god Had scattered the Achaians, after that, Daughter of Jove, I never saw thee more, Never perceived thee entering my barque And guarding me from danger—but I roamed Ever from place to place, my heart weighed down By sorrow, till the gods delivered me, And till thy counsels in the opulent realm Of the Phaeacians brought my courage back, And thou thyself didst guide me to the town. And now in thy great father’s name I pray— For yet I cannot think that I am come To pleasant Ithaca, but have been thrown Upon some other coast, and fear that thou Art jesting with me, and hast spoken thus But to deceive me—tell me, is it true That I am in my own beloved land?”
And then the goddess, blue-eyed Pallas, said: “Such ever are thy thoughts, and therefore I Must not forsake thee in thy need. I know How prompt thy speech, how quick thy thought, how shrewd Thy judgment. If another man had come From such long wanderings, he had flown at once Delighted to his children and his wife In his own home. But thou desirest not To ask or hear of them till thou hast put Thy consort to the trial of her truth— Her who now sits within thy halls and waits In vain for thee, and in perpetual grief And weeping wears her nights and days away. I never doubted—well, in truth, I knew That thou, with all thy comrades lost, wouldst reach Thy country, but I dreaded to withstand My father’s brother Neptune, who was wroth, And fiercely wroth, for that thou hadst deprived His well-beloved son of sight. But now Attend, and I will show thee Ithaca By certain tokens; mark them and believe. The port of Phorcys, Ancient of the Deep, Is here; and there the spreading olive-tree, Just at the haven’s head; and, close beside, The cool