sword In open fight, then take a shapely oar And journey on, until thou meet with men Who have not known the sea nor eaten food Seasoned with salt, nor ever have beheld Galleys with crimson prows, nor shapely oars, Which are the wings of ships. I will declare A sign by which to know them, nor canst thou Mistake it. When a traveller, meeting thee, Shalt say that thou dost bear a winnowing-fan Upon thy sturdy shoulder, stop and plant Thy shapely oar upright in earth, and there Pay to King Neptune solemn sacrifice— A ram, a bull, and from his herd of swine A boar.
And then returning to thy home,
See that thou offer hallowed hecatombs To all the ever-living ones who dwell In the broad heaven, to each in order due.
So at the last thy death shall come to thee Far from the sea, and gently take thee off In a serene old age that ends among A happy people. I have told thee true.’
“He spake, and thus I answered him:
‘The gods, Tiresias, have decreed as thou hast said. But tell, and tell me truly—I behold The soul of my dead mother; there she sits In silence by the blood, and will not deign To look upon her son nor speak to him. Instruct me, mighty prophet, by what means To make my mother know me for her son.’
“I spake, and instantly the seer replied:—
‘Easily that is told; I give it thee To bear in mind. Whoever of the dead Thou sufferest to approach and drink the blood Will speak the truth; those whom thou dost forbid To taste the blood will silently withdraw.’