Book 2

Now when early-born rosy-fingered Dawn appeared,the dear son of Odysseus rose from his bed,clothed in his garments, and slung a sharp sword on his shoulder,and bound fair sandals under his shining feet,and went from his chamber, in form like a god.Straightway he called to the clear-voiced heraldsto summon the long-haired Achaeans to assembly.They made the summons, and the men gathered swiftly.But when they had gathered and come together in one place,he went into the assembly, a bronze spear in his hand,not alone: with him two swift hounds followed.And Athena poured wondrous grace upon him.All the people marveled at him as he came;he sat in his father's seat, and the elders gave way.Then the hero Aigyptios began to speak among them,who was bowed with age and knew countless things.For his own dear son had gone with godlike Odysseusto Ilios of the good horses, in the hollow ships,Antiphos the spearman; and the savage Cyclops killed himin a hollow cave, and made him his last supper.Three others he had; one consorted with the suitors,Eurynomos, and two always worked their father's fields.But even so he did not forget him, grieving and lamenting.Shedding tears for him he spoke and addressed them:Hear me now, men of Ithaca, whatever I shall say:never has our assembly been held, nor a session,since the day godlike Odysseus went in the hollow ships.But now who has called us thus? What need has comeon the young men, or on those who are older?Has he heard some message of an army coming,which he would clearly tell us, since he first learned of it?Or does he disclose and speak of some other public matter?He seems to me a good man, and a blest one. May Zeusbring to pass the good thing his heart desires.So he spoke, and the dear son of Odysseus rejoiced at the word,and no longer sat still, but longed to speak,and stood in the middle of the assembly; and a scepter into his handthe herald Peisenor put, who knew wise counsels.First then he addressed the old man, speaking to him:Old man, this man is not far off; soon you shall know it yourself,who called the people together; and grief above all has come on me.I have heard no message of an army coming,which I could clearly tell you, since I first learned of it,nor do I disclose or speak of any other public matter,but of my own need, which has fallen as evil on my housein two ways: I have lost a noble father, who once among youhere was king, and was gentle as a father;and now a far greater evil, which will soonbreak up my whole house, and destroy my livelihood altogether.The suitors have set upon my mother, though she is unwilling,the dear sons of those men who are the best here,who shrink from going to the house of her fatherIkarios, so that he himself might dower his daughterand give her to whom he wished, and who came pleasing to him;but they come to our house every day,slaughtering cattle and sheep and fat goats,and they feast and drink the gleaming winerecklessly; and much is consumed. For there is no mansuch as Odysseus was, to ward off ruin from the house.But we are not such as to defend it; and even thenwe shall be wretched, and unpracticed in strength.Truly I would defend myself, if power were in me.For deeds no longer to be borne have been done, and no longer wellis my house destroyed. Feel shame yourselves,and respect the other men who dwell around you,who live nearby; and fear the wrath of the gods,lest they turn things about, indignant at your evil deeds.I beg you, by Olympian Zeus and by Themis,who both dissolves and convenes the assemblies of men:hold back, friends, and leave me alone to be worn downby this painful grief — unless somewhere my noble father Odysseusdid evil to the well-greaved Achaeans, his enemies,in revenge for which you do me evil in your hostility,urging these men on. For me it would be betterthat you should eat my treasures and my herds.If you ate them, there might someday be requital;for then we could go about the town with words,asking for our goods back, until all were given;but now you cast unbearable sorrows into my heart.So he spoke in anger, and threw the scepter to the ground,bursting into tears; and pity seized all the people.Then all the others were silent, and no one daredanswer Telemachus with harsh words;but Antinous alone answered him and said:Telemachus, loud-voiced, unrestrained in fury, what a thing you have said,shaming us; would you fasten blame upon us?The Achaean suitors are not at all to blame for you,but your dear mother, who knows cunning beyond all others.For it is now the third year, and soon it will be the fourth,since she has been cheating the hearts in the breasts of the Achaeans.She gives hope to all, and promises each man,sending messages, but her mind desires other things.And she devised this other trick in her heart:she set up a great loom in the hall and wove,fine and of great size; and straightway she told us:Young men, my suitors, since godlike Odysseus is dead,wait, eager as you are for my marriage, until I finishthis shroud, lest my thread be wasted in vain,a burial robe for the hero Laertes, for the time whenthe deadly fate of long-suffering death lays him low,lest some Achaean woman in the land blame me,if he lies without a shroud, though he won much.So she spoke, and our proud hearts were persuaded.Then by day she would weave the great web,but at night she would unravel it, when she had set the torches beside her.So for three years she hid it by her trick and persuaded the Achaeans;but when the fourth year came and the seasons came round,then indeed one of the women told us, one who knew for certain,and we caught her unraveling