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But the corpses are now all piled up in the gatehouse that is in the outer court, [50] and Odysseus has lit a great fire to purify the house with sulfur. 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; [55] 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 circumspect Penelope, “do not exult too confidently over all this. You know [60] how delighted every one would be to see Odysseus 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 [ hubris], and has made an end of them; [65] 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. Odysseus is dead far away from the Achaean land; he will never have his homecoming [ nostos].”

Then beloved nurse Eurykleia said, [70] “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 sign [ sēma]; when I was washing him I perceived the scar which the wild boar gave him, [75] and I wanted to tell you about it, but in his wisdom [ noos] 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 cruelest death you can think of.”

[80] “My dear nurse,” said Penelope, “no matter who you are, you cannot really 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.”

[85]

Odyssey. Homer. Samuel Butler (Translator). London. 1898.

Current edition Experimental

English (Butler, rev. Nagy et al., 2020) (OCR draft) (English) (English (Butler, rev. Nagy et al., 2020))

Provisional text from uncorrected OCR; expect errors.

Editions (1)

Ὀδύσσεια Perseus (Homer. The Odyssey, Volume 1-2. Murray, A. T. (Augustus Taber), editor. London: William Heinmann; New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1919.) — 23.85 focus

ὣς φαμένη κατέβαινʼ ὑπερώϊα· πολλὰ δέ οἱ κῆρ

ὥρμαινʼ, ἢ ἀπάνευθε φίλον πόσιν ἐξερεείνοι,

ἦ παρστᾶσα κύσειε κάρη καὶ χεῖρε λαβοῦσα.

ἡ δʼ ἐπεὶ εἰσῆλθεν καὶ ὑπέρβη λάϊνον οὐδόν,

ἕζετʼ ἔπειτʼ Ὀδυσῆος ἐναντίη, ἐν πυρὸς αὐγῇ,

τοίχου τοῦ ἑτέρου· ὁ δʼ ἄρα πρὸς κίονα μακρὴν

ἧστο κάτω ὁρόων, ποτιδέγμενος εἴ τί μιν εἴποι

ἰφθίμη παράκοιτις, ἐπεὶ ἴδεν ὀφθαλμοῖσιν.

ἡ δʼ ἄνεω δὴν ἧστο, τάφος δέ οἱ ἦτορ ἵκανεν·

ὄψει δʼ ἄλλοτε μέν μιν ἐνωπαδίως ἐσίδεσκεν,

ἄλλοτε δʼ ἀγνώσασκε κακὰ χροῒ εἵματʼ ἔχοντα.

Τηλέμαχος δʼ ἐνένιπεν ἔπος τʼ ἔφατʼ ἔκ τʼ ὀνόμαζε·

μῆτερ ἐμή, δύσμητερ, ἀπηνέα θυμὸν ἔχουσα,

τίφθʼ οὕτω πατρὸς νοσφίζεαι, οὐδὲ παρʼ αὐτὸν

ἑζομένη μύθοισιν ἀνείρεαι οὐδὲ μεταλλᾷς;

οὐ μέν κʼ ἄλλη γʼ ὧδε γυνὴ τετληότι θυμῷ

100

ἀνδρὸς ἀφεσταίη, ὅς οἱ κακὰ πολλὰ μογήσας

ἔλθοι ἐεικοστῷ ἔτεϊ ἐς πατρίδα γαῖαν·

σοὶ δʼ αἰεὶ κραδίη στερεωτέρη ἐστὶ λίθοιο.

τὸν δʼ αὖτε προσέειπε περίφρων Πηνελόπεια·

τέκνον ἐμόν, θυμός μοι ἐνὶ στήθεσσι τέθηπεν,

105

οὐδέ τι προσφάσθαι δύναμαι ἔπος οὐδʼ ἐρέεσθαι

οὐδʼ εἰς ὦπα ἰδέσθαι ἐναντίον. εἰ δʼ ἐτεὸν δὴ

ἔστʼ Ὀδυσεὺς καὶ οἶκον ἱκάνεται, ἦ μάλα νῶϊ

γνωσόμεθʼ ἀλλήλων καὶ λώϊον· ἔστι γὰρ ἡμῖν

σήμαθʼ, ἃ δὴ καὶ νῶϊ κεκρυμμένα ἴδμεν ἀπʼ ἄλλων.

110

ὣς φάτο, μείδησεν δὲ πολύτλας δῖος Ὀδυσσεύς,

αἶψα δὲ Τηλέμαχον ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα·

Τηλέμαχʼ, ἦ τοι μητέρʼ ἐνὶ μεγάροισιν ἔασον

πειράζειν ἐμέθεν· τάχα δὲ φράσεται καὶ ἄρειον.

νῦν δʼ ὅττι ῥυπόω, κακὰ δὲ χροῒ εἵματα εἷμαι,

115

τοὔνεκʼ ἀτιμάζει με καὶ οὔ πω φησὶ τὸν εἶναι.

ἡμεῖς δὲ φραζώμεθʼ ὅπως ὄχʼ ἄριστα γένηται.

καὶ γάρ τίς θʼ ἕνα φῶτα κατακτείνας ἐνὶ δήμῳ,

ᾧ μὴ πολλοὶ ἔωσιν ἀοσσητῆρες ὀπίσσω,

φεύγει πηούς τε προλιπὼν καὶ πατρίδα γαῖαν·

120

ἡμεῖς δʼ ἕρμα πόληος ἀπέκταμεν, οἳ μέγʼ ἄριστοι

κούρων εἰν Ἰθάκῃ· τὰ δέ σε φράζεσθαι ἄνωγα.

