chests, and fragrant oils. And there stood casks Of delicate old wine and pure, a drink For gods, in rows against the wall, to wait If ever, after many hardships borne, Ulysses should return. Upon that room Close-fitting double doors were shut, and there Was one who night and day kept diligent watch, A woman, Eurycleia, child of Ops, Peisenor’s son. Telemachus went in And called her to him, and bespake her thus:—
“Nurse, let sweet wine be drawn into my jars, The finest next to that which thou dost keep Expecting our unhappy lord, if yet The nobly born Ulysses shall escape The doom of death and come to us again. Fill twelve, and fit the covers close, and pour Meal into well-sewn skins, and let the tale Be twenty measures of the flour of wheat. This none but thou must know. Let all these things Be brought together; then, as night shuts in, When to her upper chamber, seeking rest, My mother shall withdraw, I come and take What thou providest for me. I am bound For Sparta and for Pylos in the sands, To gather news concerning the return Of my dear father, if I haply may.”
So spake the youth, and his beloved nurse Sobbed, wept aloud, and spake these winged words:—
“Why should there come, dear child, a thought like this Into thy heart. Why wouldst thou wander forth To distant regions—thou an only son And dearly loved? Ulysses, nobly born, Has perished, from his native land afar, ’Mid a strange race. These men, when thou art gone, At once will lay their plots to take thy life, And share thy wealth among them. Stay thou here Among thy people; need is none that thou Shouldst suffer, roaming o’er the barren deep.”
Then spake discreet Telemachus again:— “Be of good cheer, O nurse, for my design Is not without the sanction of a god; But swear thou not to let my mother know Of my intent until the eleventh day Or twelfth shall pass, or till, in missing me, She learn of my departure, lest she weep And stain with tears the beauty of her face.”