the shining web.So she finished it, though unwilling, under compulsion;and the suitors give you this answer, so that you may knowin your own heart, and all the Achaeans may know:send your mother away, and bid her marrywhomever her father bids and she herself pleases.But if she goes on vexing the sons of the Achaeans for a long time,thinking the thoughts in her heart that Athena gave her beyond others,to know all-beautiful handiwork and noble witsand cunning, such as we never heard of even in the women of old,of those Achaean women of the past with lovely hair,Tyro, and Alcmene, and well-crowned Mykene;none of those had thoughts like Penelope's —yet in this she did not think what was right.For so long will they devour your livelihood and your goods,as long as she keeps this mind that the gods nowput in her breast. Great glory she wins for herself,but for you, the loss of much livelihood.And we will not go to our own work, nor anywhere else,before she is married to whichever of the Achaeans she wishes.Then wise Telemachus answered him:Antinous, it is in no way possible to drive from the house against her willher who bore me, who raised me; and my father is elsewhere in the world,whether he lives or is dead; and it would be evil for me to pay muchto Ikarios, if I of my own will sent my mother away.For from her father I shall suffer evils, and other pains a godwill give, since my mother, leaving the house, will call on the hateful Furies;and there will be blame for me from men;so I will never utter this word.But if your own hearts feel indignation,go out from my halls, and prepare other feasts,eating your own goods, taking turns at each other's houses.But if this seems to you better and more profitable,that one man's livelihood be destroyed without requital,cut it up; but I will call on the gods who live forever,in hope that Zeus may grant deeds of requital to come.Then you would die inside my halls without requital.So Telemachus spoke, and to him Zeus the far-thunderingsent two eagles to fly down from the height of a mountain.The two, as long as they flew with the blasts of the wind,close to one another, stretching out their wings;but when they came to the middle of the much-frequented assembly,there they wheeled about and shook their close-packed wings,and looked down on the heads of all, and glared destruction;and tearing their cheeks and necks with their talons,they darted off to the right, through their houses and their city.The people marveled at the birds, when they saw them with their eyes;and they stirred in their hearts, wondering what was to be fulfilled.Then among them spoke the old hero Halitherses,son of Mastor; for he alone of his generation excelledin knowing birds and speaking what was right;with good will toward them he spoke and addressed them:Hear me now, men of Ithaca, whatever I shall say:and I speak this especially as a warning to the suitors:for a great calamity rolls toward them; for Odysseuswill not long be far from his own dear ones, but even now,being near, he is planting slaughter and death for themall; and for many others too there will be evil,who dwell in clearly-seen Ithaca. But long before thatlet us take thought how we may stop them; and let them themselvesstop too; for this is better for them at once.For I do not prophesy untried, but knowing well;for I say that all was fulfilled for that man,just as I told him, when the Argives went up to Iliosand with them went Odysseus of many counsels.I said that after suffering many evils and losing all his companions,unknown to all, in the twentieth year,he would come home; and now all this is being fulfilled.Then Eurymachus, son of Polybos, answered him:Old man, go home and prophesy to your own children,lest they suffer some evil hereafter;in these matters I am much better at prophesying than you.Many birds go about under the rays of the sun,and not all of them are meaningful; but Odysseusperished far away — and you should have perished with him.Then you would not be speaking so many prophecies,nor would you be stirring up Telemachus like this in his anger,hoping for a gift for your house, if he should give one.But I will tell you plainly, and this shall be accomplished:if you, knowing many old things, with your wordsbeguile a younger man into being angry,first it will be more painful for him,and he will in any case be able to do nothing because of it;and on you, old man, we shall lay a fine, which you will grievein your heart to pay; and it will be a hard grief for you.And to Telemachus I myself will give advice before all:let him bid his mother go back to her father's house;and they will arrange a marriage and prepare the bride-gifts,very many, as many as is fitting to go with a beloved daughter.For I do not think the sons of the Achaeans will ceasefrom their painful wooing, since we fear no one at all,neither Telemachus, for all his many words,nor do we care for prophecy, which you, old man,utter without fulfillment, and so become even more hateful.But the property will again be eaten up badly, and neverequal, as long as she puts off the Achaeansover this marriage; and we, waiting day after day,compete over her excellence, and do not go after other womenwhom each of us might fittingly marry.Then wise Telemachus answered him:Eurymachus, and all you other noble suitors,I no longer beg these things of you, nor speak of them;for the gods already know them, and all the Achaeans.But come, give me a swift ship and twenty companions,who may accomplish the journey with me here and there.For I am going to Sparta and to sandy Pylosto learn of my father's return, who