τὸν δʼ αὖ Τηλέμαχος πεπνυμένος ἀντίον ηὔδα·

αὐτὸς ταῦτά γε λεῦσσε, πάτερ φίλε· σὴν γὰρ ἀρίστην

μῆτιν ἐπʼ ἀνθρώπους φάσʼ ἔμμεναι, οὐδέ κέ τίς τοι

125

ἄλλος ἀνὴρ ἐρίσειε καταθνητῶν ἀνθρώπων.

ἡμεῖς δʼ ἐμμεμαῶτες ἅμʼ ἑψόμεθʼ, οὐδέ τί φημι

ἀλκῆς δευήσεσθαι, ὅση δύναμίς γε πάρεστιν.

Translations (8)

Odyssey Perseus (Homer. The Odyssey, Volume 1-2. Murray, A. T. (Augustus Taber), translator. London: William Heinmann; New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1919.) — 23.49 focus

And now the bodies are all gathered together at the gates of the court, 50 but he is purging the fair house with sulphur, and has kindled a great fire, and sent me forth to call thee. Nay, come with me, that the hearts of you two may enter into joy, for you have suffered many woes. But now at length has this thy long desire been fulfilled: 55 he has come himself, alive to his own hearth, and he has found both thee and his son in the halls; while as for those, even the wooers, who wrought him evil, on them has he taken vengeance one and all in his house.” Then wise Penelope answered her: “Dear nurse, boast not yet loudly over them with laughter. 60 Thou knowest how welcome the sight of him in the halls would be to all, but above all to me and to his son, born of us two. But this is no true tale, as thou tellest it; nay, some one of the immortals has slain the lordly wooers in wrath at their grievous insolence and their evil deeds. 65 For they honored no one among men upon the earth, were he evil or good, whosoever came among them; therefore it is through their own wanton folly that they have suffered evil. But Odysseus far away has lost his return to the land of Achaea , and is lost himself.” Then the dear nurse Eurycleia answered her: 70 “My child, what a word has escaped the barrier of thy teeth, in that thou saidst that thy husband, who even now is here, at his own hearth, would never more return! Thy heart is ever unbelieving. Nay come, I will tell thee a manifest sign besides, even the scar of the wound which long ago the boar dealt him with his white tusk. 75 This I marked while I washed his feet, and was fain to tell it to thee as well, but he laid his hand upon my mouth, and in the great wisdom of his heart would not suffer me to speak. So come with me; but I will set my very life at stake that, if I deceive thee, thou shouldest slay me by a most pitiful death.” 80 Then wise Penelope answered her: “Dear nurse, it is hard for thee to comprehend the counsels of the gods that are forever, how wise soever thou art. Nevertheless let us go to my son, that I may see the wooers dead and him that slew them.”

Odyssey Perseus (Homer. The Odyssey: rendered into English prose for the use of those who cannot read the original. Butler, Samuel, 1835-1902, translator. Revised by Timothy Power and Gregory Nagy. London: A.C. Fifield, 1900.) — 23.39 focus

39 "I was not there," answered Eurykleia, "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 Odysseus 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 Odysseus has lit a great fire to purify the house with sulfur. 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."

58 "‘My dear nurse," said Penelope, "do not exult too confidently over all this. You know how delighted every one would be to see Odysseus 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 [ hubris], and has made an end of them; for they respected no man in the whole world, neither rich nor poor, who came near them, who came near them, and they have come to a bad end in consequence of their iniquity. Odysseus is dead far away from the Achaean land; he will never return home again [ nostos]."

69 Then nurse Eurykleia 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 [ sêma]; 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 [ noos] 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 cruelest death you can think of."

80 "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."

English (William Cullen Bryant, 1873) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (William Cullen Bryant, 1873)) — 23.49 focus

Now the suitors lie

Before the portals of the palace-court,

And he has kindled a great fire, and steeps

In smoke the noble hall. He bade me come

To call thee. Follow me, that ye may give

Your hearts to gladness, - for ye have endured

Great sorrows both, and your long-cherished hope

Is now fulfilled. He hath returned alive

To his dear home, and finds thee and his son

Yet in his palace, and hath terribly

Avenged himself upon the guilty men

Who under his own roof have done him wrong."

Then spake the sage Penelope again :

"Beloved nurse, exult not overmuch,

Nor rashly boast. Well is it known to thee,

Were he to come beneath this roof again,

How welcome he would be to all, but most

To me and to the son to whom we gave

His being. Yet thy tidings are not true.

Some one of the immortals must have slain

The arrogant suitors, angry to behold

Their foul injustice and their many crimes;

For no respect had they to mortal man,

Good he might be, or bad, whome'er they met ;

And therefore have they made an evil end.

But my Ulysses must have perished far

From Ithaca, cut off from his return."

Then Eurycleia, the dear nurse, rejoined :

"What words are these, my child, that pass thy lips ?

Sayst thou, then, that thy husband, who now stands

Upon thy hearthstone, never will return?

O slow of faith! but thou wert ever thus.

