torches: and of all the women of the household
she loved him most, and she had nursed him when a
little one. Then he opened the doors of the well-builded
chamber and sat him on the bed and took off his soft
doublet, and put it in the wise old woman’s
hands. So she folded the doublet and smoothed
it, and hung it on a pin by the jointed bedstead,
and went forth on her way from the room, and pulled
to the door with the silver handle, and drew home
the bar with the thong. There, all night through,
wrapped in a fleece of wool, he meditated in his heart
upon the journey that Athene had showed him.
Telemachus complains in vain, and borrowing
a ship, goes
secretly to Pylos by night. And how
he was there received.
Now so soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered,
the dear son of Odysseus gat him up from his bed, and
put on his raiment and cast his sharp sword about
his shoulder, and beneath his smooth feet he bound
his goodly sandals, and stept forth from his chamber
in presence like a god. And straightway he bade
the clear-voiced heralds to call the long-haired Achaeans
to the assembly. And the heralds called the gathering,
and the Achaeans were assembled quickly. Now
when they were gathered and come together, he went
on his way to the assembly holding in his hand a spear
of bronze,—not alone he went, for two swift
hounds bare him company. Then Athene shed on
him a wondrous grace, and all the people marvelled
at him as he came. And he sat him in his father’s
seat and the elders gave place to him.
Then the lord Aegyptus spake among them first; bowed
was he with age, and skilled in things past number.
Now for this reason he spake that his dear son, the
warrior Antiphus, had gone in the hollow ships to
Ilios of the goodly steeds; but the savage Cyclops
slew him in his hollow cave, and made of him then
his latest meal. Three other sons Aegyptus had,
and one consorted with the wooers, namely Eurynomus,
but two continued in their father’s fields; yet
even so forgat he not that son, still mourning and
sorrowing. So weeping for his sake he made harangue
and spake among them:
’Hearken now to me, ye men of Ithaca, to the
word that I shall say. Never hath our assembly
or session been since the day that goodly Odysseus
departed in the hollow ships. And now who was
minded thus to assemble us? On what man hath
such sore need come, of the young men or of the elder
born? Hath he heard some tidings of the host now
returning, which he might plainly declare to us, for
that he first learned thereof, or doth he show forth
and tell some other matter of the common weal?
Methinks he is a true man—good luck be
with him! Zeus vouchsafe him some good thing in
his turn, even all his heart’s desire!’
So spake he, and the dear son of Odysseus was glad
at the omen of the word; nor sat he now much longer,
but he burned to speak, and he stood in mid assembly;
and the herald Peisenor, skilled in sage counsels,
placed the staff in his hands. Then he spake,
accosting the old man first:
