HOMER
ODYSSEY

Translated by Ian Johnston, Vancouver Island University, Nanaimo, British Columbia, Canada.

This document is in the public domain (released January 2024). For a brief publication history see Odyssey: Table of Contents. For an RTF or PDF format of this translation use the following links: Odyssey [RTF]; Odyssey [PDF]

BOOK TWENTY-THREE
ODYSSEUS AND PENELOPE

[Eurycleia wakes up Penelope to tell her Odysseus has returned and killed the Suitors; Penelope refuses to believe the news; Penelope comes down and sits in the same room as Odysseus but doesn’t recognize him; Telemachus criticizes his mother; Odysseus invites her to test him and discusses with Telemachus what their next step will be to deal with the aftermath of the killings; they organize a fake wedding dance to deceive anyone passing the house; Odysseus is given a bath, and Athena transforms his appearance; Penelope tells Eurycleia to set his old bed up for him outside the bedroom; Odysseus tells the story of the bed; Penelope acknowledges Odysseus and embraces him; Odysseus tells her of the ordeals yet to come, according to the prophecy of Teiresias; Penelope and Odysseus go to bed, make love, and then she hears the story of his adventures; in the morning Odysseus gets up, tells Penelope to stay in her upper rooms, puts on his armour, instructs Eumaeus and Philoetius to arm themselves; Athena leads them out of the city.]

Old Eurycleia climbed up to an upstairs room,
laughing to herself, so she could tell her mistress
that Odysseus, her dear husband, was in the house.
Her old knees moved swiftly as her feet hurried on.
She stood beside her lady’s head and spoke to her:

“Wake up now, Penelope, my dear child,
so you yourself can see with your own eyes
what you’ve been wanting each and every day.
Odysseus has arrived. He may be late,
but he’s back in the house. And he’s just killed                            10
those haughty suitors who upset this home,
used up his goods, and victimized his son.”

Wise Penelope then answered her:                                                                  [10]

                                                              “Dear nurse,
the gods have made you mad. They can do that—
turn even someone really sensible
into a fool and bring a feeble mind
to a path of fuller understanding.
They’ve injured you—your mind was sound before.
Why mock me, when my heart is full of grief,
telling this mad tale, rousing me from sleep,                                20
a sweet sleep binding me, shrouding my eyes?
I’ve not had a sleep like that since Odysseus
went off to look at wicked Ilion,
a place whose name no one should ever speak.
Come now, go back down to the women’s hall.                                    [20]
If another of the slaves that serve this house
had come to tell me this, woken me up
when I was sleeping, I’d have sent her back
at once to the woman’s quarters in disgrace.
But I’ll be good to you because you’re old.”                                    30

The dear nurse Eurycleia answered her and said:

“But I’m not making fun of you, dear child.
It’s true. Odysseus has returned. He’s back,
here in the house, exactly as I said.
He’s that stranger all the men dishonoured
in the hall. For some time Telemachus
knew he was at home, but he was careful                                                      [30]
to hide his father’s plans, until the time
he could pay back those overbearing men
for their brutality.”

                                                          Eurycleia spoke.                                             40
Penelope rejoiced. She jumped up out of bed,
hugged the old woman, tears falling from her eyelids,
and spoke to Eurycleia—her words had wings:

                                                                  “Come now,
dear nurse, tell the truth. If he’s truly here,
back home as you maintain, then how could he
turn his hands against those shameless suitors?
He was alone, and in this house those men
are always in a group.”

                                         Her dear nurse Eurycleia
then answered her:

                              “I didn’t see or hear about it.                                           [40]
I only heard the groans of men being killed.                                  50
We sat in our well-built women’s quarters,
in a corner, terrified. Close-fitting doors
kept us in there, until Telemachus,
your son, called me from the room. His father
had sent him there to ask me to appear.
I found Odysseus standing with the bodies—
dead men on the hard earth all around him,
heaped up together, a heart-warming sight—
and he was there, covered with blood and gore,
just like a lion. Now all those bodies                                               60
have been piled up beside the courtyard gates,
and he’s purging his fair home with sulphur.                                       [50]
He’s kindled a great fire. He sent me out
to summon you. Now, come along with me,
so you two can be happy in your hearts.
You’ve been through so much misfortune, and now
what you’ve been looking forward to so long
has finally happened. He’s come himself,
to his own hearth while still alive—he’s found
you and your son inside these halls and taken                              70
revenge on all the suitors in his home,
whose actions have inflicted so much harm.”