long ago went away,in case some mortal tells me, or I hear a voicefrom Zeus, which above all brings news to men;If I hear of my father's life and his return,then, worn down though I am, I might yet endure a year;but if I hear that he is dead and no longer living,then having come home to my dear native landI will heap a mound for him and hold his funeral rites,very many, as is fitting, and give my mother to a husband.So he spoke and sat down, and among them roseMentor, who was the companion of blameless Odysseus,and when he set out in the ships he entrusted to him his whole house,to obey the old man and keep all things faithfully;with good will toward them he spoke and addressed them:Hear me now, men of Ithaca, whatever I shall say:let no sceptered king be henceforth kindly and gentle,nor minding righteous things in his heart,but let him always be harsh and do reckless deeds;since no one remembers godlike Odysseusamong the people he ruled, and he was gentle as a father.But the proud suitors I do not begrudgefor doing violent deeds through the wicked scheming of their minds;for they stake their own heads and violently devourthe house of Odysseus, and say he will never come home.But now I am angry at the rest of the people, that all of yousit silent, and do not with a wordstop the few suitors, though you are many.Then Leocritus, son of Euenor, answered him:Mentor, mischief-maker, fool in your wits, what a thing you have said,in urging us to stop. It is hardfor men to fight even against more, over a dinner.For even if Odysseus of Ithaca himself cameand in his heart wished to drive the noble suitorsfeasting in his own house out of the hall,his wife would not rejoice at his coming, much as she longs for him,but he would meet a shameful fate thereif he fought against more men; and you have spoken out of season.But come, let the people scatter, each to his own work,and for him let Mentor urge the journey, and Halitherses,who from the first are his father's companions.But I think he will sit long, waiting for tidingshere in Ithaca, and will never accomplish this journey.So he spoke, and broke up the swift assembly.And they scattered, each to his own home,and the suitors went to the house of godlike Odysseus.But Telemachus went apart to the shore of the sea,and washing his hands in the gray salt water he prayed to Athena:Hear me, you who came yesterday as a god to our houseand bid me in a ship over the misty seato go and learn of my father's return, who long ago went away;but the Achaeans put all this off,and the suitors above all, in their wicked arrogance.So he spoke in prayer, and Athena came near to him,likened to Mentor in form and in voice,and speaking to him she addressed winged words:Telemachus, you will not hereafter be cowardly or foolish,if indeed your father's noble strength has dripped into you,such as he was to accomplish a deed and a word;then your journey will not be vain nor unaccomplished.But if you are not his offspring and Penelope's,then I do not expect you to accomplish what you desire.For few sons are like their father;the most are worse, and few are better than their father.But since you will not hereafter be cowardly or foolish,and the cunning of Odysseus has not wholly left you,there is hope that you will accomplish these deeds.So now leave the counsel and the mind of the suitors,the senseless, since they are neither thoughtful nor just;nor do they know death and black doom,which is near them, that they all be destroyed in one day.And the journey you desire will no longer be far off;for I am such a companion of your father's line,who will fit out a swift ship for you and myself go with you.But go to the house and consort with the suitors,and prepare provisions and stow all in vessels,wine in jars, and barley, the marrow of men,in tightly stitched skins; and I through the town companionswill quickly gather, willing men. There are shipsmany in sea-girt Ithaca, new and old;of these I will choose the best one for you,and quickly fitting it out we will launch it on the broad sea.So spoke Athena, daughter of Zeus; and no longer longdid Telemachus wait, since he heard the voice of the goddess.He went toward the house, grieving in his dear heart,and found the proud suitors in the halls,flaying goats and singeing pigs in the courtyard.And Antinous came straight at Telemachus, laughing,and took him by the hand, and spoke a word and named him:Telemachus, loud-voiced, unrestrained in fury, let no otherevil deed or word be a care in your breast,but eat and drink with me, as before.All these things the Achaeans will bring to pass for you,a ship and chosen rowers, so that you may come the soonerto holy Pylos, for tidings of your noble father.Then wise Telemachus answered him:Antinous, it is in no way possible among you overbearing mento feast and be glad in peace, without being hurt.Was it not enough that before you cut down many noblepossessions of mine, suitors, while I was still a child?But now that I am grown and hear the words of othersand learn, and my spirit grows within me,I will try to bring evil dooms upon you,either by going to Pylos, or here in this land.I am going, and the journey I speak of will not be in vain,as a passenger; for of a ship and rowers I am no master;so, I suppose, it seemed to you the better thing.So he spoke, and easily pulled his hand from Antinous' hand;and the suitors busied themselves with the feast through the house.And they mocked him and jeered at him with words.And thus one of the young overbearing men would say:Truly Telemachus is planning slaughter for us.Either he will bring defenders from