The Odyssey - 05

“‘The third man,’ he answered, ‘is Ulysses who dwells in Ithaca. I can
see him in an island sorrowing bitterly in the house of the nymph
Calypso, who is keeping him prisoner, and he cannot reach his home for
he has no ships nor sailors to take him over the sea. As for your own
end, Menelaus, you shall not die in Argos, but the gods will take you
to the Elysian plain, which is at the ends of the world. There
fair-haired Rhadamanthus reigns, and men lead an easier life than any
where else in the world, for in Elysium there falls not rain, nor hail,
nor snow, but Oceanus breathes ever with a West wind that sings softly
from the sea, and gives fresh life to all men. This will happen to you
because you have married Helen, and are Jove’s son-in-law.’
“As he spoke he dived under the waves, whereon I turned back to the
ships with my companions, and my heart was clouded with care as I went
along. When we reached the ships we got supper ready, for night was
falling, and camped down upon the beach. When the child of morning,
rosy-fingered Dawn appeared, we drew our ships into the water, and put
our masts and sails within them; then we went on board ourselves, took
our seats on the benches, and smote the grey sea with our oars. I again
stationed my ships in the heaven-fed stream of Egypt, and offered
hecatombs that were full and sufficient. When I had thus appeased
heaven’s anger, I raised a barrow to the memory of Agamemnon that his
name might live for ever, after which I had a quick passage home, for
the gods sent me a fair wind.
“And now for yourself—stay here some ten or twelve days longer, and I
will then speed you on your way. I will make you a noble present of a
chariot and three horses. I will also give you a beautiful chalice that
so long as you live you may think of me whenever you make a
drink-offering to the immortal gods.”
“Son of Atreus,” replied Telemachus, “do not press me to stay longer; I
should be contented to remain with you for another twelve months; I
find your conversation so delightful that I should never once wish
myself at home with my parents; but my crew whom I have left at Pylos
are already impatient, and you are detaining me from them. As for any
present you may be disposed to make me, I had rather that it should be
a piece of plate. I will take no horses back with me to Ithaca, but
will leave them to adorn your own stables, for you have much flat
ground in your kingdom where lotus thrives, as also meadow-sweet and
wheat and barley, and oats with their white and spreading ears; whereas
in Ithaca we have neither open fields nor racecourses, and the country
is more fit for goats than horses, and I like it the better for that.
48 None of our islands have much level ground, suitable for horses, and
Ithaca least of all.”
Menelaus smiled and took Telemachus’s hand within his own. “What you
say,” said he, “shows that you come of good family. I both can, and
will, make this exchange for you, by giving you the finest and most
precious piece of plate in all my house. It is a mixing bowl by
Vulcan’s own hand, of pure silver, except the rim, which is inlaid with
gold. Phaedimus, king of the Sidonians, gave it me in the course of a
visit which I paid him when I returned thither on my homeward journey.
I will make you a present of it.”
Thus did they converse [and guests kept coming to the king’s house.
They brought sheep and wine, while their wives had put up bread for
them to take with them; so they were busy cooking their dinners in the
courts].49
Meanwhile the suitors were throwing discs or aiming with spears at a
mark on the levelled ground in front of Ulysses’ house, and were
behaving with all their old insolence. Antinous and Eurymachus, who
were their ringleaders and much the foremost among them all, were
sitting together when Noemon son of Phronius came up and said to
Antinous,
“Have we any idea, Antinous, on what day Telemachus returns from Pylos?
He has a ship of mine, and I want it, to cross over to Elis: I have
twelve brood mares there with yearling mule foals by their side not yet
broken in, and I want to bring one of them over here and break him.”
They were astounded when they heard this, for they had made sure that
Telemachus had not gone to the city of Neleus. They thought he was only
away somewhere on the farms, and was with the sheep, or with the
swineherd; so Antinous said, “When did he go? Tell me truly, and what
young men did he take with him? Were they freemen or his own
bondsmen—for he might manage that too? Tell me also, did you let him
have the ship of your own free will because he asked you, or did he
take it without your leave?”
“I lent it him,” answered Noemon, “what else could I do when a man of
his position said he was in a difficulty, and asked me to oblige him? I
could not possibly refuse. As for those who went with him they were the
best young men we have, and I saw Mentor go on board as captain—or some
god who was exactly like him. I cannot understand it, for I saw Mentor
here myself yesterday morning, and yet he was then setting out for
Pylos.”
Noemon then went back to his father’s house, but Antinous and
Eurymachus were very angry. They told the others to leave off playing,
and to come and sit down along with themselves. When they came,
Antinous son of Eupeithes spoke in anger. His heart was black with
rage, and his eyes flashed fire as he said:
“Good heavens, this voyage of Telemachus is a very serious matter; we
had made sure that it would come to nothing, but the young fellow has
got away in spite of us, and with a picked crew too. He will be giving
us trouble presently; may Jove take him before he is full grown. Find
me a ship, therefore, with a crew of twenty men, and I will lie in wait
for him in the straits between Ithaca and Samos; he will then rue the
day that he set out to try and get news of his father.”
Thus did he speak, and the others applauded his saying; they then all
of them went inside the buildings.
It was not long ere Penelope came to know what the suitors were
plotting; for a man servant, Medon, overheard them from outside the
outer court as they were laying their schemes within, and went to tell
his mistress. As he crossed the threshold of her room Penelope said:
“Medon, what have the suitors sent you here for? Is it to tell the
maids to leave their master’s business and cook dinner for them? I wish
they may neither woo nor dine henceforward, neither here nor anywhere
else, but let this be the very last time, for the waste you all make of
my son’s estate. Did not your fathers tell you when you were children,
how good Ulysses had been to them—never doing anything high-handed, nor
speaking harshly to anybody? Kings may say things sometimes, and they
may take a fancy to one man and dislike another, but Ulysses never did
an unjust thing by anybody—which shows what bad hearts you have, and
that there is no such thing as gratitude left in this world.”
Then Medon said, “I wish, Madam, that this were all; but they are
plotting something much more dreadful now—may heaven frustrate their
design. They are going to try and murder Telemachus as he is coming
home from Pylos and Lacedaemon, where he has been to get news of his
father.”
Then Penelope’s heart sank within her, and for a long time she was
speechless; her eyes filled with tears, and she could find no
utterance. At last, however, she said, “Why did my son leave me? What
business had he to go sailing off in ships that make long voyages over
the ocean like sea-horses? Does he want to die without leaving any one
behind him to keep up his name?”
“I do not know,” answered Medon, “whether some god set him on to it, or
whether he went on his own impulse to see if he could find out if his
father was dead, or alive and on his way home.”
Then he went downstairs again, leaving Penelope in an agony of grief.
There were plenty of seats in the house, but she had no heart for
sitting on any one of them; she could only fling herself on the floor
of her own room and cry; whereon all the maids in the house, both old
and young, gathered round her and began to cry too, till at last in a
transport of sorrow she exclaimed,
“My dears, heaven has been pleased to try me with more affliction than
any other woman of my age and country. First I lost my brave and
lion-hearted husband, who had every good quality under heaven, and
whose name was great over all Hellas and middle Argos, and now my
darling son is at the mercy of the winds and waves, without my having
heard one word about his leaving home. You hussies, there was not one
of you would so much as think of giving me a call out of my bed, though
you all of you very well knew when he was starting. If I had known he
meant taking this voyage, he would have had to give it up, no matter
how much he was bent upon it, or leave me a corpse behind him—one or
other. Now, however, go some of you and call old Dolius, who was given
me by my father on my marriage, and who is my gardener. Bid him go at
once and tell everything to Laertes, who may be able to hit on some
plan for enlisting public sympathy on our side, as against those who
are trying to exterminate his own race and that of Ulysses.”