Wise Penelope then answered Eurycleia:

“Dear nurse, don’t laugh at them and boast too much.
You know how his appearance in the hall                                             [60]
would please everyone, especially me
and the dear son born to the two of us.
But this story can’t be true, not the way
you’ve told it. One of the immortal gods
has killed the noble suitors out of rage                                          80
at their heart-rending pride and shameless deeds.
They did not honour any man on earth,
bad or good, when he came into their group.
They’ve met disaster through their foolishness.
But in some place far away Odysseus
has given up his journey to Achaea,
and he himself is lost.”

                                                        Dear nurse Eurycleia
then answered her:

                   “My child, what words have slipped                                [70]
the barrier of your teeth, when you declared
your husband won’t get home—he’s in the house,                       90
at his own hearth. Your heart just has no trust.
But come on, I will tell you something else—
it’s a clear proof—that scar from a white-tusked boar
that he got years ago—well, I saw it.
I washed it clean. I was going to tell you,
but his hand gripped me by the throat—his heart
had other plans and would not let me speak.
But come with me. I’ll stake my life on it.
If I’ve deceived you, then you can kill me
and choose a painful death.”

                                                  Wise Penelope                                                      100   [80]
then answered her:

                   “Dear nurse, you find it hard
to grasp the plans of the eternal gods,
even though you’re truly shrewd. But let’s go
to my son, so I can see the suitors
now they’re all dead—and the man who killed them.”

Penelope spoke and went down from the upper room,
her heart preoccupied with many things—Should she
keep her distance and ask her dear husband questions,
or should she come up to him, hold his head and hands,
and kiss them? Crossing the stone threshold, she went in                     110
and sat down by the fire opposite Odysseus,
beside the further wall. He was just sitting there                                         [90]
by a tall pillar, looking at the ground, waiting
to find out if his noble wife would speak to him
when she saw him with her own eyes. But she sat down
and stayed silent a long time, wonder in her heart.
Sometimes her eyes looked straight at him, full in the face,
but at other times she failed to recognize him,
he had such shabby clothing covering his limbs.
Telemachus spoke up, addressing a rebuke                                            120
directly at her:

                   “Mother, you’re a cruel woman,
with an unfeeling heart. Why turn aside
from my father in this way? Why not sit
over there, close to him, ask him questions?
No other woman’s heart would be so hard                                            [100]
to make her this distant from a husband
who’s come home to her in his native land
in the twentieth year, after surviving
so many harsh ordeals. That heart of yours
is always harder than a stone.”

                                               Wise Penelope                                                         130
then answered him:

                                 “My child, inside my chest
my heart is quite amazed. I cannot speak
or ask questions, or look him in the eye.
If indeed it’s true he is Odysseus
and is home again, surely the two of us
have more certain ways to know each other.
We have signs only we two understand,                                                [110]
and other people will not recognize.”

As she spoke, lord Odysseus, who had borne so much,
smiled and immediately spoke to Telemachus—                                    140
his words had wings:

                         “Telemachus, let your mother
test me in these halls. She will soon possess
more certain knowledge. Right now I’m filthy,
with disgusting clothing on my body.
That’s why she rejects me and will not say
I am Odysseus. But we need to think
how this matter can best resolve itself.
Anyone who murders just one person
in the district, even when the dead man
does not have many to avenge his death,                                        150
goes into exile, leaving his relatives                                                       [120]
and his native land. But we have slaughtered
the city’s main defence, the best by far
of the young men in Ithaca. I think
you should consider what that act could mean.”

Shrewd Telemachus then answered him and said:

“Surely you must look into this yourself,
dear father. For among all men, they say,
your planning is the best—of mortal men
no one can rival you. And as for us,                                                 160
we’re keen to follow you, and I don’t think
we’ll lack the bravery to match our strength.”

