Book XIII

1So he spoke; and they were all hushed in silence,¹

held fast under the spell, through the shadowy halls.

Then Alcinous answered him in turn, and said:

"Odysseus — now that you have come to my house with its floor of bronze,

5its high roof, I do not think you will be driven wandering

back again as you return, however much you have suffered.

And to each man of you I say this, laying it on you —

you who in my halls forever drink the elders' fire-bright

wine, and listen to the singer:

10clothing for the guest lies packed already in the polished chest,

with gold of intricate work and all the other

gifts the counselors of the Phaeacians brought him here.

Come now, let us give him besides a great tripod and a cauldron,

each man of us; and we in turn will gather it back from the people:

15it is hard on one man to give so freely without repayment."²

So spoke Alcinous, and his word pleased them well,

and they went home to sleep, each man to his own house.

When Dawn appeared, the early-born, with fingers of rose,

they hurried to the ship, carrying the bronze that does honor to a man,

20and the sacred strength of Alcinous stowed it well,

going himself through the ship, under the benches, so that it might not

hamper any of the crew at the rowing, when they leaned to the oars.

Then they went to the house of Alcinous and saw to the feast.

For them the sacred strength of Alcinous slaughtered an ox

25to Zeus of the black cloud, the son of Cronos, lord of all.

They burned the thigh-cuts and shared the glorious feast,

rejoicing; and among them sang the godlike singer,

Demodocus, honored among the people. But Odysseus

kept turning his head toward the blazing sun,³

30willing it to set: for now his whole heart strained toward home.

As when a man aches for his supper — all day long⁴

his two wine-dark oxen have dragged the jointed plow through fallow ground,

and welcome to him is the setting of the sun's light,

the going home to supper, and his knees buckle as he walks:

35so welcome to Odysseus was the setting of the sun's light.

At once he spoke among the oar-loving Phaeacians,

and to Alcinous above all he declared his word:

"Lord Alcinous, most renowned among all peoples:

pour the offering, and send me on my way unharmed. And yourselves — farewell.

40For now all that my own heart wished is brought to pass:

a sending, and gifts of friendship. May the gods of heaven

make them a blessing! And may I come home and find my blameless wife⁵

there, with those I love unharmed.

And you who stay: may you be the joy of your wedded wives

45and of your children; and may the gods grant prosperity

of every kind, and no evil come to dwell among your people."

So he spoke, and they all approved it and urged

that the guest be sent home, since he had spoken rightly.

And then the strength of Alcinous said to the herald:

50"Pontonous, mix the bowl, and serve out the wine

to all in the hall, so that with a prayer to father Zeus

we may send the guest to his own fatherland."

So he spoke, and Pontonous mixed the honey-hearted wine

and served it to all in turn; and they poured to the blessed

55gods who hold wide heaven, there where each man

sat. But noble Odysseus rose to his feet

and set the two-handled cup in Arete's hand,

and lifting his voice he spoke winged words to her:

"Fare well, my queen, through all the years, until old age⁶

60comes, and death, which stand over every one of us.

I go now. And you — have joy of this house,

of your children and your people and Alcinous the king."

So speaking, noble Odysseus stepped across the threshold,

and the strength of Alcinous sent the herald with him

65to lead him to the fast ship and the shore of the sea;

and Arete sent slave-women along with him,

one carrying a fresh-washed mantle and a tunic,

another she sent to bring the close-packed chest,

and a third carried bread and red wine.

70And when they had come down to the ship and the sea,

the lordly escorts took it all at once and stowed it

in the hollow ship, all the food and drink;

and for Odysseus they spread a blanket and a linen sheet

on the half-deck of the hollow ship, so that he might sleep

75unwaking, at the stern. And he came aboard himself and lay down

in silence. And they took their places at the oarlocks, each in

order, and loosed the cable from the pierced stone.

And the moment they leaned back and tossed the sea with the oar-blade,

that moment sweet sleep fell upon his eyelids —⁷

80unwaking, sweetest sleep, and most like death.

And the ship — as on the plain a team of four stallions⁸

springs forward all together under the lash's strokes,

and rearing high they swiftly accomplish their road:

so her stern reared and plunged, and behind her the great

85dark-gleaming wave of the loud-roaring sea rushed on.

And she ran sure and steady, never yielding: not even the hawk

could have kept beside her, the falcon, nimblest of winged things.

