When he had heard Calypso’s answer, Hermes took leave of her, and returned to Olympus, and the nymph went down to the part of the shore where she knew Odysseus was accustomed to sit.  There he would remain all day, gazing tearfully over the barren waste of waters, and wearing out his soul with ceaseless lamentation.  For he had long grown weary of his soft slavery in Calypso’s cave, and yearned with exceeding great desire for the familiar hills of Ithaca, so rugged, but so dear.  And there Calypso found him now, sitting on a rock with dejected mien.  She sat down at his side, and said:  “A truce to thy complaints, thou man of woes!  Thou hast thy wish; I will let thee go with all good-will, and I will show thee how to build a broad raft, which shall bear thee across the misty deep.  I will victual her with corn and wine, and clothe thee in new garments, and send a breeze behind thee to waft thee safe.  Thus am I commanded by the gods, whose dwelling is in the wide heaven, and their will I do.  Up now and fell me yon tall trees for timber to make the raft.”

Odysseus was by nature a very shrewd and cautious man, and he feared that Calypso was contriving some mischief against him, in revenge for his coldness.  He looked at her doubtfully, and answered:  “I fear thee, nymph, and I mistrust thy purpose.  How shall a man cross this dreadful gulf, where no ship is ever seen, on a raft?  And though that were possible, I will never leave thee against thy will.  Swear to me now that thou intendest me no harm.”

Calypso smiled at his suspicions, and patted him on the shoulder as she answered:  “Thou art a sad rogue, and very deep of wit, as anyone may see by these words of thine.  Now hear me swear:  Witness, thou earth, and the wide heaven above us, and the dark waterfall of Styx, the greatest and most awful thing by which a god may swear, that I intend no ill, but only good, to this man.”

Having sworn that oath Calypso rose, and bidding Odysseus follow led the way to her cave.  There she set meat before him, such as mortal men eat, and wine to drink; but she herself was served by her handmaids with immortal food, and nectar, the wine of the gods.  When they had supped, Calypso looked at Odysseus and said:  “And wilt thou indeed leave me, thou strange man?  Am I not tall and fair, and worthy to be called a daughter of heaven?  And is thy Penelope so rare a dame, that thou preferrest her to me!  Ah! if thou knewest all the toils which await thee before thou reachest thy home, and all the perils prepared for thee there, thou wouldst renounce thy purpose, and dwell for ever with me.  Nevertheless go, if go thou must, and my blessing go with thee.”

Her words were kind, but some anger lurked in her tone, which Odysseus hastened to appease.  “Fair goddess,” he answered, “be not wroth with me.  I know that thou art more lovely far than my wife Penelope; for thou art divine, and she is but a mortal woman.  Nevertheless I long day and night to see her face, and to sit beneath the shadow of my own rooftree.  And if I be stricken again by the hand of Heaven on the purple sea, I will bear it, for I have a very patient heart.  Long have I toiled, and much have I suffered, amid waves and wars.  If more remains, I will endure that also.”