The Odyssey(Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition)

by Robert Fagles

  and donned the clothes the virgin princess gave him,

  Zeus’s daughter Athena made him taller to all eyes,

  his build more massive now, and down from his brow

  she ran his curls like thick hyacinth clusters

  full of blooms. As a master craftsman washes

  gold over beaten silver —a man the god of fire

  and Queen Athena trained in every fine technique —

  and finishes off his latest effort, handsome work,

  260 so she lavished splendor over his head and shoulders now.

  And down to the beach he walked and sat apart,

  glistening in his glory, breathtaking, yes,

  and the princess gazed in wonder . . .

  then turned to her maids with lovely braided hair:

  “Listen, my white-armed girls, to what I tell you.

  The gods of Olympus can’t be all against this man

  who’s come to mingle among our noble people.

  At first he seemed appalling, I must say —

  now he seems like a god who rules the skies up there!

  270 Ah, if only a man like that were called my husband,

  lived right here, pleased to stay forever . . .

  Enough.

  Give the stranger food and drink, my girls.”

  They hung on her words and did her will at once,

  set before Odysseus food and drink, and he ate and drank,

  the great Odysseus, long deprived, so ravenous now —

  it seemed like years since he had tasted food.

  The white-armed princess thought of one last thing.

  Folding the clothes, she packed them into her painted wagon,

  hitched the sharp-hoofed mules, and climbing up herself,

  280 Nausicaa urged Odysseus, warmly urged her guest,

  “Up with you now, my friend, and off to town we go.

  I’ll see you into my wise father’s palace where,

  I promise you, you’ll meet all the best Phaeacians.

  Wait, let’s do it this way. You seem no fool to me.

  While we’re passing along the fields and plowlands,

  you follow the mules and wagon, stepping briskly

  with all my maids. I’ll lead the way myself.

  But once we reach our city, ringed by walls

  and strong high towers too, with a fine harbor either side . . .

  290 and the causeway in is narrow; along the road the rolling ships

  are all hauled up, with a slipway cleared for every vessel.

  There’s our assembly, round Poseidon’s royal precinct,

  built of quarried slabs planted deep in the earth.

  Here the sailors tend their black ships’ tackle,

  cables and sails, and plane their oarblades down.

  Phaeacians, you see, care nothing for bow or quiver,

  only for masts and oars and good trim ships themselves —

  we glory in our ships, crossing the foaming seas!

  But I shrink from all our sea-dogs’ nasty gossip.

  300 Some old salt might mock us behind our backs —

  we have our share of insolent types in town

  and one of the coarser sort, spying us, might say,

  ‘Now who’s that tall, handsome stranger Nausicaa has in tow?

  Where’d she light on him? Her husband-to-be, just wait!

  But who —some shipwrecked stray she’s taken up with,

  some alien from abroad? Since nobody lives nearby.

  Unless it’s really a god come down from the blue

  to answer all her prayers, and to have her all his days.

  Good riddance! Let the girl go roving to find herself

  310 a man from foreign parts. She only spurns her own —

  countless Phaeacians round about who court her,

  nothing but our best.’

  So they’ll scoff . . .

  just think of the scandal that would face me then.

  I’d find fault with a girl who carried on that way,

  flouting her parents’ wishes —father, mother, still alive —

  consorting with men before she’d tied the knot in public.

  No, stranger, listen closely to what I say, the sooner

  to win your swift voyage home at my father’s hands.

  Now, you’ll find a splendid grove along the road —

  320 poplars, sacred to Pallas —

  a bubbling spring’s inside and meadows run around it.

  There lies my father’s estate, his blossoming orchard too,

  as far from town as a man’s strong shout can carry.

  Take a seat there, wait a while, and give us time

  to make it into town and reach my father’s house.

  Then, when you think we’re home, walk on yourself

  to the city, ask the way to my father’s palace,

  generous King Alcinous. You cannot miss it,

  even an innocent child could guide you there.

  330 No other Phaeacian’s house is built like that:

  so grand, the palace of Alcinous, our great hero.

  Once the mansion and courtyard have enclosed you, go,

  quickly, across the hall until you reach my mother.

  Beside the hearth she sits in the fire’s glare,

  spinning yarn on a spindle, sea-blue wool —

  a stirring sight, you’ll see . . .

  she leans against a pillar, her ladies sit behind.

  And my father’s throne is drawn up close beside her;

  there he sits and takes his wine, a mortal like a god.

  340 Go past him, grasp my mother’s knees —if you want

  to see the day of your return, rejoicing, soon,

  even if your home’s a world away.

  If only the queen will take you to her heart,

  then there’s hope that you will see your loved ones,

  reach your own grand house, your native land at last.”

  At that she touched the mules with her shining whip

  and they quickly left the running stream behind.

  The team trotted on, their hoofs wove in and out.

