I brothers to accuse, Though in a desperate conflict men rely Upon a brother’s aid. Saturnian Jove Confines our lineage to a single head. The king Arcesius had an only son, Laertes, and to him was only born Ulysses; and Ulysses left me here, The only scion of his house, and he Had little joy of me. Our halls are filled With enemies, the chief men of the isles— Dulichium, Samos, and Zacynthus dark With forests, and the rugged Ithaca— So many woo my mother and consume Our substance. She rejects not utterly Their hateful suit, nor yet will give consent And end it. They go on to waste my wealth, And soon will end me also; but the event Rests with the gods.—And go thou now with speed, Eumaeus, father, to Penelope, And say that I am safe, and just returned From Pylos. I remain within the lodge. And then come back as soon as thou hast told The queen alone. Let none of all the Greeks Hear aught; for they are plotting harm to
Then thus, Eumaeus, thou didst make reply:
“Enough, I see it all, thy words are said To one who understands them. But, I pray, Direct me whether in my way to take A message to Laertes, the distressed. While sorrowing for Ulysses he o’ersaw The labors of the field, and ate and drank, As he had appetite, with those who wrought. But since thy voyage to the Pylian coast They say he never takes his daily meals As he was wont, nor oversees the work, But sits and mourns and sighs and pines away, Until his limbs are shrivelled to the bone.”
Then spake discreet Telemachus again: > “ ’Tis sad, but we must leave him to his grief A little while. Could everything be made To happen as we mortals