Book VIII: Festivals in Honor of Ulysses

Lyrics

A general council of the Phaeacians, in which it is determined to send Ulysses home to Ithaca⁠—A solemn feast⁠—Lay of the Trojan War, sung by Demodocus, the minstrel⁠—Public games⁠—Ulysses conquers in throwing the discus⁠—The amour of Mars and Venus sung by Demodocus⁠—His song of the Trojan horse and the fall of Troy. When Morn appeared, the rosy-fingered child Of Dawn, Alcinoüs, mighty and revered, Rose from his bed. Ulysses, noble chief, Spoiler of cities, also lеft his couch. Alcinoüs, mighty and revered, wеnt forth Before, and led him to the marketplace Of the Phaeacians, built beside the fleet, And there on polished stones they took their seats Near to each other. Pallas, who now seemed A herald of the wise Alcinoüs, went Through all the city, planning how to send Magnanimous Ulysses to his home, And came and stood by every chief and said:⁠— "Leaders and chiefs of the Phaeacians, come Speedily to the marketplace, and there Hear of the stranger who from wandering o'er The deep has come where wise Alcinoüs holds His court; in aspect he is like the gods." She spake, and every mind and heart was moved, And all the marketplace and all its seats Were quickly filled with people. Many gazed, Admiring, on Laertes' well-graced son; For on his face and form had Pallas shed A glory, and had made him seem more tall And of an ampler bulk, that he might find Favor with the Phaeacians, and be deemed Worthy of awe and able to achieve The many feats which the Phaeacian chiefs, To try the stranger's prowess, might propose. And now when all the summoned had arrived, Alcinoüs to the full assembly spake:⁠— "Princes and chiefs of the Phaeacians, hear: I speak the promptings of my heart. This guest⁠— I know him not⁠—has come to my abode, A wanderer⁠—haply from the tribes who dwell In the far East, or haply from the West⁠— And asked an escort and safe-conduct home; And let us make them ready, as our wont Has ever been. No stranger ever comes Across my threshold who is suffered long To pine for his departure. Let us draw A dark-hulled ship down to the holy sea On her first voyage. Let us choose her crew Among the people, two-and-fifty youths Of our best seamen. Then make fast the oars Beside the benches, leave them there, and come Into our palace and partake in haste A feast which I will liberally spread For all of you. This I command the youths; But you, ye sceptred princes, come at once To my fair palace, that we there may pay The honors due our guest; let none refuse. Call also the divine Demodocus, The bard, on whom a deity bestowed In ample measure the sweet gift of song, Delightful when the spirit prompts the lay." He spake, and led the way; the sceptred train Of princes followed him. The herald sought Meantime the sacred bard. The chosen youths Fifty-and-two betook them to the marge Of the unfruitful sea; and when they reached The ship and beach they drew the dark hull down To the deep water, put the mast on board And the ship's sails, and fitted well the oars Into the leathern rings, and, having moored Their barque in the deep water, went with speed To their wise monarch in his spacious halls. There portico and court and hall were thronged With people, young and old in multitude; And there Alcinoüs sacrificed twelve sheep, Eight white-toothed swine, and two splayfooted beeves. And these they flayed, and duly dressed, and made A noble banquet ready. Then appeared The herald, leading the sweet singer in, Him whom the Muse with an exceeding love Had cherished, and had visited with good And evil, quenched his eyesight and bestowed Sweetness of song. Pontonoüs mid the guests Placed for the bard a silver-studded throne, Against a lofty column hung his harp Above his head, and taught him how to find And take it down. Near him the herald set A basket and fair table, and a cup Of wine, that he might drink when he desired; Then all put forth their hands and shared the feast. And when their thirst and hunger were allayed, The Muse inspired the bard to sing the praise Of heroes; 'twas a song whose fame had reached To the high heaven, a story of the strife Between Ulysses and Achilles, son Of Peleus, wrangling at a solemn feast Made for the gods. They strove with angry words, And Agamemnon, king of men, rejoiced To hear the noblest of the Achaian host Contending; for all this had been