Book VIII: Festivals in Honor of Ulysses

When Morn appeared, the rosy-fingered childOf Dawn, Alcinoüs, mighty and revered,Rose from his bed. Ulysses, noble chief,Spoiler of cities, also left his couch.Alcinoüs, mighty and revered, went forthBefore, and led him to the marketplaceOf the Phaeacians, built beside the fleet,And there on polished stones they took their seatsNear to each other. Pallas, who now seemedA herald of the wise Alcinoüs, wentThrough all the city, planning how to sendMagnanimous Ulysses to his home,And came and stood by every chief and said:—

“Leaders and chiefs of the Phaeacians, comeSpeedily to the marketplace, and thereHear of the stranger who from wandering o’erThe deep has come where wise Alcinoüs holdsHis court; in aspect he is like the gods.”

She spake, and every mind and heart was moved,And all the marketplace and all its seatsWere quickly filled with people. Many gazed,Admiring, on Laertes’ well-graced son;For on his face and form had Pallas shedA glory, and had made him seem more tallAnd of an ampler bulk, that he might findFavor with the Phaeacians, and be deemedWorthy of awe and able to achieveThe many feats which the Phaeacian chiefs,To try the stranger’s prowess, might propose.

And now when all the summoned had arrived,Alcinoüs to the full assembly spake:—

“Princes and chiefs of the Phaeacians, hear:I speak the promptings of my heart. This guest—I know him not—has come to my abode,A wanderer—haply from the tribes who dwellIn the far East, or haply from the West—And asked an escort and safe-conduct home;And let us make them ready, as our wontHas ever been. No stranger ever comesAcross my threshold who is suffered longTo pine for his departure. Let us drawA dark-hulled ship down to the holy seaOn her first voyage. Let us choose her crewAmong the people, two-and-fifty youthsOf our best seamen. Then make fast the oarsBeside the benches, leave them there, and comeInto our palace and partake in hasteA feast which I will liberally spreadFor all of you. This I command the youths;But you, ye sceptred princes, come at onceTo my fair palace, that we there may payThe honors due our guest; let none refuse.Call also the divine Demodocus,The bard, on whom a deity bestowedIn ample measure the sweet gift of song,Delightful when the spirit prompts the lay.”

He spake, and led the way; the sceptred trainOf princes followed him. The herald soughtMeantime the sacred bard. The chosen youthsFifty-and-two betook them to the margeOf the unfruitful sea; and when they reachedThe ship and beach they drew the dark hull downTo the deep water, put the mast on boardAnd the ship’s sails, and fitted well the oarsInto the leathern rings, and, having mooredTheir barque in the deep water, went with speedTo their wise monarch in his spacious halls.There portico and court and hall were throngedWith people, young and old in multitude;And there Alcinoüs sacrificed twelve sheep,Eight white-toothed swine, and two splayfooted beeves.And these they flayed, and duly dressed, and madeA noble banquet ready. Then appearedThe herald, leading the sweet singer in,Him whom the Muse with an exceeding loveHad cherished, and had visited with goodAnd evil, quenched his eyesight and bestowedSweetness of song. Pontonoüs mid the guestsPlaced for the bard a silver-studded throne,Against a lofty column hung his harpAbove his head, and taught him how to findAnd take it down. Near him the herald setA basket and fair table, and a cupOf wine, that he might drink when he desired;Then all put forth their hands and shared the feast.

And when their thirst and hunger were allayed,The Muse inspired the bard to sing the praiseOf heroes; ’twas a song whose fame had reachedTo the high heaven, a story of the strifeBetween Ulysses and Achilles, sonOf Peleus, wrangling at a solemn feastMade for the gods. They strove with angry words,And Agamemnon, king of men, rejoicedTo hear the noblest of the Achaian hostContending; for all this had been foretoldTo him in sacred Pythia by the voiceOf Phoebus, when the monarch to inquireAt the oracle had crossed the rock which formedIts threshold. Then began the train of woesWhich at the will of sovereign JupiterBefell the sons of Ilium and of Greece.