Come, then, I give a certain proof. I saw

Myself, when he was at the bath, the scar

Left on him by the white tusk of a boar,

And would have told thee, but he laid his hands

Upon my mouth, and would not suffer me

To bear the tidings, such his forecast was.

Now follow me; I give my life in pledge.

If I deceive thee, slay me ruthlessly."

Then spake discreet Penelope again:

"Dear nurse, though thou in many things art wise,

Think not to scan the counsels of the gods,

Who live forever. Yet will we descend,

And meet my son, and look upon the slain,

And see the avenger by whose hand they fell."

English (Alexander Pope, 1726, ed. Watson, 1858) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Alexander Pope, 1726, ed. Watson, 1858)) — 23.49 focus

Heap'd lie the dead without the palace walls;

Haste, daughter, haste, thy own Ulysses calls!

Thy every wish the bounteous gods bestow;

Enjoy the present good, and former woe.

Ulysses lives, his vanquish'd foes to see;

He lives to thy Telemachus and thee!"

"Ah, no!" (with sighs Penelope rejoin'd,)

"Excess of joy disturbs thy wandering mind;

How blest this happy hour, should he appear,

Dear to us all, to me supremely dear!

Ah, no! some god the suitors' deaths decreed,

Some god descends, and by his hand they bleed;

Blind! to contemn the stranger's righteous cause,

And violate all hospitable laws!

The good they hated, and the powers defied;

But heaven is just, and by a god they died.

For never must Ulysses view this shore;

Never! the loved Ulysses is no more!"

"What words" (the matron cries) "have reach'd my ears?

Doubt we his presence, when he now appears?

Then hear conviction: Ere the fatal day

That forced Ulysses o'er the watery way,

A boar, fierce rushing in the sylvan war,

Plough'd half his thigh; I saw, I saw the scar,

And wild with transport had reveal'd the wound;

But, ere I spoke, he rose and check'd the sound.

Then, daughter, haste away, and if a lie

Flow from this tongue, then let thy servant die!"

To whom with dubious joy the queen replies:

"Wise is thy soul, but errors seize the wise;

The works of gods what mortal can survey?

Who knows their motives, who shall trace their way?

But learn we instant how the suitors trod

The paths of death, by man or by a god."

Thus speaks the queen, and no reply attends,

English (Thomas Hobbes, 1667, ed. Molesworth 1843) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Thomas Hobbes, 1667, ed. Molesworth 1843)) — 23.49 focus

Now they lie

In th court all in one heap. But busy he

Is airing of the house, a great fire by,

And for to call you hither has sent me.

But come, that in each other you may joy,

For now at last your wishes granted be.

Ulysses come, your son is past a boy,

And their revenge upon the woo'rs they see.

Nurse, answered she, triumph not out of season.

For to be glad to see him in the house,

You know there none is that have so much reason

As I have, and our son, Telemachus.

But 'tis not truth you tell me. What you say

Will come at last to nothing else but this,

It was some God that did the suitors slay,

Hating the sight of what they did amiss.

There never man came to them that can boast

He parted from them without injuries;

So by their wickedness their lives they lost;

Ulysses may have perish'd for all this.

Euryclea to this again replied,

Dear child, what words are these that from you come ?

Ulysses stands i'th' hall at the fire's side,

And yet you say he never will come home.

But well, I'll tell you now a surer sign:

When I was washing of his legs and feet,

I saw where th' wound was giv'n him by the swine;

And had then told you had he thought it meet;

But with his hand, for that cause, stopp'd my breath.

Come, I will lay my life on't willingly;

If it be false, put me to cruel death.

To this Penelope did then reply:

The purpose of the Gods, wise though you be,

You know not, nurse; but I'll go to my son,

And there upon the place with him I'll see

What men are slain, and who the deed has done.

English (George Chapman, 1667, ed. Hooper 1857) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (George Chapman, 1667, ed. Hooper 1857)) — 23.49 focus

Straight, then, off they bore

The slaughter'd carcasses, that now before

The fore-court gates lie, one on another piled.

And now your victor all the hall, defiled

With stench of hot death, is perfuming round,

And with a mighty fire the hearth hath crown'd.

"Thus, all the death removed, and every room

Made sweet and sightly, that yourself should come

His pleasure sent me. Come, then, take you now

Your mutual fills of comfort. Grief on you

Hath long and many sufferings laid; which length,

Which many suff'rings, now your virtuous strength

Of uncorrupted chasteness hath conferr'd

A happy end to. He that long hath err'd

Is safe arrived at home; his wife, his son,

Found safe and good; all ill that hath been done

On all the doers' heads, though long prolong'd,

His right hath wreak'd, and in the place they wrong'd."

She answer'd: "Do not you now laugh and boast

As you had done some great act, seeing most

Into his being; for you know he won—

Even through his poor and vile condition—

A kind of prompted thought that there was placed

Some virtue in him fit to be embraced

By all the house, but most of all by me,

And by my son that was the progeny

Of both our loves. And yet it is not he,

For all the likely proofs ye plead to me,—

Some God hath slain the Wooers in disdain

Of the abhorred pride he saw so reign

In those base works they did. No man alive,

100

Or good or bad, whoever did arrive

At their abodes once, ever could obtain

Regard of them; and therefore their so vain

And vile deserts have found as vile an end.

But, for Ulysses, never will extend

105

His wish'd return to Greece, nor he yet lives."

