Homer · a new plain-English translation from the Greek
So the long-suffering, godlike Odysseus lay there sleeping, worn out by exhaustion and sleep. But Athena went to the land and city of the Phaeacians, a people who once lived in spacious Hypereia, close to the overbearing Cyclopes, men who kept raiding them and were stronger by far. From there godlike Nausithous led them away and settled them in Scheria, far from other men who live by their own labor. He drove a wall around the city, built houses, made temples for the gods, and divided up the farmland.
But he had already met his fate and gone down to the house of Hades, and now Alcinous ruled, a man whose wisdom came from the gods. It was to his house that the bright-eyed goddess Athena went, planning Odysseus's homecoming for the great-hearted man. She made her way into the richly worked bedroom where a girl was sleeping, a girl who looked like the immortals in build and beauty — Nausicaa, daughter of great-hearted Alcinous. Two maids lay beside the doorposts, one on each side, women graced with beauty from the Graces themselves, and the bright doors were shut. Athena swept in like a breath of wind toward the girl's bed,
stood over her head, and spoke to her, taking the shape of the daughter of Dymas, famous for his ships — a girl the same age as Nausicaa and dear to her heart. In that likeness bright-eyed Athena said to her, "Nausicaa, how did your mother ever bear such a careless daughter? Your fine clothes lie there neglected, and yet your wedding is near, when you will need to be beautifully dressed yourself and provide clothing for those who will escort you. It's from things like this that a good reputation spreads among people, and your father and mother rejoice.
So let's go and wash the clothes at the break of day. I'll come along and help you, so that you can get ready quickly, since you won't be unmarried much longer. Already the best young men of all the Phaeacians are courting you, men of your own people. Come now, urge your noble father before dawn to have the mules and wagon made ready, to carry the sashes, robes, and bright coverlets. And it's far better for you to go this way yourself than on foot, since the washing pools are a long way from the city."
Having spoken, bright-eyed Athena went away to Olympus, where they say the gods' seat stands forever unshaken — untouched by winds, never drenched by rain, no snow comes near it, but clear air spreads without a cloud, and a bright radiance plays over it. There the blessed gods take their pleasure all their days. There Athena went once she had shown the girl what to do. At once the fair-throned Dawn arrived and woke Nausicaa of the lovely robe, who marveled at once over her dream. She went through the halls to tell her parents,
her dear father and mother. She found them inside — her mother sitting by the hearth with her serving women, spinning yarn dyed sea-purple, while her father, going out the door, met with the noble lords on his way to the council, where the proud Phaeacians had summoned him. Standing very close to her father, she said, "Papa dear, won't you have a wagon made ready for me, a tall one with good wheels, so I can carry my fine clothes to the river and wash them — the ones lying there soiled?
It's fitting for you too, when you sit among the leading men deciding matters of state, to wear clean clothes on your body. And you have five sons in the halls, two married, and three still young bachelors flourishing in their youth, who always want freshly washed clothes when they go out to the dances. All this weighs on my mind." So she spoke, for she was too shy to mention her own ripening marriage to her father. But he understood everything and answered her, "I don't begrudge you the mules, my child, or anything else.
Go on — the servants will get a wagon ready for you, a tall one with good wheels, fitted with a rail all around." With these words he called to the servants, and they obeyed. Outside they made ready the smooth-running mule cart, led out the mules and yoked them to it, and the girl brought fine clothing out of her room and laid it on the polished wagon. Her mother packed a basket with hearty food of every kind, added other good things to eat, and poured wine into a goatskin flask. The girl climbed up onto the wagon.
Her mother also gave her a golden flask of smooth olive oil for her and her maids to anoint themselves after bathing. Nausicaa took up the whip and the shining reins and cracked the whip to start the mules moving — off they clattered, straining hard, carrying both the clothes and the girl, though not alone, for her attendant maids went along with her. When they reached the lovely-flowing river, where the washing pools stood full year-round and plenty of clear water ran through, more than enough to clean even heavily soiled clothes, there they unhitched the mules from the wagon
and drove them along the swirling river to graze on sweet clover, while the girls lifted the clothes from the wagon by hand, carried them into the dark water, and trod them in the washing pits, working quickly and racing each other. When they had washed and cleaned away all the dirt, they spread the clothes out in rows along the shore, right where the sea washed the pebbles cleanest against the land. Then, having bathed and rubbed themselves with olive oil, they took their meal on the riverbank while the clothes dried in the sun's warmth. When she and her maids had had their fill of food, they threw off their headscarves and started a game of ball, and white-armed Nausicaa led them in song.
Just as Artemis the archer goes striding down the mountains, along towering Taygetus or Erymanthus, delighting in wild boar and swift deer, and with her the nymphs, daughters of aegis-bearing Zeus, roam the wild country and play together, and Leto's heart rejoices, while Artemis holds her head and brow above them all, easy to pick out though all are lovely — so this unmarried girl stood out among her attendants.
