳ ἐνὶ νηῒ
κάτθεσαν, ὡς ἐκέλευσεν Ὀδυσσῆος φίλος υἱός.
ἂν δ' ἄρα Τηλέμαχος νηὸς βαῖν', ἦρχε δ' Ἀθήνη,
νηῒ δ' ἐνὶ πρυμνῇ κατ' ἄρ' ἕζετο· ἄγχι δ' ἄρ' αὐτῆς
ἕζετο Τηλέμαχος. τοὶ δὲ πρυμνήσι' ἔλυσαν,
ἂν δὲ καὶ αὐτοὶ βάντες ἐπὶ κληῗσι καθῖζον.
τοῖσιν δ' ἴκμενον οὖρον ἵει γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη,
ἀκραῆ ζέφυρον, κελάδοντ' ἐπὶ οἴνοπα πόντον.
Τηλέμαχος δ' ἑτάροισιν ἐποτρύνων ἐκέλευσεν
ὅπλων ἅπτεσθαι· τοὶ δ' ὀτρύνοντος ἄκουσαν.
ἱστὸν δ' εἰλάτινον κοίλης ἔντοσθε μεσόδμης
στῆσαν ἀείραντες, κατὰ δὲ προτόνοισιν ἔδησαν,
ἕλκον δ' ἱστία λευκὰ ἐϋστρέπτοισι βοεῦσιν.
ἔμπρησεν δ' ἄνεμος μέσον ἱστίον, ἀμφὶ δὲ κῦμα
στείρῃ πορφύρεον μεγάλ' ἴαχε νηὸς ἰούσης·
[ἡ δ' ἔθεεν κατὰ κῦμα διαπρήσσουσα κέλευθον.]
δησάμενοι δ' ἄρα ὅπλα θοὴν ἀνὰ νῆα μέλαιναν
στήσαντο κρητῆρας ἐπιστεφέας οἴνοιο,
λεῖβον δ' ἀθανάτοισι θεοῖσ' αἰειγενέτῃσιν,
ἐκ πάντων δὲ μάλιστα Διὸς γλαυκώπιδι κούρῃ.
παννυχίη μέν ῥ' ἥ γε καὶ ἠῶ πεῖρε κέλευθον.

ODYSSEY 2

When rosy-fingered Dawn, the child of morning, appeared, Odysseus's beloved son arose from his bed, donned his garments, slung his sharp sword from his shoulder, and beneath his sleek feet he bound handsome sandals. He strode from his chamber, like a god in his bearing.

At once he commanded the clear-voiced heralds to summon the long-haired Achaeans to assembly. The heralds issued the call, and the men gathered with great haste. And when they were all gathered and assembled together, he went to the place of assembly, a bronze spear in his hand,

not alone, for two swift hounds followed at his heels. And Athena shed a divine grace upon him, so that all the people marvelled as he approached. He took his seat on his father’s throne, and the elders made way. Then the hero Aegyptius was the first to speak among them, a man bent with age, who knew countless things. For his own beloved son had gone with godlike Odysseus to Ilion, famed for its horses, in the hollow ships. This was Antiphus the spearman; but the savage Cyclops had killed him in his cavern, and made of him his final supper.

Three other sons he had: one, Eurynomus, consorted with the suitors, while the other two tended to their father's lands. Yet he could not forget that other son, and he mourned and lamented for him still. And shedding tears for him, he addressed the assembly and spoke:

“Hear me now, men of Ithaca, and what I have to say. Never once have we been called to assembly or session since the day divine Odysseus departed in his hollow ships. Who has now gathered us? What great need has arisen for one of our young men, or one of our elders? Has he heard some news of the army's return, which he might tell us plainly, having learned of it first? Or is there some other public matter he wishes to raise and discuss? He seems a man of worth, and may he be blessed. May Zeus himself bring to pass the good thing his heart desires.”