So sang renowned Demodocus. MeanwhileUlysses took into his brawny handsAn ample veil of purple, drawing itAround his head to hide his noble face,Ashamed that the Phaeacians should beholdThe tears that flowed so freely from his lids.But when the sacred bard had ceased his song,He wiped the tears away and laid the veilAside, and took a double beaker filledWith wine, and poured libations to the gods.Yet when again the minstrel sang, and allThe chiefs of the Phaeacian people, charmedTo hear his music, bade the strain proceed,Again Ulysses hid his face and wept.No other eye beheld the tears he shed.Alcinoüs only watched him, and perceivedHis grief, and heard the sighs he drew, and spakeTo the Phaeacians, lovers of the sea:—

“Now that we all, to our content, have sharedThe feast and heard the harp, whose notes so wellSuit with a liberal banquet, let us forthAnd try our skill in games, that this our guest,Returning to his country, may relateHow in the boxing and the wrestling match,In leaping and in running, we excel.”

He spake, and went before; they followed him.Then did the herald hang the clear-toned harpAgain on high, and taking by the handDemodocus, he led him from the place,Guiding him in the way which just beforeThe princes of Phaeacia trod to seeThe public games. Into the marketplaceThey went; a vast innumerable crowdPressed after. Then did many a valiant youthArise—Acroneus and Ocyalus,Elatreus, Nauteus, Prymneus, after whomUpstood Anchialus, and by his sideEretmeus, Ponteus, Proreus, Thoön, rose;Anabasineüs and Amphialus,A son of Polyneius, Tecton’s son;Then rose the son of Naubolus, like MarsIn warlike port, Euryalus by name,And goodliest both in feature and in formOf all Phaeacia’s sons save one alone,Laodamas the faultless. Next three sonsOf King Alcinoüs rose: Laodamas,Halius, and Clytoneius, like a godIn aspect. Some of these began the games,Contending in the race. For them a courseWas marked from goal to goal. They darted forthAt once and swiftly, raising, as they ran,The dust along the plain. The swiftest thereWas Clytoneius in the race. As farAs mules, in furrowing the fallow ground,Gain on the steers, he ran before the rest,And reached the crowd, and left them all behind.Others in wrestling strove laboriously—And here Euryalus excelled them all;But in the leap Amphialus was first;Elatreus flung the quoit with firmest hand;And in the boxer’s art Laodamas,The monarch’s valiant son, was conqueror.

This when the admiring multitude had seen,Thus spake the monarch’s son, Laodamas:—

“And now, my friends, inquire we of our guestIf he has learned and practised feats like these.For he is not ill-made in legs and thighsAnd in both arms, in firmly planted neckAnd strong-built frame; nor does he seem to lackA certain youthful vigor, though impairedBy many hardships—for I know of naughtThat more severely tries the strongest man,And breaks him down, than perils of the sea.”

Euryalus replied: “Laodamas,Well hast thou said, and rightly: go thou nowAnd speak to him thyself, and challenge him.”

The son of King Alcinoüs, as he heard,Came forward, and bespake Ulysses thus:—

“Thou also, guest and father, try these feats,If thou perchance wert trained to them. I thinkThou must be skilled in games, since there is notA greater glory for a man while yetHe lives on earth than what he hath wrought out,By strenuous effort, with his feet and hands.Try, then, thy skill, and give no place to grief.Not long will thy departure be delayed;Thy barque is launched; the crew are ready here.”

Ulysses, the sagacious, answered thus:—“Why press me, O Laodamas! to tryThese feats, when all my thoughts are of my woes,And not of games? I, who have borne so muchOf pain and toil, sit pining for my homeIn your assembly, supplicating hereYour king and all the people of your land.”

Then spake Euryalus with chiding words:—“Stranger, I well perceive thou canst not boast,As many others can, of skill in games;But thou art one of those who dwell in shipsWith many benches, rulers o’er a crewOf sailors—a mere trader looking outFor freight, and watching o’er the wares that formThe cargo. Thou hast doubtless gathered wealthBy rapine, and art surely no athlete.”

