Book XVII · Ῥαψωδία ρ

The second rosy-fingered Dawn pulled up, doing her early-bird thing,

right then he strapped the nice sandals on under his feet,

Telemachus did, the beloved son of Odysseus, that godlike legend,

grabbed his solid spear, the one that sat just right in his palm,

itching to hit the town, and he hit his swineherd with this:

can lay eyes on me: because no cap I don't reckon she'll quit

the miserable weeping and the tear-soaked sobbing for a second

before she's actually seen me with her own eyes: but here's my orders for you:

walk this poor sad stranger into town, so he can scrounge up

a hunk of bread and a cup: me, there's just no way I can carry

the whole of humanity on my back, not with this much pain already in my chest.

And if the stranger's gonna get all heated about it, that's worse

for him, honestly: because me, I'm a fan of telling things straight."

"My guy, me neither, I've got zero urge to hang around holding things up.

For a beggar it's just better to scrounge a meal up in the city

than out in the fields: whoever feels like it can hand me something.

Because I'm way past the age to be posted up at the farm

So go on: this man here'll walk me down, the one you're telling to,

the second I've warmed myself by the fire and the chill's burned off.

Because no joke these rags I'm in are properly grim: I don't want the frost

at first light folding me up: and you said the town's a fair trek away."

feet moving quick, plotting bad vibes for the suitors the whole way.

But once he'd reached the well-built house where everyone lived,

he carried the spear over and stood it up against a tall pillar,

then headed inside himself and stepped over the stone threshold.

busy laying out the fleeces on the fancy carved thrones,

and bursting into tears she beelined straight for him: and around him the rest,

the serving women of Odysseus, that goat who's been through it, all gathered close

and kissed him, smothering his head and his shoulders with love.

looking like Artemis or golden Aphrodite herself,

and crying she threw both arms around her dear boy,

kissed his head and both his gorgeous eyes,

and wailing she let these winged words fly at him:

I'd ever see you again, the second you sailed off to Pylos

in secret, against my will, chasing word of your dear dad.

But come on, spill it all to me, what kind of sight you actually caught."

And switched-on Telemachus came back at her with this:

the heart up in my chest, not when I've just dodged a steep-death speedrun:

nah, wash yourself up, throw clean clothes onto your skin,

head up to the upper room with your handmaid women,

and vow to all the gods you'll lay on full proper hecatombs,

Meanwhile me, I'm gonna roll down to the assembly so I can call up

the stranger who tagged along with me from over there on my way back.

Him I sent on ahead with my godlike crew of mates,

and I told Peiraeus to walk him to his place and host him

That's what he announced, and the words landed soft on her, no pushback.

So she washed herself up, threw clean clothes onto her skin,

and vowed to all the gods she'd lay on full proper hecatombs,

in case Zeus somehow let the payback finally land.

spear in hand: and two quick-footed dogs trotted right along beside him.

And Athena poured this divine, otherworldly charm all over him:

so all the people stared as he came walking up.

The arrogant suitors gathered round him in a swarm,

But him, he dodged the big crowd of them after that

and made for where Mentor was sitting, plus Antiphus and Halitherses,

the ones who'd been his dad's ride-or-die mates right from the jump,

and he went and parked himself there: and they grilled him on every detail.

walking the stranger to the assembly through the city: and no longer

did Telemachus keep his distance from the guest, nah, he stepped right up.

And Peiraeus was the first to hit him with these words:

"Telemachus, hurry up and send some of my women to my house,

And switched-on Telemachus came back at him with this:

"Peiraeus, we genuinely don't know how all this is gonna play out.

If the arrogant suitors merk me in the halls

on the sly and carve up all my dad's stuff between them,

but if I'm the one who plants murder and doom on them,

then yeah, bring them round to my place, me happy and you happy too."

Saying this he led the long-suffering stranger to his house.

And once the two of them reached the well-built home,

then stepped into the polished tubs and washed up.

And after the maids had bathed them and rubbed them down with oil,

threw thick woolly cloaks and tunics around them both,

they stepped out of the tubs and dropped onto the chairs.

a gorgeous golden one, streaming it over a silver basin,

so they could clean up: and she dragged a polished table over beside them.

And the respectable housekeeper came round with the bread and laid it out,

loading on plenty of dishes, generous with whatever was on hand:

reclined on a chair, twisting the fine threads on her spindle.

So they all sent it on the good food laid out ready in front of them.

