Book VIII

When early-born Dawn appeared with rosy fingers, the hallowed power of Alcinous rose from his bed, and up rose Odysseus, sacker of cities, born of Zeus. The hallowed power of Alcinous led them on to the Phaeacian assembly ground, built for them beside their ships. Arriving there, they sat on seats of polished stone, side by side.

But Pallas Athena ranged the town, in the likeness of the herald of wise Alcinous, devising a homecoming for great-hearted Odysseus. And standing by each man, she spoke her urgent word: “Come now, you lords and rulers of Phaeacia, make for the assembly, to hear about the stranger who has lately reached the house of wise Alcinous, a man sea-tossed, in form like the immortal gods.”

With words like these she roused the spirit and heart of each man. Swiftly the assembly ground and its seats were filled with those who gathered there. And many marveled as they saw the wise son of Laertes, for upon him Pallas Athena had shed a wondrous grace over his head and shoulders, and made him seem both taller and more powerful to the eye, so he might be held dear by all the Phaeacians, a man both awesome and revered, who could achieve the many trials with which they meant to test Odysseus.

Now when they were assembled and all gathered in one place, Alcinous rose among them and began to speak: “Hear me, you lords and rulers of Phaeacia, so I may speak what the heart inside my chest commands. This stranger—I do not know who he is—has come to my house as a wanderer, whether from peoples of the east or west. He urges us for passage and prays it be secured.

Let us, then, as we have always done, hasten his passage home. For no one else who ever comes within my halls must wait here long, grieving for want of safe escort. Come then, let us drag a black ship down to the bright salt sea, one on her maiden voyage, and let fifty-two young men be chosen from the people, those proven best before.

And once you have all lashed your oars fast to the rowing pins, disembark, and then prepare a swift feast by coming to our house; I will provide well for all. To the young men I give these commands. As for the rest of you, you scepter-holding kings, come to my splendid palace so we may host this stranger in our halls. Let no one refuse. And summon the divine singer, Demodocus, for the god has given him song beyond all others to bring delight, however his spirit moves him to sing.

” So he spoke and led the way, and they followed with him, the scepter-holders, while a herald went for the divine bard. And the fifty-two young men who had been chosen went, as he commanded, to the shore of the barren sea. And when they had come down to the ship and the water, they dragged the black ship into the sea’s deep heart, and set the mast and sails inside the black vessel, and fitted the oars in their leather straps, all in due order, and spread the white sails wide.

They moored her high in the harbor, and then they turned to make their way to the great house of wise Alcinous. The porticoes, the courts, the halls were filled with men who gathered there, and many there were, both young and old. For them, Alcinous sacrificed twelve sheep, eight white-tusked boars, and two shambling oxen.

These they flayed and dressed, and prepared a lovely feast. The herald drew near, leading the cherished bard, whom the Muse loved beyond all others, giving him good and evil both: she took away his sight, but gave him the gift of sweet song. For him, Pontonous placed a silver-studded throne among the feasters, braced against a soaring pillar, and from a peg above his head he hung the clear-voiced lyre, and the herald showed him how to reach for it with his hands.

Beside him he set a basket and a handsome table, and a cup of wine, to drink whenever his spirit moved him. Then they reached out their hands for the feast spread before them. And when they had put aside their desire for food and drink, the Muse stirred the bard to sing of the glories of men, from a lay whose fame had then reached the wide heavens: the strife between Odysseus and Achilles, son of Peleus, how they once contended at a rich feast of the gods with terrible words, while the king of men, Agamemnon, rejoiced in his heart that the best of the Achaeans were locked in strife.

For Phoebus Apollo had prophesied it would be so in sacred Pytho, when he crossed the stone threshold to ask the oracle; for then the first wave of woe began to roll over Trojans and Danaans, through the will of mighty Zeus. This was the song the renowned bard sang. But Odysseus, gripping his great purple cloak with powerful hands, drew it down over his head, concealing his handsome face, ashamed to let the Phaeacians see the tears he shed.