"How strange a Queen are you," said she, "that gives

No truth your credit, that your husband, set

Close in his house at fire, can purchase yet

No faith of you, but that he still is far

110

From any home of his! Your wit's at war

With all credulity ever! And yet now

I'll name a sign shall force belief from you :

I bathed him lately, and beheld the scar

That still remains a mark too ocular

115

To leave your heart yet blinded; and I then

Had run and told you, but his hand was fain

To close my lips from th' acclamation

My heart was breathing, and his wisdom won

My still retention, till he gave me leave

120

And charge to tell you this. Now then receive

My life for gage of his return; which take

In any cruel fashion, if I make

All this not clear to you." "Loved nurse," said she,

"Though many things thou know'st, yet these things be

125

Veil'd in the counsels th' uncreated Gods

Have long time mask'd in; whose dark periods

'Tis hard for thee to see into. But come,

Let's see my son, the slain, and him by whom

They had their slaughter."

130

English (William Cowper, 1791, ed. Southey) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (William Cowper, 1791, ed. Southey)) — 23.49 focus

Heap'd in the portal, at this moment, lie

Their bodies, and he fumigates, meantime,

The house with sulphur and with flames of fire,

And hath himself sent me to bid thee down.

Follow me then that ye may give your hearts

To gladness both, for ye have much endured;

But the event, so long your soul's desire,

Is come; himself hath to his household Gods

Alive return'd, thee and his son he finds

Unharm'd and at your home, nor hath he left

Unpunish'd one of all his enemies.

Her answer'd then Penelope discrete.

Ah dearest nurse! indulge not to excess

This dangerous triumph. Thou art well apprized

How welcome his appearance here would prove

To all, but chief to me and to his son,

Fruit of our love. But these things are not so;

Some God, resentful of their evil deeds,

And of their biting contumely severe,

Hath slain those proud; for whether noble guest

Arrived or base, alike they scoff'd at all,

And for their wickedness have therefore died.

But my Ulysses distant far, I know,

From Greece hath perish'd, and returns no more.

To whom thus Euryclea, nurse beloved.

What word, my daughter, hath escaped thy lips,

Who thus affirm'st thy husband, now within

And at his own hearth-side, for ever lost?

Canst thou be thus incredulous? Hear again—

I give thee yet proof past dispute, his scar

Imprinted by a wild-boar's ivory tusk.

Laving him I remark'd it, and desired,

Myself, to tell thee, but he, ever wise,

Compressing with both hands my lips, forbad.

Come, follow me. My life shall be the pledge.

If I deceive thee, kill me as thou wilt.

To whom Penelope discrete replied.

Ah, dearest nurse, sagacious as thou art,

Thou little know'st to scan the counsels wise

Of the eternal Gods. But let us seek

My son, however, that I may behold

The suitors dead, and him by whom they died.

English (H. B. Cotterill, 1911) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (H. B. Cotterill, 1911)) — 23 focus

ODYSSEY BOOK XXIII

LAUGHING for joy now hurried the nurse to the upper apartment,

Bringing her lady the news that Odysseus was there in his homestead.

Onward with tottering knees and with feet unsteady she stumbled,

Till, at the head of the sleeper arriving, she called to her mistress:

"Wake, my belov'd! wake, Penelopeia my child! Thou shalt see now,

Yea with thine eyes thou shalt see, what every day thou hast longed for.

Come is Odysseus !—is here in his home, whence long he was vanished !

Slain are all of the arrogant suitors who troubled his homestead,

Wasting the wealth of the house and treating his son with oppression."

Her forthwith gave answer the wise-souled Penelopeia:

"Nancy, dear mother, the gods have driven thee mad! An immortal

Ofttimes maketh a fool of the wise—yea, even the wisest—

Ay and the one that is foolish he guides in the path of discretion.

Surely a god hath unbalanced thy mind that was steady aforetime.

Why dost thou mock me and add to the grief that is heavy within me,

Chattering thus so wildly and waking me out of my slumber

While so softly imprisoned it held me and shaded mine eyelids?

Never I slept thus sound from the day that Odysseus departed

Sailing for Ilion, city of doom, name ne'er to be mentioned.

Go now, get thee away and return to the women's apartment!

Verily were it another of all of the maids that attend me,

Bringing reports like these and waking me out of my slumber,

Rudely enough I had sent her away and had bid her betake her

Back to her chamber—but thou..! it is only thy age that protects thee."

Then once more made answer the dear nurse Eurycleia:

"Nancy, I am mocking thee not, dear child! I assure thee in earnest

Come is Odysseus and here is arrived at his home, as I told thee.

He was the stranger—the guest whom all at the banquet insulted.

Telemachus long since was aware that his father was present,

Yet with a manly discretion the plans of his sire he revealed not,

Waiting for vengeance to fall on the heads of the arrogant suitors."

Thus as the old nurse spake, in her gladness Penelopeia

Sprang from her couch and embraced her, and tears fell fast from her eyelids ;

Then she uplifted her voice and with swift-winged words she addressed her :

"Come, dear mother, I beg thee to tell me and give me assurance,

Should he in sooth be arrived and be here in his home as thou sayest,

How was he able to lay strong hands on the insolent suitors,

Being alone, while ever they keep right many together?"