foretold To him in sacred Pythia by the voice Of Phoebus, when the monarch to inquire At the oracle had crossed the rock which formed Its threshold. Then began the train of woes Which at the will of sovereign Jupiter Befell the sons of Ilium and of Greece. So sang renowned Demodocus. Meanwhile Ulysses took into his brawny hands An ample veil of purple, drawing it Around his head to hide his noble face, Ashamed that the Phaeacians should behold The tears that flowed so freely from his lids. But when the sacred bard had ceased his song, He wiped the tears away and laid the veil Aside, and took a double beaker filled With wine, and poured libations to the gods. Yet when again the minstrel sang, and all The chiefs of the Phaeacian people, charmed To hear his music, bade the strain proceed, Again Ulysses hid his face and wept. No other eye beheld the tears he shed. Alcinoüs only watched him, and perceived His grief, and heard the sighs he drew, and spake To the Phaeacians, lovers of the sea:⁠— "Now that we all, to our content, have shared The feast and heard the harp, whose notes so well Suit with a liberal banquet, let us forth And try our skill in games, that this our guest, Returning to his country, may relate How in the boxing and the wrestling match, In leaping and in running, we excel." He spake, and went before; they followed him. Then did the herald hang the clear-toned harp Again on high, and taking by the hand Demodocus, he led him from the place, Guiding him in the way which just before The princes of Phaeacia trod to see The public games. Into the marketplace They went; a vast innumerable crowd Pressed after. Then did many a valiant youth Arise⁠—Acroneus and Ocyalus, Elatreus, Nauteus, Prymneus, after whom Upstood Anchialus, and by his side Eretmeus, Ponteus, Proreus, Thoön, rose; Anabasineüs and Amphialus, A son of Polyneius, Tecton's son; Then rose the son of Naubolus, like Mars In warlike port, Euryalus by name, And goodliest both in feature and in form Of all Phaeacia's sons save one alone, Laodamas the faultless. Next three sons Of King Alcinoüs rose: Laodamas, Halius, and Clytoneius, like a god In aspect. Some of these began the games, Contending in the race. For them a course Was marked from goal to goal. They darted forth At once and swiftly, raising, as they ran, The dust along the plain. The swiftest there Was Clytoneius in the race. As far As mules, in furrowing the fallow ground, Gain on the steers, he ran before the rest, And reached the crowd, and left them all behind. Others in wrestling strove laboriously⁠— And here Euryalus excelled them all; But in the leap Amphialus was first; Elatreus flung the quoit with firmest hand; And in the boxer's art Laodamas, The monarch's valiant son, was conqueror. This when the admiring multitude had seen, Thus spake the monarch's son, Laodamas:⁠— "And now, my friends, inquire we of our guest If he has learned and practised feats like these. For he is not ill-made in legs and thighs And in both arms, in firmly planted neck And strong-built frame; nor does he seem to lack A certain youthful vigor, though impaired By many hardships⁠—for I know of naught That more severely tries the strongest man, And breaks him down, than perils of the sea." Euryalus replied: "Laodamas, Well hast thou said, and rightly: go thou now And speak to him thyself, and challenge him." The son of King Alcinoüs, as he heard, Came forward, and bespake Ulysses thus:⁠— "Thou also, guest and father, try these feats, If thou perchance wert trained to them. I think Thou must be skilled in games, since there is not A greater glory for a man while yet He lives on earth than what he hath wrought out, By strenuous effort, with his feet and hands. Try, then, thy skill, and give no place to grief. Not long will thy departure be delayed; Thy barque is launched; the crew are ready here." Ulysses, the sagacious, answered thus:⁠— "Why press me, O Laodamas! to try These feats, when all my thoughts are of my woes, And not of games? I, who have borne so much Of pain and toil, sit pining for my home In your assembly, supplicating here Your king and all the people of your land." Then spake Euryalus with chiding words:⁠— "Stranger, I well perceive thou canst not boast, As many others can, of skill in games; But thou art one of those who dwell in ships With many benches, rulers o'er a crew Of sailors⁠—a mere