Ulysses, the sagacious, frowned and said:—“Stranger, thou speakest not becomingly,But like a man who recks not what he says.The gods bestow not equally on allThe gifts that men desire—the grace of form,The mind, the eloquence. One man to sightIs undistinguished, but on him the godsBestow the power of words. All look on himGladly; he knows whereof he speaks; his speechIs mild and modest; he is eminentIn all assemblies, and, whene’er he walksThe city, men regard him as a god.Another in the form he wears is likeThe immortals, yet has he no power to speakBecoming words. So thou hast comely looks—A god would not have shaped thee otherwiseThan we behold thee—yet thy wit is small,And thy unmannerly words have angered meEven to the heart. Not quite unskilled am IIn games, as thou dost idly talk, and once,When I could trust my youth and my strong arms,I think that in these contests I was deemedAmong the first. But I am now pressed downWith toil and sorrow; much have I enduredIn wars with heroes and on stormy seas.Yet even thus, a sufferer as I am,Will I essay these feats; for sharp have beenThy words, and they provoke me to the proof.”

He spake, and rising with his mantle onHe seized a broader, thicker, heavier quoit,By no small odds, than the Phaeacians used,And swinging it around with vigorous armHe sent it forth; it sounded as it went;And the Phaeacians, skilful with the oarAnd sail, bent low as o’er them, from his hand,Flew the swift stone beyond the other marks.And Pallas, in a human form, set upA mark where it descended, and exclaimed:—

“Stranger! a blind man, groping here, could findThy mark full easily, since it is notAmong the many, but beyond them all.Then fear thou nothing in this game at least;For no Phaeacian here can throw the quoitAs far as thou, much less exceed thy cast.”

She spake; Ulysses the great suffererHeard, and rejoiced to know he had a friendIn that great circle. With a lighter heartThus said the chief to the Phaeacian crowd:—

“Follow that cast, young men, and I will sendAnother stone, at once, as far, perchance,Or further still. If there are others yetWho feel the wish, let them come forward here—For much your words have chafed me—let them tryWith me the boxing or the wrestling match,Or footrace; there is naught that I refuse—Any of the Phaeacians. I exceptLaodamas; he is my host, and whoWould enter such a contest with a friend?A senseless, worthless man is he who seeksA strife like this with one who shelters himIn a strange land; he mars the welcome given.As for the rest, there is no rival hereWhom I reject or scorn; for I would knowTheir prowess, and would try my own with theirsBefore you all. At any of the gamesPractised among mankind I am not ill,Whatever they may be. The polished bowI well know how to handle. I should beThe first to strike a foe by arrows sentAmong a hostile squadron, though there stoodA crowd of fellow-warriors by my sideAnd also aimed their shafts. The only oneWhose skill in archery excelled my own,When we Achaians drew the bow at Troy,Was Philoctetes; to all other menOn earth that live by bread I hold myselfSuperior. Yet I claim no rivalryWith men of ancient times—with HerculesAnd Eurytus the Oechalian, who defiedThe immortals to a contest with the bow.Therefore was mighty Eurytus cut off.Apollo, angry to be challenged, slewThe hero. I can hurl a spear beyondWhere others send an arrow. All my fearIs for my feet, so weakened have I beenAmong the stormy waves with want of foodAt sea, and thus my limbs have lost their strength.”

He ended here, and all the assembly satIn silence; King Alcinoüs only spake:—

“Stranger, since thou dost speak without offence,And but to assert the prowess of thine arm,Indignant that amid the public gamesThis man should rail at thee, and since thy wishIs only that all others who can speakBecomingly may not in time to comeDispraise that prowess, now, then, heed my words,And speak of them within thy palace hallsTo other heroes when thou banquetestBeside thy wife and children, and dost thinkOf things that we excel in—arts which JoveGives us, transmitted from our ancestors.In boxing and in wrestling small renownHave we, but we are swift of foot; we guideOur galleys bravely o’er the deep; we takeDelight in feasts; we love the harp, the dance,And change of raiment, the warm bath and bed.Rise, then, Phaeacian masters of the dance,And tread your measures, that our guest may tellHis friends at home how greatly we surpassAll other men in seamanship, the race,The dance, the art of song. Go, one of you,And bring Demodocus his clear-toned harp,That somewhere in our palace has been left.”