Then once more made answer the dear nurse Eurycleia :

"Nothing I saw—knew nothing—and nothing I heard but a groaning

Made by the dying. We sat in the strong-built room in a corner

Frozen with fear, and the door close-fitting was shut of the chamber,

Till that I heard one calling me forth from the women's apartment,

Even thy son, prince Telemachus for his father had sent him.

So to Odysseus I came, and I found him amidst of the slaughtered

Standing; and round him was covered the hard-stamped floor with the corpses

Lying the one on the other. I ween that thy soul had exulted

Hadst thou beheld him besmeared with the filth and the gore as a lion.

Now they're lying together, anigh to the gate of the courtyard,

All in a heap, and the master is fuming the palace with sulphur,

Setting aflame great braziers of coal; and he sent me to call thee.

Follow me now, that ye both in a heaven of happiness enter,

Where your hearts shall rejoice, forgetting their former afflictions.

Now is accomplished the thing that for long long years thou hast hoped for :

Lo, he is come—he is here— he is safe in his home—and has found thee

Safe in his halls, and his son; while those who had wickedly wronged him,

Even the suitors he wreaked his revenge on them all in his palace."

Her then in answer addressed these words wise Penelopeia :

"Nancy, dear mother, refrain thee at present from vaunting and laughter!

Well dost thou know how welcome he were to the whole of his household,

All of us, chiefly indeed to myself and the son that I bare him.

Yet—it is never and never the truth, this tale that thou tellest.

Navy, 'twas a god immortal that slaughtered the high-born suitors,

Wroth at their grievous and insolent pride and their infamous actions,

Seeing they treated alike all earth-born men with dishonour,

Good no less than the bad—yea every one who approached them;

So for their folly and madness they suffered. But dead is Odysseus;

Lost was his way to the land of Achaea, and lost was his life too."

Then did the dear old nurse make answer and thus she addressed her :

"Nancy but, my child, what word from the door of thy lips hath escaped thee,

While thou affirmst that thy lord, who is here at the hearth of his homestead,

Ne'er shall return! Ay, truly, thy heart was incredulous alway!

Well, I will tell thee besides of a proof infallibly certain,

Even the wound which once by a boar's white tusk was inflicted.

This as I bathed him I spied—and I eagerly turned me towards thee

Wishing to speak; but he, laying his hand on my mouth to prevent it,

Would not permit me to utter a word, in his wisdom and foresight.

Nancy, come, follow me now! I will venture my life on my tidings.

Should I deceive thee at all, by a death most pitiful slay me!"

Her once more gave answer the wise-souled Penelopeia :

"Ah, dear mother, 'tis hard, how great soever thy wisdom,

Over the plans and the counsels to watch of the gods everlasting.

Well then, now let us go to my son. I am fain to behold them,

These dead men, these suitors and him moreover that slew them."

Then from her room she descended, and deeply she pondered in spirit

Whether to hold her aloof from her lord and to test him with questions

Or to approach and embrace him and kiss him on hands and on forehead.

So, when at length she had entered the hall and had stept from the door-stone,

Fronting Odysseus she seated herself, in the light of a brazier,

Close to the opposite wall; and with eyes cast down he was sitting

Nigh to a pillar that rose to the roof; and he waited expectant,

Hoping his beautiful wife would speak when she saw him before her.

Long while silent she sat, with her spirit amazed and bewildered;

Now with her eyes fixed full on his face she was earnestly gazing,

Now she was doubting, beholding him clad in a beggarly raiment.

Then spake Telemachus and with words of reproach he addressed her :

"Mother—and yet no mother of mine, for thy heart is unloving—

Wherefore now dost thou hold thee aloof from my father, nor gladly

Seat thee beside him and bid him to speak and to answer thy questions?

Ne'er was a wife like thee, with a heart thus hardened within her,

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So as to turn from a husband who after unnumber'd afflictions

Came in the twentieth year to his home and the land of his fathers.

Thus it was ever for harder than stone is the heart in thy bosom!"

Him then in answer addressed these words wise Penelopeia :

"Nancy but, my child, have patience—for dead is the spirit within me ;

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Neither to utter a word am I able, nor ask him a question,

Nancy, nor to look in his face. If in truth it is he, as thou sayest,

Even Odysseus returned to his home, we can verily better

Learn it than thus, and be surer the one of the other; for we twain

Tokens possess that we kept to ourselves and hidden from others."

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Hearing her words with a smile, long-suffering godlike Odysseus

Suddenly turned to his son, and with swift-winged words he addressed him :

"Telemachus, now leave us alone in the hall, that thy mother

Test me; for thus she will soon be aware of the truth and confess it.

Now I am covered with filth and am clothed in a beggarly raiment,

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So with dishonour she treats me and says I am never thy father.

Meanwhile, come, let us think how best we shall act in the future.

He that hath happened to slay one person alone in a people,

One who was able to leave not many behind to avenge him,

Flieth from kith and from kin and from native land as an exile;

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We.. 'twas the stay of the city we slew 'twas the best of the princes

Here in the Ithacan land. It is this that I bid thee consider."

Him sage Telemachus addressing in turn gave answer:

"See to the matter thyself, dear father; for thine is the wisdom

Said to be greatest on earth, and with thee in the giving of counsel

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None might hope to compete no other of men that be mortal.

All of us others will eagerly follow thee. Ne'er shalt thou find us

Lacking in will to support thee, if only the power is present."

Him then in answer addressed these words deep-plotting Odysseus:

"Well now, come, I will tell thee the plan that I hold to be wisest.