But once they'd killed the craving for drinking and eating,

switched-on Penelope was the one who kicked off the talking:

and lie down on my bed, the one that's basically made of grief now,

forever soaked through with my tears, ever since Odysseus

went off with the sons of Atreus to Ilium: and you couldn't even bring yourself,

before the arrogant suitors pulled up to this house,

And switched-on Telemachus came back at her with this:

"Alright then, mum, I'll lay the truth out for you straight.

We went off to Pylos and to Nestor, the shepherd of the people:

and that man, taking me into his lofty house,

back home after ages away in some other place: that's how he

looked after me, with full care, alongside his glorious sons.

But of Odysseus, that goat who's been through it, he said he'd never

caught a word from anyone on earth, alive or dead,

sending me with horses and a well-joined chariot.

There I saw Argive Helen, the one over whom so many

Argives and Trojans went through it, by the will of the gods.

And straight away Menelaus, master of the war-cry, asked me

so I laid the whole truth out for him.

And then he came back at me with these words and said:

"Oh my days, so a pack of total weaklings wanted to lie down

in the bed of a real iron-hearted man, themselves being spineless.

still suckling and tiny, in the den of a mighty lion,

and goes off to graze the mountain slopes and the grassy

valleys, and then he rolls back into his own den

and dumps an ugly fate on both of those little fawns,

Oh if only, Father Zeus and Athena and Apollo,

he showed up the way he once did in well-built Lesbos,

stood up out of a quarrel and wrestled Philomeleides,

slammed him down hard, and all the Achaeans were buzzing,

every one of them would catch a quick death and a bitter wedding.

But the stuff you're asking me and begging me for, me, I wouldn't

go saying anything else around it, sliding past it, and I won't deceive you:

nah, what the old man of the sea, the no-lies one, told me,

He said he'd seen the man on an island, locked in proper pain,

in the halls of the nymph Calypso, who's keeping him there

by force: and he can't reach his own homeland,

because he's got no oared ships and no crew of mates

That's what he said, the son of Atreus, spear-famous Menelaus.

Once I wrapped all that up I headed home: and the immortals

handed me a fair wind, who shipped me quick to my dear homeland."

That's what he said, and he stirred the spirit in her chest right up.

"O respected wife of Odysseus, son of Laertes,

listen, that man over there doesn't actually know the full story, so take in my word:

because I'm gonna prophesy to you dead straight and hide nothing.

Let Zeus be my witness first of all the gods, and this guest-table here,

that Odysseus is, no cap, already on his homeland soil,

sitting tight or creeping about, getting wind of all these bad deeds,

yeah he's here, and he's planting trouble for every single one of the suitors,

the exact reading I clocked off a bird while I was parked

And switched-on Penelope came back at him with this:

"Oh if only, stranger, that word of yours came true:

then you'd find out real quick how much love and how many gifts

you'd get from me, the kind that'd have everyone you meet calling you blessed."

meanwhile out in front of Odysseus's hall the suitors

were enjoying themselves chucking discuses and javelins

on the levelled ground, where they always flexed their entitled energy.

But once it was dinnertime and the flocks came rolling in

right then Medon spoke up to them: because out of all the heralds

he was the one they liked best, and he was there at their feasts:

"Lads, since you've all enjoyed yourselves with the contests,

head to the house so we can sort out the feast:

That's what he said, and they got up and went, taking his word.

And once they'd reached the well-built house,

they tossed their cloaks down on the chairs and the thrones,

and they butchered the big sheep and the fat goats,

getting the feast ready. Meanwhile out from the field toward town

Odysseus and the swineherd, that goat, were getting themselves moving.

And the swineherd, that leader of men, kicked off the talking:

"Stranger, since you're so set on heading into the city

you stayed right here as a guard for the farm:

but I respect him and I'm scared he'll get on my case

later: and a master's telling-offs are rough business:

but come on, let's move now: because the day's already mostly

And big-brain Odysseus, three moves ahead, came back at him with this:

"I get it, I'm tracking: you're telling someone who already knows.

So let's move, and you lead the whole way from front to back.

And hand me a stick, if you've got one carved somewhere,

So he spoke, and he slung the sorry old bag round his shoulders,

all ripped to bits, with a twisted cord for a strap:

and Eumaeus handed him a staff that sat just right in his grip.

