The <I>Odyssey</I>

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The <I>Odyssey</I> Page 14

by Homer


  490

  When newborn Dawn came on with her rose-fingered daylight,

  they yoked the horse-team, mounted the colorful chariot

  and drove along through the gate as the portico echoed.

  They lashed and drove the horses which willingly took off,

  coming in time to a wheat-filled plain. The journey was over

  there and then. Both of the lively horses had held up.

  The sun now set and all the roadways were darker.

  BOOK 4 With Menelaos and Helen

  A Wedding Feast

  They came to a land of hollows and dips, Lakedaimon.

  They drove to the home of highly praised Menelaos

  and found him hosting a wedding feast for his lovely

  daughter and son, with family and friends in the household.

  ♦ He’d send the bride to the son of Akhilleus, breaker of front ranks:

  at Troy Menelaos had promised her first when he nodded,

  saying, “Yes.” Now the Gods were blessing the marriage.

  He’d send the daughter away by chariot horse-team

  then to the Murmidons’ well-known city—her man was their ruler.

  The son was brought Alektor’s daughter from Sparte.

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  ♦ She’d marry a strong and well-loved man, Megapenthes.

  A slave girl had borne him. The Gods had no children

  for Helen after the first. She’d borne one beautiful daughter,

  Hermione, having the look of gold Aphrodite.

  So they dined in the huge house with its high roof,

  family and friends of the highly praised Menelaos,

  reveling. Striking his lyre, a God-gifted poet

  sang in their midst. A pair of tumblers had started

  leading their dances, whirling around in the center.

  Welcomed Strangers

  Nestor’s renowned son and warlike Telemakhos

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  pulled up close to the gate, stopping their horse-team.

  Lordly Eteoneus came from the palace and saw them.

  The ready squire of highly praised Menelaos,

  he carried news through the house to that shepherd of people,

  standing close and his words had a feathery swiftness:

  “Menelaos, nourished by Zeus, strangers are nearby,

  a pair of men who look to be sons of the Day-God.

  Tell me, should we unyoke their spirited horses,

  or send them off to another host who’ll befriend them?”

  Blond-haired Menelaos got angry and told him,

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  “Boethous’s son, Eteoneus! Foolishness never

  marked you before but now your blather is childish.

  We often ate and welcomed men’s presents as strangers

  ourselves on the long way home, trusting in great Zeus

  to end our sorrow one day. Unharness the strangers’

  horses and bring me these men. They’ll join us for dinner.”

  He stopped and the squire went fast through the household,

  calling on other ready squires to join him and follow.

  The sweated horses were eased from under their harness.

  Helpers tied them at stalls where horses were well fed:

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  they tossed them a mixture of white barley and emmer.

  The chariot leaned on a shining wall by the entrance.

  A House of Wonder

  Led in the godlike house the guests were in wonder.

  They stared at the home of a ruler nourished by great Zeus,

  the sunlike glow of the place, its luster like moonlight—

  the high-roofed home of the highly praised Menelaos!

  After enjoying all they could see with their own eyes,

  they went to a smoothly polished bathroom for washing.

  Handmaids cleaned and rubbed their bodies with good oil.

  They tossed woolen mantles and tunics around them.

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  Guests took chairs near Atreus’s son Menelaos.

  Bringing them water a maid poured from a stunning

  pitcher of gold and they washed their hands in the silver

  basin. She set a polished table before them.

  A modest housekeeper brought them bread and arranged it.

  She gave them plenty of food, gracious and giving.

  A carver hoisted meat: salvers of all kinds

  were set out. Golden goblets went to each setting.

  Join in the Feast

  Blond-haired Menelaos welcomed them saying,

  “Take some food and enjoy! Later we’ll ask you,

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  after you’ve dined and drunk, who are your people.

  Your parents’ bloodline is hardly lost on you both here:

  I’m sure you’re sons of men nourished by great Zeus,

  ♦ sceptered kings. Your parents could hardly be low-born.”

  He took a chine of rich beef while speaking and laid it

  before them—the chine set down to honor his own place.

  Their hands went out to the good things lying before them.

  After their craving for food and drink was behind them,

  Telemakhos turned to the son of Nestor and told him,

  his head held close to stop the others from hearing,

  70

  “Son of Nestor, joy of my heart, have you noted

  all this gleaming bronze in the echoing household,

  amber and gold, the shine of silver and ivory?

  It’s like the inner court of Zeus on Olumpos—

  so much wealth!—I’m taken by wonder to see it.”

  The Riches of Gods and of Men

  But blond-haired Menelaos, hearing his low voice,

  gave him an answer, the words with a feathery swiftness:

  “My youthful friends, no man’s a rival of great Zeus

  whose house and all his belongings truly are deathless.

  A man might rival me though—or maybe he cannot—

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  ♦ in wealth. I wandered often and suffered a great deal

  hauling treasure home by ship and arriving

  eight years after. I wandered past Phoinikia, Kupros

  and Egypt, far Ethiopia, Sidon’s tribes and the Eremboi.

  Libya too: lambs grow horns early in life there,

  ewes bear young three times in the long year.