Then the dear old nurse Euryclea said, “You may kill me, Madam, or let
me live on in your house, whichever you please, but I will tell you the
real truth. I knew all about it, and gave him everything he wanted in
the way of bread and wine, but he made me take my solemn oath that I
would not tell you anything for some ten or twelve days, unless you
asked or happened to hear of his having gone, for he did not want you
to spoil your beauty by crying. And now, Madam, wash your face, change
your dress, and go upstairs with your maids to offer prayers to
Minerva, daughter of Aegis-bearing Jove, for she can save him even
though he be in the jaws of death. Do not trouble Laertes: he has
trouble enough already. Besides, I cannot think that the gods hate the
race of the son of Arceisius so much, but there will be a son left to
come up after him, and inherit both the house and the fair fields that
lie far all round it.”
With these words she made her mistress leave off crying, and dried the
tears from her eyes. Penelope washed her face, changed her dress, and
went upstairs with her maids. She then put some bruised barley into a
basket and began praying to Minerva.
“Hear me,” she cried, “Daughter of Aegis-bearing Jove, unweariable. If
ever Ulysses while he was here burned you fat thigh bones of sheep or
heifer, bear it in mind now as in my favour, and save my darling son
from the villainy of the suitors.”
She cried aloud as she spoke, and the goddess heard her prayer;
meanwhile the suitors were clamorous throughout the covered cloister,
and one of them said:
“The queen is preparing for her marriage with one or other of us.
Little does she dream that her son has now been doomed to die.”
This was what they said, but they did not know what was going to
happen. Then Antinous said, “Comrades, let there be no loud talking,
lest some of it get carried inside. Let us be up and do that in
silence, about which we are all of a mind.”
He then chose twenty men, and they went down to their ship and to the
sea side; they drew the vessel into the water and got her mast and
sails inside her; they bound the oars to the thole-pins with twisted
thongs of leather, all in due course, and spread the white sails aloft,
while their fine servants brought them their armour. Then they made the
ship fast a little way out, came on shore again, got their suppers, and
waited till night should fall.
But Penelope lay in her own room upstairs unable to eat or drink, and
wondering whether her brave son would escape, or be overpowered by the
wicked suitors. Like a lioness caught in the toils with huntsmen
hemming her in on every side she thought and thought till she sank into
a slumber, and lay on her bed bereft of thought and motion.
Then Minerva bethought her of another matter, and made a vision in the
likeness of Penelope’s sister Iphthime daughter of Icarius who had
married Eumelus and lived in Pherae. She told the vision to go to the
house of Ulysses, and to make Penelope leave off crying, so it came
into her room by the hole through which the thong went for pulling the
door to, and hovered over her head saying,
“You are asleep, Penelope: the gods who live at ease will not suffer
you to weep and be so sad. Your son has done them no wrong, so he will
yet come back to you.”
Penelope, who was sleeping sweetly at the gates of dreamland, answered,
“Sister, why have you come here? You do not come very often, but I
suppose that is because you live such a long way off. Am I, then, to
leave off crying and refrain from all the sad thoughts that torture me?
I, who have lost my brave and lion-hearted husband, who had every good
quality under heaven, and whose name was great over all Hellas and
middle Argos; and now my darling son has gone off on board of a ship—a
foolish fellow who has never been used to roughing it, nor to going
about among gatherings of men. I am even more anxious about him than
about my husband; I am all in a tremble when I think of him, lest
something should happen to him, either from the people among whom he
has gone, or by sea, for he has many enemies who are plotting against
him, and are bent on killing him before he can return home.”
Then the vision said, “Take heart, and be not so much dismayed. There
is one gone with him whom many a man would be glad enough to have stand
by his side, I mean Minerva; it is she who has compassion upon you, and
who has sent me to bear you this message.”
“Then,” said Penelope, “if you are a god or have been sent here by
divine commission, tell me also about that other unhappy one—is he
still alive, or is he already dead and in the house of Hades?”
And the vision said, “I shall not tell you for certain whether he is
alive or dead, and there is no use in idle conversation.”
Then it vanished through the thong-hole of the door and was dissipated
into thin air; but Penelope rose from her sleep refreshed and
comforted, so vivid had been her dream.