sandy Pylosor even from Sparta, since he is terribly eager;or he wishes to go to Ephyre, the rich farmland,to bring back from there heart-destroying drugs,and put them in the mixing bowl and kill us all.And another of the young overbearing men would say:And who knows whether he himself, going in a hollow ship,may perish far from his friends, wandering as Odysseus did?So would he even increase the toil for us;for we would divide all his possessions, and his housewe would give to his mother to keep, and to whoever married her.So they spoke, and he went down into his father's high-roofed chamber,the broad one, where piled gold and bronze layand clothing in chests, and plenty of sweet-smelling oil;and jars of old honey-sweet winestood there, holding within the unmixed divine drink,fitted in a row against the wall, in case ever Odysseusshould return home after enduring many sorrows.And there were close-set doors, tightly joined,double-folding; and within, a woman steward night and daykept watch, guarding everything with the deep cunning of her mind,Eurycleia, daughter of Ops, son of Peisenor.Then Telemachus called to her and spoke to her toward the chamber:Nurse, come now, draw off for me wine in two-handled jars,the sweet wine, the best after that which you keepin hope for that unhappy man, if ever he should come,godlike Odysseus, escaped from death and the dooms of fate.Fill twelve jars, and fit them all with lids.And pour barley for me into well-stitched skins;let there be twenty measures of ground barley meal.And know this yourself alone; let all be ready together;for in the evening I will take them, whenmy mother goes up to her upper room and thinks of bed.For I am going to Sparta and to sandy Pylosto learn of my dear father's return, if I may hear of it.So he spoke, and his dear nurse Eurycleia wailed aloud,and lamenting she spoke winged words:Why, dear child, has this thought come into your heart?And where do you wish to go over the wide earth,you who are the only beloved one? And he perished far from his homeland,godlike Odysseus, among a people unknown to him.And they will straightway plot evils behind you as you go,that you may perish by treachery, and they will divide all this themselves.But stay here, sitting among your own; there is no need for youto suffer evils on the barren sea, nor to wander.Then wise Telemachus answered her:Take courage, nurse, for this counsel is not without a god.But swear not to tell these things to my dear mother,at least until the eleventh or the twelfth day comes,or until she misses me herself and hears that I have set out,so that she may not, weeping, mar her fair skin.So he spoke, and the old woman swore the great oath of the gods.But when she had sworn and finished the oath,straightway then she drew off wine for him in two-handled jars,and poured barley for him into well-stitched skins.And Telemachus went into the hall and consorted with the suitors.Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athena, thought of another thing.Likened to Telemachus she went throughout the city everywhere,and standing beside each man she spoke a word,and bid them gather at evening by the swift ship.And she in turn asked Noemon, the glorious son of Phronius,for a swift ship; and he gladly promised it to her.The sun set and all the ways were shadowed,and then he dragged the swift ship to the sea, and in ithe set all the gear that well-benched ships carry.He moored it at the edge of the harbour, and around it noble companionsgathered together; and the goddess urged on each one.Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athena, thought of another thing.She went toward the house of godlike Odysseus;there she poured sweet sleep over the suitors,and dazed them as they drank, and struck the cups from their hands.And they set out to sleep throughout the city, and no longer longdid they sit, since sleep fell upon their eyelids.But grey-eyed Athena spoke to Telemachus,calling him forth from the well-built halls,likened to Mentor in form and in voice:Telemachus, already your well-greaved companionssit at the oars awaiting your coming;but let us go, let us not delay the journey long.So speaking, Pallas Athena led the wayswiftly; and he followed in the footsteps of the goddess.But when they came down to the ship and the sea,they found on the shore the long-haired companions.And among them spoke the sacred strength of Telemachus:Come, friends, let us bring the provisions; for all things are alreadygathered in the hall. My mother knows nothing of it,nor the other serving women; one alone heard the word.So speaking he led the way, and they followed with him.And they carried everything and on the well-benched shiplaid it down, as the dear son of Odysseus had ordered.And Telemachus stepped aboard the ship, and Athena led the way,and sat down in the stern of the ship; and close beside herTelemachus sat. And they loosed the stern cables,and went aboard themselves and sat down on the benches.And grey-eyed Athena sent them a favouring wind,a keen-blowing West Wind, roaring over the wine-dark sea.And Telemachus urged on his companions and ordered themto lay hold of the gear; and they obeyed him as he urged.And the pine mast, inside the hollow mast-boxthey raised and set upright, and bound it down with forestays,and hauled up the white sails with well-twisted oxhide ropes.The wind filled the middle of the sail, and around it the waveroared loudly, dark purple, at the stem of the moving ship;and she ran over the wave, accomplishing her way.And when they had stowed the gear through the swift black ship,they set up mixing bowls brimming with wine,and poured libations to the immortal gods who live forever,and beyond all to the grey-eyed daughter of Zeus.All night long she kept cutting her way, and on to the dawn.