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First then, all of you cleanse you with water and clothe you in doublets,

Also the maidens command to array them in festal apparel.

Then let the godlike bard with his lute's loud-echoing music

Give us the lead for the dance in a mirthful melodious measure,

So that it sound as a wedding to those outside of the palace,

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Whether to folk that shall pass on the road, or to neighbours around us.

Thus no word shall be bruited abroad in the town that the suitors

Lie here slaughtered before we shall get us away to the country

Unto the farm in the midst of the forest; and there we can counsel

How to avail us of luck, if the Father Olympian grant it."

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Thus did he speak, and they listened attent to his words and obeyed them.

Firstly they bathed them in water and cast fresh tunics around them;

Also the women did on their attire; and the godlike minstrel,

Taking his hollow harp, in the depths of their bosoms excited

Yearning for sweet-voiced song and the peerless pleasure of dancing.

145

Then to the sound of their feet did the spacious mansion reëcho

While that the fair-zoned maidens and men were making them merry;

Hearing the which spake many a one outside of the palace :

"Sure, she is married at last, our lady of many a wooer!

Pitiful creature, unable to wait for the love of her girlhood,

150

Faithfully keeping on guard at his palace until he arrived here!”

Thus spake many a one; but they knew not how it had happened.

Now great-hearted Odysseus was back in his home, and the house-dame

Eurynomé brought water to bathe him and oil to anoint him,

Also apparel to clothe him withal, both mantle and tunic.

155

Over him then great beauty was shed by the goddess Athene :

Taller and stronger she made him in aspect, and down from his head fell

Clustering thickly the locks of his hair as the flower hyacinthine.

Even as gold o'er silver is poured by an artist—a craftsman

Taught in his art by the god Hephaestus and Pallas Athene

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Manifold skill, and of beauty is every work that he fashions,

Thus did she pour forth grace on the shoulders and head of Odysseus;

So as he stept from the bath he was like an immortal in semblance.

Then he reseated himself on the chair from the which he had risen,

Placing himself in the front of his wife; and he spake to her, saying:

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“Nancy, good lady, a heart more hard, more cruel, than thine is

Never a woman received from the gods who inhabit Olympus;

Ne'er was a wife like thee, with a heart thus hardened within her,

So as to turn from a husband who after unnumber'd afflictions

Came in the twentieth year to his home and the land of his fathers.

170

Nurse, go strew me my bed! I will sleep by myself; I will forthwith

Lay me to rest—for the heart in her bosom is surely of iron."

Him then in answer addressed these words wise Penelopeia :

"Nancy, good man, it is neither because I am proud or disdainful,

Nor am I dazed. Right well I recall thee (if thou be Odysseus)

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Such as thou wert when from here in a long-oared vessel thou sailedst.

Go now, Eurycleia, and strew him the strong-made bedstead

Here outside of the room that he built for himself as his chamber.

Bring ye the bedstead forth; then lay soft bedding upon it;

Cover it over with fleeces and wrappers and glistering blankets."

180

Thus did she speak as a test for her husband ; and much was Odysseus

Angered thereat, and he turned to his own true wife and addressed her :

"Verily, wife, this word thou hast spoken is grievously cruel.

Who hath removed it—the bed that I built? 'Twere difficult truly

E'en for a man right skilful, unless some deity helped him.

185

Though for a god 'twere easy to move it wherever he listed,

Never a mortal that liveth, not e'en in the prime of his manhood,

Out of its place could heave it with handspikes. Great is the secret

Touching that fine-wrought bed—for I made it myself and in private.

Once was a long-leaved olive that stood inside the enclosure,

190

Thriving and grown to the full ; and its stem was as thick as a pillar.

Round it I built me a chamber and laboured until it was finished,

Making a structure of stones close-set; and I carefully roofed it;

Also I gave it a door well-fitting and firmly compacted.

Next from the long-leaved olive I lopped off all of the brushwood,

195

Whittled the bark of the stump right down to the root, and I planed it

Evenly, cutting it straight to the line with the skill of a master.

Then with an auger I bored it and fashioned it into a bed-post.

Thus I began, and I wrought me the bed, and, until it was finished,

Carved it, and richly with ivory, silver, and gold I adorned it.

200

Then to the frame hide thongs I attached bright-coloured with purple.

There now! Such is the secret I tell thee as token. I know not

Whether my bed stands still as it stood, O wife, or if long since

Some man moved it away, with the trunk cut off at the bottom."

Thus as he spake were loosened her knees and the heart in her bosom,

205

Since to herself she confessed that the token was sure that he gave her.

Bursting in tears, straightway to Odysseus she ran and embraced him,

Casting her arms on his neck and kissing his head and exclaiming :

"Gaze not upon me in anger, Odysseus! In all thou hast shown thee

Wisest of men—and thou knowst that the gods have sent us affliction,

210

Jealous to see us abiding in happiness one with the other,

Joying in youth and hoping to reach eld's threshold together.

Wherefore now I beseech thee to feel not wroth and indignant

Only because, when I saw thee at first, not thus I embraced thee.

Ever and ever again hath my heart in the depths of my bosom

215

Shuddered with fear lest any with tales might haply deceive me,

One of the many that come with an evil and gainful intention.