Resourceful Odysseus said this in reply:

“All right, I’ll say what seems to me the best.                                       [130]
First of all, take a bath. Put tunics on.
Next, tell the female servants in the hall
to change their clothing. After that, we’ll let
the holy minstrel, with his clear-toned lyre,
lead us in playful dancing, so anyone
who hears us from outside—someone walking                              170
along the road or those who live close by—
will say it is a wedding. In that way,
the wide rumour of the suitors’ murder
will not spread too soon down in the city,
before we go out to our forest lands.
Then later on we’ll think of our next move,
whatever the Olympian god suggests.”                                               [140]

They listened eagerly to what Odysseus said
and were persuaded. So, to start with, they all bathed,
put on tunics, and women dressed in finer clothes.                               180
Then the godlike singer picked up his hollow lyre
and encouraged their desire for beautiful songs
and noble dancing. The whole great house resounded
to the sounds of men enjoying a celebration
with women wearing lovely gowns. So any man
who listened in as he walked past outside the house
might offer a remark like this:

                                             “It seems that someone
has married the queen with all those suitors.
A heartless woman. She lacked the courage                                         [150]
to keep her wedded husband’s home intact                                  190
and persevere till he arrived back home.”

Someone might have said these words, in his ignorance
of what was going on. Meanwhile, Eurynome,
the housekeeper, gave brave Odysseus a bath,
rubbed him with rich oil, and put a tunic on him,
with a gorgeous cloak. Athena poured beauty on him—
her abundance made him taller and more robust
to look at. Then on his head she transformed his hair,
so it flowed in curls like fresh hyacinths in bloom.
Just as a man sets a layer of gold on silver,                                              200
a skilful artisan whom Pallas Athena                                                               [160]
and Hephaestus have taught all sorts of crafts,
so he produces splendid work, that’s how Athena
poured grace onto his head and shoulders, as he came
out of his bath, looking like the immortal gods.
He settled back in the chair where he'd been sitting,
opposite his wife, and said to her:

                                                              “Strange lady,
to you those who live on Mount Olympus
have given, more than to any other wives,
an unfeeling heart. No other woman                                               210
would harden herself and keep her distance,
if her husband, in the twentieth year,
came back to her in his own native land,                                               [170]
after going through so much misfortune.
So come now, nurse, spread out a bed for me,
so I can lie down by myself. The heart
inside her breast must be made of iron.”

Wise Penelope then answered him:

                                                  “Strange man,
I am not making too much of myself,
or ignoring you. Nor is it the case                                                   220
that you’ve offended me in any way.
I understand the sort of man you were
when you left Ithaca in your long-oared ship.
So come, Eurycleia, set up for him
outside the well-built bedroom that strong bed
he made himself. Put that sturdy bedstead
out there for him and throw some bedding on,
fleeces and cloaks and shining coverlets.”                                            [180]

Penelope said these words to test her husband.
But Odysseus, upset at his true-hearted wife,                                        230
replied and said:

           “Woman, those words you uttered
are very painful. Who’s shifted my bed
to somewhere else? That would be difficult,
even for someone truly skilled, unless
a god came down in person—for he could,
if he so wished, set it elsewhere with ease.
But among men there is no one living,
no matter how much energy he has,
who would find it easy to shift that bed.
For built into the well-constructed bedstead                               240
is a great symbol which I made myself
with no one else. A long-leaved olive bush                                           [190]
was growing in the yard. It was in bloom
and flourishing—it looked like a pillar.
I built my bedroom round this olive bush,
till I had finished it with well-set stones.
I put a fine roof on it and added
closely fitted jointed doors. After that,
I cut back the foliage, removing
the branches from the long-leaved olive bush.                              250
I trimmed the trunk off, upward from the root,
cutting it skillfully and true with bronze,
so it followed a straight line. Once I’d made
the bedpost, with an augur I bored out
the entire piece. That was how I started.
Then I carved out my bed, till I was done.
In it I set an inlay made of gold,                                                                  [200]
silver, and ivory, and across it
I stretched a bright purple thong of ox-hide.
And that’s the symbol I describe for you.                                       260
Lady, I don’t know if that bed of mine
is still in place or if some other man   
has cut that olive tree down at its base
and set the bed up in a different spot.”

