Translation of: The Odyssey of Homer: Book XV

ARGUMENT     Telemachus, admonished by Minerva, takes leave of Menelaus, but ere he sails, is accosted by Theoclymenos, a prophet of Argos, whom at his earnest request he takes on board. In the meantime Eumus relates to Ulysses the means by which he came to Ithaca. Telemachus arriving there, gives orders for the return of his bark to the city, and repairs himself to Eumus.             Meantime to Lacedmon's spacious vale             Minerva went, that she might summon thence             Ulysses' glorious son to his own home.             Arrived, she found Telemachus reposed             And Nestor's son beneath the vestibule             Of Menelaus, mighty Chief; she saw             Pisistratus in bands of gentle sleep             Fast-bound, but not Telemachus; his mind             No rest enjoy'd, by filial cares disturb'd             Amid the silent night, when, drawing near             To his couch side, the Goddess thus began.                 Thou canst no longer prudently remain             A wand'rer here, Telemachus! thy home             Abandon'd, and those haughty suitors left             Within thy walls; fear lest, partition made             Of thy possessions, they devour the whole,             And in the end thy voyage bootless prove.             Delay not; from brave Menelaus ask             Dismission hence, that thou may'st find at home             Thy spotless mother, whom her brethren urge             And her own father even now to wed             Eurymachus, in gifts and in amount             Of proffer'd dow'r superior to them all.             Some treasure, else, shall haply from thy house             Be taken, such as thou wilt grudge to spare.             For well thou know'st how woman is disposed;             Her whole anxiety is to encrease             His substance whom she weds; no care hath she             Of her first children, or remembers more             The buried husband of her virgin choice.             Returning then, to her of all thy train             Whom thou shalt most approve, the charge commit             Of thy concerns domestic, till the Gods             Themselves shall guide thee to a noble wife.             Hear also this, and mark it. In the frith             Samos the rude, and Ithaca between,             The chief of all her suitors thy return             In vigilant ambush wait, with strong desire             To slay thee, ere thou reach thy native shore,             But shall not, as I judge, till the earth hide             Many a lewd reveller at thy expence.             Yet, steer thy galley from those isles afar,             And voyage make by night; some guardian God             Shall save thee, and shall send thee prosp'rous gales.             Then, soon as thou attain'st the nearest shore             Of Ithaca, dispatching to the town             Thy bark with all thy people, seek at once             The swine-herd; for Eumus is thy friend.             There sleep, and send him forth into the town             With tidings to Penelope, that safe             Thou art restored from Pylus home again.                 She said, and sought th' Olympian heights sublime.             Then, with his heel shaking him, he awoke             The son of Nestor, whom he thus address'd.                 Rise, Nestor's son, Pisistratus! lead forth             The steeds, and yoke them. We must now depart.                 To whom the son of Nestor thus replied.             Telemachus! what haste soe'er we feel,             We can by no means prudently attempt             To drive by night, and soon it will be dawn.             Stay, therefore, till the Hero, Atreus' son,             Spear-practis'd Menelaus shall his gifts             Place in the chariot, and with kind farewell             Dismiss thee; for the guest in mem'ry holds             Through life, the host who treats him as a friend.                 Scarce had he spoken, when the golden dawn             Appearing, Menelaus, from the side             Of beauteous Helen ris'n, their bed approach'd,             Whose coming when Telemachus perceived,             Cloathing himself hastily in his vest             Magnificent, and o'er his shoulders broad             Casting his graceful mantle, at the door             He met the Hero, whom he thus address'd.                 Atrides, Menelaus, Chief renown'd!             Dismiss me hence to Ithaca again,             My native isle, for I desire to go.                 Him answer'd Menelaus famed in arms.             Telemachus! I will not long delay             Thy wish'd return. I disapprove alike             The host whose assiduity extreme             Distresses, and whose negligence offends;             The middle course is best; alike we err,             Him thrusting forth whose wish is to remain,             And hind'ring the impatient to depart.             This only is true kindness--To regale             The present guest, and speed him when he would.             Yet stay, till thou shalt see my splendid gifts             Placed in thy chariot, and till I command             My women from our present stores to spread             The table with a plentiful repast.             