Then the two of them set off, and the dogs and the herdsmen

looking exactly like a sorry old beggar, a proper old man,

leaning on the stick: and the grim rags hung off his body.

But once they were striding along the rocky path

and getting close to the city and reached the spring,

the one Ithacus and Neritus and Polyctor built:

and around it was a grove of water-fed poplars,

all the way round in a ring, and the cold water ran down

from up on the rock: and over the top was a built altar

right there the son of Dolius, Melanthius, came across them,

driving his goats, the standout pick of every goat-herd around,

dinner for the suitors: and two herdsmen tagged along with him.

And clocking them he started slinging insults, said his piece out loud,

"Now look, here's one absolute trash-tier guy leading another trash-tier guy,

exactly how a god always pairs like with like.

Where you dragging this gutter rat, you miserable swineherd,

this pain of a beggar, this leftover-licking party crasher?

begging for scraps, not swords, not cauldrons.

If you'd hand him to me to be a guard for the farm

and a stall-sweeper and to haul the green shoots to the kids,

he could down the whey and put some real meat on those scrawny thighs.

to actually do a job, nah, he'd rather slink round the neighbourhood

begging so he can stuff his bottomless gut.

But here's what I'm telling you, and trust me it's gonna come true:

if he ever pulls up to the house of Odysseus, that godlike one,

are gonna scrape his ribs raw as he gets pelted through the place."

That's what he said, and walking past, the clueless fool kicked him with his heel,

right on the hip: but he didn't knock him off the path,

nah, he stood firm. And Odysseus was weighing it up,

or hoist him up by the head and slam him down to the ground:

but he toughed it out and held it in. And the swineherd,

glaring dead at him, laid into him, then lifted his hands and prayed big:

"Spring Nymphs, daughters of Zeus, if ever Odysseus

of lambs and kids, then make this one wish come true for me,

that that man comes back, and some spirit guides him home.

He'd scatter every one of those flashy airs of yours,

the ones you're parading round so cocky now, forever roaming

And then Melanthius, herder of goats, came back at him with this:

"Oh my days, listen to this devious mutt running his mouth,

the one I'll cart off some day on a black well-benched ship

far from Ithaca, so he can earn me a fat pile of cash.

today in the halls, or he'd get folded by the suitors,

the same way Odysseus lost his homecoming day way off somewhere."

Saying this he left them there, walking on at their slow pace,

while he himself pushed on and reached his lord's house quick.

across from Eurymachus: because him he loved the best.

Beside him the workers set down a portion of meat,

and the respectable housekeeper came round with the bread and laid it out

for him to eat. Meanwhile, up close, Odysseus and the swineherd, that goat,

of the hollow lyre: because Phemius was striking it up to sing

for them. And Odysseus, grabbing his hand, hit the swineherd with this:

"Eumaeus, this for real has to be the gorgeous house of Odysseus:

it's dead easy to clock, even picked out from a whole bunch.

with wall and coping, and the doors are solid, well-fenced,

double ones: there's no man alive could overpower it.

And I can tell loads of guys are throwing a feast in there,

because the smell of the fat's drifting out, and inside the lyre's

And then you came back at him, Eumaeus the swineherd, with this:

"You clocked it easy, since you're nobody's fool on the rest of it either.

But come on, let's figure out how all this is gonna go.

Either you go first into the well-built house

or if you'd rather, wait, and I'll go on ahead.

But don't take too long, in case somebody spots you outside

and chucks something or shoves you off: that's what I'm telling you to watch for."

And then Odysseus, that goat who's been through it, came back at him with this:

So go on ahead, and I'll hang back out here.

Because I'm no stranger to getting hit or having things chucked at me:

my spirit's got the nerve, since I've taken loads of pain

on the waves and in war: let this just be one more for the pile.

the cursed thing, the one that hands out so much grief to people:

it's literally the reason the well-benched ships get rigged out

across the barren sea, hauling ruin to the enemy."

So those two were going back and forth like this:

Argos, belonging to Odysseus, that goat who's been through it, the one he himself

had raised, but never got the use of, because he shipped out

to holy Ilium first. And in the old days the young men used to take him out

after the wild goats and the deer and the hares:

in a deep pile of dung, the stuff that built up in front of the doors

from the mules and the cattle, heaps of it, until the servants of Odysseus

could cart it off to manure his big estate:

right there the dog Argos lay, absolutely crawling with ticks.

he wagged his tail and dropped both his ears down flat,

but he couldn't manage to get any closer to his lord

and pull up close to his own master: meanwhile Odysseus, peeping the dog from the side, swiped away a tear,

slick enough that Eumaeus never clocked it, then straight up hit him with the question:

The build on him is gorgeous, but the thing I genuinely can't read is this,

whether he was fast on his feet too, matching a frame that fine,

or if he was just one of those pretty table-dogs men keep,

the kind the masters only really bother with for the aesthetic."