Odysseus spoke, and sitting there, Penelope
felt a weakness in her knees, and her heart grew soft.
For she recognized that it was true—that symbol
Odysseus had described to her. Eyes full of tears,
she ran across to him, threw her arms around his neck,
kissed his head, and said:

                      “Don’t be angry, Odysseus,                                             270
not with me. In every other matter
you’ve been the cleverest of men. The gods                                          [210]
have brought us sorrows—they were not willing
that we two should stay beside each other
to enjoy our youth and reach together
the threshold of old age. Now’s not the time
to rage at me, resenting what I’ve done
because I did not welcome you this way
when I first saw you. But in my dear breast
my heart was always fearful, just in case                                        280
some other man would come here and trick me
with his stories. For there are many men
who dream up wicked schemes. Argive Helen,
a child of Zeus, would never have had sex
with a man who came from somewhere foreign
if she had known Achaea’s warrior sons                                                [220]
would bring her back to her dear native land.
And some god drove her to that shameful act.
Not till that time did she start harbouring
within her heart that disastrous folly                                               290
which filled our lives with misery as well.
But now you have described that clear symbol,
our bed, which no one else has ever seen,
other than the two of us, you and me,
and a single servant girl, Actoris,
a gift my father gave when I came here.
For both of us she kept watch at the doors
of our securest room. You’ve won my heart,                                          [230]
though it’s been truly stubborn.”

                                                                   Penelope spoke,
and stirred in him an even more intense desire                                       300
to weep—as he held his loyal and loving wife,
he shed tears. Just as swimmers are overjoyed
to catch a glimpse of land, sailors whose sturdy ship
Poseidon has demolished out at sea, as winds
and surging waves were driving it, and a few men
have escaped the grey sea by swimming to the shore,
their bodies thickly caked with brine, and they are glad
to clamber up on land, evading a disaster,
that how Penelope rejoiced to see her husband.
She simply could not stop her white arms holding him                         310    [240]
around his neck. And then rose-fingered early Dawn
would have appeared with both of them still weeping there,
if goddess Athena with the glittering eyes
had not come up with something else—for she prolonged
the lengthy night as it came to an end, keeping
Dawn and her golden throne delayed at Ocean’s stream—
she would not let the goddess harness her swift horses,
who carry her light to men, Lampros and Phaeton,
the colts who bring on Dawn.

                                                 Resourceful Odysseus
then said to his wife:

                                     “Lady, we’ve not yet come                                 320
to the end of all our trials. Countless tasks
must still be carried out in days to come,
plenty of hard work I have to finish.                                                       [250]
That’s what the spirit of Teiresias
prophesied to me when I descended
to the home of Hades to ask questions
concerning our return, my companions
and myself. But come, wife, let’s go to bed,
so we can lie down and enjoy sweet sleep.”

Wise Penelope then answered:

                                                    “You’ll have a bed                                  330
whenever your heart desires, for the gods
have seen to it that you’ve returned back here
to your own well-built home and native land.
But since you have thought of it and some god                                     [260]
has set it in your heart, come and tell me
of this trial. For I think I’ll hear of it
in future, so to learn of it right now
won’t make things any worse.”

                                                Resourceful Odysseus
then answered her and said:

                                                “Strange lady,
why urge me so eagerly to tell you?                                                340
All right, I’ll say it, and I’ll hide nothing.
But what I tell you will not please your heart.
I myself get no enjoyment from it.
Teiresias ordered me to journey out
to many human cities, carrying
in my hands a well-made oar, till I reached
a people who know nothing of the sea,
who don’t put salt on any food they eat,                                                [270]
and have no knowledge of ships painted red
or well-made oars that serve those ships as wings.                       350
He told me a sure sign I won’t conceal—
when someone else runs into me and says
I’ve got a shovel used for winnowing
on my shoulders, he told me to set it
in the ground there, make a rich sacrifice
to lord Poseidon with a ram, a bull,
and a boar that breeds with sows—and then leave,
go back home, and make sacred offerings
to immortal gods who hold wide heaven,                                              [280]
all of them in order. My death, he said,                                          360
will come from the sea, a gentle passing,
when I am bowed down with a ripe old age,
with my people prospering around me.
He foretold that this is what would happen.”

Wise Penelope then said to him:

                                        “If it’s true that gods
are bringing you a more serene old age,
there’s hope you’ll find relief from these ordeals.”

While they kept talking to each other in this way,
Eurynome and the old nurse prepared the bed
with soft coverlets, by light from flaming torches.                                  370   [290]
Once they had hurriedly arranged the sturdy bed,
Eurycleia returned to her own room to rest,
and the bedroom servant, Eurynome, led them
on their way to bed, with a torch gripped in her hand.
Once she brought them there, Eurynome went away.
Odysseus and Penelope approached with joy
the place where their bed still stood from earlier days.