For both the honour of the guest demands,             And his convenience also, that he eat             Sufficient, ent'ring on a length of road.             But if through Hellas thou wilt take thy way             And traverse Argos, I will, then, myself             Attend thee; thou shalt journey with my steeds             Beneath thy yoke, and I will be thy guide             To many a city, whence we shall not go             Ungratified, but shall in each receive             Some gift at least, tripod, or charger bright,             Or golden chalice, or a pair of mules.                 To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.             Atrides, Menelaus, Chief renown'd!             I would at once depart, (for guardian none             Of my possessions have I left behind)             Lest, while I seek my father, I be lost             Myself, or lose what I should grudge to spare.                 Which when the valiant Menelaus heard,             He bade his spouse and maidens spread the board             At once with remnants of the last regale.             Then Eteoneus came, Boetheus' son             Newly aris'n, for nigh at hand he dwelt,             Whom Menelaus bade kindle the fire             By which to dress their food, and he obey'd.             He next, himself his fragrant chamber sought,             Not sole, but by his spouse and by his son             Attended, Megapenthes. There arrived             Where all his treasures lay, Atrides, first,             Took forth, himself, a goblet, then consign'd             To his son's hand an argent beaker bright.             Meantime, beside her coffers Helen stood             Where lay her variegated robes, fair works             Of her own hand. Producing one, in size             And in magnificence the chief, a star             For splendour, and the lowest placed of all,             Loveliest of her sex, she bore it thence.             Then, all proceeding through the house, they sought             Telemachus again, whom reaching, thus             The Hero of the golden locks began.                 May Jove the Thunderer, dread Juno's mate,             Grant thee, Telemachus! such voyage home             As thy own heart desires! accept from all             My stores selected as the richest far             And noblest gift for finish'd beauty--This.             I give thee wrought elaborate a cup,             Itself all silver, bound with lip of gold.             It is the work of Vulcan, which to me             The Hero Phdimus imparted, King             Of the Sidonians, when, on my return,             Beneath his roof I lodg'd. I make it thine.                 So saying, the Hero, Atreus' son, the cup             Placed in his hands, and Megapenthes set             Before him, next, the argent beaker bright;             But lovely Helen drawing nigh, the robe             Presented to him, whom she thus address'd.                 I also give thee, oh my son, a gift,             Which seeing, thou shalt think on her whose hands             Wrought it; a present on thy nuptial day             For thy fair spouse; meantime, repose it safe             In thy own mother's keeping. Now, farewell!             Prosp'rous and happy be thy voyage home!                 She ceas'd, and gave it to him, who the gift             Accepted glad, and in the chariot-chest             Pisistratus the Hero all disposed,             Admiring them the while. They, following, next,             The Hero Menelaus to his hall             Each on his couch or on his throne reposed.             A maiden, then, with golden ewer charged             And silver bowl, pour'd water on their hands,             And spread the polish'd table, which with food             Various, selected from her present stores,             The mistress of the household charge supplied.             Boetheus' son stood carver, and to each             His portion gave, while Megapenthes, son             Of glorious Menelaus, serv'd the cup.             Then, all with outstretch'd hands the feast assail'd,             And when nor hunger more nor thirst of wine             They felt, Telemachus and Nestor's son             Yoked the swift steeds, and, taking each his seat             In the resplendent chariot, drove at once             Right through the sounding portico abroad.             But Menelaus, Hero amber-hair'd,             A golden cup bearing with richest wine             Replete in his right hand, follow'd them forth,             That not without libation first perform'd             They might depart; he stood before the steeds,             And drinking first, thus, courteous, them bespake.                 Health to you both, young friends! and from my lips             Like greeting bear to Nestor, royal Chief,             For he was ever as a father kind             To me, while the Achaians warr'd at Troy.                 To whom Telemachus discrete replied.             And doubtless, so we will; at our return             We will report to him, illustrious Prince!             Thy ev'ry word. And oh, I would to heav'n             That reaching Ithaca, I might at home             Ulysses hail as sure, as I shall hence             Depart, with all benevolence by thee             Treated, and rich in many a noble gift.                 