And whenever the divine singer paused in his song, Odysseus would wipe his tears, draw the cloak from his head, and taking his two-handled cup, pour a libation to the gods. But when the bard began again, and the Phaeacian lords urged him to sing on, delighting in his verses, Odysseus would again pull the cloak over his head and groan.

He hid his falling tears from all the others there; only Alcinous marked him and took notice, for he sat near him and heard his heavy groans. At once he spoke to the oar-loving Phaeacians: “Hear me, you lords and rulers of Phaeacia! Now we have satisfied our hearts with the shared feast and with the lyre, which is the companion to the glorious banquet. Let us go out now and make a trial of the games, all of them, so that our guest may tell his friends, when he has returned to his home, how far we surpass all others in boxing, in wrestling, in leaping, and in speed of foot.

” So he spoke and led the way, and they followed with him. The herald hung the clear-voiced lyre back on its peg, took Demodocus by the hand, and led him from the hall, guiding him on the same path the other nobles of the Phaeacians took to marvel at the games. They went to the assembly ground, and a great crowd followed, countless men;

and many fine young heroes stood forth. There rose Acroneos and Ocyalus and Elatreus, Nauteus and Prymneus, Anchialus and Eretmeus, Ponteus and Proreus, Thoön and Anabesineos, and Amphialus, son of Polyneus, son of Tecton. And up rose Euryalus, a match for man-destroying Ares, son of Naubolus, who was the best in form and feature of all the Phaeacians, after flawless Laodamas.

And there stood forth the three sons of flawless Alcinous: Laodamas, Halius, and godlike Clytoneus. First of all they made a trial of their speed. A course was marked for them from the starting line, and all at once they flew forward swiftly, raising dust from the plain. The best of them all at running was flawless Clytoneus;

by as far as the furrow made by mules in a fallow field, by that much he shot ahead and reached the crowd, while the others were left behind. Next they made a trial of grueling wrestling, and in this, Euryalus outmatched all the best men. In leaping, Amphialus was the most outstanding of all. In the discus, Elatreus was by far the strongest of all, and in boxing, Laodamas, the good son of Alcinous.

Now when all had delighted their hearts with the games, Laodamas, son of Alcinous, spoke among them: “Come, friends, let us ask the stranger if he knows and is skilled in any contest. His build is not poor— his thighs and his calves, his two arms overhead, his powerful neck and his great strength. He does not lack for youth, but he has been broken by many hardships.

For I say there is nothing else more ruinous than the sea to shatter a man, no matter how strong he may be.” And Euryalus answered him in turn and said: “Laodamas, that was a fitting word you spoke. Go now yourself, challenge him and declare your proposal.” When the good son of Alcinous heard this, he went and stood in the middle and spoke to Odysseus: “Come, stranger and father, you too try the contests, if you have any skill in them;

and it seems you do know games. For there is no greater glory for a man, as long as he lives, than what he can win with his own feet and his own hands. Come then, make a trial, and scatter the sorrows from your heart. Your journey will not be long delayed; even now your ship is dragged to the sea, and your companions are ready.”

And Odysseus of many wiles answered him, saying: “Laodamas, why do you ask this of me, with your taunts? Sorrows are in my heart far more than games, I who in former times suffered much and labored much, and now sit in your assembly, longing for my return, supplicating your king and all your people.” But Euryalus answered him back and taunted him to his face: “No, stranger, I would not say you are like a man skilled in games, such as are many among mankind.

Rather, you are like one who travels with a many-benched ship, a captain of sailors who are also merchants, mindful of his cargo, and a keeper of his accounts and his greedy gains. You do not look like an athlete.” Then, with a dark glance, Odysseus of many wiles addressed him: “Stranger, you have not spoken well; you are like a reckless man.

