And thus, Eumaeus, thou didst make reply: “O aged man! we see no cause of blame In thy recital, and of all thy words Not one is unbecoming or inapt. Thou shalt not lack for garments, nor aught else That any suppliant in his poverty Might hope for at our hands tonight. With morn Gird thou thy tatters on again; for here We have not many cloaks, nor many a change Of raiment—only one for each of us. But when the son of our Ulysses comes Again, he will provide thee with a cloak And tunic, and will send thee where thou wilt.”
He spake and rose, and made his guest a bed Close to the hearth, and threw on it the skins Of sheep and goats, and there Ulysses lay, O’er whom the swineherd spread a thick large cloak, Which he had often worn for a defence When a wild winter storm was in the air.
Thus slept Ulysses with the young men near. A couch within, and distant from his charge, Pleased not the swineherd, who first armed himself, And then went forth. Ulysses gladly saw That while he was in distant lands his goods Were watched so faithfully. Eumaeus hung About his sturdy shoulders a sharp sword, And wrapped a thick cloak round him, tempest-proof, And took the hide of a huge pampered goat, And a well-pointed javelin for defence Both against dogs and men. So went he forth To take his rest where lay the white-toothed swine, Herded and slumbering underneath a rock, Whose hollow fenced them from the keen north-wind.