But when she was about to head back home, having yoked the mules and folded the fine clothes, then bright-eyed Athena had another idea, that Odysseus should wake up and see the beautiful girl, who would lead him to the city of the Phaeacians. So the princess threw the ball toward one of her maids, missed her, and sent it into a deep pool. The girls all shrieked loudly, and godlike Odysseus woke up.
Sitting up, he wondered in his heart and mind, "Oh no — into whose land have I come this time? Are these people violent, wild, and lawless, or do they welcome strangers and fear the gods? It sounded to me just now like the cries of girls — of nymphs, who haunt the steep peaks of mountains, the springs of rivers, and the grassy meadows. Or maybe I'm actually near people who speak my language. Come, let me see for myself and find out."
With these words godlike Odysseus crept out from under the bushes, and with his stout hand broke off a leafy branch from the thick wood to hold in front of his body and cover his nakedness. He went forward like a mountain-bred lion trusting in its strength, walking on through wind and rain with blazing eyes, stalking cattle or sheep or wild deer, its stomach driving it to try the flocks even inside a sturdy pen — so Odysseus was about to approach the lovely-haired girls,
naked as he was, for need drove him to it. He appeared before them a fearsome sight, crusted with sea salt, and they scattered in fright, each one a different way along the jutting shore. Only Alcinous's daughter stood her ground, for Athena put courage into her heart and took the trembling out of her limbs. She stood facing him, holding steady, while Odysseus debated with himself whether to clasp the beautiful girl's knees and beg her, or instead to stand apart and plead with gentle words,
asking her to show him the city and give him something to wear. As he weighed it, it seemed better to hold back and plead with gentle words from a distance, in case clasping her knees would anger the girl. So at once he spoke a gentle and cunning speech: "I beg you, my lady — are you a goddess, or a mortal woman? If you're one of the gods who hold the wide heavens, then I'd guess you're Artemis, daughter of great Zeus, closest to her in looks, in stature, in build.
But if you're one of the mortals who live on earth, then blessed three times over are your father and mother, and blessed three times over are your brothers. Their hearts must surely warm with joy every time they see you join the dancing, a young shoot so lovely to look at. But blessed above all others, beyond anyone, is the man who will win you with his gifts and lead you home as his bride. I have never laid eyes on a mortal like you, man or woman — I am struck with awe just looking at you.
Once, on Delos, I saw something like this beside Apollo's altar — a young palm shoot springing up. I went there too, and a great crowd of people followed me on that journey, which was destined to bring me such grief. In just the same way, seeing that shoot, I was struck with wonder for a long time in my heart, since no such thing had ever grown up out of the earth. So now, lady, I marvel at you and I am struck with awe, and I am terribly afraid to touch your knees. A hard grief has come upon me.
Yesterday, on the twentieth day, I escaped the wine-dark sea. Until then the waves and violent storms carried me endlessly, away from the island of Ogygia. Now some power has cast me up here, so that I might suffer more misfortune even in this place — for I don't think it will end; the gods still have much more in store for me before that. But have mercy, my lady, for you are the first person I've come to after so much suffering, and I know no one else, none of the people who hold this city and land.
Show me the way to the town, and give me some rag to throw over myself, if you have any wrapping cloth you brought with you here. And in return, may the gods grant you everything your heart desires — a husband, a home, and a harmony between the two of you that is truly good, for there is nothing better or finer than when a man and woman keep a household in one mind and heart. It brings great grief to their enemies and joy to their friends, and they themselves know it best of all."
White-armed Nausicaa answered him, "Stranger, since you seem to be neither a wicked man nor a foolish one — and it is Zeus himself, the Olympian, who deals out fortune to men, to good and bad alike, to each as he wishes, and no doubt he gave you this, and you must simply bear it — now, since you have come to our city and land, you will not lack for clothing or anything else that a suffering wanderer deserves upon meeting us.
I will show you the town, and tell you the name of our people. The Phaeacians hold this city and land, and I am the daughter of great-hearted Alcinous, on whom the strength and power of the Phaeacians depend." With that she called to her lovely-haired attendants: "Stop, girls! Where are you running just from seeing a man? Surely you don't think he's some enemy?
There's no man alive, and none will ever be born, who could come bringing war to the land of the Phaeacians, for we are very dear to the immortals. We live apart, far off in the surging sea, the farthest of all people, and no other mortals mix with us. This man here is just some poor wanderer who has come to us, and we must take care of him now, since all strangers and beggars come from Zeus, and even a small gift is welcome.
So come, girls, give the stranger food and drink, and bathe him in the river, wherever there's shelter from the wind." So she spoke, and the girls stopped and called to one another, and they led Odysseus to a sheltered spot as Nausicaa, daughter of great-hearted Alcinous, had instructed. They set out a cloak and a tunic, clothes for him to wear, and gave him a golden flask of smooth olive oil, and told him to wash in the river's flowing water.