So it is that the gods do not give graceful gifts to all men— not in build, nor in mind, nor in power of speech. For one man may be weaker in appearance, but a god crowns his form with words, and others gaze on him with delight. He speaks with certainty and with gentle modesty, and he stands out in any gathering; as he walks through the city, they look on him as a god.

Another man in his form is like the immortals, but no grace is wreathed about his words. So it is with you: your form is outstanding—not even a god could fashion it better—but your mind is empty. You have stirred the spirit here in my own breast by speaking so improperly. I am not unskilled in games, as you claim, but I think I was among the first so long as I could trust in my youth and in my hands.

But now I am held by hardship and by sorrows, for I have endured much, cleaving through wars of men and the harsh waves of the sea. But even so, having suffered many evils, I will try the games. Your word has bitten my heart; you have roused me with your speech.” He spoke, and leaping up with his cloak still on, he seized a discus, larger and heavier, more solid by not a little than the ones the Phaeacians used to throw among themselves.

This he whirled and sent from his powerful hand, and the stone hummed. Down to the ground they cowered, the Phaeacians of the long oars, men famed for their ships, under the rush of the stone. It flew past all the marks, speeding lightly from his hand. And Athena set the marker, in the likeness of a man, and she spoke out and named the spot: “Even a blind man, stranger, could make out this mark by feeling for it, since it is not mingled in the crowd, but is far the first. Take heart in this contest at least; no Phaeacian will reach this mark, much less surpass it.

” So she spoke, and the much-enduring, divine Odysseus was glad, rejoicing that he saw a true friend in the contest. And then with a lighter heart he spoke to the Phaeacians: “Reach that one now, young men. Soon I think I will send another as far, or even farther still. And of the rest, whoever’s heart and spirit moves him, come here and try me, since you have angered me so much— in boxing or wrestling or even in running, I begrudge no one, any of the Phaeacians, except Laodamas himself.

For he is my host. Who would fight with one who befriends him? That man is a fool and a nobody who challenges his host to a contest of games in a foreign land; he cuts away his own advantage. Of the others, I refuse no one and hold no one in contempt, but I am willing to know and be tested face to face. I am not poor in any of the contests that exist among men.

I know well how to handle a polished bow; I would be the first to strike my man with an arrow in a crowd of enemy men, even if very many comrades stood close by and were shooting at their foes. Only Philoctetes surpassed me with the bow in the land of the Trojans, when we Achaeans shot. Of all the others, I say that I am by far the best, of all mortals now on earth who eat their bread.

But with men of former times I will not seek to contend— not with Heracles, nor with Eurytus of Oechalia, who even challenged the immortals with their bows. Because of that, great Eurytus died suddenly; he did not reach old age in his halls, for Apollo in his anger killed him, because he had challenged him to a trial of archery. And I can throw a spear farther than any other man can shoot an arrow. Only in running do I fear that some one of the Phaeacians might surpass me. For I was terribly broken on the many waves, since the provisions on my ship were not long-lasting. And so my limbs are undone.

” So he spoke, and they all fell into a hushed silence. Only Alcinous answered him and said: “Stranger, since what you say among us is not ungracious, but you wish to display the excellence that attends you, angered that this man stood beside you in the contest and taunted you, in a way no mortal would decry your worth who knew in his mind how to speak what is right— come now, understand my word, so that you may tell it to another hero, when in your own halls you dine beside your wife and your children, remembering our excellence, what feats Zeus has granted us down through the ages from the time of our fathers.

For we are not flawless boxers or wrestlers, but in speed of foot we run swiftly, and in our ships we are the best. And always dear to us is the feast, the lyre, and the dance, and changes of clothing, and warm baths, and the bed. But come now, you dancers of the Phaeacians, all who are best, perform, so that our guest may tell his friends when he returns home, how far we surpass all others in seamanship and speed of foot, in the dance and in song.