So running lightly she cut the waves of the sea,

carrying a man with counsels like the gods' —

90a man who before had suffered pains in plenty, heart-deep,

cutting through wars of men and the grinding waves,

and who now slept without a tremor, all he had suffered forgotten.⁹

When the brightest of stars was rising, the one that comes

above all others announcing the light of early-born Dawn,

95then the seagoing ship was drawing near the island.

There is a harbor of Phorcys, the old man of the sea,¹⁰

in the land of Ithaca: two jutting headlands in it,

sheer on the seaward side but sloping down toward harbor,

which shelter it from the great waves the hard-blowing winds raise

100outside; and within, the well-benched ships ride

without a mooring-line, once they have reached anchoring-ground.

At the head of the harbor is a long-leafed olive,

and near it a lovely cave, full of sea-mist,

sacred to the nymphs that men call Naiads.

105In it are mixing-bowls and two-handled jars

of stone; and there the bees lay up their honey.

And in it are long looms of stone, where the nymphs

weave cloth of sea-purple, a wonder to see;

and ever-flowing waters. It has two doors:¹¹

110one toward the North Wind, by which men come down;

the other, toward the South, is for the gods: by that way

men do not enter — it is the immortals' road.

In there they rowed, knowing the place of old. And the ship

ran up on the shore a full half of her length,

115at speed: such was the drive of the rowers' arms.

And they stepped from the well-benched ship onto dry land,

and first they lifted Odysseus out of the hollow ship,

linen sheet and shining blanket and all,

and laid him down on the sand, still mastered by sleep;¹²

120and they lifted out the goods that the lordly Phaeacians

had given him for his journey home, through the grace of great-hearted Athena.

These they set in a heap by the trunk of the olive,

out of the path, for fear some passer-by

might come and pillage them before Odysseus woke;

125and they themselves set off for home again. But the shaker of earth

had not forgotten the threats he had made at the first

against godlike Odysseus; and he asked out the design of Zeus:

"Father Zeus, I shall have honor no longer among the deathless

gods, when mortals honor me not at all —

130the Phaeacians, who are of my very own line.¹³

I said just now that Odysseus should suffer evils in plenty

before he came home — his homecoming itself I never

wholly denied him, once you had promised it and bowed your head —

and look: they have carried him sleeping over the sea in their fast ship

135and set him down in Ithaca, and given him gifts past speaking,

bronze and gold in heaps and woven clothing,

more than Odysseus would ever have carried out of Troy¹⁴

had he come home untouched with his fair share of the spoils."

Then Zeus who gathers the clouds answered him:

140"Shame on you, wide-ruling shaker of earth — what a thing to say.

The gods do not dishonor you: it would be a hard thing

to pelt our eldest and best with dishonor.

As for men — if any man, yielding to his own force and power,

fails to honor you, vengeance is yours, now and always after.

145Do as you will: whatever is dear to your heart."

Then Poseidon the earth-shaker answered him:

"I would have done it at once, lord of the black cloud, as you say;

but I always shrink before your anger, and I avoid it.

Now, then: that beautiful ship of the Phaeacians,

150coming home over the misted sea from her sending —

I will smash her, so that they hold off at last and cease

their escorting of men; and I will pile a great mountain round their city."

Then Zeus who gathers the clouds answered him:

"Friend — hear how it seems best to my own mind.¹⁵

155When all the people are watching her from the city

as she drives in, turn her to stone close offshore —

a stone in the likeness of a fast ship, so that all mankind

may marvel; and pile the great mountain round their city."

And when Poseidon the earth-shaker heard it,

160he went his way to Scheria, where the Phaeacians are born and bred,

and there he waited. And she came close in, the seagoing ship,

running lightly on. And the shaker of earth came near her,

and turned her to stone, and rooted her to the sea-floor

with one downward stroke of the flat of his hand. And he was gone.

165And they spoke to one another with winged words,

the Phaeacians of the long oars, men famed for ships;

and thus one would say, with a glance at his neighbor:

"Ah me — who has shackled our fast ship on the open sea

as she drove for home — in full view, every timber of her?"¹⁶

170So they would say — knowing nothing of how it had been done.

And Alcinous addressed them all, and said:

"Ah, then it comes home to me — the old prophecy¹⁷

of my father, who would tell us that Poseidon looked on us with anger

because we are safe escorts of all men without distinction.

175He said that one day, as a beautiful ship of the Phaeacian men

came home over the misted sea from such a sending,

the god would smash her, and pile a great mountain round our city.