Navy, e'en Argive Helen, the daughter of Zeus the Almighty,

Ne'er to a stranger had given her love and her tender embraces

Had she but known that again by the warlike sons of Achaea

220

Back to her home she was doomed to be brought and the land of her fathers.

True, to committing the shameless deed some deity urged her;

True, she had never foreseen in her spirit the end of her folly,

End so fearful that first on ourselves brought mourning and sorrow.

Now I believe! for thou giv'st me a token unerring—the secret

225

Touching the bed—our bed—that was ne'er by a mortal beholden

Saving by thee and by me, and by one of my women attendants,

Actoris—one that my sire, when I came as a bride to thy palace,

Gave me—and ever the door of thy strong-built chamber she guarded.

Yea, I believe! thou hast conquered my heart, however unloving!"

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PATTEN WILSON.
THE RECOGNITION OF ODYSSEUS BY HIS WIFE

Thus as she spake still more she excited his yearning for wailing.

Clasping his true sweet wife to his bosom he wept as he held her.

Welcome as sight of the land, when at last it appeareth to swimmers

Whose good ship, o'erwhelmed in the midst of the sea by Poseidon,

Drifts as a wreck and is tossed by the wind and the mountainous billows,

235

While some few, in the hope to escape from the grey salt water,

Swim for the land, and with brine are thickly encrusted their bodies,

Then on the shore right gladly they step, and they find them in safety,

Thus, when she saw him, she welcomed with gladness Odysseus her husband,

Nor from his neck for a moment her fair white arms did she loosen.

240

Yea, on their weeping had risen the morning, the roseate-fingered,

Save for the friendly device of the grey-eyed goddess Athene :

Night in her outmost realm she delayed long-lingering; held back

Morning the golden-enthron'd at the stream of the Ocean, and bade her

Yoke not her swift-paced horses, the bringers to mortals of daylight,

245

Lampus and Phaethon, chariot-steeds of the goddess of morning.

Then at the last spake thus to his wife deep-plotting Odysseus:

"Not at the end, O wife, do I deem us of every labour.

Much is remaining of toil, yea, measureless travail, and hardships

Many and great—all which I am destined to do and to suffer,

250

E'en as foretold me the spirit of Teiresias the diviner,

Yea, on the day I descended and entered the mansion of Hades,

Seeking to hear of a way of return for myself and my comrades.

Now come, wife, let us lay us abed—'tis the season already

There to repose us and seek the delicious enjoyment of slumber."

255

Him forthwith gave answer the wise-souled Penelopeia:

"Yea, most surely thy bed shall be ready whenever thy spirit

Longeth to rest, for at last by the will and the favour of heaven

Here to thy well-built home thou art come and the land of thy fathers.

Still—as thou spakest thereof and a deity stirr'd thy remembrance—

260

Tell me, I pray, of the travail to come; for I ween I shall learn it

Later, and knowing it now were sure no greater misfortune."

Her then in answer addressed these words deep-plotting Odysseus:

"Nancy, good lady, but why thus all impatiently urge me,

Bidding me speak? Well, come, I will tell thee, nor try to conceal it.

265

Verily little thy soul will rejoice; yea also myself too

Little am joyed, for to many a city of mortals he bade me

Wander again from my home, with a well-shaped oar on my shoulder,

Till to a people I come which never hath heard of the ocean,

Yea to a people that mix no salt with the food that they live on ;

270

Neither hath any a ship, with the cheeks red-painted, beholden,

Neither hath knowledge of oars which serve as the wings of a vessel.

Also he gave me a sign most certain the which I will tell thee.

Whensoever it haps that a chance wayfarer that meets thee

Saith 'tis a winnowing fan that thou bearst on thy glistering shoulder,

275

Fixing the oar in the ground I shall leave it for thus he commanded.

Then to Poseidon the king I shall offer a goodly oblation,

Even a male of the swine and a male of the herd and the sheepfold,

Then turn homeward again, and many an offering holy

Slay to the deathless gods who inhabit the infinite heaven,

280

Each one after the other. At last shall a death from the ocean,

Such as of deaths is the mildest, befall thee and gently remove thee,

Weary and worn, in a smooth old age; and around thee thy people

Happy shall live. All this he foretold would have a fulfilment."

Him forthwith gave answer the wise-souled Penelopeia :

285

"Should but the gods vouchsafe to thy life such happier ending,

Surely they grant thee a hope to escape at the last from affliction."

Thus in the hall these twain held converse one with the other.

Meantime Eurynomé and the nurse made ready the bedstead,

Laying thereon soft wraps, by the light of the radiant torches.

290

Then, when the strong-built bed was prepared and the labour was ended,

Back to her room went Eurycleia to lay her to slumber,

While that the other, the maiden attendant who guarded the chamber,

Guided the way for her lord and her mistress, holding a pine-torch

Unto the chamber she led them and then she returned; and with gladness

295

These two came once more to the rites of the bed as aforetime.

Soon now Telemachus and the cowherd and also the swineherd

Stayed their feet from the dance, and bidding the women to cease too

Laid them to rest for the night in the shadowy hall of the palace.

Now when the twain had delighted in love and its tender endearments,

300

Then to the pleasure of talking they turned, and all they recounted.

First by the fairest of women was told what woes she had suffered,

Forced to behold in the palace the ruinous horde of the suitors

Coming to woo her and slaying the fat-fed sheep and the oxen,

Many and many a head, and emptying many a wine-cask.