While thus he spake, on his right hand appear'd             An eagle; in his talons pounced he bore             A white-plumed goose domestic, newly ta'en             From the house-court. Ran females all and males             Clamorous after him; but he the steeds             Approaching on the right, sprang into air.             That sight rejoicing and with hearts reviv'd             They view'd, and thus Pisistratus his speech             Amid them all to Menelaus turn'd.                 Now, Menelaus, think, illustrious Chief!             If us, this omen, or thyself regard.                 While warlike Menelaus musing stood             What answer fit to frame, Helen meantime,             His spouse long-stoled preventing him, began.                 Hear me; for I will answer as the Gods             Teach me, and as I think shall come to pass.             As he, descending from his place of birth             The mountains, caught our pamper'd goose away,             So shall Ulysses, after many woes             And wand'rings to his home restored, avenge             His wrongs, or even now is at his home             For all those suitors sowing seeds of woe.                 To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.             Oh grant it Jove, Juno's high-thund'ring mate!             So will I, there arrived, with vow and pray'r             Thee worship, as thou wert, thyself, divine.                 He said, and lash'd the coursers; fiery they             And fleet, sprang through the city to the plain.             All day the yoke on either side they shook,             Journeying swift; and now the setting sun             To gloomy evening had resign'd the roads,             When they to Pher came, and in the house             Of good Diocles slept, their lib'ral host,             Whose sire Orsilochus from Alpheus sprang.             But when Aurora, daughter of the Dawn,             Look'd rosy from the East, yoking their steeds,             They in the sumptuous chariot sat again.             Forth through the vestibule they drove, and through             The sounding portico, when Nestor's son             Plied brisk the scourge, and willing flew the steeds.             Thus whirl'd along, soon they approach'd the gates             Of Pylus, when Telemachus, his speech             Turning to his companion, thus began.                 How, son of Nestor! shall I win from thee             Not promise only, but performance kind             Of my request? we are not bound alone             To friendship by the friendship of our sires,             But by equality of years, and this             Our journey shall unite us still the more.             Bear me not, I intreat thee, noble friend!             Beyond the ship, but drop me at her side,             Lest ancient Nestor, though against my will,             Detain me in his palace through desire             To feast me, for I dread the least delay.                 He spake; then mused Pisistratus how best             He might effect the wishes of his friend,             And thus at length resolved; turning his steeds             With sudden deviation to the shore             He sought the bark, and placing in the stern             Both gold and raiment, the illustrious gifts             Of Menelaus, thus, in accents wing'd             With ardour, urged Telemachus away.                 Dispatch, embark, summon thy crew on board,             Ere my arrival notice give of thine             To the old King; for vehement I know             His temper, neither will he let thee hence,             But, hasting hither, will himself enforce             Thy longer stay, that thou may'st not depart             Ungifted; nought will fire his anger more.                 So saying, he to the Pylian city urged             His steeds bright-maned, and at the palace-gate             Arrived of Nestor speedily; meantime             Telemachus exhorted thus his crew.                 My gallant friends! set all your tackle, climb             The sable bark, for I would now return.                 He spake; they heard him gladly, and at once             All fill'd the benches. While his voyage he             Thus expedited, and beside the stern             To Pallas sacrifice perform'd and pray'd,             A stranger, born remote, who had escaped             From Argos, fugitive for blood, a seer             And of Melampus' progeny, approach'd.             Melampus, in old time, in Pylus dwelt,             Mother of flocks, alike for wealth renown'd             And the magnificence of his abode.             He, flying from the far-famed Pylian King,             The mighty Neleus[65], migrated at length             Into another land, whose wealth, the while,             Neleus by force possess'd a year complete.             Meantime, Melampus in the house endured             Of Phylacus imprisonment and woe,             And burn'd with wrath for Neleus' daughter sake             By fell Erynnis kindled in his heart.             But, 'scaping death, he drove the lowing beeves             From Phylace to Pylus, well avenged             His num'rous injuries at Neleus' hands             Sustain'd, and gave into his brother's arms             King Neleus' daughter fair, the promis'd bride.             