And thus, Eumaeus, thou didst make reply: “True answer will I make to all. He claims To be a son of the broad isle of Crete, And says that in his wanderings he has passed Through many cities of the world, for so Some god ordained; and now, escaped by flight From a Thesprotian galley, he has sought A refuge in my lodge. Into thy hands I give him; deal thou with him as thou wilt. He is thy suppliant, and makes suit to thee.”
Then spake discreet Telemachus again: “Eumaeus, thou hast uttered words that pierce My heart with pain; for how can I receive A stranger at my house? I am a youth Who never yet has trusted in his arm To beat the offerer of an insult back. And in my mother’s mind the choice is yet Uncertain whether to remain with me The mistress of my household, keeping still Her constant reverence for her husband’s bed, And still obedient to the people’s voice, Or whether she shall follow as a bride Him of the Achaian suitors in my halls Who is accounted worthiest, and who brings The richest gifts. Now, as to this thy guest, Since he has sought thy lodge, I give to him A cloak and tunic, seemly of their kind, A two-edged sword, and sandals for his feet. And I will send him to whatever coast He may desire to go. Yet, if thou wilt, Lodge him beneath thy roof, and I will send Raiment and food, that he may be no charge To thee or thy companions. To my house Among the suitor-train I cannot bear That he should go. Those men are insolent Beyond all measure; they would scoff at him, And greatly should I grieve. The boldest man Against so many might contend in vain, And greater is their power by far than mine.”
Then spake Ulysses, the great sufferer: “O friend—since I have liberty to speak— My very heart is wounded when I hear What wrongs the suitors practise in thy halls Against a youth like thee. But give me leave To ask if thou submittest willingly, Or do thy people, hearkening to some god, Hate thee with open hatred? Dost thou blame Thy brothers?—for in brothers men confide Even in a desperate conflict. Would that I Were young again, and with the will I have, Or that I could become Ulysses’