So he spoke, and the beloved son of Odysseus rejoiced at the auspicious words. He did not remain seated for long, but was stirred to speak. He stood in the midst of the assembly; and the herald Peisenor, a man of prudent counsel, placed the scepter in his hands. Then, addressing the old man first, he answered him:

“Old man, he is not far, and you yourself shall soon know him, the man who gathered the people. It is I, whom sorrow has touched most deeply. I have heard no news of the army's return, which I might tell you plainly, having been the first to learn of it, nor do I raise or discuss any other public matter, but rather my own affair, for a twofold calamity has befallen my house. First, I have lost my noble father, who was once king among you here, and was as gentle as a father to you all. But now a far greater evil has come, one that will soon utterly shatter my household and destroy my livelihood completely. Suitors besiege my mother against her will, the beloved sons of the noblest men of this land. They shrink from journeying to the house of her father, Icarius, so that he himself might arrange his daughter’s dowry and give her to the one he chooses, who finds favour in his sight. Instead, they haunt our halls day after day, slaughtering our cattle and sheep and fattened goats. They feast and drink our sparkling wine with reckless abandon, and our wealth is squandered. For there is no man here like Odysseus to defend our house from this scourge. We ourselves are not fit to defend it; and should we try, we would prove to be pitiful men, unskilled in the ways of combat. I would surely defend it, if only I had the strength. For their deeds are no longer tolerable, and it is not right that my house should be so destroyed. You should be ashamed yourselves, and feel shame before your neighbours, the people who dwell around us. Fear the wrath of the gods, lest they turn against you, angered by these wicked deeds. I implore you by Olympian Zeus and by Themis, who summons and dissolves the assemblies of men: stop, my friends, and leave me to suffer alone in my bitter grief— unless my noble father Odysseus, in his malice, ever wronged the well-greaved Achaeans, and you now repay me for it by doing me these wrongs out of malice, spurring on these men. It would be better for me if you yourselves were to consume my treasures and my flocks. If you were the ones to devour them, there might one day be restitution, for we could go through the city, pressing our claim with words, demanding our property back until all was returned. But now, you inflict incurable sorrows upon my heart.”

So he spoke in his anger, and he dashed the scepter to the ground, bursting into tears. Pity seized all the people. All the others remained silent, and no one dared to answer Telemachus with harsh words. Only Antinous spoke up and replied to him:

“Telemachus, you high-and-mighty talker, of uncontrollable spirit, what words have you spoken to shame us, seeking to cast blame upon us! Yet it is not the Achaean suitors who are at fault, but your own mother, who is a master of cunning. It is now the third year, and the fourth will soon be upon us, since she began to deceive the hearts of the Achaeans in their chests. She gives hope to all, making promises to each man, and sending messages, while her mind is set on other things. And she devised this other trick in her heart: she set up a great loom in her halls and began to weave, a fabric fine and vast. And at once she said to us: ‘Young men, my suitors, since divine Odysseus is dead, be patient, though you are eager for my hand, until I finish this shroud, so that my weaving may not be wasted— a funeral cloth for the hero Laertes, for the time when the dreadful fate of a long and painful death shall take him. I fear the censure of the Achaean women in the land if he, who acquired so much, should lie without a shroud.’ So she spoke, and our proud hearts were persuaded. Then by day she would weave the great web,

but by night she would unravel it, with torches set beside her. For three years she kept her deceit hidden and convinced the Achaeans, but when the fourth year came and the seasons turned, one of her women, who knew the secret, told us, and we caught her unravelling the splendid web. So she was forced to finish it, against her will. This, then, is the suitors’ reply to you, so that you may know it in your own heart, and that all the Achaeans may know it too: send your mother away, and command her to marry whomever her father bids and who is pleasing to her. But if she continues to vex the sons of the Achaeans for much longer, mindful of the gifts Athena has lavished upon her— skill in beautiful handiwork, a noble mind, and cunning such as we have never heard of in the women of old, not even those Achaean women of the lovely hair who came before, Tyro, and Alcmene, and Mycene of the beautiful crown— not one of them had a mind to match Penelope's, though in this one matter her thinking was not right. For as long as she holds to this resolve, which the gods have now put in her heart, so long will they devour your livelihood and your possessions. Great glory she makes for herself, but for you, only the longing for your plundered estate. We will not go back to our lands, nor anywhere else, until she marries whichever of the Achaeans she desires.”

Then wise Telemachus answered him in turn: “Antinous, I cannot possibly drive from my own house, against her will, the woman who bore me and raised me. My father is elsewhere in the world, be he alive or dead. And it would be a heavy price for me to pay to Icarius, should I willingly send my mother away. For I would suffer evil from her father, and a god would send more still, as my mother, leaving this house, would call down the dreaded Furies upon me. And there would be condemnation for me from all mankind. Therefore, I will never speak such a word. If your own hearts are filled with indignation, then leave my halls, and find your feasts elsewhere, consuming your own possessions and taking turns from house to house. But if it seems to you more desirable and better to destroy one man's livelihood without retribution, then waste it. But I will call upon the gods who live forever, in the hope that Zeus might one day grant a day of reckoning. Then you would perish within these walls, and without retribution.”

