The Odyssey: Rendered into English prose for the use of those who cannot read the originalHomer
General
The Odyssey: Rendered into English prose for the use of those who cannot read the original
Homer
Epic poetry, Greek -- Translations into English; Homer -- Translations into English; Odysseus, King of Ithaca (Mythological character)
Then Ulysses said, “Sir, it is right that I should say something
myself. I am much shocked about what you have said about the insolent
way in which the suitors are behaving in despite of such a man as you
are. Tell me, do you submit to such treatment tamely, or has some god
set your people against you? May you not complain of your brothers—for
it is to these that a man may look for support, however great his
quarrel may be? I wish I were as young as you are and in my present
mind; if I were son to Ulysses, or, indeed, Ulysses himself, I would
rather some one came and cut my head off, but I would go to the house
and be the bane of every one of these men.139 If they were too many for
me—I being single-handed—I would rather die fighting in my own house
than see such disgraceful sights day after day, strangers grossly
maltreated, and men dragging the women servants about the house in an
unseemly way, wine drawn recklessly, and bread wasted all to no purpose
for an end that shall never be accomplished.”
And Telemachus answered, “I will tell you truly everything. There is no
enmity between me and my people, nor can I complain of brothers, to
whom a man may look for support however great his quarrel may be. Jove
has made us a race of only sons. Laertes was the only son of Arceisius,
and Ulysses only son of Laertes. I am myself the only son of Ulysses
who left me behind him when he went away, so that I have never been of
any use to him. Hence it comes that my house is in the hands of
numberless marauders; for the chiefs from all the neighbouring islands,
Dulichium, Same, Zacynthus, as also all the principal men of Ithaca
itself, are eating up my house under the pretext of paying court to my
mother, who will neither say point blank that she will not marry, nor
yet bring matters to an end, so they are making havoc of my estate, and
before long will do so with myself into the bargain. The issue,
however, rests with heaven. But do you, old friend Eumaeus, go at once
and tell Penelope that I am safe and have returned from Pylos. Tell it
to herself alone, and then come back here without letting any one else
know, for there are many who are plotting mischief against me.”
“I understand and heed you,” replied Eumaeus; “you need instruct me no
further, only as I am going that way say whether I had not better let
poor Laertes know that you are returned. He used to superintend the
work on his farm in spite of his bitter sorrow about Ulysses, and he
would eat and drink at will along with his servants; but they tell me
that from the day on which you set out for Pylos he has neither eaten
nor drunk as he ought to do, nor does he look after his farm, but sits
weeping and wasting the flesh from off his bones.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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