When rosy-fingered Dawn, born of the morning, appeared,the dear son of Odysseus got up out of bed,put on his clothes and slung a sharp sword on his shoulder,and tied fine sandals under his shining feet,and walked out of his room looking like a god.Right away he ordered the clear-voiced heraldsto call the long-haired Greeks to a meeting.They called, and the men gathered fast.When they had gathered and come together,he went into the meeting, holding a bronze spear in his hand,not alone: two fast dogs followed him.And Athena poured wonderful grace over him.Everyone stared at him as he came,and he sat in his father's seat, and the old men moved aside.Then the hero Aigyptius began speaking among them,an old man bent with age who knew a thousand things.His own dear son had gone off with godlike Odysseusto horse-rich Troy in the hollow ships,Antiphus the spearman; the savage Cyclops killed himin a hollow cave and made him his last meal.He had three other sons: one sat with the suitors,Eurynomus, and two always worked their father's land.But even so he never forgot him, mourning and grieving.Pouring tears for him, he spoke to them:Listen to me now, men of Ithaca, to what I say.Our meeting has never been called, and nobody has sat here,since the day godlike Odysseus left in the hollow ships.So who called us this time? What need has cometo a young man, or to one of the older men?Has he heard some report of an army coming,that he could tell us clearly, now that he heard it first?Or is he announcing some other public business?He seems to me a good man, and lucky. May Zeusbring him the good thing his heart is set on.So he spoke, and Odysseus' dear son was glad at the words.He did not sit still any longer — he wanted to speak.He stood in the middle of the meeting, and a scepter was put in his handby the herald Peisenor, who knew wise advice.First he spoke to the old man, taking him up:Old man, the man who called the people is not far off — you will soon know,and grief has hit me hardest.I have heard no report of an army coming,that I could clearly tell you, once I had heard it first,and I am not announcing any other public business.It is my own need, which has fallen on my house as trouble,in two ways. First, I have lost my noble father, who once among youhere was king, and was gentle as a father.And now something far bigger, which will soonbreak up my whole house and destroy everything we live on.The suitors have attacked my mother, and she doesn't want them,the dear sons of the very men who are the best here,who refuse to go to the house of her fatherIkarios, so that he could dower his daughterand give her to whoever he liked and who pleased him.Instead they come to our house every single day,killing cattle and sheep and fat goats,feasting and drinking the fiery winefor nothing; and a lot of it is being eaten up. There is no manlike Odysseus anymore, to keep ruin away from the house.And we are not the kind to defend it; and even thenwe would be weak and know nothing of fighting.I would defend myself, if I had the strength.What they do can't be put up with any longer, and my houseis ruined, and not decently. Be ashamed yourselves,and respect the other people who live around younearby; and fear the anger of the gods,in case they turn things around, disgusted at these evil deeds.I beg you by Olympian Zeus and by Themis,who breaks up men's meetings and brings them to order:hold back, friends, and leave me alone to be worn downby this painful grief — unless somewhere my noble father Odysseusdid something bad to the Greeks, his enemies,and you are paying me back for it in your hatred,egging these men on. For me it would be betterif you ate my treasures and my livestock.If you ate them, there might be payment someday;because then we could go around town with our talk,demanding our property back until it was all given.But now you load my heart with grief that can't be acted on.He said that in anger, and threw the scepter on the groundand burst into tears; and pity took the whole crowd.Then all the others were silent, and nobody daredanswer Telemachus with harsh words,except Antinous, who alone answered and said:Telemachus, loudmouth, out of control, what a thing to say,shaming us! You would like to pin blame on us.The Greek suitors are not to blame for your troubles,your dear mother is, who knows more tricks than anyone.It is already the third year now, and soon the fourth,that she has been cheating the hearts in the Greeks' chests.She gives hope to everyone, and promises each man,sending messages, but her mind wants something else.And she thought up this other trick in her heart:she set up a big loom in the hall and wove,a fine, huge piece of cloth; and right away she told us:Young men, my suitors, since godlike Odysseus is dead,wait, eager as you are for my marriage, until I finishthis cloak, so my weaving is not wasted,a burial robe for the hero Laertes, for whendeadly fate and long-drawn death bring him down,so no Greek woman in the land can blame meif he lies without a shroud after gaining so much.That is what she said, and our proud hearts were persuaded.Then all day she wove the big cloth,and at night she undid it, once she had set the torches beside her.So for three years she fooled us with that trick and convinced us.But when the fourth year came and the seasons came round,one of the women told us — she knew for certain —and we caught her undoing the shining