"For real, this is the dog of a man who died far from home,

and if he were still the same in body and in the work,

the way Odysseus left him when he shipped out for Troy,

you'd be gagged on the spot, clocking that speed and that fight in him.

no beast, none: and on the scent he was honestly all-knowing.

But now he's stuck in a rough era, his master perished somewhere far from his homeland,

and the careless women can't be bothered to look after him.

Servants, once their masters aren't running things over them anymore,

because wide-seeing Zeus snatches half a man's worth clean off him

the very day the day of slavery grabs hold of him."

Saying that he stepped on into the lovely well-built house,

and beelined straight through the hall to the high-and-mighty suitors.

the second he laid eyes on Odysseus after twenty whole years.

Now godlike Telemachus was the very first to clock him

coming through the house, the swineherd, and quick as anything

he nodded him over, calling him close: and the man, glancing about, grabbed a stool

for the suitors feasting all through the house:

he hauled it over and set it down beside Telemachus's table,

right across from it, and that's where he plonked himself: and the herald

took a portion for him and laid it out, plus bread lifted from the basket.

looking like a miserable old beggar and a worn-out elder,

leaning on his stick: and those grim rags were draped all over his body.

He sat himself down on the ash-wood threshold inside the doors,

propped up against the cypress door-post, the one a craftsman way back

And Telemachus, calling the swineherd close, said his piece,

after grabbing a whole loaf out of the gorgeous basket,

plus meat, as much as his cupped hands could possibly hold:

"Take this over to the guest and tell him personally

shame's honestly not a good look on a man who's down bad and in need."

That's what he said, and the swineherd moved out, soon as he caught the order,

and pulling up close he let the winged words fly:

"Telemachus is handing you this, guest, and he's telling you

shame, he says, is honestly no good for a man who's begging."

And big-brain Odysseus came back at him with this:

"Lord Zeus, let Telemachus be blessed among men,

and may every single thing his heart's set on come true for him."

right there in front of his feet, on top of the ratty beggar-bag,

and he tucked in while the bard was still singing through the halls.

Right as he'd finished eating, the divine bard was wrapping up his song:

and the suitors kicked up a racket all through the hall. But then Athena,

gassed him up to go gather scraps of bread off the suitors,

and clock which of them were decent and which were lawless trash:

not that she was about to spare a single one of them from ruin.

So he went round begging, working each man left to right,

And out of pity they kept giving, and they were lowkey shook by him,

asking each other who he was and where on earth he rolled in from.

And among them Melanthius, the goatherd, piped up:

"Listen up, you suitors of our oh-so-famous queen,

For sure the swineherd was the one who led him here,

but the man himself I don't know, where he claims his bloodline's from."

That's what he said, and Antinous tore into the swineherd with words:

"Oh you very recognisable swineherd, why on earth did you drag this guy

miserable beggars, the kind who lick the feast platters clean?

Or are you salty that they're eating up your master's livelihood

crowding in here, so you went and invited this one too?"

And then you fired back at him, Eumaeus, you loyal swineherd:

because tell me, who personally goes out and invites some stranger

in from elsewhere, unless he's one of the public craftsmen,

a seer, or a healer of bad stuff, or a builder of timbers,

or even a god-touched bard, the kind who delights you when he sings?

nobody invites a beggar to come grind him down.

But you're always rough, harder than any of the suitors,

on Odysseus's servants, and on me especially: but as for me,

I genuinely don't care, not while big-brain Penelope's

And big-brain Telemachus came back at him with this:

"Hush up, don't go trading a whole pile of words with this guy:

Antinous loves to wind people up, he's always at it

with rough talk, and he gets all the others stirred up too."

"Antinous, the way you genuinely care for me like a dad cares for his son,

you, who're ordering this guest booted out of the hall

with that bully talk: may the gods never let that come to pass.

Grab something and give it to him: I'm not stingy, nah, I'm actually telling you to.

of the servants who are in godlike Odysseus's house.