And let someone go quickly and bring Demodocus his clear-voiced lyre, which lies somewhere in our palace.” So spoke godlike Alcinous, and a herald rose to bring the hollow lyre from the king’s house. And nine appointed judges, chosen from the people, all stood up, who managed all things well at the contests; they smoothed the dancing-floor and widened the handsome ring.

The herald came near, carrying the clear-voiced lyre for Demodocus. He then went into the middle, and around him stood young men in the first bloom of youth, skilled in the dance, and they struck the sacred dancing-floor with their feet. And Odysseus watched the flashing of their feet and marveled in his heart. Then the bard, striking his lyre, began his beautiful song of the love of Ares and Aphrodite of the lovely crown: how they first lay together in the house of Hephaestus in secret;

he gave her many gifts, and shamed the marriage bed of lord Hephaestus. But soon a messenger came to him, Helios, the Sun, who had seen them lying in love. And Hephaestus, when he heard the heart-grieving story, went to his smithy, brooding on evils in his heart. He placed his great anvil on its block and forged chains that could not be broken or loosened, so they would stay fast in place.

And when he had fashioned the trap, seething with anger at Ares, he went to the chamber where his own dear bed was laid out, and all around the bedposts he poured the chains in a circle, and many hung down from the rafters overhead, fine as a spider’s web, which no one could see, not even one of the blessed gods; so cunningly were they made.

And when he had spread the whole trap around the bed, he pretended to go to Lemnos, that well-built citadel, which of all lands on earth is by far the dearest to him. And Ares of the golden reins was not keeping a blind watch when he saw Hephaestus, the famed craftsman, depart. He went on his way to the house of renowned Hephaestus, yearning for the love of Cytherea of the lovely crown. She had just come from the side of her father, the mighty son of Cronos, and had sat down. He came inside the house, took her by the hand, and spoke a word and called her by name: “Come, my dear, let us turn to the bed and lie down; for Hephaestus is no longer here among his people, but has already gone to Lemnos, to the wild-voiced Sintians.

” So he spoke, and to her it seemed a welcome thing to lie with him. The two went to the bed and lay down, and around them poured the chains forged by the cunning Hephaestus, and they could not move their limbs at all, nor lift them up. And then they knew for sure there was no escape. And near to them came the renowned lame god, having turned back before he reached the land of Lemnos;

for Helios had kept watch for him and told him the tale. He went toward his house, his heart in agony. He stood in the doorway, and a savage anger seized him. He cried out terribly, and his call reached all the gods: “Father Zeus, and you other blessed gods who live forever, come here, so you may see a laughable and intolerable deed, how Aphrodite, daughter of Zeus, forever dishonors me because I am lame, and loves destructive Ares, because he is handsome and sound of limb, while I was born misshapen.

But no one is to blame for this but my two parents, who should never have begotten me! But you will see where these two are sleeping in love, having gone into my own bed. And I, seeing it, am grieved. I do not think they will want to lie like this even a little longer, though they are so much in love. Soon neither will wish to sleep. But the trap and the chains will hold them until her father pays back to me all the bridal gifts that I handed over to him for his shameless girl, because his daughter is beautiful, but has no restraint.

” So he spoke, and the gods gathered at his bronze-floored house. Poseidon the earth-holder came, and Hermes the helper came, and the lord Apollo, the far-shooter, came. But the goddesses, out of modesty, each stayed in her own home. The gods, the givers of good things, stood in the doorway, and uncontrollable laughter rose among the blessed gods as they looked upon the craft of cunning Hephaestus. And one would say this, glancing at his neighbor: “Evil deeds do not prosper. The slow overtakes the swift, just as Hephaestus now, though slow, has caught Ares, though he is the swiftest of the gods who hold Olympus— lame as he is, he caught him by craft. And so Ares owes the adulterer’s fine.