cloth.So she finished it, unwilling, forced to;and here is the suitors' answer to you, so you know itin your own heart, and all the Greeks know too:send your mother away, tell her to marrywhoever her father says and whoever she likes.But if she keeps annoying the Greek young men much longer,thinking the thoughts in her heart that Athena gave her beyond others,knowing beautiful crafts and having good senseand tricks no one has heard of, even from women of the old days,the Greek women of long ago with lovely hair,Tyro, and Alcmene, and Mykene with the fine crown,none of them had a mind like Penelope's —but in this one thing she did not think sensibly.Because they will eat your livelihood and your goods for as longas she keeps this mind that the gods are nowputting in her breast. She wins great fame for herself,but for you, the loss of a lot of your living.And we will not go back to our own work, or anywhere else,until she marries whichever Greek she chooses.Then wise Telemachus answered him:Antinous, there is no way to drive out of the house against her willthe woman who bore me and raised me. My father is somewhere else,alive or dead. And it would be bad for me to pay a lotto Ikarios, if I sent my mother away willingly.I would get trouble from her father, and a god would give me more,since my mother, leaving the house, would call down the hateful Furies,and people would blame me.So I will never say that word.If your own hearts are outraged,get out of my halls, and fix yourselves other dinners,eating your own property, taking turns at each other's houses.But if this seems better and preferable to you,that one man's living be destroyed with nothing paid back,go ahead, cut it up — but I will call on the gods who always exist,in hope that Zeus grants that payback happens someday.Then you would die inside my halls with nothing paid.So Telemachus spoke, and Zeus who thunders farsent two eagles flying from the top of a mountain.As long as the two flew on the blasts of the wind,close together, stretching out their wings,but when they reached the middle of the crowded meeting,there they wheeled around and shook their thick wings,and looked at everyone's heads, and glared death,and tearing their cheeks and necks with their claws,they shot off to the right through their houses and their town.The people were stunned at the birds when they saw them with their eyes,and in their hearts they wondered what was going to happen.Then the old hero Halitherses spoke to them,son of Mastor; he alone of his generation was bestat reading birds and saying what was right,and meaning well he spoke to them:Listen to me now, men of Ithaca, to what I say,and I am telling this mostly as a warning to the suitors:a huge disaster is rolling toward them. Odysseuswill not be away from his loved ones long — somewherehe is already near, and he is planting slaughter and deathfor them all; and it will be bad for many others too,who live on far-seen Ithaca. But long before thatlet us think how we can stop them; and let themstop on their own, because that is better for them right now.I am not prophesying without experience — I know well.I say that everything was fulfilled for that man,just as I told him, when the Greeks went up to Troyand Odysseus of many plans went with them.I said that after suffering many troubles and losing all his men,unknown to everyone, in the twentieth year,he would come home. And now it is all coming true.Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered him:Old man, go home and prophesy to your own children,so they do not suffer some trouble later.I am much better than you at prophesying about this.Many birds fly around under the sun's rays,and not all of them mean anything. But Odysseusdied far away — and I wish you had died with him.Then you would not be making so many prophecies,and you would not be stirring up Telemachus like this in his anger,hoping for a gift for your house, if he gives one.I will tell you straight, and it will happen too:if you, knowing many old things, use your wordsto trick a younger man into getting angry,it will first of all be worse for him,and he will not be able to do anything because of it;and on you, old man, we will put a fine that you will hatepaying — and it will be painful for you.And I myself will advise Telemachus in front of everyone:let him tell his mother to go back to her father's house.They will arrange a marriage and get together the bride-gifts,a huge amount, as much as is right to go with a beloved daughter.For I do not think the Greek young men will stopthis painful courting, since we do not fear anyone,not Telemachus, for all his big talk,and we do not care about prophecy, which you, old man,tell and it never comes true — and you get more hateful for it.And the property will keep being eaten up badly, and never equal,as long as she puts off the Greeksover this marriage. And we, waiting day after day,compete over her excellence, and do not go after other womenwhom each of us could decently marry.Then wise Telemachus answered him:Eurymachus, and all you other noble suitors,I am not begging you for those things anymore, and not talking about them,the gods already know them, and so do all the Greeks.But come on, give me a fast ship and twenty companionswho can get the journey done with me there and back.I am going to Sparta and to sandy Pylosto ask about my father's return, since he has been gone so long,in case some human tells me, or I hear a voicefrom Zeus, which is what brings news to people most of all.If I hear of my father's life and his return,then, worn down though I am, I could still endure a