To Argos steed-renown'd he journey'd next,             There destin'd to inhabit and to rule             Multitudes of Achaians. In that land             He married, built a palace, and became             Father of two brave sons, Antiphates             And Mantius; to Antiphates was born             The brave Ocleus; from Ocleus sprang             Amphiaras, demagogue renown'd,             Whom with all tenderness, and as a friend             Alike the Thund'rer and Apollo prized;             Yet reach'd he not the bounds of hoary age.             But by his mercenary consort's arts[66]             Persuaded, met his destiny at Thebes.             He 'gat Alcmon and Amphilocus.             Mantius was also father of two sons,             Clytus and Polyphides. Clytus pass'd             From earth to heav'n, and dwells among the Gods,             Stol'n by Aurora for his beauty's sake.             But (brave Amphiaras once deceased)             Phoebus exalted Polyphides far             Above all others in the prophet's part.             He, anger'd by his father, roam'd away             To Hyperesia, where he dwelt renown'd             Throughout all lands the oracle of all.                 His son, named Theoclymenus, was he             Who now approach'd; he found Telemachus             Libation off'ring in his bark, and pray'r,             And in wing'd accents ardent him address'd.                 Ah, friend! since sacrificing in this place             I find thee, by these sacred rites and those             Whom thou ador'st, and by thy own dear life,             And by the lives of these thy mariners             I beg true answer; hide not what I ask.             Who art thou? whence? where born? and sprung from whom?                 To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.             I will inform thee, stranger! and will solve             Thy questions with much truth. I am by birth             Ithacan, and Ulysses was my sire.             But he hath perish'd by a woeful death,             And I, believing it, with these have plow'd             The ocean hither, int'rested to learn             A father's fate long absent from his home.                 Then answer'd godlike Theoclymenus.             I also am a wand'rer, having slain             A man of my own tribe; brethren and friends             Num'rous had he in Argos steed-renown'd,             And pow'rful are the Achaians dwelling there.             From them, through terrour of impending death,             I fly, a banish'd man henceforth for ever.             Ah save a suppliant fugitive! lest death             O'ertake me, for I doubt not their pursuit.                 Whom thus Telemachus answer'd discrete.             I shall not, be assured, since thou desir'st             To join me, chace thee from my bark away.             Follow me, therefore, and with us partake,             In Ithaca, what best the land affords.                 So saying, he at the stranger's hand received             His spear, which on the deck he lay'd, then climb'd             Himself the bark, and, seated in the stern,             At his own side placed Theoclymenus.             They cast the hawsers loose; then with loud voice             Telemachus exhorted all to hand             The tackle, whom the sailors prompt obey'd.             The tall mast heaving, in its socket deep             They lodg'd it, and its cordage braced secure,             Then, straining at the halyards, hoised the sail.             Fair wind, and blowing fresh through ther pure             Minerva sent them, that the bark might run             Her nimblest course through all the briny way.             Now sank the sun, and dusky ev'ning dimm'd             The waves, when, driven by propitious Jove,             His bark stood right for Pher; thence she stretch'd             To sacred Elis where the Epeans rule,             And through the sharp Echinades he next             Steer'd her, uncertain whether fate ordain'd             His life or death, surprizal or escape.                 Meantime Ulysses and the swine-herd ate             Their cottage-mess, and the assistant swains             Theirs also; and when hunger now and thirst             Had ceased in all, Ulysses thus began,             Proving the swine-herd, whether friendly still,             And anxious for his good, he would intreat             His stay, or thence hasten him to the town.                 Eumus, and all ye his servants, hear!             It is my purpose, lest I wear thee out,             Thee and thy friends, to seek at early dawn             The city, there to beg--But give me first             Needful instructions, and a trusty guide             Who may conduct me thither; there my task             Must be to roam the streets; some hand humane             Perchance shall give me a small pittance there,             A little bread, and a few drops to drink.             Ulysses' palace I shall also seek,             And to discrete Penelope report             My tidings; neither shall I fail to mix             With those imperious suitors, who, themselves             Full-fed, may spare perhaps some boon to me.             