Thus spake the godlike king. The herald roseTo bring the sweet harp from the royal house.Then the nine umpires also rose, who ruledThe games; they smoothed the floor, and made the ringOf gazers wider. Next the herald came,And brought Demodocus the clear-toned harp.The minstrel went into the midst, and thereGathered the graceful dancers; they were youthsIn life’s first bloom. With even steps they smoteThe sacred floor. Ulysses, gazing, sawThe twinkle of their feet and was amazed.The minstrel struck the chords and gracefullyBegan the lay: he sang the loves of MarsAnd Venus of the glittering crown, who firstHad met each other stealthily beneathThe roof of Vulcan. Mars with many giftsWon her, and wronged her spouse, the King of Fire;But from the Sun, who saw their guilt, there cameA messenger to Vulcan. When he heardThe unwelcome tidings, planning his revenge,He hastened to his smithy, where he forgedChains that no power might loosen or might break,Made to hold fast forever. When the snareIn all its parts was finished, he repaired,Angry with Mars, to where the marriage-bedStood in his chamber. To the posts he tiedThe encircling chains on every side, and madeFast to the ceiling many, like the threadsSpun by the spider, which no eye could see,Not even of the gods, so artfullyHe wrought them. Then, as soon as he had wrappedThe snare about the bed, he feigned to goTo Lemnos nobly built, most dear to himOf all the lands. But Mars, the god who holdsThe shining reins, had kept no careless watch,And when he saw the great artificerDepart he went with speed to Vulcan’s house,Drawn thither by the love of her who wearsThe glittering crown. There Cytherea sat,Arrived that moment from a visit paid.Entering, he took her by the hand and said:—

“Come, my beloved, let us to the couch.Vulcan is here no longer; he is gone,And is among the Sintians, men who speakA barbarous tongue, in Lemnos far away.”

He spake, and she approved his words, and bothLay down upon the bed, when suddenlyThe network, wrought by Vulcan’s skilful hand,Caught them, and clasped them round, nor could they liftOr move a limb, and saw that no escapeWas possible. And now approached the KingOf Fire, returning ere he reached the isleOf Lemnos, for the Sun in his behalfKept watch and told him all. He hastened homeIn bitterness of heart, but when he reachedThe threshold stopped. A fury without boundsPossessed him, and he shouted terribly,And called aloud on all the gods of heaven:—

“O Father Jove, and all ye blessed ones,And deathless! Come, for here is what will moveYour laughter, yet is not to be endured.Jove’s daughter, Venus, thus dishonors me,Lame as I am, and loves the butcher Mars;For he is well to look at, and is soundOf foot, while I am weakly—but for thisAre none but my two parents to be blamed,Who never should have given me birth. BeholdWhere lie embraced the lovers in my bed—A hateful sight. Yet they will hardly takeEven a short slumber there, though side by side,Enamored as they are; nor will they bothBe drowsy very soon. The net and chainsWill hold them till her father shall restoreAll the large gifts which, on our marriage-day,I gave him to possess the impudent minxHis daughter, who is fair, indeed, but false.”

He spake, and to the brazen palace flockedThe gods; there Neptune came, who shakes the earth;There came beneficent Hermes; there too cameApollo, archer-god; the goddesses,Through womanly reserve, remained at home.Meantime the gods, the givers of all good,Stood in the entrance; and as they beheldThe cunning snare of Vulcan, there aroseInfinite laughter from the blessed ones,And one of them bespake his neighbor thus:—

“Wrong prospers not; the slow o’ertakes the swift.Vulcan the slow has trapped the fleetest godUpon Olympus, Mars; though lame himself,His net has taken the adulterer,Who now must pay the forfeit of his crime.”

So talked they with each other. Then the sonOf Jove, Apollo, thus to Hermes said:—

“Hermes, thou son and messenger of Jove,And bountiful of gifts, couldst thou endure,Fettered with such strong chains as these, to lieUpon a couch with Venus at thy side?”

