Give me thy advice, And send a trusty guide to show the way. There will I roam the streets, for so I must, And haply someone there will give a cup Of wine and cake of meal. And when I find The house of great Ulysses, I will tell The sage Penelope the news I bring. Nay, I would even go among the crew Of arrogant suitors, who perhaps might give A meal, for there is plenty at their feasts, And I would do whatever they require. For let me tell thee, and do thou give heed, There lives no man who can contend with me In menial tasks—to keep alive a fire With fuel, cleave dry wood, and carve and roast The meat and pour the wine—whate’er is done By poor men waiting on the better sort.”
And thou, Eumasus, keeper of the swine, Didst answer in displeasure: “Woe is me! How could thy bosom harbor such a thought? O stranger! thou must surely be resolved To perish if thy purpose be to go Among the suitor crew, whose insolence And riot reach the iron vault of heaven. Not such attendants minister to them As thou art, but fair youths arrayed in cloaks And tunics, with sleek heads and smooth of face. These wait at polished tables heavily Loaded with bread and flesh and wine. Stay thou Content among us, sure that no one here Is wearied by thy presence, neither I Nor any of my fellows. When he comes, The dear son of Ulysses will provide For thee the garments thou dost need—a cloak And tunic—and will send thee where thou wilt.”
Ulysses, the great sufferer, answered thus: “I pray that thou mayst be as dear to Jove, The great All-Father, as thou art to me, Since through thy kindness I enjoy a pause Amid my weary wanderings. There is naught Worse than a wandering life. Unseemly cares A hungry stomach brings to homeless men; Hardship and grief are theirs. But since thou wilt That I remain and wait for thy young lord, Speak to me of the mother of thy chief Ulysses, and his father, whom he left Just on the threshold of old age, if yet They live, and still may look upon the sun; Or have they died, and passed to Pluto’s realm?”