trader looking out For freight, and watching o'er the wares that form The cargo. Thou hast doubtless gathered wealth By rapine, and art surely no athlete." Ulysses, the sagacious, frowned and said:⁠— "Stranger, thou speakest not becomingly, But like a man who recks not what he says. The gods bestow not equally on all The gifts that men desire⁠—the grace of form, The mind, the eloquence. One man to sight Is undistinguished, but on him the gods Bestow the power of words. All look on him Gladly; he knows whereof he speaks; his speech Is mild and modest; he is eminent In all assemblies, and, whene'er he walks The city, men regard him as a god. Another in the form he wears is like The immortals, yet has he no power to speak Becoming words. So thou hast comely looks⁠— A god would not have shaped thee otherwise Than we behold thee⁠—yet thy wit is small, And thy unmannerly words have angered me Even to the heart. Not quite unskilled am I In games, as thou dost idly talk, and once, When I could trust my youth and my strong arms, I think that in these contests I was deemed Among the first. But I am now pressed down With toil and sorrow; much have I endured In wars with heroes and on stormy seas. Yet even thus, a sufferer as I am, Will I essay these feats; for sharp have been Thy words, and they provoke me to the proof." He spake, and rising with his mantle on He seized a broader, thicker, heavier quoit, By no small odds, than the Phaeacians used, And swinging it around with vigorous arm He sent it forth; it sounded as it went; And the Phaeacians, skilful with the oar And sail, bent low as o'er them, from his hand, Flew the swift stone beyond the other marks. And Pallas, in a human form, set up A mark where it descended, and exclaimed:⁠— "Stranger! a blind man, groping here, could find Thy mark full easily, since it is not Among the many, but beyond them all. Then fear thou nothing in this game at least; For no Phaeacian here can throw the quoit As far as thou, much less exceed thy cast." She spake; Ulysses the great sufferer Heard, and rejoiced to know he had a friend In that great circle. With a lighter heart Thus said the chief to the Phaeacian crowd:⁠— "Follow that cast, young men, and I will send Another stone, at once, as far, perchance, Or further still. If there are others yet Who feel the wish, let them come forward here⁠— For much your words have chafed me⁠—let them try With me the boxing or the wrestling match, Or footrace; there is naught that I refuse⁠— Any of the Phaeacians. I except Laodamas; he is my host, and who Would enter such a contest with a friend? A senseless, worthless man is he who seeks A strife like this with one who shelters him In a strange land; he mars the welcome given. As for the rest, there is no rival here Whom I reject or scorn; for I would know Their prowess, and would try my own with theirs Before you all. At any of the games Practised among mankind I am not ill, Whatever they may be. The polished bow I well know how to handle. I should be The first to strike a foe by arrows sent Among a hostile squadron, though there stood A crowd of fellow-warriors by my side And also aimed their shafts. The only one Whose skill in archery excelled my own, When we Achaians drew the bow at Troy, Was Philoctetes; to all other men On earth that live by bread I hold myself Superior. Yet I claim no rivalry With men of ancient times⁠—with Hercules And Eurytus the Oechalian, who defied The immortals to a contest with the bow. Therefore was mighty Eurytus cut off. Apollo, angry to be challenged, slew The hero. I can hurl a spear beyond Where others send an arrow. All my fear Is for my feet, so weakened have I been Among the stormy waves with want of food At sea, and thus my limbs have lost their strength." He ended here, and all the assembly sat In silence; King Alcinoüs only spake:⁠— "Stranger, since thou dost speak without offence, And but to assert the prowess of thine arm, Indignant that amid the public games This man should rail at thee, and since thy wish Is only that all others who can speak Becomingly may not in time to come Dispraise that prowess, now, then, heed my words, And speak of them within thy palace halls To other heroes when thou banquetest Beside thy wife and children, and dost think Of things that we excel in⁠—arts which Jove Gives us, transmitted from our ancestors. In boxing and in