So spoke Telemachus, and far-seeing Zeus sent two eagles from a high mountain peak to fly forth. For a time they soared on the gusts of the wind, side by side, with wings outstretched. But when they reached the midst of the clamorous assembly, they wheeled about and beat their wings furiously, and stared down upon the heads of all, their gaze portending death. Then, tearing at each other's cheeks and necks with their talons, they darted to the right, over the houses and the city itself. All were astonished at the birds when they saw them with their own eyes, and they pondered in their hearts what these things might mean. And the old hero Halitherses, son of Mastor, spoke among them, for he alone surpassed his peers in the knowledge of birds and the telling of omens. With wise counsel, he addressed the assembly and spoke:

“Hear me now, men of Ithaca, and what I have to say. And I speak these words especially for the suitors. A great wave of disaster is rolling towards them. For Odysseus will not be far from his loved ones for much longer; somewhere, he is already near, sowing the seeds of death and destruction for these men, for all of them. And he will be a sorrow for many others, too, we who live in sunny Ithaca. Long before that happens, let us consider how we can put a stop to this. Let them stop themselves, for that would be best for them at once. I do not prophesy without experience, but with full knowledge. Indeed, I declare that everything has come to pass for him as I foretold when the Argives set out for Ilion, and with them went Odysseus of the many wiles. I said that after much suffering, and having lost all his comrades, he would return home in the twentieth year, unknown to all. And now, all these things are coming to fulfillment.”

Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered him in turn: “Old man, go home now and prophesy to your children, lest some harm befall them in the future. In these matters, I am a far better prophet than you. Many birds fly under the rays of the sun, and not all of them are omens. As for Odysseus, he has perished far away, and I wish you had perished with him. Then you would not be prattling on with so many prophecies, nor would you be further inflaming the angry Telemachus, hoping for a gift for your house, should he offer one. But I will tell you this, and it shall surely come to pass: if you, with all your ancient knowledge, entice a younger man with your words and incite him to anger, it will be all the more bitter for him, first of all, for he will be powerless to achieve anything because of these men. And upon you, old man, we shall impose a fine that you will find grievous to pay; it will be a bitter sorrow for you. As for Telemachus, I myself will offer this counsel before you all: let him command his mother to return to her father’s house. They will prepare her marriage and arrange a dowry, a fine one, as is fitting for a beloved daughter. For I do not think the sons of the Achaeans will cease their difficult courtship, since we fear no one, certainly not Telemachus, for all his flood of words. Nor do we care for the prophecy you spout, old man, which will come to nothing and only makes you more hated. His wealth will be ruinously devoured, and never will it be restored so long as she puts off the Achaeans concerning her marriage. We, for our part, wait here day after day, vying for her hand because of her excellence, and we do not go after other women whom it would be fitting for any of us to wed.”

Then wise Telemachus answered him in turn: “Eurymachus, and all you other noble suitors, I will no longer plead with you about this matter, nor will I speak of it again. For the gods and all the Achaeans already know these things. But come, give me a swift ship and twenty comrades, who will see me through my journey here and there. For I will go to Sparta and to sandy Pylos to seek news of my father’s return, so long he has been gone, to see if any mortal man can tell me, or if I might hear a rumour sent from Zeus, which so often brings news to men. If I hear that my father is alive and on his way home, then I could endure for another year, however worn down I may be. But if I hear that he is dead and no longer among the living, I will return at once to my own dear native land, build a mound for him, and perform the funeral rites over it, many rites, as is fitting, and give my mother to another husband.”

Having spoken thus, he sat down, and then rose among them Mentor, who had been a comrade of blameless Odysseus. When Odysseus left with the ships, he had entrusted his entire house to him, bidding all to obey the old man and to keep everything safe. With wise counsel, he addressed the assembly and spoke:

“Hear me now, men of Ithaca, and what I have to say. Let no sceptered king be kind and gentle any longer, nor let him know what is right in his heart. Instead, let him always be harsh and act unjustly, since no one remembers the divine Odysseus among the people he ruled, for he was like a gentle father. I do not so much begrudge the arrogant suitors for committing violent acts with their malicious minds, for they risk their own heads as they violently devour the house of Odysseus, claiming he will never return. But it is the rest of the people I am incensed with, how you all sit here in silence, and do not rebuke them with words and restrain these few suitors, though you are many.”