” So they spoke these things to one another. But lord Apollo, son of Zeus, said to Hermes: “Hermes, son of Zeus, messenger, giver of good things, would you be willing, though pressed by powerful chains, to sleep in a bed beside golden Aphrodite?” And the messenger, the slayer of Argus, answered him: “If only this could be, lord Apollo, archer from afar! Let there be chains three times as many, endless chains, wound all around, and let all you gods and all the goddesses look on, so long as I could sleep beside golden Aphrodite.

” So he spoke, and laughter rose among the immortal gods. But Poseidon was not held by laughter; he kept begging Hephaestus, the famed craftsman, to set Ares free. And speaking to him, he uttered winged words: “Release him. I promise you that he himself, as you command, will pay all that is due among the immortal gods.”

And the renowned lame god answered him in turn: “Do not ask this of me, Poseidon, earth-holder. Wretched are the pledges to be pledged for the wretched. How could I bind you among the immortal gods if Ares should go off, escaping his debt and his chains?” And Poseidon the earth-shaker answered him in turn: “Hephaestus, if Ares should indeed evade his debt and escape in flight, I myself will pay you these things.”

And the renowned lame god answered him then: “It is not possible, nor is it seemly, to deny your word.” So saying, the might of Hephaestus released the chains. And the two, when they were freed from the bonds, powerful as they were, at once sprang up. He went away to Thrace, and she, the laughter-loving Aphrodite, came to Cyprus, to Paphos, where she has her precinct and her fragrant altar.

There the Graces bathed her and anointed her with oil, ambrosial oil, such as covers the gods who are forever, and they dressed her in lovely garments, a wonder to behold. This was the song the renowned bard sang. And Odysseus took pleasure in his heart as he listened, as did the others, the Phaeacians of the long oars, men famed for their ships.

Then Alcinous commanded Halius and Laodamas to dance alone, since no one could contend with them. And when they had taken in their hands a beautiful ball, a purple one, which clever Polybus had made for them, one of them would bend back and throw it toward the shadowy clouds, and the other, leaping high up from the earth, would catch it easily, before his feet touched the ground again.

And when they had made trial of throwing the ball straight up, they then danced upon the all-nourishing earth, passing it back and forth between them. And the other young men stood at the edge of the ring and beat time, and a great din arose. Then divine Odysseus spoke to Alcinous: “Lord Alcinous, most renowned of all peoples, you boasted that your dancers were the best, and now it is proven true. Wonder holds me as I watch.

” So he spoke, and the hallowed power of Alcinous was glad, and at once he spoke to the oar-loving Phaeacians: “Hear me, you lords and rulers of Phaeacia. This stranger seems to me a man of great perception. Come then, let us give him a guest-gift, as is fitting. For twelve distinguished kings rule among the people as chieftains, and I myself am the thirteenth. Let each of you bring a freshly washed cloak and a tunic, and a talent of precious gold. Let us bring all these things together at once, so that our guest, with them in his hands, may go to his dinner with a glad heart. And let Euryalus make amends to him himself with words and a gift, since the word he spoke was not fitting.

” So he spoke, and they all praised his words and gave their assent, and each one sent a herald to bring the gifts. And Euryalus in turn answered him and said: “Lord Alcinous, most renowned of all peoples, I will indeed make amends to the stranger, as you command. I will give him this sword, all of bronze, on which there is a hilt of silver, and a scabbard of newly sawn ivory is wrapped around it.

It will be a thing of great worth to him.” So saying, he placed the silver-studded sword in his hands and speaking to him, he uttered winged words: “Farewell, stranger and father. If any word has been spoken that was harsh, may the storm-winds snatch it up and carry it away at once. And may the gods grant that you see your wife and reach your homeland, since you have long suffered hardships far from your own.”

And Odysseus of many wiles answered him in turn: “And you too, my friend, farewell. May the gods give you blessings. And may you never have any cause to miss this sword, which you have given me, making amends with your words.” He spoke, and slung the silver-studded sword across his shoulders. The sun was setting, and the glorious gifts were with him.