  She drove them back with care so all the rest,

  350 maids and Odysseus, could keep the pace on foot,

  and she used the whip discreetly.

  The sun sank as they reached the hallowed grove,

  sacred to Athena, where Odysseus stopped and sat

  and said a prayer at once to mighty Zeus’s daughter:

  “Hear me, daughter of Zeus whose shield is thunder —

  tireless one, Athena! Now hear my prayer at last,

  for you never heard me then, when I was shattered,

  when the famous god of earthquakes wrecked my craft.

  Grant that here among the Phaeacian people

  360 I may find some mercy and some love!”

  So he prayed and Athena heard his prayer

  but would not yet appear to him undisguised.

  She stood in awe of her Father’s brother, lord of the sea

  who still seethed on, still churning with rage against

  the great Odysseus till he reached his native land.

  BOOK SEVEN

  Phaeacia’s Halls and Gardens

  Now as Odysseus, long an exile, prayed in Athena’s grove,

  the hardy mule-team drew the princess toward the city.

  Reaching her father’s splendid halls, she reined in,

  just at the gates —her brothers clustering round her,

  men like gods, released the mules from the yoke

  and brought the clothes indoors

  as Nausicaa made her way toward her bedroom.

  There her chambermaid lit a fire for her —

  9 Eurymedusa, the old woman who’d come from Apiraea

  10 years ago, when the rolling ships had sailed her in

  and the country picked her out as King Alcinous’ prize,

  for he ruled all the Phaea
cians, they obeyed him like a god.

  Once, she had nursed the white-armed princess in the palace.

  Now she lit a fire and made her supper in the room.

  At the same time, Odysseus set off toward the city.

  Pallas Athena, harboring kindness for the hero,

  drifted a heavy mist around him, shielding him

  from any swaggering islander who’d cross his path,

  provoke him with taunts and search out who he was.

  20 Instead, as he was about to enter the welcome city,

  the bright-eyed goddess herself came up to greet him there,

  for all the world like a young girl, holding a pitcher,

  standing face-to-face with the visitor, who asked,

  “Little girl, now wouldn’t you be my guide

  to the palace of the one they call Alcinous?

  The king who rules the people of these parts.

  I am a stranger, you see, weighed down with troubles,

  come this way from a distant, far-off shore.

  So I know no one here, none at all

  in your city and the farmlands round about.”

  30 “Oh yes, sir,

  good old stranger,” the bright-eyed goddess said,

  “I’ll show you the very palace that you’re after —

  the king lives right beside my noble father.

  Come, quietly too, and I will lead the way.

  Now not a glance at anyone, not a question.

  The men here never suffer strangers gladly,

  have no love for hosting a man from foreign lands.

  All they really trust are their fast, flying ships

  that cross the mighty ocean. Gifts of Poseidon,

  40 ah what ships they are —

  quick as a bird, quick as a darting thought!”

  And Pallas Athena sped away in the lead

  as he followed in her footsteps, man and goddess.

  But the famed Phaeacian sailors never saw him,

  right in their midst, striding down their streets.

  Athena the one with lovely braids would not permit it,

  the awesome goddess poured an enchanted mist around him,

  harboring kindness for Odysseus in her heart.

  And he marveled now at the balanced ships and havens,

  50 the meeting grounds of the great lords and the long ramparts

  looming, coped and crowned with palisades of stakes —

  an amazing sight to see . . .

  And once they reached the king’s resplendent halls

  the bright-eyed goddess cried out, “Good old stranger,

  here, here is the very palace that you’re after —

  I’ve guided you all the way. Here you’ll find

  our princes dear to the gods, busy feasting.

  You go on inside. Be bold, nothing to fear.

  In every venture the bold man comes off best,

  60 even the wanderer, bound from distant shores.

  The queen is the first you’ll light on in the halls.

  62 Arete, she is called, and earns the name:

  she answers all our prayers. She comes, in fact,

  64 from the same stock that bred our King Alcinous.

  First came Nausithous, son of the earthquake god

  66 Poseidon and Periboea, the lovely, matchless beauty,

  67 the youngest daughter of iron-willed Eurymedon,

  king of the overweening Giants years ago.

  He led that reckless clan to its own ruin,

  70 killed himself in the bargain, but the Sea-lord

  lay in love with Periboea and she produced a son,

  Nausithous, that lionheart who ruled Phaeacia well.

  73 Now, Nausithous had two sons, Rhexenor and Alcinous,

  but the lord of the silver bow, Apollo, shot Rhexenor down —

  married, true, yet still without a son in the halls,

  he left one child behind, a daughter named Arete.

  Alcinous made the girl his wife and honors her

  as no woman is honored on this earth, of all the wives

  now keeping households under their husbands’ sway.

  80 Such is her pride of place, and always will be so:

  dear to her loving children, to Alcinous himself

  and all our people. They gaze on her as a god,

  saluting her warmly on her walks through town.

