But the goodly Odysseus lay down to sleep in the fore-hall of the house. On the ground he spread an undressed ox-hide and above it many fleeces of sheep, which the Achaeans were wont to slay, and Eurynome threw over him a cloak, when he had laid him down. There Odysseus, pondering in his heart evil for the wooers, lay sleepless. And the women came forth from the hall, those that had before been wont to lie with the wooers, making laughter and merriment among themselves. But the heart was stirred in his breast, and much he debated in mind and heart, whether he should rush after them and deal death to each, or suffer them to lie with the insolent wooers for the last and latest time; and his heart growled within him. And as a bitch stands over her tender whelps growling, when she sees a man she does not know, and is eager to fight, so his heart growled within him in his wrath at their evil deeds; but he smote his breast, and rebuked his heart, saying: “Endure, my heart; a worse thing even than this didst thou once endure on that day when the Cyclops, unrestrained in daring, devoured my mighty comrades; but thou didst endure until craft got thee forth from the cave where thou thoughtest to die.”
So he spoke, chiding the heart in his breast, and his heart remained bound within him to endure steadfastly; but he himself lay tossing this way and that. And as when a man before a great blazing fire turns swiftly this way and that a paunch full of fat and blood, and is very eager to have it roasted quickly, so Odysseus tossed from side to side, pondering how he might put forth his hands upon the shameless wooers, one man as he was against so many. Then Athena came down from heaven and drew near to him in the likeness of a woman, and she stood above his head, and spoke to him, and said: “Why now again art thou wakeful, ill-fated above all men? Lo, this is thy house, and here within is thy wife and thy child, such a man, methinks, as anyone might pray to have for his son.” And Odysseus of many wiles answered her, and said: “Yea, goddess, all this hast thou spoken aright. But the heart in my breast is pondering somewhat upon this, how I may put forth my hands upon the shameless wooers, all alone as I am, while they remain always in a body in the house.
And furthermore this other and harder thing I ponder in my mind: even if I were to slay them by the will of Zeus and of thyself, where then should I find escape from bane? Of this I bid thee take thought.” Then the goddess, flashing-eyed Athena, answered him: “Obstinate one, many a man puts his trust even in a weaker friend than I am, one that is mortal, and knows not such wisdom as mine; but I am a god, that guard thee to the end in all thy toils. And I will tell thee openly; if fifty troops of mortal men should stand about us, eager to slay us in battle, even their cattle and goodly sheep shouldest thou drive off. Nay, let sleep now come over thee. There is weariness also in keeping wakeful watch the whole night through; and even now shalt thou come forth from out thy perils.” So she spoke, and shed sleep upon his eyelids, but herself, the fair goddess, went back to Olympus. Now while sleep seized him, loosening the cares of his heart, sleep that loosens the limbs of men, his true-hearted wife awoke, and wept, as she sat upon her soft bed.
But when her heart had had its fill of weeping, to Artemis first of all the fair lady made her prayer: “Artemis, mighty goddess, daughter of Zeus, would that now thou wouldest fix thy arrow in my breast and take away my life even in this hour; or that a storm-wind might catch me up and bear me hence over the murky ways, and cast me forth at the mouth of backward-flowing Oceanus, even as on a time storm-winds bore away the daughters of Pandareus. Their parents the gods had slain, and they were left orphans in the halls, and fair Aphrodite tended them with cheese, and sweet honey, and pleasant wine, and Here gave them beauty and wisdom above all women, and chaste Artemis gave them stature, and Athena taught them skill in famous handiwork. But while beautiful Aphrodite was going to high Olympus to ask for the maidens the accomplishment of gladsome marriage— going to Zeus who hurls the thunderbolt, for well he knows all things, both the happiness and the haplessness of mortal men—meanwhile the spirits of the storm snatched away the maidens and gave them to the hateful Erinyes to deal with. Would that even so those who have dwellings on Olympus would blot me from sight, or that fair-tressed Artemis would smite me, so that with Odysseus before my mind I might even pass beneath the hateful earth, and never gladden in any wise the heart of a baser man.
Yet when a man weeps by day with a heart sore distressed, but at night sleep holds him, this brings with it an evil that may well be borne—for sleep makes one forget all things, the good and the evil, when once it envelops the eyelids—but upon me a god sends evil dreams as well. For this night again there lay by my side one like him, even such as he was when he went forth with the host, and my heart was glad, for I deemed it was no dream, but the truth at last.” So she spoke, and straightway came golden-throned Dawn. But as she wept goodly Odysseus heard her voice, and thereupon he mused, and it seemed to his heart that she knew him and was standing by his head. Then he gathered up the cloak and the fleeces on which he was lying and laid them on a chair in the hall, and carried the ox-hide out of doors and set it down; and he lifted up his hands and prayed to Zeus: “Father Zeus, if of your good will ye gods have brought me over land and sea to my own country, when ye had afflicted me sore, let some one of those who are awaking utter a word of omen for me within, and without let a sign from Zeus be shown besides.”
So he spoke in prayer, and Zeus the counsellor heard him. Straightway he thundered from gleaming Olympus, from on high from out the clouds; and goodly Odysseus was glad. And a woman, grinding at the mill, uttered a word of omen from within the house hard by, where the mills of the shepherd of the people were set. At these mills twelve women in all were wont to ply their tasks, making meal of barley and of wheat, the marrow of men. Now the others were sleeping, for they had ground their wheat, but she alone had not yet ceased, for she was the weakest of all. She now stopped her mill and spoke a word, a sign for her master: “Father Zeus, who art lord over gods and men, verily loud hast thou thundered from the starry sky, yet nowhere is there any cloud: surely this is a sign that thou art showing to some man. Fulfil now even for wretched me the word that I shall speak. May the wooers this day for the last and latest time hold their glad feast in the halls of Odysseus. They that have loosened my limbs with bitter labour, as I made them barley meal, may they now sup their last.” So she spoke, and goodly Odysseus was glad at the word of omen and at the thunder of Zeus, for he thought he had gotten vengeance on the guilty.
Cite This Text