Ordering the Bath

30Then spoke the sage Penelope again:
“Would that it might be thus, O stranger guest,
As you have said; then should you have such thanks
And bounty at my hands that everyone
Who meets you should rejoice with you. And yet
The thought abides with me, and so indeed
It must be, that Odysseus will no more
Return, nor will you find an escort hence;
For now no master like Odysseus rules —
And what a man was he! —within these walls,
To welcome or dismiss the honored guest.
But now, you maidens, let the stranger bathe,
And spread his couch with blankets, fleecy cloaks,
And showy tapestries, that he may lie
Warm till Eos, in her golden car,
Draw near; then with the early morn again
Bathe and anoint him, that he may sit down
Beside Telemachus prepared to take
His morning meal. Ill shall he fare who dares
Molest the stranger; he shall have no place
Or office here, however he may rage.
And how, O stranger, would you learn that I
In mind and thoughtful wisdom am above
All other women, if I let you sit
Squalid and meanly clad at banquets here?
Short is the life of man, and whoso bears
A cruel heart, devising cruel things,
On him men call down evil from the gods
While living, and pursue him, when he dies,
With scoffs. But whoso is of generous heart
And harbors generous aims, his guests proclaim
His praises far and wide to all mankind,
And numberless are they who call him good.”

31Odysseus, the sagacious, answered thus:
“O gracious consort of Laertes’ son!
Such cloaks and splendid coverings please me not,
Since in my long-oared barque I left behind
The snowy peaks of Crete. I still will lie,
As I am wont through many a sleepless night,
On a mean couch to wait the holy Eos
Upon her car of gold. I do not like
This washing of the feet. No maiden here
That ministers to you may touch my foot;
But if among them be some aged dame
And faithful, who has suffered in her life
As I have suffered, she may touch my feet.”

32And thus the sage Penelope rejoined:
“Dear guest —for never to these halls has come
A stranger so discreet or better liked
By me, so wisely you do speak, and well —
I have an aged prudent dame, whose care
Reared my unfortunate husband. She received
The nursling when his mother brought him forth,
And she, though small her strength, will wash your feet.
Rise, prudent Eurycleia, you shall wash
The feet of one whose years must be the same
As your own master’s; such is doubtless now
Odysseus, with such wrinkled feet and hands.
For quickly does misfortune make men old.”