Me shall they find, in whatsoe'er they wish             Their ready servitor, for (understand             And mark me well) the herald of the skies,             Hermes, from whom all actions of mankind             Their grace receive and polish, is my friend,             So that in menial offices I fear             No rival, whether I be called to heap             The hearth with fuel, or dry wood to cleave,             To roast, to carve, or to distribute wine,             As oft the poor are wont who serve the great.                 To whom, Eumus! at those words displeased,             Thou didst reply. Gods! how could such a thought             Possess thee, stranger? surely thy resolve             Is altogether fixt to perish there,             If thou indeed hast purposed with that throng             To mix, whose riot and outrageous acts             Of violence echo through the vault of heav'n.             None, such as thou, serve them; their servitors             Are youths well-cloak'd, well-vested; sleek their heads,             And smug their countenances; such alone             Are their attendants, and the polish'd boards             Groan overcharg'd with bread, with flesh, with wine.             Rest here content; for neither me nor these             Thou weariest aught, and when Ulysses' son             Shall come, he will with vest and mantle fair             Cloath thee, and send thee whither most thou would'st.                 To whom Ulysses, toil-inured.             I wish thee, O Eumus! dear to Jove             As thou art dear to me, for this reprieve             Vouchsafed me kind, from wand'ring and from woe!             No worse condition is of mortal man             Than his who wanders; for the poor man, driv'n             By woe and by misfortune homeless forth,             A thousand mis'ries, day by day, endures.             Since thou detain'st me, then, and bidd'st me wait             His coming, tell me if the father still             Of famed Ulysses live, whom, going hence,             He left so nearly on the verge of life?             And lives his mother? or have both deceased             Already, and descended to the shades?                 To whom the master swine-herd thus replied.             I will inform thee, and with strictest truth,             Of all that thou hast ask'd. Laertes lives,             But supplication off'ring to the Gods             Ceaseless, to free him from a weary life,             So deeply his long-absent son he mourns,             And the dear consort of his early youth,             Whose death is his chief sorrow, and hath brought             Old age on him, or ere its date arrived.             She died of sorrow for her glorious son,             And died deplorably;[67] may never friend             Of mine, or benefactor die as she!             While yet she liv'd, dejected as she was,             I found it yet some solace to converse             With her, who rear'd me in my childish days,             Together with her lovely youngest-born             The Princess Ctimena; for side by side             We grew, and I, scarce honour'd less than she.             But soon as our delightful prime we both             Attain'd, to Samos her they sent, a bride,             And were requited with rich dow'r; but me             Cloath'd handsomely with tunic and with vest,             And with fair sandals furnish'd, to the field             She order'd forth, yet loved me still the more.             I miss her kindness now; but gracious heav'n             Prospers the work on which I here attend;             Hence have I food, and hence I drink, and hence             Refresh, sometimes, a worthy guest like thee.             But kindness none experience I, or can,             From fair Penelope (my mistress now)             In word or action, so is the house curs'd             With that lewd throng. Glad would the servants be             Might they approach their mistress, and receive             Advice from her; glad too to eat and drink,             And somewhat bear each to his rural home,             For perquisites are ev'ry servant's joy.                 Then answer thus, Ulysses wise return'd.             Alas! good swain, Eumus, how remote             From friends and country wast thou forced to roam             Ev'n in thy infancy! But tell me true.             The city where thy parents dwelt, did foes             Pillage it? or did else some hostile band             Surprizing thee alone, on herd or flock             Attendant, bear thee with them o'er the Deep,             And sell thee at this Hero's house, who pay'd             Doubtless for thee no sordid price or small?                 To whom the master swine-herd in reply.             Stranger! since thou art curious to be told             My story, silent listen, and thy wine             At leisure quaff. The nights are longest now,             And such as time for sleep afford, and time             For pleasant conf'rence; neither were it good             That thou should'st to thy couch before thy hour,             Since even sleep is hurtful, in excess.             