Then Leocritus, son of Euenor, answered him in turn: “Mentor, you reckless fool, your wits are addled! What have you said, urging them to stop us? It would be hard even for a larger group of men to fight us over a feast. For if Odysseus of Ithaca himself were to return and find the noble suitors feasting in his house, and if in his heart he were determined to drive them from his hall, his wife would feel no joy at his return, however much she longed for it,

but he would meet a shameful doom right there, fighting against so many. What you have said is not right. But come, you people, scatter now, each to his own lands, and as for this one, Mentor and Halitherses will speed him on his way, since they have been his father’s friends from the beginning. But I think he will be sitting here for a long time, listening for news in Ithaca, and this journey he speaks of will never come to pass.”

So he spoke, and he quickly dissolved the assembly. They scattered, each to his own house, while the suitors went to the house of divine Odysseus.

But Telemachus went apart to the shore of the sea, and washing his hands in the grey seawater, he prayed to Athena:

“Hear me, you who came as a god to our house yesterday and commanded me to go in a ship over the misty sea to seek news of my father’s return, so long he has been gone. The Achaeans are thwarting all of this, and especially the suitors in their wicked arrogance.”

So he spoke in prayer, and Athena came to his side, in the likeness of Mentor, in both her form and her voice. And speaking to him, she uttered winged words:

“Telemachus, you will not be a coward or a fool hereafter, if indeed the noble spirit of your father has been instilled in you, such a man as he was in fulfilling both word and deed. Then your journey will not be in vain or unaccomplished. But if you are not the true son of him and of Penelope, then I have no hope that you will accomplish what you desire. For few sons are the equals of their fathers; most are worse, and only a few are better than their fathers. But since you will not be a coward or a fool hereafter, and the wisdom of Odysseus has not entirely deserted you, there is hope that you will accomplish these deeds. So pay no mind now to the plans and thoughts of the suitors, those fools, for they are neither sensible nor just. They know nothing of the death and black fate which is already near them, destined to destroy them all in a single day. The journey you desire will not be long delayed. For I am such a friend of your father’s house that I will furnish a swift ship for you and accompany you myself. But you, go now to the house and mingle with the suitors. Prepare your provisions and pack them all in containers, wine in jars and barley-meal, the marrow of men, in sturdy leather skins. I will go through the town and quickly gather a crew of volunteers. And there are many ships in sea-girt Ithaca, both new and old. From these I will choose the best one for you, and we shall quickly rig it and launch it upon the wide sea.”

So spoke Athena, daughter of Zeus, and Telemachus did not linger long after he heard the goddess's voice. He went towards the house, his heart heavy with sorrow, and he found the suitors in his halls, skinning goats and singeing fat hogs in the courtyard. Antinous laughed and went straight to Telemachus, took him by the hand, spoke his name and said:

“Telemachus, you high-and-mighty talker, of uncontrollable spirit, let no more evil deeds or words trouble your heart. Instead, eat and drink with us, just as before. The Achaeans will surely see to all these things for you, the ship and a chosen crew, so that you may get more quickly to sacred Pylos to hear news of your noble father.”

Then wise Telemachus answered him in turn: “Antinous, it is impossible for me to dine in silence and make merry in peace in the company of you arrogant men. Was it not enough that in the past you suitors wasted my many fine possessions, while I was still a child? But now that I am grown, and by listening to the words of others I understand, and my spirit swells within me, I will try to bring down an evil fate upon you, whether I go to Pylos or remain here in this land. I will go, and the journey I speak of will not be in vain, though I go as a passenger, for I am not master of a ship or its crew. That, it seems, you thought was the better course.”

He spoke, and snatched his hand from the hand of Antinous with ease. And throughout the house the suitors prepared their feast. They mocked him and taunted him with their words, and one of the arrogant young men would say:

“Surely Telemachus is planning our murder. He will bring avengers from sandy Pylos, or even from Sparta, so desperate is he. Or perhaps he means to go to Ephyra, that fertile land, to fetch deadly poisons from there, to put them in the mixing bowl and destroy us all.”

And another of the arrogant young men would say: “Who knows? Perhaps he too, having gone off on a hollow ship, will perish far from his friends, wandering just like Odysseus. That would give us even more trouble, for then we would have to divide all his possessions, and give the house to his mother to keep, and to whomever marries her.”