The herald-god, the Argus-queller, thusMade answer: “Nay, I would that it were so,O archer-king, Apollo; I could bearChains thrice as many, and of infinite strength,And all the gods and all the goddessesMight come to look upon me, I would keepMy place with golden Venus at my side.”

He spake, and all the immortals laughed to hear.Neptune alone laughed not, but earnestlyPrayed Vulcan, the renowned artificer,To set Mars free, and spake these winged words:—

“Release thy prisoner. What thou dost requireI promise here—that he shall make to theeDue recompense in presence of the gods.”

Illustrious Vulcan answered: “Do not lay,Earthshaking Neptune, this command on me,Since little is the worth of pledges givenFor worthless debtors. How could I demandMy right from thee among the assembled gods,If Mars, set free, escape from debt and chains?”

Again the god who shakes the earth replied:—“Vulcan, though Mars deny the forfeit due,And take to flight, it shall be paid by me.”

Again illustrious Vulcan said: “Thy wordI ought not and I seek not to decline.”

He spake, and then the might of Vulcan loosedThe net, and, freed from those strong fetters, bothThe prisoners sprang away. Mars flew to Thrace,And laughter-loving Venus to the isleOf Cyprus, where at Paphos stand her groveAnd perfumed altar. Here the Graces gaveThe bath, anointed with ambrosial oilHer limbs—such oil as to the eternal godsLends a fresh beauty, and arrayed her lastIn graceful robes, a marvel to behold.

So sang the famous bard, while inly pleasedUlysses heard, and pleased were all the rest,Phaeacia’s sons, expert with oar and sail.

Alcinoüs called his sons LaodamasAnd Halius forth, and bade them dance alone,For none of all the others equalled them.Then taking a fair purple ball, the workOf skilful Polybus, and, bending back,One flung it toward the shadowy clouds on high,The other springing upward easilyGrasped it before he touched the ground again.And when they thus had tossed the ball awhile,They danced upon the nourishing earth, and oftChanged places with each other, while the youths,That stood within the circle filled the airWith their applauses; mighty was the din.Then great Ulysses to Alcinoüs said:—“O King Alcinoüs! mightiest of the raceFor whom thou hast engaged that they excelAll others in the dance, what thou hast saidIs amply proved. I look and am amazed.”

Well pleased Alcinoüs the mighty heard,And thus to his seafaring people spake:—

“Leaders and chiefs of the Phaeacians, hear!Wise seems the stranger. Haste we to bestowGifts that may well beseem his liberal hests.Twelve honored princes in our land bear sway,The thirteenth prince am I. Let each one bringA well-bleached cloak, a tunic, and besideOf precious gold a talent. Let them allBe brought at once, that, having seen them here,Our guest may with a cheerful heart partakeThe evening meal. And let Euryalus,Who spake but now so unbecomingly,Appease him both with words and with a gift.”

He spake; they all approved, and each one sentHis herald with a charge to bring the gifts,And thus Euryalus addressed the king:—

“O King Alcinoüs, mightiest of our race,I will obey thee, and will seek to appeaseOur guest. This sword of brass will I bestow,With hilt of silver, and an ivory sheathNew wrought, which he may deem a gift of price.”

He spake, and gave the silver-studded swordInto his hand, and spake these winged words:—

“Stranger and father, hail! If any wordThat hath been uttered gave offence, may stormsSweep it away forever. May the godsGive thee to see thy wife again, and reachThy native land, where all thy sufferingsAnd this long absence from thy friends shall end!”

Ulysses, the sagacious, thus replied:—“Hail also, friend! and may the gods conferOn thee all happiness, and may the timeNever arrive when thou shalt miss the swordPlaced in my hands with reconciling word!”