year;but if I hear that he is dead and no longer alive,then after I come home to my dear native landI will heap up a grave mound for him and hold his funeral rites,a great many, as is fitting, and give my mother to a husband.So he spoke and sat down, and among them roseMentor, who was a companion of blameless Odysseus,and when he set out with the ships he put his whole household in his charge,to obey the old man and keep everything safe;with good will toward them he spoke and addressed them:Hear me now, men of Ithaca, whatever I say:let no sceptered king be kind and gentle any longer,nor mindful of what is right in his heart,but let him always be harsh and do reckless things;since no one remembers godlike Odysseusamong the people he ruled, and he was gentle as a father.But the proud suitors I do not begrudgefor doing violent deeds through the crooked plans in their minds;for they risk their own heads and violently devourthe house of Odysseus, and they say he will never come back.But now I am angry at the rest of the people, that all of yousit in silence, and do not, by speaking out,stop the few suitors, though you are many.Then Leocritus, son of Euenor, answered him:Mentor, troublemaker, fool in your wits, what a thing you have said,urging us to stop. It is hardfor men to fight even against more, over a dinner.For even if Odysseus of Ithaca himself cameand wanted in his heart to drive the noble suitorsout of his house while they were feasting there,his wife would not be glad at his coming, much as she longs for him,but he would meet a shameful fate right thereif he fought against more men; and you have spoken out of place.But come, let the people scatter, each to his own work,and let Mentor and Halitherses urge this journey on him,who from the beginning are companions of his father.But I think he will sit here a long timewaiting for news in Ithaca, and will never make this journey.So he spoke, and broke up the swift assembly.And they scattered, each to his own house,and the suitors went to the house of godlike Odysseus.But Telemachus went off by himself to the shore of the sea,and washed his hands in the gray salt water and prayed to Athena:Hear me, you who came yesterday to our house as a godand told me in a ship over the misty seato go and ask about my father's return, since he has been gone so long;but the Greeks put all this off,and the suitors most of all, in their wicked arrogance.So he spoke in prayer, and Athena came near him,looking like Mentor in body and in voice,and speaking she said to him:Telemachus, you will not be a coward or a fool later on,if indeed your father's good strength has dripped into you,such as he was to finish a deed and a word;then your journey will not be useless or unfinished.But if you are not his child and Penelope's,then I do not expect you to finish what you long for.For few sons are like their father;most are worse, and few are better than their father.But since you will not be a coward or a fool later on,and the cunning of Odysseus has not completely left you,there is hope that you will finish these deeds.So now let go of the plans and the minds of the suitors,the senseless ones, since they are neither thoughtful nor just;and they do not know death and black doom,which is near them, that they will all be destroyed in one day.And the journey you long for will no longer be far off;for I am such a companion of your father's line,I who will fit out a swift ship for you and go along with you myself.But you go to the house and spend time with the suitors,and get the provisions ready and stow everything in containers,wine in jars, and barley, the marrow of men,in tightly sewn skins; and I through the townwill quickly gather companions, willing men. There are shipsmany in sea-girt Ithaca, new and old;of these I will pick out for you whichever is best,and quickly fitting it out we will launch it on the wide sea.So spoke Athena, daughter of Zeus; and no longer longdid Telemachus wait, since he heard the voice of the god.He went to the house, troubled in his dear heart,and found the proud suitors in the halls,flaying goats and singeing pigs in the courtyard.And Antinous came straight at Telemachus, laughing,and clung to his hand, and spoke a word and called him by name:Telemachus, loud-talker, unrestrained in fury, let no otherevil deed or word be a care in your breast,but eat and drink with me, as before.All these things the Greeks will carry out for you,a ship and picked rowers, so you may get there sooner,to holy Pylos, for news of your noble father.Then wise Telemachus answered him:Antinous, it is not at all possible among you overbearing mento feast and enjoy yourself without being hurt.Was it not enough that before you cut down many finepossessions of mine, suitors, while I was still a child?But now that I am grown and hear other people's wordsand learn, and my spirit grows within me,I will try to bring evil deaths upon you,either by going to Pylos, or here in this land.I am going, and the journey I speak of will not be useless,as a passenger; for I am no master of a ship or rowers;so, I suppose, that seemed to you to be better.So he spoke, and easily pulled his hand from Antinous' hand;and the suitors busied themselves with the feast through the house.And they mocked him and jeered at him with words.And so one of the young overbearing men would say:Truly Telemachus is planning slaughter for us.Either he will bring defenders from sandy Pylosor even from Sparta, since he is terribly eager;or he wants to go to Ephyre, the rich farmland,to bring back from there drugs that destroy the heart,and put them