But nah, you've got no thought like that sitting in your chest:

because you'd way rather eat it all yourself than hand any to somebody else."

And then Antinous came back at him with this:

If all the suitors handed him over the exact same amount,

the house would keep him three whole months off and away from here."

That's what he said, and he grabbed the footstool out from under the table,

the one he'd been resting his shiny feet on while he feasted, and flashed it.

with bread and meat. And soon enough Odysseus was about

to head back to the threshold and taste the freebies of the Achaeans:

but he stopped right by Antinous and hit him with this:

"Give us something, friend: you don't look like the worst of the Achaeans to me,

So you really ought to give, more generous than the others,

of bread: and I'll spread your fame across the boundless earth.

Because back in the day I too had a house among people,

a blessed, loaded one, and I gave plenty to a wandering man like this,

I had servants by the literal thousand, and loads of other stuff,

the kind of riches people live well off and get called wealthy for.

But Zeus, son of Kronos, wrecked it all (he wanted to, I guess):

he's the one who set me off with roving pirates

I anchored my curved ships in the river of Egypt.

And listen, there I was begging my ride-or-die crew

to hang back right there by the ships and guard them,

and I sent out scouts to head up to the lookout points.

and dead quick they were torching the gorgeous fields

of the Egyptian men, hauling off the women and the little kids

and slaughtering the men: and the screaming hit the city fast.

And catching that shouting, the moment Dawn showed her face

and the flash of bronze. And Zeus, the one who delights in lightning,

threw a wicked panic into my crew, and not a single one had the nerve

to stand and face them: because trouble had us surrounded from every side.

There they killed a load of us with the sharp bronze,

But me, they handed off to a stranger who happened by, bound for Cyprus,

Dmetor, Iasus's son, who ruled mightily over Cyprus.

And from there I've made it all the way here, eating L's the whole route."

And then Antinous answered him and went off:

Stand over there in the middle, well clear of my table,

or you'll be clocking a bitter Egypt and Cyprus real soon:

that's how bold and shameless a beggar you are.

You post up in front of everyone in turn, and they hand stuff over

in being generous with somebody else's stuff, when there's plenty for each of them."

And big-brain Odysseus answered, stepping back from him:

"Oh wow, so the looks and the brains really didn't come bundled with you.

You wouldn't even hand your own household worker a pinch of salt out of your house,

to take a scrap of bread and give it to me: and there's loads sitting right there."

That's what he said, and Antinous got even more heated deep in his heart,

and glaring at him from under his brows he let the winged words fly:

"Now I really don't reckon you're getting out of this hall

That said, he grabbed the footstool and hurled it at the right shoulder,

right at the base of the back. But the man stood firm like a rock,

solid, and Antinous's missile didn't knock him off balance at all,

nah, he just shook his head in silence, plotting nasty things deep down.

nicely stuffed, on the floor, and said this to the suitors:

"Listen up, you suitors of our oh-so-famous queen,

so I can say what the spirit in my chest is telling me to.

For real, there's no ache in the heart and no grief at all

whether it's over his cattle or his bright white sheep:

but Antinous chucked that thing at me over my miserable belly,

the cursed thing, the one that hands out so much grief to people.

But if there really are gods and Furies for beggars anywhere,

And then Antinous answered him back, the son of Eupeithes:

"Eat in peace and sit still, guest, or get lost somewhere else,

or these young guys'll drag you through the house by a foot or a hand

for talking like that, and scrape you raw all over."

and one of those arrogant young men would say something like this:

"Antinous, you did not do well chucking that at a poor wandering man.

You're done for, if it turns out he's some heavenly god, you know:

because the gods do disguise themselves as guests from foreign lands,

keeping eyes on the arrogance and the good order of people."

That's what the suitors said, but he didn't care a bit about their words.

And Telemachus, deep in his heart, kept the grief swelling big

over the man who got hit, but he didn't drop a single tear from his eyes,

And when big-brain Penelope heard about it,

that he'd been struck in the hall, she said this among her handmaids:

"I wish the famous-bow Apollo would strike you down the exact same way."

And then Eurynome the housekeeper said this to her:

not one of these guys would make it to fair-throned Dawn."

And big-brain Penelope said back to her:

"Auntie, they're all enemies, every one, because they're cooking up evil:

but Antinous most of all is giving literal black-fate vibes.

begging off the men, because rock-bottom need is driving him:

and there all the others filled him up and gave him stuff,

but this one chucked a footstool at his right shoulder-blade."

