The Stranger’s Welcome

10“Whence, father, is this stranger, and how brought
By seamen to the coast of Ithaca?
And who are they that brought him? —for I deem
He came not over to our isle on foot.”

11And thus, Eumaeus, you did make reply:
“True answer will I make to all. He claims
To be a son of the broad isle of Crete,
And says that in his wanderings he has passed
Through many cities of the world, for so
Some god ordained; and now, escaped by flight
From a Thesprotian galley, he has sought
A refuge in my lodge. Into your hands
I give him; deal you with him as you will.
He is your suppliant, and makes suit to you.”

12Then spoke discreet Telemachus again:
“Eumaeus, you have uttered words that pierce
My heart with pain; for how can I receive
A stranger at my house? I am a youth
Who never yet has trusted in his arm
To beat the offerer of an insult back.
And in my mother’s mind the choice is yet
Uncertain whether to remain with me
The mistress of my household, keeping still
Her constant reverence for her husband’s bed,
And still obedient to the people’s voice,
Or whether she shall follow as a bride
Him of the Achaian suitors in my halls
Who is accounted worthiest, and who brings
The richest gifts. Now, as to this your guest,
Since he has sought your lodge, I give to him
A cloak and tunic, seemly of their kind,
A two-edged sword, and sandals for his feet.
And I will send him to whatever coast
He may desire to go. Yet, if you will,
Lodge him beneath your roof, and I will send
Raiment and food, that he may be no charge
To you or your companions. To my house
Among the suitor-train I cannot bear
That he should go. Those men are insolent
Beyond all measure; they would scoff at him,
And greatly should I grieve. The boldest man
Against so many might contend in vain,
And greater is their power by far than mine.”

13Then spoke Odysseus, the great sufferer:
“O friend —since I have liberty to speak —
My very heart is wounded when I hear
What wrongs the suitors practise in your halls
Against a youth like you. But give me leave
To ask if you submit willingly,
Or do your people, hearkening to some god,
Hate you with open hatred? Do you blame
Your brothers? —for in brothers men confide
Even in a desperate conflict. Would that I
Were young again, and with the will I have,
Or that I could become Odysseus’ son,
Or were that chief himself returned at last
From all his wanderings —and there yet is hope
Of his return —then might another strike
My head off if I would not instantly
Enter the house of Laertiades
And make myself a mischief to them all.
But should they overcome me, thus alone
Contending with such numbers, I would choose
Rather in mine own palace to be slain
Than every day behold such shameful deeds —
Insulted guests, maidservants foully dragged
Through those fair palace chambers, wine-casks drained,
And gluttons feasting idly, wastefully,
And others toiling for them without end.”

14Then spoke again discreet Telemachus:
“Stranger, you shall be answered faithfully.
Know, then, the people are by no means wroth
With me, nor have I brothers to accuse,
Though in a desperate conflict men rely
Upon a brother’s aid. Cronian Zeus
Confines our lineage to a single head.
The king Arcesius had an only son,
Laertes, and to him was only born
Odysseus; and Odysseus left me here,
The only scion of his house, and he
Had little joy of me. Our halls are filled
With enemies, the chief men of the isles —
Dulichium, Samos, and Zacynthus dark
With forests, and the rugged Ithaca —
So many woo my mother and consume
Our substance. She rejects not utterly
Their hateful suit, nor yet will give consent
And end it. They go on to waste my wealth,
And soon will end me also; but the event
Rests with the gods. —And go you now with speed,
Eumaeus, father, to Penelope,
And say that I am safe, and just returned
From Pylos. I remain within the lodge.
And then come back as soon as you have told
The queen alone. Let none of all the Greeks
Hear aught; for they are plotting harm to me.”