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)
Penelope answered, “My son, I am so lost in astonishment that I can
find no words in which either to ask questions or to answer them. I
cannot even look him straight in the face. Still, if he really is
Ulysses come back to his own home again, we shall get to understand one
another better by and by, for there are tokens with which we two are
alone acquainted, and which are hidden from all others.”
Ulysses smiled at this, and said to Telemachus, “Let your mother put me
to any proof she likes; she will make up her mind about it presently.
She rejects me for the moment and believes me to be somebody else,
because I am covered with dirt and have such bad clothes on; let us,
however, consider what we had better do next. When one man has killed
another—even though he was not one who would leave many friends to take
up his quarrel—the man who has killed him must still say good bye to
his friends and fly the country; whereas we have been killing the stay
of a whole town, and all the picked youth of Ithaca. I would have you
consider this matter.”
“Look to it yourself, father,” answered Telemachus, “for they say you
are the wisest counsellor in the world, and that there is no other
mortal man who can compare with you. We will follow you with right good
will, nor shall you find us fail you in so far as our strength holds
out.”
“I will say what I think will be best,” answered Ulysses. “First wash
and put your shirts on; tell the maids also to go to their own room and
dress; Phemius shall then strike up a dance tune on his lyre, so that
if people outside hear, or any of the neighbours, or some one going
along the street happens to notice it, they may think there is a
wedding in the house, and no rumours about the death of the suitors
will get about in the town, before we can escape to the woods upon my
own land. Once there, we will settle which of the courses heaven
vouchsafes us shall seem wisest.”
Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said. First they washed
and put their shirts on, while the women got ready. Then Phemius took
his lyre and set them all longing for sweet song and stately dance. The
house re-echoed with the sound of men and women dancing, and the people
outside said, “I suppose the queen has been getting married at last.
She ought to be ashamed of herself for not continuing to protect her
husband’s property until he comes home.”182
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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