So she was talking like that, sitting among her handmaid women,

And calling the loyal swineherd close, she said to him:

"Off you go, noble Eumaeus, and tell the guest

to come over, so I can welcome him properly and ask him stuff,

whether somewhere he's heard about much-enduring Odysseus,

And then you came back at her, Eumaeus, you loyal swineherd:

"If only, my queen, the Achaeans would shut up:

the things this guy says, he'd absolutely enchant your heart.

Because I had him three nights, and kept him three days

but he still hadn't finished telling the whole saga of his hardship.

You know how a man stares at a bard, one who, taught by the gods,

sings lovely yearning words for mortals,

and they can't get enough of listening, every time he sings:

He says he's a family friend of Odysseus going way back,

living in Crete, where the line of Minos comes from.

And from there he's now made it all the way here, eating L's,

just tumbling along: and he swears he's heard about Odysseus

alive: and he's hauling loads of treasure home to his own house."

And big-brain Penelope said back to him:

"Off you go, call him over here, so he can tell me face to face.

And let these guys carry on amusing themselves, either parked at the doors

Because their own stuff is sitting untouched back at their homes,

the bread and the sweet wine: that's what their household help eats up,

while they keep rolling round to our place all day every single day,

slaughtering our cattle and our sheep and our fat goats,

recklessly: and it's all getting devoured: because there's no man

the like of what Odysseus was, to fend the ruin off this house.

But if Odysseus came back and reached his homeland,

he'd settle the score with his son real quick for the violence of these men."

it echoed scarily loud: and Penelope laughed,

and quick as anything she let the winged words fly at Eumaeus:

"Go on for me, call the guest over here so he's right in front of me.

Don't you see how my son just sneezed at every word I said?

all of them for sure, and not one of them dodges death and his doom.

And here's another thing I'm telling you, so chuck it deep in your mind:

if I figure out he's telling me the whole unvarnished truth,

I'll dress him in a cloak and a tunic, gorgeous clothes."

and pulling up close he let the winged words fly:

"Guest, my man, big-brain Penelope's calling for you,

Telemachus's mum: her heart's pushing her to ask you some things

about her husband, even though she's been through so much grief.

she'll dress you in a cloak and a tunic, the very things you

need the most: as for bread, you can beg it round the district

and feed your belly: anybody who's down for it will give to you."

And then much-enduring Odysseus, that goat, said back to him:

to Icarius's daughter, big-brain Penelope:

because I know my stuff about that man, we caught the same misery together.

But I'm lowkey scared of this crowd of rough suitors,

whose arrogance and brute force hit the iron sky.

doing nothing wrong, chucked that thing and handed me a load of pain,

neither Telemachus nor anybody else lifted a finger to help.

So for now, tell Penelope to hang tight in the halls,

keen as she is, until the sun goes down:

sitting me closer to the fire: because these clothes I'm wearing

are grim, you know it yourself, since I begged you first off."

That's what he said, and the swineherd moved out, soon as he caught the order.

And as he stepped over the threshold Penelope said to him:

Is he scared of somebody, a bit too much, or is he just plain

shy about being in the house? A shy beggar's a useless beggar."

And then you came back at her, Eumaeus, you loyal swineherd:

"He's talking sense, the exact way anyone else would reckon it too,

but he's telling you to hang tight until the sun goes down.

And honestly it's way better for you this way too, my queen,

to say your piece to the guest one-on-one and hear him out."

And big-brain Penelope said back to him:

because never, not once, have there been mortal men anywhere

acting this arrogant, cooking up such reckless schemes."

So she was talking like that, and off went the noble swineherd

into the crowd of suitors, once he'd spelled it all out.

holding his head right up close, so the others wouldn't catch it:

"My guy, I'm off now to keep an eye on the pigs and all that stuff back there,

your livelihood and mine: you handle everything here.

But save your own self first, and keep it locked in your mind,

the ones Zeus had better wipe out before the trouble lands on us."

And big-brain Telemachus came back at him with this:

"That's how it'll be, auntie: you head off once you've had your evening meal:

and at dawn come back, and bring the good sacrificial beasts.

That's what he said, and the swineherd sat back down on the polished stool.

And once he'd filled up his heart with food and drink,

off he went to head back to the pigs, leaving the courtyard and the hall

packed with feasters: and they were vibing out to dancing and singing,