wrestling small renown Have we, but we are swift of foot; we guide Our galleys bravely o'er the deep; we take Delight in feasts; we love the harp, the dance, And change of raiment, the warm bath and bed. Rise, then, Phaeacian masters of the dance, And tread your measures, that our guest may tell His friends at home how greatly we surpass All other men in seamanship, the race, The dance, the art of song. Go, one of you, And bring Demodocus his clear-toned harp, That somewhere in our palace has been left." Thus spake the godlike king. The herald rose To bring the sweet harp from the royal house. Then the nine umpires also rose, who ruled The games; they smoothed the floor, and made the ring Of gazers wider. Next the herald came, And brought Demodocus the clear-toned harp. The minstrel went into the midst, and there Gathered the graceful dancers; they were youths In life's first bloom. With even steps they smote The sacred floor. Ulysses, gazing, saw The twinkle of their feet and was amazed. The minstrel struck the chords and gracefully Began the lay: he sang the loves of Mars And Venus of the glittering crown, who first Had met each other stealthily beneath The roof of Vulcan. Mars with many gifts Won her, and wronged her spouse, the King of Fire; But from the Sun, who saw their guilt, there came A messenger to Vulcan. When he heard The unwelcome tidings, planning his revenge, He hastened to his smithy, where he forged Chains that no power might loosen or might break, Made to hold fast forever. When the snare In all its parts was finished, he repaired, Angry with Mars, to where the marriage-bed Stood in his chamber. To the posts he tied The encircling chains on every side, and made Fast to the ceiling many, like the threads Spun by the spider, which no eye could see, Not even of the gods, so artfully He wrought them. Then, as soon as he had wrapped The snare about the bed, he feigned to go To Lemnos nobly built, most dear to him Of all the lands. But Mars, the god who holds The shining reins, had kept no careless watch, And when he saw the great artificer Depart he went with speed to Vulcan's house, Drawn thither by the love of her who wears The glittering crown. There Cytherea sat, Arrived that moment from a visit paid. Entering, he took her by the hand and said:⁠— "Come, my beloved, let us to the couch. Vulcan is here no longer; he is gone, And is among the Sintians, men who speak A barbarous tongue, in Lemnos far away." He spake, and she approved his words, and both Lay down upon the bed, when suddenly The network, wrought by Vulcan's skilful hand, Caught them, and clasped them round, nor could they lift Or move a limb, and saw that no escape Was possible. And now approached the King Of Fire, returning ere he reached the isle Of Lemnos, for the Sun in his behalf Kept watch and told him all. He hastened home In bitterness of heart, but when he reached The threshold stopped. A fury without bounds Possessed him, and he shouted terribly, And called aloud on all the gods of heaven:⁠— "O Father Jove, and all ye blessed ones, And deathless! Come, for here is what will move Your laughter, yet is not to be endured. Jove's daughter, Venus, thus dishonors me, Lame as I am, and loves the butcher Mars; For he is well to look at, and is sound Of foot, while I am weakly⁠—but for this Are none but my two parents to be blamed, Who never should have given me birth. Behold Where lie embraced the lovers in my bed⁠— A hateful sight. Yet they will hardly take Even a short slumber there, though side by side, Enamored as they are; nor will they both Be drowsy very soon. The net and chains Will hold them till her father shall restore All the large gifts which, on our marriage-day, I gave him to possess the impudent minx His daughter, who is fair, indeed, but false." He spake, and to the brazen palace flocked The gods; there Neptune came, who shakes the earth; There came beneficent Hermes; there too came Apollo, archer-god; the goddesses, Through womanly reserve, remained at home. Meantime the gods, the givers of all good, Stood in the entrance; and as they beheld The cunning snare of Vulcan, there arose Infinite laughter from the blessed ones, And one of them bespake his neighbor thus:⁠— "Wrong prospers not; the slow o'ertakes the swift. Vulcan the slow has trapped the fleetest god Upon Olympus, Mars; though lame himself, His net has taken