When the child of morning,
rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, Telemakhos bound on his sandals and
took a strong spear that suited his hands, for he wanted to go into
the city. "Old friend," said he to the swineherd, "I will now go to
the town and show myself to my mother, for she will never leave off
grieving till she has seen me. As for this unfortunate stranger, take
him to the town and let him beg there of any one who will give him a
drink and a piece of bread. I have trouble enough of my own, and
cannot be burdened with other people. If this makes him angry so much
the worse for him, but I like to tell the truth
[alêthês]."
Then Odysseus said, "Sir, I do not
want to stay here; a beggar can always do better in town than
country, for any one who likes can give him something. I am too old
to care about remaining here at the beck and call of a master.
Therefore let this man do as you have just told him, and take me to
the town as soon as I have had a warm by the fire, and the day has
got a little heat in it. My clothes are wretchedly thin, and this
frosty morning I shall be perished with cold, for you say the city is
some way off."
On this Telemakhos strode off
through the yards, brooding his revenge upon the When he reached home
he stood his spear against a bearing-post of the room, crossed the
stone floor of the room itself, and went inside.
Nurse Eurykleia saw him long
before any one else did. She was putting the fleeces on to the seats,
and she burst out crying as she ran up to him; all the other maids
came up too, and covered his head and shoulders with their kisses.
Penelope came out of her room looking like Artemis or Aphrodite, and
wept as she flung her arms about her son. She kissed his forehead and
both his beautiful eyes, "Light of my eyes," she cried as she spoke
fondly to him, "so you are come home again; I made sure I was never
going to see you any more. To think of your having gone off to Pylos
without saying anything about it or obtaining my consent. But come,
tell me what you saw."
Homer. The Odyssey. Rendered into English prose for the use of those who cannot read the original. Samuel Butler. Based on public domain edition, revised by Timothy Power and Gregory Nagy. A. C. Fifield, London. 1900 (?).
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