  Lords of that land and shepherds never are lacking

  cheese or mutton. The sweetest milk is forever

  plentiful—ewes are always nursing their sucklings.

  No Joy in All That Wealth

  “Yet as I roamed around there, gathering plenty

  90

  of goods, another man was killing my brother

  without a warning. I damn the wife who misled him.

  But I can take no joy as lord of the wealth here.

  Maybe you heard from your fathers, whoever they might be,

  how much I bore in losing the house of my brother,

  so well lived in, storing plenty of great things.

  If only I owned one-third of that wealth in my own house,

  knowing those men—my friends who died on the spread-out

  plains of Troy so far from horse-feeding Argos—

  were safe! I’ve often sat and wept in our great hall

  100

  mourning all those deaths, taking a pleasure

  at times even in grief. Then at the other

  times I’ve stopped: grief is cold, we’re full of it swiftly.

  Grief Especially for Odysseus

  “But I don’t grieve for them all, whatever my sorrow,

  so much as I mourn one man. Each time I recall him

  I hate my food and sleep. More than any Akhaian

  ♦ Odysseus worked and won. He was meant to be troubled,

  though, that was his curse. The anguish is always

  frightful—how long he’s gon
e! And no one has made out

  whether he’s dead or alive. I’m sure that the old one

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  mourns today, Laertes, and faithful Penelopeia—

  Telemakhos too, just born, a child when he left home.”

  The son as he spoke yearned to mourn for his father,

  dropping tears to the floor at the name of Odysseus.

  Both his hands, holding the purple cloak up,

  covered his eyes. Menelaos, watching him closely,

  thought for a while. His heart and head were unsure now

  whether to wait for the man to ask of his father

  or speak out first himself and ask about each point.

  Helen

  Then as he gave his heart and head to this mulling,

  120

  Helen walked down from her high-roofed and scented

  ♦ room, resembling Artemis, Goddess of golden arrows.

  Adreste joined her, placing a well-made chair for the lady.

  Alkippe brought a coverlet fashioned from soft wool.

  Phulo carried her silver basket, a gift from Alkandre

  once who was Polubos’ wife, living in Egypt

  at Thebes—the greatest wealth lies in those houses.

  He also gave Menelaos a pair of bathtubs of silver,

  a pair of tripods and ten talents of pure gold.

  His wife gave too, the loveliest presents for Helen:

  130

  a golden staff to work with, a basket of silver—

  the wheels under its frame had gold-plated wheel-rims.

  Her handmaid Phulo brought and placed it beside her,

  now filled with her spun yarn. Lying across it,

  the staff of gold was covered with violet woolens.

  A Young Man So Like Odysseus

  The lady sat in her chair, her feet on a footstool.

  She spoke to her husband promptly to ask about each thing:

  “Zeus-bred Menelaos, who do these two men

  claim to be now that they’ve entered our household?

  And I, shall I feign or be open? My heart has been saying

  140

  strongly to speak. I never saw a resemblance so striking

  in man or woman, I’m taken by wonder to see him—

  a man like the son of our great-hearted Odysseus!

  He left a child behind, Telemakhos, born in the palace

  ♦ that day when all you Akhaians, because of my own shame,

  went to the walls of Troy and planned boldly for battle.”

  Blond-haired Menelaos answered by saying,

  “I see it now, my wife, the likeness you spotted.

  There are the man’s feet, there are his own hands,

  the hair and heads are the same, and that throwing of glances.

  150

  Just now when I mentioned the name myself of Odysseus,

  remembering how he worked and suffered for my sake,

  the young man painfully dropped some tears from his eyelids

  and held the purple cloak to cover his wet eyes.”

  The Son’s Longing and Anxiety

  Then the son of Nestor, Peisistratos, answered,

  “Atreus’s son Menelaos, Zeus-bred lord of your people:

  just as you say, my friend is truly the man’s son.

  His heart is cautious, though, embarrassed to say much,

  arriving and talking here in your house for the first time

  with you—your voice giving us joy like a God’s voice!

  160

  “Nestor sent me along, the Gerenian horseman,

  to guide and help him closely. He wanted to see you,

  hoping you’d say some word or move him to action.

  The son whose father is gone has plenty of trouble

  if no one at home is a strong guard of the great hall.

  Telemakhos left that way: right now there is no one

  throughout the land to watch and keep him from great harm.”

  Longing for Old and Renewed Friendship

  Blond-haired Menelaos answered by saying,

  “Look at this! Truly the man’s child came to my own house—

  the man and friend who suffered so many trials for my sake.

  170

  I knew if he came I’d welcome him better than any

  Argive if Zeus on Olumpos, watching from far off,

  gave us a homeward course by ship on the wide sea.

  I’d give him a city in Argos! I’d build him a new house

  after moving his people, all that wealth and his only

  son from Ithaka. First I would empty a city

  lying about, a place that calls me its master.

  Then we could live and meet there, nothing would keep me

  away or stop us from sharing friendship and pleasure

  until the darkening cloud of death would enshroud us.

  180

  But somehow the God himself must have been jealous.

  He caused one wretched man not to return home.”

  Grief Pausing

  His words were making them all want to be mournful.

 

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