Then godlike Odysseus said to the maids, "Stand back a little, over there, while I wash the brine from my shoulders myself and rub myself with oil — it has been a long time since oil touched my skin. But I won't bathe in front of you, for I'm ashamed to strip naked in front of lovely-haired girls." So he spoke, and they went off a distance and told the girl. Meanwhile godlike Odysseus washed the salt from his body in the river,
the salt crusted on his back and broad shoulders, and scrubbed the crust of the barren sea from his head. And when he had bathed all over and rubbed himself with oil, and put on the clothes that the unmarried girl had given him, Athena, daughter of Zeus, made him look taller and stronger to see, and made the curling hair fall down from his head like hyacinth petals.
As when a skilled craftsman overlays silver with gold — one whom Hephaestus and Pallas Athena have taught every kind of art, and he finishes graceful work — so Athena poured grace over his head and shoulders. Then he went off and sat apart on the shore of the sea, shining with beauty and grace, and the girl gazed at him in wonder. And she said to her lovely-haired attendants,
"Listen to me, my white-armed maids, let me say something. It's not against the will of all the gods who hold Olympus that this man has come among the godlike Phaeacians. A little while ago he seemed unsightly to me, but now he looks like the gods who hold the wide heavens. I only wish a man like this could be called my husband, living here, and content to stay. But come, girls, give the stranger food and drink."
So she spoke, and they listened closely and obeyed, and set food and drink before Odysseus. Then the long-suffering, godlike Odysseus ate and drank eagerly, for he had gone a long time without tasting food. But white-armed Nausicaa turned her attention elsewhere: she folded the clothes and laid them on the fine wagon, yoked the strong-hoofed mules, climbed up herself, and then urged Odysseus on, speaking to him by name:
"Rise now, stranger, and head to the city, so I can send you on to the house of my wise father, where I promise you'll meet all the best of the Phaeacians. But do as I say — you seem to me no fool. As long as we're passing through the fields and farmland, walk quickly along with the maids behind the mules and wagon, and I will lead the way.
But once we come near the city — which has a high wall around it, and a fine harbor on either side, with a narrow entrance, where the curved ships are hauled up along the road, for each man has his own mooring place — there stands the assembly ground around the fine temple of Poseidon, fitted with quarried stones set deep in the earth. There they tend the gear of the black ships, the cables and sails, and sharpen the oars,
for the Phaeacians care nothing for the bow and quiver, but for masts and oars and well-balanced ships, in which they delight as they cross the gray sea. I want to avoid their harsh gossip, in case someone speaks ill of me behind my back — there are some insolent people among the population — and someone crude might say, meeting us, 'Who is this tall, handsome stranger following Nausicaa?
Where did she find him? He'll be her husband, I suppose! Either she picked up some castaway from his ship, some man from far away, since we have no neighbors nearby, or some god she long prayed to has come down from heaven and will have her for all her days. Better if she went out herself and found a husband from elsewhere, since she clearly looks down on her own Phaeacian suitors, though many fine men court her.'
That's what they'll say, and it would bring shame on me. I myself would blame another girl who did such a thing — who, against the will of her dear father and mother, kept company with men before her marriage was openly celebrated. So, stranger, listen closely to what I say, so that you may quickly win escort and a safe voyage home from my father.
You will find a lovely grove of Athena near the road, a grove of poplars, with a spring flowing inside it and a meadow all around. There lies my father's estate and flourishing orchard, as far from the city as a man's shout can carry. Sit down there and wait a while, until we have made our way into the city and reached my father's house.
But when you judge that we have had time to reach home, then go into the city of the Phaeacians and ask for the house of my father, great-hearted Alcinous. It is easy to recognize — even a child could lead you there,
foolish, though he be, could lead you there; for the houses of the Phaeacians are nothing like the house of the hero Alcinous. But once the halls and courtyard have closed around you, go quickly through the great hall until you reach my mother. She sits at the hearth in the light of the fire, spinning sea-purple wool on her distaff, a wonder to see, leaning against a pillar, with her serving women seated behind her. There, close beside her, leans my father's chair, where he sits and drinks his wine like an immortal. Pass him by and throw your arms around my mother's knees,
"so that you may see the day of your homecoming and rejoice, and rejoice quickly, however far from home you are. If she looks on you kindly in her heart, then you may hope to see your own people again and reach your well-built house and your native land."
So she spoke, and with the shining whip she lashed the mules, and they quickly left the streams of the river behind. They trotted along smoothly, stepping out well with their feet, and she drove with care, so that her attendants and Odysseus on foot could keep pace beside the chariot, and she used the whip with judgment.
The sun went down as they reached the famous grove sacred to Athena, and there godlike Odysseus sat himself down. At once he prayed to the daughter of great Zeus:
"Hear me, child of Zeus who bears the storm-shield, Atrytone. Hear me now at last, since you never heard me before when I was being battered, when the famous Earthshaker battered me. Grant that I come among the Phaeacians as one welcomed and pitied."
So he spoke in prayer, and Pallas Athena heard him. Yet she did not appear before him openly, for she held herself back out of respect for her father's brother, who still raged with fierce anger