Philoetius arrives and grieves

24Philoetius now, a master-herdsman, came,
And for the banquet of the suitors led
A heifer that had never yeaned, and goats
The fatlings of the flock; they came across
The ferry, brought by those whose office is
To bear whoever comes from shore to shore.
He bound his animals in the sounding porch,
And went and, standing by the swineherd, said: —

25“Who, swineherd, is the stranger newly come
To this our palace? of what parents born,
And of what race, and where his native land?
Unhappy seemingly, yet like a king
In person. Sorrowful must be the lot
Of men who wander to and fro on earth,
When even to kings the gods appoint distress.”

26He spoke, and, greeting with his offered hand
Odysseus, said in winged words aloud: —

27“Stranger and father, hail! and may you yet
Be happy in the years to come at least,
Though held in thrall by many sorrows now.
Yet you, All-father Zeus! are most austere
Of all the gods, not sparing even those
Who have their birth from you, but bringing them
To grief and pain. The sweat is on my brow
When I behold this stranger, and my eyes
Are filled with tears when to my mind comes back
The image of Odysseus, who must now,
I think, be wandering, clothed in rags like you,
Among the abodes of men, if yet indeed
He lives and sees the sweet light of the sun.
But if that he be dead, and in the abode
Of Hades, woe is me for his dear sake!
The blameless chief, who when I was a boy
Gave to me, in the Cephalenian fields,
The charge of all his beeves; and they are now
Innumerable; the broad-fronted race
Of cattle never would have multiplied
So largely under other care than mine.
Now other masters bid me bring my beeves
For their own feasts. They little heed his son,
The palace-heir; as little do they dread
The vengeance of the gods; they long to share
Among them the possessions of the king,
So many years unheard from. But this thought
Comes to my mind again, and yet again:
Wrong were it, while the son is yet alive,
To drive the cattle to a foreign land,
Where alien men inhabit; yet it is worse
To stay and tend another’s beeves, and bear
This spoil. And long ago would I have fled
To some large-minded monarch, since this waste
Is not to be endured, but that I think
Still of my suffering lord, and hope that yet
He may return and drive the suitors hence.”