Meantime the suitors went on board and sailed their ways over the sea,
intent on murdering Telemachus. Now there is a rocky islet called
Asteris, of no great size, in mid channel between Ithaca and Samos, and
there is a harbour on either side of it where a ship can lie. Here then
the Achaeans placed themselves in ambush.


BOOK V

CALYPSO—ULYSSES REACHES SCHERIA ON A RAFT.

And now, as Dawn rose from her couch beside Tithonus—harbinger of light
alike to mortals and immortals—the gods met in council and with them,
Jove the lord of thunder, who is their king. Thereon Minerva began to
tell them of the many sufferings of Ulysses, for she pitied him away
there in the house of the nymph Calypso.
“Father Jove,” said she, “and all you other gods that live in
everlasting bliss, I hope there may never be such a thing as a kind and
well-disposed ruler any more, nor one who will govern equitably. I hope
they will be all henceforth cruel and unjust, for there is not one of
his subjects but has forgotten Ulysses, who ruled them as though he
were their father. There he is, lying in great pain in an island where
dwells the nymph Calypso, who will not let him go; and he cannot get
back to his own country, for he can find neither ships nor sailors to
take him over the sea. Furthermore, wicked people are now trying to
murder his only son Telemachus, who is coming home from Pylos and
Lacedaemon, where he has been to see if he can get news of his father.”
“What, my dear, are you talking about?” replied her father, “did you
not send him there yourself, because you thought it would help Ulysses
to get home and punish the suitors? Besides, you are perfectly able to
protect Telemachus, and to see him safely home again, while the suitors
have to come hurry-skurrying back without having killed him.”
When he had thus spoken, he said to his son Mercury, “Mercury, you are
our messenger, go therefore and tell Calypso we have decreed that poor
Ulysses is to return home. He is to be convoyed neither by gods nor
men, but after a perilous voyage of twenty days upon a raft he is to
reach fertile Scheria,50 the land of the Phaeacians, who are near of
kin to the gods, and will honour him as though he were one of
ourselves. They will send him in a ship to his own country, and will
give him more bronze and gold and raiment than he would have brought
back from Troy, if he had had all his prize money and had got home
without disaster. This is how we have settled that he shall return to
his country and his friends.”
Thus he spoke, and Mercury, guide and guardian, slayer of Argus, did as
he was told. Forthwith he bound on his glittering golden sandals with
which he could fly like the wind over land and sea. He took the wand
with which he seals men’s eyes in sleep or wakes them just as he
pleases, and flew holding it in his hand over Pieria; then he swooped
down through the firmament till he reached the level of the sea, whose
waves he skimmed like a cormorant that flies fishing every hole and
corner of the ocean, and drenching its thick plumage in the spray. He
flew and flew over many a weary wave, but when at last he got to the
island which was his journey’s end, he left the sea and went on by land
till he came to the cave where the nymph Calypso lived.
He found her at home. There was a large fire burning on the hearth, and
one could smell from far the fragrant reek of burning cedar and sandal
wood. As for herself, she was busy at her loom, shooting her golden
shuttle through the warp and singing beautifully. Round her cave there
was a thick wood of alder, poplar, and sweet smelling cypress trees,
wherein all kinds of great birds had built their nests—owls, hawks, and
chattering sea-crows that occupy their business in the waters. A vine
loaded with grapes was trained and grew luxuriantly about the mouth of
the cave; there were also four running rills of water in channels cut
pretty close together, and turned hither and thither so as to irrigate
the beds of violets and luscious herbage over which they flowed. 51
Even a god could not help being charmed with such a lovely spot, so
Mercury stood still and looked at it; but when he had admired it
sufficiently he went inside the cave.