The noble heralds carried them to the palace of Alcinous, and the sons of flawless Alcinous received them and placed the magnificent gifts before their honored mother. The hallowed power of Alcinous led the way for them, and they went in and sat down on high-backed thrones. Then the power of Alcinous spoke to Arete: “Come, wife, bring an outstanding chest, the best one you have, and in it place a freshly washed cloak and a tunic yourself.

And for him, heat a bronze cauldron over the fire, and warm the water, so that having bathed and seen all the gifts laid out well— the gifts the flawless Phaeacians have brought here for him— he may delight in the feast and in hearing the thread of the song. And I shall also give him this magnificent goblet of my own, a golden one, so that he may remember me all his days as he pours libations in his hall to Zeus and to the other gods.

” So he spoke, and Arete told her serving-women to place a great tripod over the fire with all speed. And they set the tripod for the bathwater over the blazing fire, and poured water in it, and taking wood, lit it beneath. The fire licked the belly of the tripod, and the water grew warm. Meanwhile, Arete brought a magnificent chest from the chamber for the guest, and placed in it the beautiful gifts, the clothing and the gold the Phaeacians gave him.

And in it she herself placed a fine cloak and a tunic, and speaking to him, she uttered winged words: “Look now to the lid yourself, and swiftly cast a knot upon it, so that no one may rob you on your way, when again you are sleeping a sweet sleep as you go in the black ship.” And when the much-enduring, divine Odysseus heard this, he at once fitted the lid, and swiftly cast upon it an intricate knot, which the lady Circe had once taught his mind.

Then the housekeeper bade him go to the tub and bathe. And he saw the warm bath with a glad heart, for he was not often accustomed to such comforts since he had left the house of fair-haired Calypso. But in her house, his comfort had been as constant as a god’s. Now when the serving-women had bathed him and anointed him with oil, and had cast about him a fine cloak and a tunic, he came from the bath to join the men drinking wine.

And Nausicaa, who had her beauty from the gods, stood by a pillar of the stoutly-built roof; she marveled at Odysseus, seeing him with her eyes, and speaking to him, she uttered winged words: “Farewell, stranger, so that one day, when you are in your own native land, you may remember me, since to me first you owe your life’s price.”

And Odysseus of many wiles answered her in turn: “Nausicaa, daughter of great-hearted Alcinous, so may Zeus now grant it, the loud-thundering husband of Hera, that I may go home and see the day of my return. Then even there I would pray to you as to a god, always, all my days. For you, maiden, gave me my life.” He spoke, and sat on a throne beside King Alcinous.

They were now serving portions and mixing the wine. The herald drew near, leading the cherished bard, Demodocus, honored by the people. He seated him in the midst of the feasters, braced against a soaring pillar. Then Odysseus of many wiles addressed the herald, slicing a portion from the back of a white-tusked boar, of which more was left, with rich fat all around it: “Herald, here, take this meat and give it to Demodocus, so he may eat, and I will embrace him, though I am grieving. For among all men on earth, singers are allotted honor and reverence, because the Muse has taught them the paths of song, and she loves the tribe of singers.

” So he spoke, and the herald carried it and placed it in the hands of the hero Demodocus. He received it and was glad in his heart. Then they reached out their hands for the feast spread before them. And when they had put aside their desire for food and drink, then Odysseus of many wiles spoke to Demodocus: “Demodocus, I praise you beyond all other mortals.

Either the Muse, child of Zeus, has taught you, or Apollo himself. For you sing the fate of the Achaeans far too well, all that they did and suffered, and all the Achaeans endured, as if you yourself were there, or had heard it from another. But come now, change your theme and sing of the making of the horse of wood, which Epeius built with Athena’s help, the horse that divine Odysseus once brought into the acropolis as a trick, filling it with the men who then sacked Ilium. If you can now relate these things to me in their proper order, I will at once declare to all mankind how generously a god has bestowed on you the gift of divine song.