So the old man said. And now it is all being accomplished.

Come then — all of us — do exactly as I say:

180cease your escorting of mortals, whoever comes

to our city hereafter; and to Poseidon let us sacrifice

twelve chosen bulls, in hope he may take pity

and not pile the long mountain round our city."

So he spoke; and they were afraid, and made the bulls ready.

185So they were praying to the lord Poseidon,

the leaders and counselors of the land of the Phaeacians,

standing around the altar.¹⁸ — And noble Odysseus woke

out of sleep in his own fathers' land — and did not know it,

so long had he been gone. For the goddess had poured a mist around him,

190Pallas Athena, daughter of Zeus, so that she might make him

unknowable to all, and tell him everything through,

lest his wife should know him, and his townsmen, and his friends,

before the suitors paid for all their trespass.¹⁹

And so to their lord all things showed strange —

195the long straight paths, the anchorages that take ships from every wind,

the sheer-climbing rocks and the trees in full leaf.

He sprang up and stood, and stared at his own fatherland,

and then he groaned aloud, and struck both thighs

with the flats of his hands, and spoke in raw lament:

200"Ah me — whose country have I come to now? What men's?²⁰

Are they violent, savage, without justice,

or kind to strangers, with hearts that fear the gods?

Where am I to carry all this treasure? Where am I myself

to wander? Would it had stayed with the Phaeacians, all of it,

205there where it was — and I had come to some other mighty king,

who would have hosted me kindly and sent me on my way home.

As it is, I have nowhere to put it — and I will not leave it

here, to fall as plunder to other men.

Shame on them — not righteous through and through, then, and not just,

210the leaders and counselors of the Phaeacians,

who carried me off to a strange country! They said, truly,

they would bring me to clear-skied Ithaca — and did not do it.

May Zeus of Suppliants pay them for it, who watches over

all mankind, and punishes whoever goes astray.

215But come — let me count my goods and look them over,²¹

in case they carried something off with them in the hollow ship."

So speaking he counted up the surpassingly beautiful tripods

and the cauldrons, and the gold, and the fine woven clothing —

and missed not one thing. Then, mourning for his fatherland,

220he crept along the shore of the loud-roaring sea,

grieving without pause. And Athena came near him

in the likeness of a young man, a herder of sheep,²²

delicate-skinned, such as the sons of kings are,

a fine-made double cloak hanging from her shoulders,

225sandals under her shining feet, a javelin in her hand.

Odysseus rejoiced at the sight of her, and came to meet her,

and lifting his voice he spoke winged words to her:

"Friend — since you are the first I meet in this country,

hail to you! And may you come at me with no evil purpose:

230save these things, and save me. To you as to a god

I pray, and I come to your knees in supplication.

And tell me this too, honestly, so that I may know it:

what land is this? what people? what men are born here?

Is it some clear-skied island — or is it a headland

235of the rich-soiled mainland, shelving down into the sea?"

Then the goddess spoke to him again, gray-eyed Athena:

"You are a fool, stranger — or you have come from far away —²³

if you ask about this land. It is not so very

nameless as all that: very many men know her,

240both all who live toward the dawn and the sun

and all who live back westward, toward the misty dark.

Rough she is, truly — no ground for driving horses —

yet not too poor a land, though no wide one either:

grain grows in her past speaking, and wine as well,

245and the rain never fails her, or the fresh dew;

good pasture she is for goats and cattle; there is timber

of every kind, and watering-places that flow the year round.

And so, stranger, the name of Ithaca has reached even to Troy —²⁴

and that, they say, lies far from this Achaean land."

250So she spoke; and much-enduring noble Odysseus was glad,

rejoicing in the land of his fathers, at the word

of Pallas Athena, daughter of aegis-bearing Zeus.

And lifting his voice he spoke winged words to her —

yet he did not speak the truth: he swallowed the word back down,²⁵

255forever steering, in his breast, the mind of many profits:

"I heard tell of Ithaca even in wide Crete,

far over the sea. And now I have come here myself

with all this treasure — and left as much again for my children —

a fugitive: for I killed the dear son of Idomeneus,

260Orsilochus the swift-footed, who in wide Crete

outran all bread-eating men with his quick feet.

He meant to strip me of all my Trojan plunder,

the winnings I had suffered pains for, heart-deep,

cutting through wars of men and the grinding waves —

265all because I would not oblige his father and serve

under him at Troy, but led my own command.

