Thus the two spoke to one another, as they stood in the house of Hades beneath the depths of the earth. But Odysseus and his men, when they had gone down from the city, quickly came to the fair and well-ordered farm of Laertes, which he had won for himself in days past, and much had he toiled for it. There was his house, and all about it ran the sheds in which ate, and sat, and slept the servants that were bondsmen, that did his pleasure; but within it was an old Sicilian woman, who tended the old man with kindly care there at the farm, far from the city. Then Odysseus spoke to the servants and to his son, saying: “Do you now go within the well-built house, and straightway slay for dinner the best of the swine; but I will make trial of my father, and see whether he will recognize me and know me by sight, or whether he will fail to know me, since I have been gone so long a time.” So saying, he gave to the slaves his battle-gear. They thereafter went quickly to the house; but Odysseus drew near to the fruitful vineyard in his quest.
Now he did not find Dolius as he went down into the great orchard, nor any of his slaves or of his sons, but as it chanced they had gone to gather stones for the vineyard wall, and the old man was their leader. But he found his father alone in the well-ordered vineyard, digging about a plant; and he was clothed in a foul tunic, patched and wretched, and about his shins he had bound stitched greaves of ox-hide to guard against scratches, and he wore gloves upon his hands because of the thorns, and on his head a goatskin cap; and he nursed his sorrow. Now when the much-enduring, goodly Odysseus saw him, worn with old age and laden with great grief at heart, he stood still beneath a tall pear tree, and shed tears. Then he debated in mind and heart whether to kiss and embrace his father, and tell him all, how he had returned and come to his native land, or whether he should first question him, and prove him in each thing. And, as he pondered, this seemed to him the better course, to prove him first with mocking words. So with this in mind the goodly Odysseus went straight toward him.
He verily was holding his head down, digging about a plant, and his glorious son came up to him, and addressed him, saying: “Old man, no lack of skill hast thou to tend a garden; nay, thy care is good, and there is naught whatsoever, either plant or fig tree, or vine, nay, or olive, or pear, or garden-plot in all the field that lacks care. But another thing will I tell thee, and do thou not lay up wrath thereat in thy heart: thou thyself enjoyest no good care, but thou bearest woeful old age, and therewith art foul and unkempt, and clad in mean raiment. Surely it is not because of sloth on thy part that thy master cares not for thee, nor dost thou seem in any wise like a slave to look upon either in form or in stature; for thou art like a king, even like one who, when he has bathed and eaten, should sleep soft; for this is the way of old men. But come, tell me this, and declare it truly. Whose slave art thou, and whose orchard dost thou tend? And tell me this also truly, that I may know full well, whether this is indeed Ithaca, to which we are now come, as a man yonder told me, who met me but now on my way hither. In no wise over sound of wit was he, for he deigned not to tell me of each thing, nor to listen to my word, when I questioned him about a friend of mine, whether haply he still lives, or is now dead and in the house of Hades.
For I will tell thee, and do thou give heed and hearken. I once entertained in my dear native land a man that came to our house, and never did any man beside of strangers that dwell afar come to my house a more welcome guest. He declared that by lineage he came from Ithaca, and said that his own father was Laertes, son of Arceisius. So I took him to the house and gave him entertainment with kindly welcome of the rich store that was within, and I gave him gifts of friendship, such as are meet. Of well-wrought gold I gave him seven talents, and a mixing-bowl all of silver, embossed with flowers, and twelve cloaks of single fold, and as many coverlets, and as many fair mantles, and as many tunics besides, and furthermore women, skilled in goodly handiwork, four comely women, whom he himself was minded to choose.” Then his father answered him, weeping: “Stranger, verily thou art come to the country of which thou dost ask, but wanton and reckless men now possess it. And all in vain didst thou bestow those gifts, the countless gifts thou gavest. For if thou hadst found him yet alive in the land of Ithaca, then would he have sent thee on thy way with ample requital of gifts and good entertainment; for that is the due of him who begins the kindness But come, tell me this, and declare it truly.
How many years have passed since thou didst entertain that guest, that hapless guest, my son—as sure as ever such a man there was— my ill-starred son, whom far from his friends and his native land haply the fishes have devoured in the deep, or on the shore he has become the spoil of beasts and birds? Nor did his mother deck him for burial and weep over him, nor his father, we who gave him birth, no, nor did his wife, wooed with many gifts, constant Penelope, bewail her own husband upon the bier, as was meet, when she had closed his eyes in death; though that is the due of the dead. And tell me this also truly, that I may know full well. Who art thou among men, and from whence? Where is thy city, and where thy parents? Where is the swift ship moored that brought thee hither with thy godlike comrades? Or didst thou come as a passenger on another's ship, and did they depart when they had set thee on shore?” Then Odysseus of many wiles answered him, and said: “Then verily will I frankly tell thee all. I come from Alybas, where I have a glorious house, and I am the son of Apheidas, son of lord Polypemon, and my own name is Eperitus. But a god drove me wandering from Sicania to come hither against my will and my ship lies yonder off the tilled land away from the city.