Telemachus, Philoetius, and Eumaeus
rested their dancing feet and made the women stop.
Then they lay down in the shadowy hall to sleep.                                  380

When Odysseus and Penelope had enjoyed                                                    [300]
making love together, they entertained themselves
telling stories, in mutual conversation.
The lovely lady talked of all she had to bear
in her own house, dealing with that destructive group,
the suitors, who, because of her, kept butchering
so many cattle and fat sheep and draining jars
of so much wine. Odysseus, born from Zeus, told her
all the troubles he had brought on men, all the grief
he had endured all on his own. Penelope                                                 390
was happy listening, and Sleep did not swoop down
and close her eyes until his story had been told.

He began by telling her how he first destroyed                                             [310]
the Cicones, and then came to the fertile land
of Lotus-eating men, and what the Cyclops did—
how he compelled the beast pay a penalty
for the brave companions he had killed and eaten—
then how he came to Aeolus, who welcomed him
with hospitality and sent him on his way.
But that was not the destined time he was to reach                               400
his dear native soil. Instead, stormy winds once more
caught up with him, drove him across the fish-filled seas,
for all his weary groans. He told how he came
to Telepylos where the Laestrygonians live,
huge men who destroyed his ships and all his comrades,
and how Odysseus and his crew were the only ones                                     [320]
to escape in his black ship. He went on to talk
of Circe’s devious magical skill and how
in his ship with many oars he had then gone down
to the shadowy house of Hades to consult                                               410
the spirit of Teiresias of Thebes and seen
all his companions and his mother, who bore him
and raised him as a child, and how he listened to
the Sirens’ voices, in their never-ending song,
and then reached the Wandering Rocks, dread Charybdis,
and Scylla, whom no man had ever yet escaped
without being harmed, how his companions slaughtered
the oxen of sun god Helios, how his ship
was shattered by a flaming lightning bolt thrown down                              [330]
from high-thundering Zeus, how his fine comrades died,                     420
all together, while he alone escaped from fate,
how he reached the nymph Calypso on her island,
Ogygia, how she kept him in her hollow cave,
longing for him to be her husband, nurturing him,
and telling him she would make him an immortal
who through all his days would not get any older,
but she could not convince the heart within his chest,
how, after suffering a great deal, he had come
to the Phaeacians, who had greatly honoured him,
as if he were a god, and sent him in a ship                                               430   [340]
to his dear native land, after offering gifts
of bronze and gold and rich supplies of clothing.
He stopped his story at that point, when sweet sleep,
which eases tension in men’s limbs, came over him,
and calmed the anxious worries he had in his heart.

Then Athena, goddess with the glittering eyes,
came up with something else. When she thought Odysseus
and his wife had satisfied their hearts with pleasure
and with sleep, she stirred up Dawn, enthroned in gold,
to move from Ocean’s stream and bring her light to men.                     440
Odysseus rose from his soft bed and told his wife:

“Lady, the two of us by now have had                                                     [350]
enough of trouble—you here lamenting
my hazardous return, while, in my case,
Zeus and the other gods kept me tied up
far from my native land, in great distress,
for all my eagerness to get back home.
Now that we are here, in the bed we love,
you should tend to our wealth inside the house.
As for the flocks those haughty suitors stole,                                450
I’ll seize many beasts as plunder on my own,
and Achaeans will give more—they’ll fill up
each and every pen. Now I’m going out
to check my forest lands, and there I’ll see
my noble father, who on my behalf                                                     [360]
has suffered so much worry. So, dear wife,
since I know how intelligent you are,
I’m asking you to follow my advice—
once sunrise comes, the story will be out
about the suitors slaughtered in our home.                                   460
So you should go now to your upstairs room
with your female attendants and stay there.
Do not visit or question anyone.”

Once he said this, he put his splendid armour on,
around his shoulders, and summoned Telemachus,
Philoetius, and Eumaeus, and told them all
to get weapons in their hands ready for a fight.
They did not disobey, but dressed themselves in bronze,
opened the doors, and went outside, with Odysseus                                    [370]
in the lead. By now light was shining on the ground,                           470
but Athena kept their group hidden by the night,
and quickly escorted them outside the city.

[Continue to Odyssey Book 24]

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