So I struck him with my bronze-tipped spear as he came in

from the fields — lay in ambush by the road with one companion.

Black night held the sky that night: no living soul

270saw us; I took his life unseen.

And when I had cut him down with the sharp bronze,

I went straight to a ship of the lordly Phoenicians

and begged their grace, and gave them plunder to content their hearts:

I asked them to take me aboard and set me down at Pylos,

275or at shining Elis, where the Epeians hold power.

But the wind's force beat them off that course —

much against their will: they had no wish to cheat me —

and driven wide, we came here in the night.

We rowed hard into the harbor, and not one of us

280had a thought of supper, hungry for it as we were:

we simply stepped ashore, all of us, and lay down as we landed.

Then sweet sleep came over me, worn out as I was,

and they lifted my goods out of the hollow ship

and set them down where I myself lay on the sands,

285and boarded, and went off toward well-peopled Sidon —

and I was left behind, my heart aching."

So he spoke; and the goddess smiled, gray-eyed Athena,²⁶

and stroked him with her hand — and now her body was a woman's,

beautiful and tall, and skilled in glorious handwork —

290and lifting her voice she spoke winged words to him:

"A sharp one he would have to be, a master-thief, to slip past you²⁷

in all your manifold tricks — even a god, if one should meet you.

You hard man — shifting-crafted, glutton for guile — so not even

here, in your own country, would you leave off the cheating

295and the thieving tales that are dear to you from the ground of your heart!

But come, no more of this now. We are both old hands

at profit: you are far the best of all mortal men

in counsel and in words, and I among all the gods

am famed for cunning and for profit. And yet you did not know

300Pallas Athena, daughter of Zeus — I who stand

beside you in every labor, always, and keep watch over you,

and who made you dear to all the Phaeacians.

Now I have come here to weave a design with you,²⁸

and to hide the goods the lordly Phaeacians

305gave you for your journey home — by my own thought and counsel —

and to tell you all the cares that fate must fill

your well-built house with. You must endure them — there is no choice —

and tell no one, no man and no woman,

none of them all, that it is you, come home from your wandering. No:

310in silence suffer your many pains, and submit to men's violence."

Then Odysseus of the many designs answered her:

"Hard it is, goddess, for a mortal man who meets you to know you,²⁹

however knowing he be: for you take what likeness you will.

This I know well — that you were kind to me once,

315as long as we sons of the Achaeans made war at Troy;

but after we had sacked Priam's steep city,

and gone to our ships, and a god scattered the Achaeans,

from then on I never saw you, daughter of Zeus — never marked you

setting foot on my ship to beat some grief away from me.

320No: I wandered on, always carrying a heart torn open

in my breast, until the gods released me from evil —

until that day, in the rich land of the Phaeacian men,

when you heartened me with your words, and led me to the city yourself.

Now I beg you by your father — for I cannot think

325I have truly come to clear-skied Ithaca: it is some other

country I am turned loose in, and you are mocking me

when you tell me this, to lead my wits astray —

tell me: am I really come to my own dear fatherland?"

Then the goddess answered him, gray-eyed Athena:

330"Always the same — that mind in your breast!³⁰

And that is why I cannot forsake you in your misery:

because you are civil, and quick-witted, and steady-souled.

Gladly would any other man, come home from wandering,

have rushed to his hall to see his children and his wife;

335but you — you have no wish yet to learn or to ask

until you have made trial of your wife besides — who sits

as ever in your halls, and always in misery

her nights waste away, and her days, in tears.³¹

I, though — I never doubted it: I knew in my heart

340you would come home with all your companions lost.

But I had no mind, you see, to fight Poseidon,

my father's brother, who set the grudge in his heart,

raging because you blinded his dear son.

Come — I will show you the ground-plan of Ithaca, so you will believe.

345This is the harbor of Phorcys, the old man of the sea;³²

and this, at the head of the harbor, the long-leafed olive;

and near it the lovely cave, full of sea-mist,

sacred to the nymphs that men call Naiads —

there is the wide vaulted cavern where you used to offer

350the nymphs so many perfect hecatombs;

and this is the mountain Neriton, clothed in its forest."

So speaking, the goddess scattered the mist — and the land showed plain.