But as for Odysseus, it is now the fifth year since he went thence, and departed from my country. Hapless man! Yet he had birds of good omen, when he set out, birds upon the right. So I was glad of them, as I sent him on his way, and he went gladly forth, and our hearts hoped that we should yet meet as host and guest and give one another glorious gifts.” So he spoke, and a dark cloud of grief enwrapped Laertes, and with both his hands he took the dark dust and strewed it over his grey head with ceaseless groaning. Then the heart of Odysseus was stirred, and up through his nostrils shot a keen pang, as he beheld his dear father. And he sprang toward him, and clasped him in his arms, and kissed him, saying: “Lo, father, I here before thee, my very self, am that man of whom thou dost ask; I am come in the twentieth year to my native land. But cease from grief and tearful lamenting, for I will tell thee all, though great is the need of haste. The wooers have I slain in our halls, and have taken vengeance on their grievous insolence and their evil deeds.” Then Laertes answered him again, and said: “If it is indeed as Odysseus, my son, that thou art come hither, tell me now some clear sign, that I maybe sure.”
And Odysseus of many wiles answered him and said: “This scar first do thou mark with thine eyes, the scar of the wound which a boar dealt me with his white tusk on Parnassus, when I had gone thither. It was thou that didst send me forth, thou and my honored mother, to Autolycus, my mother's father, that I might get the gifts which, when he came hither, he promised and agreed to give me. And come, I will tell thee also the trees in the well-ordered garden which once thou gavest me, and I, who was but a child, was following thee through the garden, and asking thee for this and that. It was through these very trees that we passed, and thou didst name them, and tell me of each one. Pear-trees thirteen thou gavest me, and ten apple-trees, and forty fig-trees. And rows of vines too didst thou promise to give me, even as I say, fifty of them, which ripened severally at different times—and upon them are clusters of all sorts—whensoever the seasons of Zeus weighed them down from above.” So he spoke, and his father's knees were loosened where he stood, and his heart melted, as he knew the sure tokens which Odysseus told him. About his dear son he flung both his arms, and the much-enduring, goodly Odysseus caught him unto him fainting.
But when he revived, and his spirit returned again into his breast, once more he made answer, and spoke, saying: “Father Zeus, verily ye gods yet hold sway on high Olympus, if indeed the wooers have paid the price of their wanton insolence. But now I have wondrous dread at heart, lest straightway all the men of Ithaca come hither against us, and send messengers everywhere to the cities of the Cephallenians.” Then Odysseus of many wiles answered him, and said: “Be of good cheer, and let not these things distress thy heart. But let us go to the house, which lies near the orchard, for thither I sent forward Telemachus and the neatherd and the swineherd, that with all speed they might prepare our meal.” So spoke the two, and went their way to the goodly house. And when they had come to the stately house, they found Telemachus, and the neatherd, and the swineherd carving flesh in abundance, and mixing the flaming wine. Meanwhile the Sicilian handmaid bathed great-hearted Laertes in his house, and anointed him with oil, and about him cast a fair cloak. But Athena drew near, and made greater the limbs of the shepherd of the people, and made him taller than before and mightier to behold.
Then he came forth from the bath, and his dear son marvelled at him, seeing him in presence like unto the immortal gods. And he spoke, and addressed him with winged words: “Father, surely some one of the gods that are forever has made thee goodlier to behold in comeliness and in stature.” Then wise Laertes answered him: “I would, O father Zeus, and Athena, and Apollo, that in such strength as when I took Nericus, the well built citadel on the shore of the mainland, when I was lord of the Cephallenians, even in such strength I had stood by thy side yesterday in our house with my armour about my shoulders, and had beaten back the wooers. So should I have loosened the knees of many of them in the halls, and thy heart would have been made glad within thee.” So they spoke to one another. But when the others had ceased from their labour, and had made ready the meal, they sat down in order on the chairs and high seats. Then they were about to set hands to their food, when the old man Dolius drew near, and with him the old man's sons, wearied from their work in the fields, for their mother, the old Sicilian woman, had gone forth and called them, she who saw to their food, and tended the old man with kindly care, now that old age had laid hold of him.
And they, when they saw Odysseus, and marked him in their minds, stood in the halls lost in wonder. But Odysseus addressed them with gentle words, and said: “Old man, sit down to dinner, and do ye wholly forget your wonder, for long have we waited in the halls, though eager to set hands to the food, ever expecting your coming.” So he spoke, and Dolius ran straight toward him with both hands outstretched, and he clasped the hand of Odysseus and kissed it on the wrist, and spoke, and addressed him with winged words: “Dear master, since thou hast come back to us, who sorely longed for thee, but had no more thought to see thee, and the gods themselves have brought thee—hail to thee, and all welcome, and may the gods grant thee happiness. And tell me this also truly, that I may know full well. Does wise Penelope yet know surely that thou hast come back hither, or shall we send her a messenger?” Then Odysseus of many wiles answered him, and said: “Old man, she knows already; why shouldst thou be busied with this?” So he spoke, and the other sat down again on the polished chair. And even in like manner the sons of Dolius gathered around glorious Odysseus and greeted him in speech, and clasped his hands. Then they sat down in order beside Dolius, their father.
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