So they spoke. But he went down to his father's high-roofed storeroom, a wide chamber, where gold and bronze lay piled high, and clothing in chests, and fragrant olive oil in abundance. And in it stood jars of old, sweet-tasting wine, holding within them an unmixed, divine drink, lined up against the wall, should Odysseus ever return home after his many toils and sorrows. Well-fitted, bolted doors sealed the room, double doors. And a housekeeper stayed there night and day, guarding everything with her great wisdom and care, Eurycleia, daughter of Ops, son of Peisenor. Telemachus called her to the chamber and said:

“Nurse, come now, draw me some wine in jars, the sweet wine that is mellowest after the one you keep in reserve for that ill-fated man, hoping that Zeus-born Odysseus might yet come from somewhere, having escaped death and doom. Fill twelve jars, and seal them all with lids. And pour me barley-meal into well-sewn leather bags; let there be twenty measures of ground millstone barley. You alone must know of this. Let it all be gathered and ready. I will come for it in the evening, when my mother has gone up to her chamber to think of her bed. For I am going to Sparta and to sandy Pylos, to seek news of my dear father’s return, if I can hear any.”

So he spoke, and his dear nurse Eurycleia cried out, and wailing, she spoke to him with winged words:

“But why, my beloved child, has this thought entered your mind? Where do you wish to go, over so much of the earth, you who are my only one, my cherished one? He has already perished far from home, the Zeus-born Odysseus, in some foreign land. And these men will plot evil against you as soon as you are gone, so that you will die by treachery, and they will divide all this among themselves. No, stay here among your own people. You have no need to suffer hardships on the barren sea, or to wander.”

Then wise Telemachus answered her in turn: “Take heart, nurse, for this plan of mine is not without a god's will. But swear an oath that you will not speak of this to my dear mother before the eleventh or twelfth day has come, or until she herself misses me and hears that I have departed, so that she does not spoil her beautiful face with weeping.”

So he spoke, and the old woman swore a great oath by the gods. And when she had sworn and completed the oath, she at once drew wine for him in jars, and poured barley-meal for him into well-sewn leather bags. And Telemachus went into the hall to mingle with the suitors.

Then the bright-eyed goddess Athena conceived another plan. In the likeness of Telemachus, she went all about the city, and approaching each man, she spoke her message, bidding them to gather by the swift ship in the evening. She then went to Noemon, the splendid son of Phronius, and asked for a swift ship, and he readily promised it to her.

The sun set and all the streets grew dark. And then she drew the swift ship down to the sea, and put in it all the tackle that well-benched ships carry. She moored it at the harbour's edge, and the worthy comrades gathered around in a throng, and the goddess spurred on each man.

Then the bright-eyed goddess Athena conceived another plan.

She went to the house of the divine Odysseus, and there she shed sweet sleep upon the suitors, confused them as they drank, and knocked the cups from their hands. They hastened to go to their rest throughout the city, and did not sit there for long, since sleep was falling upon their eyelids. Then bright-eyed Athena spoke to Telemachus, calling him out from the well-built hall, in the likeness of Mentor, in both her form and her voice:

“Telemachus, your well-greaved comrades are already seated at their oars, awaiting your command to depart. Come, let us go, so that we do not delay the journey for long.”

So speaking, Pallas Athena led the way swiftly, and he followed in the footsteps of the goddess. When they came down to the ship and the sea, they found the long-haired comrades on the shore. And the sacred might of Telemachus spoke to them:

“Come, friends, let us fetch the provisions; for everything is already gathered in the hall. My mother knows nothing of this, nor do the other serving women; only one has heard my plan.”

So speaking, he led the way, and they followed him. They brought everything and placed it in the well-benched ship, as the beloved son of Odysseus had commanded. Then Telemachus boarded the ship, and Athena led the way, and sat down in the stern of the ship, and close beside her sat Telemachus. The men untied the stern-cables, and they too came aboard and sat down at the benches. And bright-eyed Athena sent them a fair following wind, a fresh West Wind, singing over the wine-dark sea. Telemachus urged on his comrades, commanding them to lay hold of the tackling, and they obeyed his call. They raised the pinewood mast and set it in the hollow mast-box, and made it fast with forestays, and hauled up the white sails with well-twisted ropes of oxhide. The wind swelled the middle of the sail, and around the keel the purple wave hissed loudly as the ship sped on. [She ran on through the waves, cleaving her path.] When they had made the tackling fast throughout the swift black ship, they set up mixing-bowls brimming with wine, and poured libations to the immortal gods who live forever, and to all of them most of all, the bright-eyed daughter of Zeus. All night long and into the dawn, she sped upon her way.

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