Whoever here is weary, and desires             Early repose, let him depart to rest,             And, at the peep of day, when he hath fed             Sufficiently, drive forth my master's herd;             But we with wine and a well-furnish'd board             Supplied, will solace mutually derive             From recollection of our sufferings past;             For who hath much endured, and wander'd far,             Finds the recital ev'n of sorrow sweet.             Now hear thy question satisfied; attend!             There is an island (thou hast heard, perchance,             Of such an isle) named Syria;[68] it is placed             Above Ortigia, and a dial owns[69]             True to the tropic changes of the year.             No great extent she boasts, yet is she rich             In cattle and in flocks, in wheat and wine.             No famine knows that people, or disease             Noisome, of all that elsewhere seize the race             Of miserable man; but when old age             Steals on the citizens, Apollo, arm'd             With silver bow and bright Diana come,             Whose gentle shafts dismiss them soon to rest.             Two cities share between them all the isle,             And both were subject to my father's sway             Ctesius Ormenides, a godlike Chief.             It chanced that from Phoenicia, famed for skill             In arts marine, a vessel thither came             By sharpers mann'd, and laden deep with toys.             Now, in my father's family abode             A fair Phoenician, tall, full-sized, and skill'd             In works of elegance, whom they beguiled.             While she wash'd linen on the beach, beside             The ship, a certain mariner of those             Seduced her; for all women, ev'n the wise             And sober, feeble prove by love assail'd.             Who was she, he enquired, and whence? nor she             Scrupled to tell at once her father's home.                 I am of Sidon,[70] famous for her works             In brass and steel; daughter of Arybas,             Who rolls in affluence; Taphian pirates thence             Stole me returning from the field, from whom             This Chief procured me at no little cost.                 Then answer thus her paramour return'd.             Wilt thou not hence to Sidon in our ship,             That thou may'st once more visit the abode             Of thy own wealthy parents, and themselves?             For still they live, and still are wealthy deem'd.                 To whom the woman. Even that might be,             Would ye, ye seamen, by a solemn oath             Assure me of a safe conveyance home.                 Then sware the mariners as she required,             And, when their oath was ended, thus again             The woman of Phoenicia them bespake.                 Now, silence! no man, henceforth, of you all             Accost me, though he meet me on the road,             Or at yon fountain; lest some tattler run             With tidings home to my old master's ear,             Who, with suspicion touch'd, may me confine             In cruel bonds, and death contrive for you.             But be ye close; purchase your stores in haste;             And when your vessel shall be freighted full,             Quick send me notice, for I mean to bring             What gold soever opportune I find,             And will my passage cheerfully defray             With still another moveable. I nurse             The good man's son, an urchin shrewd, of age             To scamper at my side; him will I bring,             Whom at some foreign market ye shall prove             Saleable at what price soe'er ye will.                 So saying, she to my father's house return'd.             They, there abiding the whole year, their ship             With purchased goods freighted of ev'ry kind,             And when, her lading now complete, she lay             For sea prepared, their messenger arrived             To summon down the woman to the shore.             A mariner of theirs, subtle and shrewd,             Then, ent'ring at my father's gate, produced             A splendid collar, gold with amber strung.             My mother (then at home) with all her maids             Handling and gazing on it with delight,             Proposed to purchase it, and he the nod             Significant, gave unobserv'd, the while,             To the Phoenician woman, and return'd.             She, thus informed, leading me by the hand             Went forth, and finding in the vestibule             The cups and tables which my father's guests             Had used, (but they were to the forum gone             For converse with their friends assembled there)             Convey'd three cups into her bosom-folds,             And bore them off, whom I a thoughtless child             Accompanied, at the decline of day,             When dusky evening had embrown'd the shore.             We, stepping nimbly on, soon reach'd the port             Renown'd, where that Phoenician vessel lay.             They shipp'd us both, and all embarking cleav'd             Their liquid road, by favourable gales,             Jove's gift, impell'd. Six days we day and night             Continual sailed, but when Saturnian Jove             Now bade the sev'nth bright morn illume the skies,             Then, shaft-arm'd Dian struck the woman dead.             