Wary of Wanderers

10“What rich and mighty chief was he, my friend,
Of whom you speak, and who purchased you?
You say that he died to swell the fame
Of Agamemnon. Tell his name, for I
Perchance know somewhat of him. Zeus
And the great gods know whether I have seen
The man, and have some tidings for your ear;
For I have wandered over many lands.”

11And then again the noble swineherd spoke:
“O aged man, no wanderer who should bring
News of Odysseus ever would win his wife
And son to heed the tale. For roving men,
In need of hospitality, are prone
To falsehood, and will never speak the truth.
The vagabond who comes to Ithaca
Goes straightway to my mistress with his lies.
Kindly she welcomes him, and cherishes
And questions him, while tears abundantly
Fall from her lids —such tears as women shed
Whose lords have perished in a distant land.
You too, old man, perchance, could readily
Frame a like fable, if someone would give
A change of raiment for your news —a cloak
And tunic. But the dogs and fowls of air
Have doubtless fed upon the frame from which
The life has passed, and torn from off his bones
The skin, or fishes of the deep have preyed
Upon it, and his bones upon the shore
Lie whelmed in sand. So is he lost to us,
And sorrow is the lot of all his friends,
Mine most of all; for nowhere shall I find
So kind a master, though I were to come
Into my father’s and my mother’s house,
Where I was born and reared. Nor do I pine
So much to look on them with my own eyes,
And in my place of birth, as I lament
Odysseus lost. Though he be far away,
Yet must I ever speak, O stranger guest,
His name with reverence, for exceedingly
He loved me and most kindly cared for me;
And though he is to be with us no more,
I hold him as an elder brother still.”