the adulterer, Who now must pay the forfeit of his crime." So talked they with each other. Then the son Of Jove, Apollo, thus to Hermes said:⁠— "Hermes, thou son and messenger of Jove, And bountiful of gifts, couldst thou endure, Fettered with such strong chains as these, to lie Upon a couch with Venus at thy side?" The herald-god, the Argus-queller, thus Made answer: "Nay, I would that it were so, O archer-king, Apollo; I could bear Chains thrice as many, and of infinite strength, And all the gods and all the goddesses Might come to look upon me, I would keep My place with golden Venus at my side." He spake, and all the immortals laughed to hear. Neptune alone laughed not, but earnestly Prayed Vulcan, the renowned artificer, To set Mars free, and spake these winged words:⁠— "Release thy prisoner. What thou dost require I promise here⁠—that he shall make to thee Due recompense in presence of the gods." Illustrious Vulcan answered: "Do not lay, Earthshaking Neptune, this command on me, Since little is the worth of pledges given For worthless debtors. How could I demand My right from thee among the assembled gods, If Mars, set free, escape from debt and chains?" Again the god who shakes the earth replied:⁠— "Vulcan, though Mars deny the forfeit due, And take to flight, it shall be paid by me." Again illustrious Vulcan said: "Thy word I ought not and I seek not to decline." He spake, and then the might of Vulcan loosed The net, and, freed from those strong fetters, both The prisoners sprang away. Mars flew to Thrace, And laughter-loving Venus to the isle Of Cyprus, where at Paphos stand her grove And perfumed altar. Here the Graces gave The bath, anointed with ambrosial oil Her limbs⁠—such oil as to the eternal gods Lends a fresh beauty, and arrayed her last In graceful robes, a marvel to behold. So sang the famous bard, while inly pleased Ulysses heard, and pleased were all the rest, Phaeacia's sons, expert with oar and sail. Alcinoüs called his sons Laodamas And Halius forth, and bade them dance alone, For none of all the others equalled them. Then taking a fair purple ball, the work Of skilful Polybus, and, bending back, One flung it toward the shadowy clouds on high, The other springing upward easily Grasped it before he touched the ground again. And when they thus had tossed the ball awhile, They danced upon the nourishing earth, and oft Changed places with each other, while the youths, That stood within the circle filled the air With their applauses; mighty was the din. Then great Ulysses to Alcinoüs said:⁠— "O King Alcinoüs! mightiest of the race For whom thou hast engaged that they excel All others in the dance, what thou hast said Is amply proved. I look and am amazed." Well pleased Alcinoüs the mighty heard, And thus to his seafaring people spake:⁠— "Leaders and chiefs of the Phaeacians, hear! Wise seems the stranger. Haste we to bestow Gifts that may well beseem his liberal hests. Twelve honored princes in our land bear sway, The thirteenth prince am I. Let each one bring A well-bleached cloak, a tunic, and beside Of precious gold a talent. Let them all Be brought at once, that, having seen them here, Our guest may with a cheerful heart partake The evening meal. And let Euryalus, Who spake but now so unbecomingly, Appease him both with words and with a gift." He spake; they all approved, and each one sent His herald with a charge to bring the gifts, And thus Euryalus addressed the king:⁠— "O King Alcinoüs, mightiest of our race, I will obey thee, and will seek to appease Our guest. This sword of brass will I bestow, With hilt of silver, and an ivory sheath New wrought, which he may deem a gift of price." He spake, and gave the silver-studded sword Into his hand, and spake these winged words:⁠— "Stranger and father, hail! If any word That hath been uttered gave offence, may storms Sweep it away forever. May the gods Give thee to see thy wife again, and reach Thy native land, where all thy sufferings And this long absence from thy friends shall end!" Ulysses, the sagacious, thus replied:⁠— "Hail also, friend! and may the gods confer On thee all happiness, and may the time Never arrive when thou shalt miss the sword Placed in my hands with reconciling word!" He spake, and slung the silver-studded sword Upon his shoulders. Now the sun went down, And the rich presents were already brought. The noble heralds