Athena Vanishes

25“Now Zeus and all the other gods forbid
That you should go from me to your good ship,
As from some half-clad wretch, too poor to own
Mantles and blankets in whose soft warm folds
He and his guests might sleep; but I have both —
Mantles and blankets —beautifully wrought,
And never shall the son of that great man
Odysseus lie upon a galley’s deck
While I am living. After me I hope
My sons, who dwell within my palace-halls,
Will duly welcome all who enter here.”

26And thus again the blue-eyed Athena spoke: —
“Well have you said, my aged friend, and well
Does it become Telemachus to heed
Your words, for that were best. Let him remain
With you and sleep in your abode, while I
Repair to our black ship, encouraging
The crew, and setting them their proper tasks,
For I am eldest of them all; the rest
Are young men yet, and moved by friendship joined
Our enterprise; the peers in age are they
Of the large-souled Telemachus. Tonight
I sleep within the hull of our black ship,
And sail with early morning for the land
Of the Cauconians, large of soul, from whom
A debt is due me, neither new nor small.
Send meantime from your palace in a car,
And with your son, this youth, and be the steeds
The fleetest and the strongest in your stalls.”

27The blue-eyed Athena, having spoken thus,
Passed like an eagle out of sight, and all
Were seized with deep amazement as they saw.
The aged monarch, wondering at the sight,
Took by the hand Telemachus, and said: —