  She lacks nothing in good sense and judgment —

  she can dissolve quarrels, even among men,

  whoever wins her sympathies.

  If only our queen will take you to her heart,

  then there’s hope that you will see your loved ones,

  reach your high-roofed house, your native land at last.”

  90 And with that vow the bright-eyed goddess sped away,

  over the barren sea, leaving welcome Scheria far behind,

  92 and reaching Marathon and the spacious streets of Athens,

  93 entered Erechtheus’ sturdy halls, Athena’s stronghold.

  Now as Odysseus approached Alcinous’ famous house

  a rush of feelings stirred within his heart,

  bringing him to a standstill,

  even before he crossed the bronze threshold . . .

  A radiance strong as the moon or rising sun came flooding

  through the high-roofed halls of generous King Alcinous.

  100 Walls plated in bronze, crowned with a circling frieze

  glazed as blue as lapis, ran to left and right

  from outer gates to the deepest court recess,

  and solid golden doors enclosed the palace.

  Up from the bronze threshold silver doorposts rose

  with silver lintel above, and golden handle hooks.

  And dogs of gold and silver were stationed either side,

  forged by the god of fire with all his cunning craft

  to keep watch on generous King Alcinous’ palace,

  his immortal guard-dogs, ageless, all their days.

  110 Inside to left and right, in a long unbroken row

  from farthest outer gate to the inmost chamber,

  thrones stood backed against the wall, each draped

  with a finely spun brocade, women’s handsome work.

  Here the Phaeacian lords would sit enthroned,

  dining, drinking —the feast flowed on forever.

  And young boys, molded of gold, set on pedestals

  standing firm, were lifting torches high in their hands

  to flare through the nights and light the feasters down the hall.

  And Alcinous has some fifty serving-women in his house:

  120 some, turning the handmill, grind the apple-yellow grain,

  some weave at their webs or sit and spin their yarn,

  fingers flickering quick as aspen leaves in the wind

  and the densely woven woolens dripping oil droplets.

  Just as Phaeacian men excel the world at sailing,

  driving their swift ships on the open seas,

  so the women excel at all the arts of weaving.

  That is Athena’s gift to them beyond all others —

  a genius for lovely work, and a fine mind too.

  Outside the courtyard, fronting the high gates,

  130 a magnificent orchard stretches four acres deep

  with a strong fence running round it side-to-side.

  Here luxuriant trees are always in their prime,

  pomegranates and pears, and apples glowing red,

  succulent figs and olives swelling sleek and dark.

  And the yield of all these trees will never flag or die,

  neither in winter nor in summer, a harvest all year round

  for the West Wind always breathing through will bring

  some fruits to the bud and others warm to ripeness —

  pear mellowing ripe on pear, apple on apple,

  140 cluster of grapes on cluster, fig crowding fig.

  And here is
a teeming vineyard planted for the kings,

  beyond it an open level bank where the vintage grapes

  lie baking to raisins in the sun while pickers gather others;

  some they trample down in vats, and here in the front rows

  bunches of unripe grapes have hardly shed their blooms

  while others under the sunlight slowly darken purple.

  And there by the last rows are beds of greens,

  bordered and plotted, greens of every kind,

  glistening fresh, year in, year out. And last,

  150 there are two springs, one rippling in channels

  over the whole orchard —the other, flanking it,

  rushes under the palace gates

  to bubble up in front of the lofty roofs

  where the city people come and draw their water.

  Such

  were the gifts, the glories showered down by the gods

  on King Alcinous’ realm.

  And there Odysseus stood,

  gazing at all this bounty, a man who’d borne so much . . .

  Once he’d had his fill of marveling at it all,

  he crossed the threshold quickly,

  160 strode inside the palace. Here he found

  the Phaeacian lords and captains tipping out

  libations now to the guide and giant-killer Hermes,

  the god to whom they would always pour the final cup

  before they sought their beds. Odysseus went on

  striding down the hall, the man of many struggles

  shrouded still in the mist Athena drifted round him,

  till he reached Arete and Alcinous the king. And then,

  the moment he flung his arms around Arete’s knees,

  the godsent mist rolled back to reveal the great man.

  170 And silence seized the feasters all along the hall —

  seeing him right before their eyes, they marveled,

  gazing on him now as Odysseus pleaded, “Queen,

  Arete, daughter of godlike King Rhexenor!

  Here after many trials I come to beg for mercy,

  your husband’s, yours, and all these feasters’ here.

  May the gods endow them with fortune all their lives,

  may each hand down to his sons the riches in his house

  and the pride of place the realm has granted him.

  But as for myself, grant me a rapid convoy home

  180 to my own native land. How far away I’ve been

  from all my loved ones —how long I have suffered!”

  Pleading so, the man sank down in the ashes,

  just at the hearth beside the blazing fire,