He spake, and slung the silver-studded swordUpon his shoulders. Now the sun went down,And the rich presents were already brought.The noble heralds came and carried themInto the palace of Alcinoüs, whereHis blameless sons received and ranged them allIn fair array before the queenly dameTheir mother. Meantime had the mighty kingAlcinoüs to his palace led the way,Where they who followed took the lofty seats,And thus Alcinoüs to Aretè said:—

“Bring now a coffer hither, fairly shaped,The best we have, and lay a well-bleached cloakAnd tunic in it; set upon the fireA brazen cauldron for our guest, to warmThe water of his bath, that having bathedAnd viewed the gifts which the Phaeacian chiefsHave brought him, ranged in order, he may sitDelighted at the banquet and enjoyThe music. I will give this beautiful cupOf gold, that he, in memory of me,May daily in his palace pour to JoveLibations, and to all the other gods.”He spake; Aretè bade her maidens hasteTo place an ample tripod on the fire.Forthwith upon the blazing fire they setA laver with three feet, and in it pouredWater, and heaped fresh fuel on the flames.The flames crept up the vessel’s swelling sides,And warmed the water. Meantime from her roomAretè brought a beautiful chest, in whichShe laid the presents destined for her guest—Garments and gold which the Phaeacians gave—And laid the cloak and tunic with the rest,And thus in winged words addressed the chief:—

“Look to the lid thyself, and cast a cordAround it, lest, upon thy voyage home,Thou suffer loss, when haply thou shalt takeA pleasant slumber in the dark-hulled ship.”

Ulysses, the sagacious, heard, and straightHe fitted to its place the lid, and woundAnd knotted artfully around the chestA cord, as queenly Circè long beforeHad taught him. Then to call him to the bathThe housewife of the palace came. He sawGladly the steaming laver, for not oftHad he been cared for thus, since he had leftThe dwelling of the nymph with amber hair,Calypso, though attended while with herAs if he were a god. Now when the maidsHad seen him bathed, and had anointed himWith oil, and put his sumptuous mantle on,And tunic, forth he issued from the bath,And came to those who sat before their wine.Nausicaä, goddess-like in beauty, stoodBeside a pillar of that noble roof,And looking on Ulysses as he passed,Admired, and said to him in winged words:—

“Stranger, farewell, and in thy native landRemember thou hast owed thy life to me.”

Ulysses, the sagacious, answering said:—“Nausicaä, daughter of the large-souled kingAlcinoüs! so may Jove, the Thunderer,Husband of Juno, grant that I beholdMy home, returning safe, as I will makeTo thee as to a goddess day by dayMy prayer; for, lady, thou hast saved my life.”

He spake, and near Alcinoüs took his placeUpon a throne. And now they served the feastTo each, and mingled wine. A herald ledThither the gentle bard Demodocus,Whom all the people honored. Him they placedAmidst the assembly, where he leaned againstA lofty column. Sage Ulysses thenCarved from the broad loin of a white-tusked boarA part, where yet a mass of flesh remainedBordered with fat, and to the herald said:—

“Bear this, O herald, to Demodocus,That he may eat. Him, even in my grief,Will I embrace, for worthily the bardsAre honored and revered o’er all the earthBy every race of men. The Muse herselfHath taught them song; she loves the minstrel tribe.”

He spake; the herald laid the flesh beforeDemodocus the hero, who receivedThe gift well pleased. Then all the guests put forthTheir hands and shared the viands on the board;And when their thirst and hunger were allayed,Thus to the minstrel sage Ulysses spake:—

“Demodocus, above all other menI give thee praise, for either has the Muse,Jove’s daughter, or Apollo, visitedAnd taught thee. Truly hast thou sung the fateOf the Achaian warriors—what they didAnd suffered—all their labors as if thouHadst been among them, or hadst heard the taleFrom an eyewitness. Now, I pray, proceed,And sing the invention of the wooden horseMade by Epeius with Minerva’s aid,And by the chief Ulysses artfullyConveyed into the Trojan citadel,With armed warriors in its womb to layThe city waste. And I, if thou relateThe story rightly, will at once declareTo all that largely hath some bounteous godBestowed on thee the holy gift of song.”