At once she pitch'd headlong into the bilge             Like a sea-coot, whence heaving her again,             The seamen gave her to be fishes' food,             And I survived to mourn her. But the winds             And rolling billows them bore to the coast             Of Ithaca, where with his proper goods             Laertes bought me. By such means it chanced             That e'er I saw the isle in which I dwell.                 To whom Ulysses, glorious Chief, replied.             Eumus! thou hast moved me much, thy woes             Enumerating thus at large. But Jove             Hath neighbour'd all thy evil with this good,             That after num'rous sorrows thou hast reach'd             The house of a kind master, at whose hands             Thy sustenance is sure, and here thou lead'st             A tranquil life; but I have late arrived,             City after city of the world explored.                 Thus mutual they conferr'd, nor leisure found             Save for short sleep, by morning soon surprized.             Meantime the comrades of Telemachus             Approaching land, cast loose the sail, and lower'd             Alert the mast, then oar'd the vessel in.             The anchors heav'd aground,[71] and hawsers tied             Secure, themselves, forth-issuing on the shore,             Breakfast prepared, and charged their cups with wine.             When neither hunger now, nor thirst remained             Unsatisfied, Telemachus began.                 Push ye the sable bark without delay             Home to the city. I will to the field             Among my shepherds, and, (my rural works             Survey'd,) at eve will to the town return.             To-morrow will I set before you wine             And plenteous viands, wages of your toil.                 To whom the godlike Theoclymenus.             Whither must I, my son? who, of the Chiefs             Of rugged Ithaca, shall harbour me?             Shall I to thine and to thy mother's house?                 Then thus Telemachus, discrete, replied.             I would invite thee to proceed at once             To our abode, since nought should fail thee there             Of kind reception, but it were a course             Now not adviseable; for I must myself,             Be absent, neither would my mother's eyes             Behold thee, so unfrequent she appears             Before the suitors, shunning whom, she sits             Weaving continual at the palace-top.             But I will name to thee another Chief             Whom thou may'st seek, Eurymachus, the son             Renown'd of prudent Polybus, whom all             The people here reverence as a God.             Far noblest of them all is he, and seeks             More ardent than his rivals far, to wed             My mother, and to fill my father's throne.             But, He who dwells above, Jove only knows             If some disastrous day be not ordain'd             For them, or ere those nuptials shall arrive.                 While thus he spake, at his right hand appear'd,             Messenger of Apollo, on full wing,             A falcon; in his pounces clench'd he bore             A dove, which rending, down he pour'd her plumes             Between the galley and Telemachus.             Then, calling him apart, the prophet lock'd             His hand in his, and thus explain'd the sign.                 Not undirected by the Gods his flight             On our right hand, Telemachus! this hawk             Hath wing'd propitious; soon as I perceived             I knew him ominous--In all the isle             No family of a more royal note             Than yours is found, and yours shall still prevail.                 Whom thus Telemachus answer'd discrete.             Grant heav'n, my guest! that this good word of thine             Fail not, and soon thou shalt such bounty share             And friendship at my hands, that, at first sight,             Whoe'er shall meet thee shall pronounce thee blest.                 Then, to Pirus thus, his friend approved.             Pirus, son of Clytius! (for of all             My followers to the shore of Pylus, none             More prompt than thou hath my desires perform'd)             Now also to thy own abode conduct             This stranger, whom with hospitable care             Cherish and honour till myself arrive.                 To whom Pirus answer'd, spear-renown'd.             Telemachus! however long thy stay,             Punctual I will attend him, and no want             Of hospitality shall he find with me.                 So saying, he climb'd the ship, then bade the crew             Embarking also, cast the hawsers loose,             And each, obedient, to his bench repair'd.             Meantime Telemachus his sandals bound,             And lifted from the deck his glitt'ring spear.             Then, as Telemachus had bidden them,             Son of divine Ulysses, casting loose             The hawsers, forth they push'd into the Deep             And sought the city, while with nimble pace             Proceeding thence, Telemachus attain'd             The cottage soon where good Eumus slept,             The swine-herd, faithful to his num'rous charge.