305

Next did Odysseus descended from Zeus tell all of the sorrows

Brought on his foes, and how he had toiled and had suffered afflictions—

All he related; and hearing it greatly she joyed, nor did slumber

Fall on her eyelids before he had finished the whole of the story.

Firstly he told how landing he sacked the Ciconian city,

310

Then to the rich-soiled land of the Eaters of Lotus was wafted.

Next of the deeds of the Cyclops he spake, and how he avenged him,

Blinding the pitiless monster for eating his valiant comrades.

Then how Aeolus' island he reached, and was kindly entreated,

Yea and was helped to return to his well-loved home, but to reach it

315

Yet was forbidden by Fate, and suddenly seized by a tempest,

Grievously groaning, again he was borne to the home of the fishes.

Then how Telepylus of the Laestrygonian people

Next he had reached—where perished his well-greaved mates and his vessels

One of them only escaping, the black-hulled ship of Odysseus.

320

Also he told of the infinite guile and the magic of Circe.

Then how, seeking to visit the mouldering mansion of Hades,

There to consult with the spirit of Teiresias the diviner,

Over the ocean he sailed in his well-manned ship, and beheld there

All of his comrades of old, and the mother that bore him and reared him.

325

Then how maddened he listed the sweet-voiced song of the Sirens;

Then of the Wandering Rocks he related and dreadful Charybdis,

Yea and of Scylla, from whom unscathed none ever escapeth.

Then how, after the kine of the Sun were slain by his comrades,

Struck by the sulphurous bolt of the Father who speaketh in thunder

330

Perished his swift-winged ship and perished his trusty companions,

All of them all but himself; and alone he escaped from destruction.

Then to the isle Ogygian come and the goddess Calypso,

How he was held by the nymph, in her yearning to make him her husband,

Long in her hollow caves; and she cherished him kindly and promised

335

Even to make him immortal and ageless for ever and ever;

Still did she never persuade him nor soften the heart in his bosom.

Then to the folk Phaeacian come through many a peril,

How he was kindly received and was honoured like an immortal,

Yea and was sent on a ship to the well-loved land of his fathers

340

Laden with many a treasure of bronze and of gold and of raiment.

This was the last he related before sweet slumber o'ercame him,

Slumber that loosens the limbs and loosens the cares of the spirit.

Then by the friendly device of the grey-eyed goddess Athene

(After she knew it for sure in the depths of her heart that Odysseus

345

Now had delighted in love and in sleep to his soul's satisfaction)

Out of the Ocean the early-arising, the golden-enthronéd

Goddess appeared who bringeth to mortals the day; and the hero

Rose from his soft-strewn bed, and he spake to his wife and enjoined her :

"Truly enough in the past, O wife, did we suffer affliction,

350

Both of us thou with thy sorrow unending because I returned not

Weeping at home, while Zeus and the other immortals had bound me

Fast in misfortune, despite of my longings, afar from my homeland.

Now, since heaven hath brought us again to the raptures of wedlock,

See thou attend as of old to the wealth we possess in the palace

355

While, for the sheep and the cattle consumed by the arrogant suitors,

Many another as spoil I shall capture, and others the chieftains

Freely will give, till full once more are all of my farmyards.

Natheless, now I shall go to my farm in the midst of the forest.

There I shall visit my dear good father, who endlessly mourns me.

360

Touching thyself.. thou art prudent and wise but I tell thee my wishes :

Swiftly will spread a report, so soon as the sun is arisen,

Telling the fate of the men—these suitors I slew in the palace.

Wherefore unto thy chamber ascend with thy maiden attendants.

There keep seated, nor show thee to any that pass, and address none."

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Thus as he spake on his shoulders he buckled his beautiful armour.

Then he awakened his son and the cowherd and also the swineherd,

Bidding them each lay hand on a weapon of war to defend them.

Nor did they fail to obey, and they fully equipped them in harness.

Then they unbolted a door and they ventured them forth, and Odysseus

370

Led them. Already was light on the earth, but the goddess Athene

Hid them in night, and she swiftly conducted them out of the city.

New Alexandria Commentaries

Gregory Nagy

After the killing of the suitors, Eurykleia rushes to the bedroom of Penelope, waking her up. The queen has slept through it all—the first good night’s sleep she has had in the longest time, she admits. Eurykleia goes on to tell Penelope that Odysseus has really returned and has killed the suitors, but the patient wife will need one more test, to make it perfectly certain that she has recovered her husband. The sēma ‘sign’ of the royal bed that once was theirs and will be theirs once again can now seal their perfect mutual understanding.

draft js image error Eurykleia waking Penelope (1773). Print by Thomas Burke, after a painting by Angelika Kauffmann. Image via the British Museum.

source

Homer Odyssey 23.49

Samuel Butler (Translator)

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ODYSSEY BOOK XXIII

PATTEN WILSON.
THE RECOGNITION OF ODYSSEUS BY HIS WIFE

New Alexandria Commentaries

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Search the Perseus Catalog for:

Search the Perseus Catalog for:

Current edition Experimental

ODYSSEY BOOK XXIII

PATTEN WILSON. THE RECOGNITION OF ODYSSEUS BY HIS WIFE

New Alexandria Commentaries

Stable identifiers

PATTEN WILSON.
THE RECOGNITION OF ODYSSEUS BY HIS WIFE