He spake; the poet felt the inspiring god,And sang, beginning where the Argives hurledFirebrands among their tents, and sailed awayIn their good galleys, save the band that satBeside renowned Ulysses in the horse,Concealed from sight, amid the Trojan crowd,Who now had drawn it to the citadel.So there it stood, while, sitting round it, talkedThe men of Troy, and wist not what to do.By turns three counsels pleased them—to hew downThe hollow trunk with the remorseless steel;Or drag it to a height, and cast it thenceHeadlong among the rocks; or, lastly, leaveThe enormous image standing and unharmed,An offering to appease the gods. And thisAt last was done; for so had fate decreedThat they should be destroyed whene’er their townShould hold within its walls the horse of wood,In which the mightiest of the Argives cameAmong the sons of Troy to smite and slay.Then sang the bard how, issuing from the wombOf that deceitful horse, the sons of GreeceLaid Ilium waste; how each in different waysRavaged the town, while, terrible as Mars,Ulysses, joined with Menelaus, soughtThe palace of Deiphobus, and thereMaintained a desperate battle, till the aidOf mighty Pallas made the victory his.

So sang renowned Demodocus; the strainMelted to tears Ulysses, from whose lidsThey dropped and wet his cheeks. As when a wifeWeeps her beloved husband, slain beforeHis town and people, fighting to defendThem and his own dear babes from deadly harm,She sees him gasp and die, and at the sightShe falls with piercing cries upon his corpse,Meantime the victors beat her on the backAnd shoulders with their spears, and bear her offTo toil and grieve in slavery, where her cheeksIn that long bitter sorrow lose their bloom;So from the eyelids of Ulysses fellThe tears, yet fell unnoticed by them allSave that Alcinoüs, sitting at his side,Saw them, and heard his heavy sighs, and thusBespake his people, masters of the oar:—

“Princes and chiefs of the Phaeacian race,Give ear. Let now Demodocus lay byHis clear-toned harp. The matter of his songDelights not all alike. Since first we satAt meat, and since our noble bard beganHis lay, our guest has never ceased to grieve;Some mighty sorrow weighs upon his heart.Now let the bard refrain, that we may allEnjoy the banquet, both our guest and weWho welcome him, for it is fitting thus.And now are all things for our worthy guestMade ready, both the escort and these gifts,The pledges of our kind regard. A guest,A suppliant, is a brother, even to himWho bears a heart not easy to be moved.No longer, then, keep back with studied artWhat I shall ask; ’twere better far to speakWith freedom. Tell the name thy mother gave,Thy father, and all those who dwell within,And round thy city. For no living manIs nameless from the time that he is born.Humble or high in station, at their birthThe parents give them names. Declare thy land,Thy people, and thy city, that our shipsMay learn, and bear thee to the place; for hereIn our Phaeacian ships no pilots are,Nor rudders, as in ships of other lands.Ours know the thoughts and the intents of men.To them all cities and all fertile coastsInhabited by men are known; they crossThe great sea scudding fast, involved in mistAnd darkness, with no fear of perishingOr meeting harm. I heard Nausithoüs,My father, say that Neptune was displeasedWith us for safely bearing to their homesSo many men, and that he would destroyIn after time some good Phaeacian ship,Returning from a convoy, in the wavesOf the dark sea, and leave her planted there,A mountain huge and high, before our town.So did the aged chieftain prophesy;The god, as best may please him, will fulfilMy father’s words, or leave them unfulfilled.Now tell me truly whither thou hast roamed,And what the tribes of men that thou hast seen;Tell which of them are savage, rude, unjust,And which are hospitable and revereThe blessed gods. Declare why thou didst weepAnd sigh when hearing what unhappy fateBefell the Argive and Achaian hostAnd town of Troy. The gods decreed it; theyOrdain destruction to the sons of men,A theme of song thereafter. Hadst thou notSome valiant kinsman who was slain at Troy?A son-in-law? the father of thy wife?Nearest of all are they to us, save thoseOf our own blood. Or haply might it beSome bosom-friend, one eminently gracedWith all that wins our love; for not less dearThan if he were a brother should we holdThe wise and gentle man who is our friend.”