” So he spoke, and the bard, moved by the god, began and revealed his song, taking it up from the point where the Argives, boarding their well-benched ships, were sailing away, having thrown fire into their huts, while the others, around renowned Odysseus, were already sitting in the assembly of the Trojans, hidden inside the horse, for the Trojans themselves had dragged it into their high city.

So it stood there, while they talked endlessly, sitting around it. And three counsels found favor with them: either to split the hollow timber with pitiless bronze, or to drag it to the heights and cast it down from the rocks, or to let it stand as a great offering to appease the gods— the very way it was destined in the end to be fulfilled.

For it was their fate to perish, once their city enclosed the great wooden horse, where all the best men of the Argives sat, bringing slaughter and doom to the Trojans. He sang how the sons of the Achaeans sacked the city, pouring out from the horse, leaving the hollow ambush. He sang how one and another laid waste the steep city, but how Odysseus went to the house of Deiphobus, like Ares, along with godlike Menelaus.

There, he said, he dared the most terrible of battles, and in the end was victorious, through great-hearted Athena. This was the song the renowned bard sang. But Odysseus melted, and a tear wet his cheeks from beneath his eyelids. As a woman weeps, falling upon her dear husband, who has fallen before his own city and his own people, warding off the pitiless day from his town and his children;

she, seeing him dying and gasping for breath, throws herself upon him and shrieks with a piercing cry, while men from behind, beating her back and her shoulders with their spears, lead her away into slavery, to have toil and misery, and with the most pitiful grief her cheeks are wasted away; so Odysseus let fall a pitiful tear from beneath his brows.

He hid his falling tears from all the others there; only Alcinous marked him and took notice, for he sat near him and heard his heavy groans. At once he spoke to the oar-loving Phaeacians: “Hear me, you lords and rulers of Phaeacia, and let Demodocus now check his clear-voiced lyre, for somehow he is not pleasing everyone with this song.

From the time we began to dine and the divine singer began, from that time our guest has not ceased from sorrowful lament. Surely a great grief has encompassed his heart. Come, let the bard stop, so that we may all be delighted alike, hosts and guest, since that is so much better. For the sake of our honored guest all these things are prepared: his escort and the loving gifts we give him out of friendship.

A guest and a suppliant is treated as a brother by any man who has even a little touch of understanding. Therefore, do not you now hide with cunning thoughts what I am about to ask you. It is better for you to speak. Tell me the name by which your mother and father called you back there, and the others in your city and those who dwell around it.

For no one among mankind is altogether without a name, neither the bad man nor the good, from the moment he is born, but parents give a name to all, as soon as they bear them. And tell me your land, your people, and your city, so that our ships, aiming their minds, may convey you there. For the Phaeacians have no pilots, nor are there any rudders, such as other ships have.

But the ships themselves know the thoughts and minds of men; they know the cities and the rich fields of all peoples, and they cross the gulf of the sea most swiftly, shrouded in mist and cloud. And for them there is never any fear of being harmed or of being lost. But I once heard this story from my father, Nausithous, who said that Poseidon was indignant with us because we are safe escorts for all men.

He said that one day a well-built ship of the Phaeacian men, returning from an escort on the misty sea, would be wrecked, and a great mountain would hide our city from view. So the old man spoke. These things the god may either bring to pass or leave undone, as is pleasing to his heart. But come, tell me this and relate it truly: where you have wandered and to what lands of men you have come, and about the men themselves and their well-peopled cities— both those who are harsh and savage and unjust, and those who are guest-loving and have a god-fearing mind.

And tell me why you weep and grieve in your heart within on hearing the fate of the Argive Danaans and of Ilium. The gods themselves fashioned this, and they spun the thread of destruction for men, so that there might be a song for those yet to be born. Did some kinsman of yours also perish before Ilium, a good man, a son-in-law or father-in-law, who are dearest to us after our own blood and our own kin? Or was it perhaps some companion, a man who knew pleasing things, a good man? For he is no less than a brother, the companion who knows things with a wise heart.”