in the mixing bowl and kill us all.And another of the young overbearing men would say:And who knows whether he too, going in a hollow ship,may perish far from his friends, wandering as Odysseus did?So he would bring even more trouble on us;for we would divide up all his possessions, and his housewe would give to his mother to keep, and to whoever married her.So they spoke, and he went down into his father's high-roofed chamber,the broad one, where piled gold and bronze layand clothing in chests, and plenty of sweet-smelling olive oil;and jars of old honey-sweet winestood there, holding the unmixed divine drink inside,fixed in a row against the wall, in case Odysseusshould come home after suffering many hard things.And there were close-fitting doors, tightly joined,double-folding; and inside a woman housekeeper night and daykept watch, guarding everything with the deep knowledge of her mind,Eurycleia, daughter of Ops, son of Peisenor.Then Telemachus called to her and spoke to her at the chamber:Nanny, come now, draw off wine for me in jars,the sweet kind, the best after that one which you keepin hope for that unlucky man, if he ever comes,godlike Odysseus, escaped from death and doom.Fill twelve jars, and put lids on them all.And pour barley for me into well-stitched skins;let there be twenty measures of ground barley meal.And know this by yourself alone; let everything be ready together;for in the evening I will take it, whenmy mother goes up to her upper room and thinks about bed.For I am going to Sparta and to sandy Pylosto ask about my dear father's return, in case I hear something.So he spoke, and his dear nurse Eurycleia cried out,and wailing she said to him:Why, dear child, has this thought come into your mind?And where do you want to go over the wide earth,you who are the only beloved one? And he perished far from his homeland,godlike Odysseus, among people who did not know him.And these men will plan evil things behind you as soon as you go,so you may die by a trick, and they will divide all this up themselves.But stay here, sitting among your own people; there is no need for youto suffer harm on the barren sea or to wander.Then wise Telemachus answered her:Cheer up, nanny, since this plan is not without a god.But swear that you will not tell these things to my dear mother,at least until the eleventh or the twelfth day comes,or until she misses me herself and hears that I have set out,so that she does not, by crying, spoil her beautiful skin.So he spoke, and the old woman swore the great oath of the gods.But when she had sworn and finished the oath,she straightway drew off wine for him in jars,and poured barley for him into well-stitched skins.And Telemachus went into the house and stayed with the suitors.Then the goddess, bright-eyed Athena, thought of something else.Looking like Telemachus she went all through the city everywhere,and standing beside each man she spoke a word,and told them to gather in the evening at the swift ship.And she in turn asked Noemon, the glorious son of Phronius,for a swift ship; and he gladly promised it to her.The sun set and all the streets were in shadow,and then he dragged the swift ship to the sea, and in ithe put all the gear that well-benched ships carry.He anchored it at the edge of the harbor, and around it good companionsgathered together; and the goddess urged each one on.Then the goddess, bright-eyed Athena, thought of something else.She went to the house of godlike Odysseus;there she poured sweet sleep over the suitors,and confused them as they drank, and knocked the cups from their hands.And they hurried to sleep throughout the city, and no longer longdid they sit, since sleep fell on their eyelids.But bright-eyed Athena spoke to Telemachus,calling him out of the well-built halls,looking like Mentor in body and in voice:Telemachus, your companions with fine greaves are alreadysitting at the oars, waiting for you to set out;but let us go, let us not delay the journey long.So speaking, Pallas Athena led the wayquickly; and he followed in the footsteps of the goddess.But when they came down to the ship and the sea,they found the long-haired companions on the shore.And the sacred strength of Telemachus spoke among them:Come, friends, let us bring the provisions; for everything is alreadygathered in the hall. And my mother knows nothing of it,nor the other slave women; one alone heard the word.So speaking he led the way, and they followed along.And they carried everything and on the well-benched shiplaid it down, as the dear son of Odysseus had ordered.And Telemachus stepped onto the ship, and Athena led the way,and sat down in the stern of the ship; and close beside herTelemachus sat. And they untied the stern cables,and went aboard themselves and sat down on the benches.And bright-eyed Athena sent them a favorable wind,a strong West Wind, whistling over the wine-colored sea.And Telemachus urged on his companions and told themto take hold of the gear; and they listened to him urging.And the pine mast, inside the hollow mast-boxthey raised and set upright, and tied it down with forestays,and hauled up the white sails with well-twisted oxhide ropes.The wind filled the middle of the sail, and around it the waveroared loudly, dark purple, around the stem of the moving ship;and she ran over the wave, cutting through her path.And when they had tied up the gear through the swift black ship,they set up mixing bowls full of wine,and poured libations to the immortal gods who live forever,and beyond all to the bright-eyed daughter of Zeus.All night long she kept cutting her way, right on to the dawn.