abodes of men, if yet indeed He lives and sees the sweet light of the sun. But if that he be dead, and in the abode Of Pluto, woe is me for his dear sake! The blameless chief, who when I was a boy Gave to me, in the Cephalenian fields, The charge of all his beeves; and they are now Innumerable; the broad-fronted race Of cattle never would have multiplied So largely under other care than mine. Now other masters bid me bring my beeves For their own feasts. They little heed his son, The palace-heir; as little do they dread The vengeance of the gods; they long to share Among them the possessions of the king, So many years unheard from. But this thought Comes to my mind again, and yet again: Wrong were it, while the son is yet alive, To drive the cattle to a foreign land, Where alien men inhabit; yet ’tis worse To stay and tend another’s beeves, and bear This spoil. And long ago would I have fled To some large-minded monarch, since this waste Is not to be endured, but that I think Still of my suffering lord, and hope that yet He may return and drive the suitors hence.”
Ulysses, the sagacious, answering, said: “Herdsman, since thou dost seem not ill inclined, Nor yet unwise, and I perceive in thee A well-discerning mind, I therefore say, And pledge my solemn oath—Jove, first of gods, Be witness, and this hospitable board And hearth of good Ulysses, which has here Received me—while thou art within these halls Ulysses will assuredly return, And, if thou choose to look, thine eyes shall see The suitors slain, who play the master here.”
And thus the master of the herds rejoined: “Stranger, may Jupiter make good thy words! Then shalt thou see what strength is in my arm.”
Eumaeus also prayed to all the gods, That now the wise Ulysses might return. So talked they with each other, while apart The suitors doomed Telemachus to death, And plotted how to take his life. Just then A bird—an eagle—on the left flew by, High up; his talons held a timid dove. And then Amphinomus bespake the rest:—