Calypso knew him at once—for the gods all know each other, no matter
how far they live from one another—but Ulysses was not within; he was
on the sea-shore as usual, looking out upon the barren ocean with tears
in his eyes, groaning and breaking his heart for sorrow. Calypso gave
Mercury a seat and said: “Why have you come to see me,
Mercury—honoured, and ever welcome—for you do not visit me often? Say
what you want; I will do it for you at once if I can, and if it can be
done at all; but come inside, and let me set refreshment before you.”
As she spoke she drew a table loaded with ambrosia beside him and mixed
him some red nectar, so Mercury ate and drank till he had had enough,
and then said:
“We are speaking god and goddess to one another, and you ask me why I
have come here, and I will tell you truly as you would have me do. Jove
sent me; it was no doing of mine; who could possibly want to come all
this way over the sea where there are no cities full of people to offer
me sacrifices or choice hecatombs? Nevertheless I had to come, for none
of us other gods can cross Jove, nor transgress his orders. He says
that you have here the most ill-starred of all those who fought nine
years before the city of King Priam and sailed home in the tenth year
after having sacked it. On their way home they sinned against
Minerva,52 who raised both wind and waves against them, so that all his
brave companions perished, and he alone was carried hither by wind and
tide. Jove says that you are to let this man go at once, for it is
decreed that he shall not perish here, far from his own people, but
shall return to his house and country and see his friends again.”
Calypso trembled with rage when she heard this, “You gods,” she
exclaimed, “ought to be ashamed of yourselves. You are always jealous
and hate seeing a goddess take a fancy to a mortal man, and live with
him in open matrimony. So when rosy-fingered Dawn made love to Orion,
you precious gods were all of you furious till Diana went and killed
him in Ortygia. So again when Ceres fell in love with Iasion, and
yielded to him in a thrice-ploughed fallow field, Jove came to hear of
it before so very long and killed Iasion with his thunderbolts. And now
you are angry with me too because I have a man here. I found the poor
creature sitting all alone astride of a keel, for Jove had struck his
ship with lightning and sunk it in mid ocean, so that all his crew were
drowned, while he himself was driven by wind and waves on to my island.
I got fond of him and cherished him, and had set my heart on making him
immortal, so that he should never grow old all his days; still I cannot
cross Jove, nor bring his counsels to nothing; therefore, if he insists
upon it, let the man go beyond the seas again; but I cannot send him
anywhere myself for I have neither ships nor men who can take him.
Nevertheless I will readily give him such advice, in all good faith, as
will be likely to bring him safely to his own country.”
“Then send him away,” said Mercury, “or Jove will be angry with you and
punish you”.
On this he took his leave, and Calypso went out to look for Ulysses,
for she had heard Jove’s message. She found him sitting upon the beach
with his eyes ever filled with tears, and dying of sheer home sickness;
for he had got tired of Calypso, and though he was forced to sleep with
her in the cave by night, it was she, not he, that would have it so. As
for the day time, he spent it on the rocks and on the sea shore,
weeping, crying aloud for his despair, and always looking out upon the
sea. Calypso then went close up to him said:
“My poor fellow, you shall not stay here grieving and fretting your
life out any longer. I am going to send you away of my own free will;
so go, cut some beams of wood, and make yourself a large raft with an
upper deck that it may carry you safely over the sea. I will put bread,
wine, and water on board to save you from starving. I will also give
you clothes, and will send you a fair wind to take you home, if the
gods in heaven so will it—for they know more about these things, and
can settle them better than I can.”
Ulysses shuddered as he heard her. “Now goddess,” he answered, “there
is something behind all this; you cannot be really meaning to help me
home when you bid me do such a dreadful thing as put to sea on a raft.
Not even a well found ship with a fair wind could venture on such a
distant voyage: nothing that you can say or do shall make me go on
board a raft unless you first solemnly swear that you mean me no
mischief.”
Calypso smiled at this and caressed him with her hand: “You know a
great deal,” said she, “but you are quite wrong here. May heaven above
and earth below be my witnesses, with the waters of the river Styx—and
this is the most solemn oath which a blessed god can take—that I mean
you no sort of harm, and am only advising you to do exactly what I
should do myself in your place. I am dealing with you quite
straightforwardly; my heart is not made of iron, and I am very sorry
for you.”