Then much-enduring noble Odysseus rejoiced —

he exulted in his own land, and kissed the grain-giving earth,³³

355and at once he prayed to the nymphs, lifting up his hands:

"Nymphs of the springs, daughters of Zeus — I told myself

I would never see you again. Now take my greeting

and my gentle prayers. And we will give you gifts, as in the old days,

if the daughter of Zeus, the driver of spoils, in her grace

360lets me live, and brings my dear son to his manhood."

Then the goddess spoke to him again, gray-eyed Athena:

"Take heart: let none of that weigh on your mind.

Rather let us stow the goods in the innermost hollow of the wondrous

cave, this instant, so that they stay there safe for you;

365and let us two take counsel how the best may come about."

So speaking, the goddess plunged into the misty cave,

searching along its hiding-holes; and Odysseus

carried everything close in — the gold, the wear-proof bronze,

and the well-made clothing the Phaeacians gave him.

370He laid them carefully by; and a stone was set at the door

by Pallas Athena, daughter of aegis-bearing Zeus.³⁴

Then the two of them sat down at the trunk of the sacred olive³⁵

and plotted death for the overweening suitors.

And the goddess began to speak, gray-eyed Athena:

375"Zeus-born son of Laertes, Odysseus of the many devices —

consider how you will lay your hands on the shameless suitors,

who for three years now have lorded it through your hall,

courting your godlike wife and offering bride-gifts;³⁶

and she — grieving without pause for your homecoming, heart-deep,

380gives hope to all, and makes promises to every man,

sending out messages — while her mind wills otherwise."³⁷

Then Odysseus of the many designs answered her:

"Ah, gods — so I was to have perished by the same evil doom

as Agamemnon, Atreus' son, in my own halls,

385had you not told me each thing rightly, goddess, in its measure.

Come then — weave a design, how I shall pay them back;³⁸

and stand beside me yourself, breathing bold fury into me,

as on the day we loosed the shining head-veil of Troy.³⁹

Were you to stand by me with that same fire, gray-eyes,

390I would fight three hundred men together —

with you, sovereign goddess, when you choose in your heart to help me."

Then the goddess answered him, gray-eyed Athena:

"Oh, I will be with you — be sure of it — you will not slip my sight

when the hour comes and we are at this work. And more than one, I think,

395of the suitor-men who eat away your living

will spatter the vast floor with his blood and brains.⁴⁰

But come: I will make you unknowable to every mortal.

I will wither the fine skin on your supple limbs;

I will strip the fair hair from your head; I will wrap you in rags

400such that a man would shudder to see a human being wear;

and I will dim those eyes, so beautiful before,

so that you seem a vile thing to all the suitors —

and to your wife, and to the son you left in your halls.⁴¹

And you yourself: go first of all to the swineherd,

405the keeper of your pigs — whose heart is loyal to you all the same,

who loves your boy, and steady-hearted Penelope.

You will find him sitting by the swine; and they are at pasture

by the Rock of the Raven, at the spring Arethusa,⁴²

eating acorns to their hearts' content and drinking

410black water — the things that feed the rich fat on swine.

Stay there; sit by him and question him of everything,

while I go on to Sparta, the country of beautiful women,

to summon Telemachus — your own dear son, Odysseus —

who went to wide-dancing-grounded Lacedaemon, to Menelaus,

415seeking news of you, whether you were still alive anywhere."

Then Odysseus of the many designs answered her:

"Why did you not tell him, then — you whose mind holds everything?⁴³

So that he too might wander in misery over the barren

sea, while other men eat away his living?"

420Then the goddess answered him, gray-eyed Athena:

"Do not let him weigh too heavily on your heart.

I myself was his escort, so that he might win himself

a good report by going there. He has no hardship — he sits

at his ease in the house of Atreus' son, with plenty before him.

425True — the young men lie in ambush for him with their black ship,⁴⁴

hungry to kill him before he reaches his fathers' land.

But I do not look for that. No: sooner will the earth close over

more than one of the suitor-men who eat away your living."

So speaking, Athena touched him with her wand.

430She withered the fine skin on his supple limbs;

she stripped the fair hair from his head; and about all his limbs

she set the skin of an aged old man;

and she dimmed those eyes, so beautiful before,

and threw about him a foul rag and a tunic —

435tattered things, filthy, black with reeking smoke —

and over them she dressed him in the great hide of a swift deer,⁴⁵

worn bald. And she gave him a staff, and a miserable pouch,

ragged full of holes, slung on a rope of twisted cord.

So the two of them, their plot laid, parted. And she⁴⁶

440went off to shining Lacedaemon, after the son of Odysseus.