came and carried them Into the palace of Alcinoüs, where His blameless sons received and ranged them all In fair array before the queenly dame Their mother. Meantime had the mighty king Alcinoüs to his palace led the way, Where they who followed took the lofty seats, And thus Alcinoüs to Aretè said:⁠— "Bring now a coffer hither, fairly shaped, The best we have, and lay a well-bleached cloak And tunic in it; set upon the fire A brazen cauldron for our guest, to warm The water of his bath, that having bathed And viewed the gifts which the Phaeacian chiefs Have brought him, ranged in order, he may sit Delighted at the banquet and enjoy The music. I will give this beautiful cup Of gold, that he, in memory of me, May daily in his palace pour to Jove Libations, and to all the other gods." He spake; Aretè bade her maidens haste To place an ample tripod on the fire. Forthwith upon the blazing fire they set A laver with three feet, and in it poured Water, and heaped fresh fuel on the flames. The flames crept up the vessel's swelling sides, And warmed the water. Meantime from her room Aretè brought a beautiful chest, in which She laid the presents destined for her guest⁠— Garments and gold which the Phaeacians gave⁠— And laid the cloak and tunic with the rest, And thus in winged words addressed the chief:⁠— "Look to the lid thyself, and cast a cord Around it, lest, upon thy voyage home, Thou suffer loss, when haply thou shalt take A pleasant slumber in the dark-hulled ship." Ulysses, the sagacious, heard, and straight He fitted to its place the lid, and wound And knotted artfully around the chest A cord, as queenly Circè long before Had taught him. Then to call him to the bath The housewife of the palace came. He saw Gladly the steaming laver, for not oft Had he been cared for thus, since he had left The dwelling of the nymph with amber hair, Calypso, though attended while with her As if he were a god. Now when the maids Had seen him bathed, and had anointed him With oil, and put his sumptuous mantle on, And tunic, forth he issued from the bath, And came to those who sat before their wine. Nausicaä, goddess-like in beauty, stood Beside a pillar of that noble roof, And looking on Ulysses as he passed, Admired, and said to him in winged words:⁠— "Stranger, farewell, and in thy native land Remember thou hast owed thy life to me." Ulysses, the sagacious, answering said:⁠— "Nausicaä, daughter of the large-souled king Alcinoüs! so may Jove, the Thunderer, Husband of Juno, grant that I behold My home, returning safe, as I will make To thee as to a goddess day by day My prayer; for, lady, thou hast saved my life." He spake, and near Alcinoüs took his place Upon a throne. And now they served the feast To each, and mingled wine. A herald led Thither the gentle bard Demodocus, Whom all the people honored. Him they placed Amidst the assembly, where he leaned against A lofty column. Sage Ulysses then Carved from the broad loin of a white-tusked boar A part, where yet a mass of flesh remained Bordered with fat, and to the herald said:⁠— "Bear this, O herald, to Demodocus, That he may eat. Him, even in my grief, Will I embrace, for worthily the bards Are honored and revered o'er all the earth By every race of men. The Muse herself Hath taught them song; she loves the minstrel tribe." He spake; the herald laid the flesh before Demodocus the hero, who received The gift well pleased. Then all the guests put forth Their hands and shared the viands on the board; And when their thirst and hunger were allayed, Thus to the minstrel sage Ulysses spake:⁠— "Demodocus, above all other men I give thee praise, for either has the Muse, Jove's daughter, or Apollo, visited And taught thee. Truly hast thou sung the fate Of the Achaian warriors⁠—what they did And suffered⁠—all their labors as if thou Hadst been among them, or hadst heard the tale From an eyewitness. Now, I pray, proceed, And sing the invention of the wooden horse Made by Epeius with Minerva's aid, And by the chief Ulysses artfully Conveyed into the Trojan citadel, With armed warriors in its womb to lay The city waste. And I, if thou relate The story rightly, will at once declare To all that largely hath some bounteous god Bestowed on thee the holy gift of song." He spake; the poet felt the inspiring god, And sang, beginning where the Argives hurled Firebrands among their tents, and sailed