When she had thus spoken she led the way rapidly before him, and
Ulysses followed in her steps; so the pair, goddess and man, went on
and on till they came to Calypso’s cave, where Ulysses took the seat
that Mercury had just left. Calypso set meat and drink before him of
the food that mortals eat; but her maids brought ambrosia and nectar
for herself, and they laid their hands on the good things that were
before them. When they had satisfied themselves with meat and drink,
Calypso spoke, saying:
“Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, so you would start home to your own
land at once? Good luck go with you, but if you could only know how
much suffering is in store for you before you get back to your own
country, you would stay where you are, keep house along with me, and
let me make you immortal, no matter how anxious you may be to see this
wife of yours, of whom you are thinking all the time day after day; yet
I flatter myself that I am no whit less tall or well-looking than she
is, for it is not to be expected that a mortal woman should compare in
beauty with an immortal.”
“Goddess,” replied Ulysses, “do not be angry with me about this. I am
quite aware that my wife Penelope is nothing like so tall or so
beautiful as yourself. She is only a woman, whereas you are an
immortal. Nevertheless, I want to get home, and can think of nothing
else. If some god wrecks me when I am on the sea, I will bear it and
make the best of it. I have had infinite trouble both by land and sea
already, so let this go with the rest.”
Presently the sun set and it became dark, whereon the pair retired into
the inner part of the cave and went to bed.
When the child of morning rosy-fingered Dawn appeared, Ulysses put on
his shirt and cloak, while the goddess wore a dress of a light gossamer
fabric, very fine and graceful, with a beautiful golden girdle about
her waist and a veil to cover her head. She at once set herself to
think how she could speed Ulysses on his way. So she gave him a great
bronze axe that suited his hands; it was sharpened on both sides, and
had a beautiful olive-wood handle fitted firmly on to it. She also gave
him a sharp adze, and then led the way to the far end of the island
where the largest trees grew—alder, poplar and pine, that reached the
sky—very dry and well seasoned, so as to sail light for him in the
water.53 Then, when she had shown him where the best trees grew,
Calypso went home, leaving him to cut them, which he soon finished
doing. He cut down twenty trees in all and adzed them smooth, squaring
them by rule in good workmanlike fashion. Meanwhile Calypso came back
with some augers, so he bored holes with them and fitted the timbers
together with bolts and rivets. He made the raft as broad as a skilled
shipwright makes the beam of a large vessel, and he fixed a deck on top
of the ribs, and ran a gunwale all round it. He also made a mast with a
yard arm, and a rudder to steer with. He fenced the raft all round with
wicker hurdles as a protection against the waves, and then he threw on
a quantity of wood. By and by Calypso brought him some linen to make
the sails, and he made these too, excellently, making them fast with
braces and sheets. Last of all, with the help of levers, he drew the
raft down into the water.
In four days he had completed the whole work, and on the fifth Calypso
sent him from the island after washing him and giving him some clean
clothes. She gave him a goat skin full of black wine, and another
larger one of water; she also gave him a wallet full of provisions, and
found him in much good meat. Moreover, she made the wind fair and warm
for him, and gladly did Ulysses spread his sail before it, while he sat
and guided the raft skilfully by means of the rudder. He never closed
his eyes, but kept them fixed on the Pleiads, on late-setting Bootes,
and on the Bear—which men also call the wain, and which turns round and
round where it is, facing Orion, and alone never dipping into the
stream of Oceanus—for Calypso had told him to keep this to his left.
Days seven and ten did he sail over the sea, and on the eighteenth the
dim outlines of the mountains on the nearest part of the Phaeacian
coast appeared, rising like a shield on the horizon.
But King Neptune, who was returning from the Ethiopians, caught sight
of Ulysses a long way off, from the mountains of the Solymi. He could
see him sailing upon the sea, and it made him very angry, so he wagged
his head and muttered to himself, saying, “Good heavens, so the gods
have been changing their minds about Ulysses while I was away in