away In their good galleys, save the band that sat Beside renowned Ulysses in the horse, Concealed from sight, amid the Trojan crowd, Who now had drawn it to the citadel. So there it stood, while, sitting round it, talked The men of Troy, and wist not what to do. By turns three counsels pleased them⁠—to hew down The hollow trunk with the remorseless steel; Or drag it to a height, and cast it thence Headlong among the rocks; or, lastly, leave The enormous image standing and unharmed, An offering to appease the gods. And this At last was done; for so had fate decreed That they should be destroyed whene'er their town Should hold within its walls the horse of wood, In which the mightiest of the Argives came Among the sons of Troy to smite and slay. Then sang the bard how, issuing from the womb Of that deceitful horse, the sons of Greece Laid Ilium waste; how each in different ways Ravaged the town, while, terrible as Mars, Ulysses, joined with Menelaus, sought The palace of Deiphobus, and there Maintained a desperate battle, till the aid Of mighty Pallas made the victory his. So sang renowned Demodocus; the strain Melted to tears Ulysses, from whose lids They dropped and wet his cheeks. As when a wife Weeps her beloved husband, slain before His town and people, fighting to defend Them and his own dear babes from deadly harm, She sees him gasp and die, and at the sight She falls with piercing cries upon his corpse, Meantime the victors beat her on the back And shoulders with their spears, and bear her off To toil and grieve in slavery, where her cheeks In that long bitter sorrow lose their bloom; So from the eyelids of Ulysses fell The tears, yet fell unnoticed by them all Save that Alcinoüs, sitting at his side, Saw them, and heard his heavy sighs, and thus Bespake his people, masters of the oar:⁠— "Princes and chiefs of the Phaeacian race, Give ear. Let now Demodocus lay by His clear-toned harp. The matter of his song Delights not all alike. Since first we sat At meat, and since our noble bard began His lay, our guest has never ceased to grieve; Some mighty sorrow weighs upon his heart. Now let the bard refrain, that we may all Enjoy the banquet, both our guest and we Who welcome him, for it is fitting thus. And now are all things for our worthy guest Made ready, both the escort and these gifts, The pledges of our kind regard. A guest, A suppliant, is a brother, even to him Who bears a heart not easy to be moved. No longer, then, keep back with studied art What I shall ask; 'twere better far to speak With freedom. Tell the name thy mother gave, Thy father, and all those who dwell within, And round thy city. For no living man Is nameless from the time that he is born. Humble or high in station, at their birth The parents give them names. Declare thy land, Thy people, and thy city, that our ships May learn, and bear thee to the place; for here In our Phaeacian ships no pilots are, Nor rudders, as in ships of other lands. Ours know the thoughts and the intents of men. To them all cities and all fertile coasts Inhabited by men are known; they cross The great sea scudding fast, involved in mist And darkness, with no fear of perishing Or meeting harm. I heard Nausithoüs, My father, say that Neptune was displeased With us for safely bearing to their homes So many men, and that he would destroy In after time some good Phaeacian ship, Returning from a convoy, in the waves Of the dark sea, and leave her planted there, A mountain huge and high, before our town. So did the aged chieftain prophesy; The god, as best may please him, will fulfil My father's words, or leave them unfulfilled. Now tell me truly whither thou hast roamed, And what the tribes of men that thou hast seen; Tell which of them are savage, rude, unjust, And which are hospitable and revere The blessed gods. Declare why thou didst weep And sigh when hearing what unhappy fate Befell the Argive and Achaian host And town of Troy. The gods decreed it; they Ordain destruction to the sons of men, A theme of song thereafter. Hadst thou not Some valiant kinsman who was slain at Troy? A son-in-law? the father of thy wife? Nearest of all are they to us, save those Of our own blood. Or haply might it be Some bosom-friend, one eminently graced With all that wins our love; for not less dear Than if he were a brother should we hold The wise and gentle man who is our friend."