“Here me, ye princes of Phaeacia. Go ye now to your rest, and to-morrow we will call an assembly of all the elders, and make a great feast and sacrifice, and after that we will take counsel how we may best send the stranger on his way. Safe and sound we will bring him to his native land, but after that he must take up his portion, according as the Fates have ordained for him, and spun the thread of his life, rough or smooth, from the hour when his mother bare him. I speak as supposing our guest to be a man; but if he be a god, come down from heaven, then I fear that the gods are devising some snare against us. For never has it been their wont to appear among us in disguise, but at sacrifice and at feast they freely consort with us in their own shape, seeing that we are of their own kin.”
“Alcinous,” answered Odysseus, “let not this fear trouble thee. I am no god, as thou mayest see right well. If ye know any man conspicuous for the burden of sorrow which he bears, ye may learn my lot from his. But none, methinks, can equal the sum of what I have endured by the ordinance of heaven. Care sits by my side day and night, but within me is a monitor whose voice I must obey, even my hungry belly, that calls aloud to be filled, and will not let me alone to chew the cud of bitter thought. Shameless he is, and clamorous exceedingly. Therefore let me sup and question me no further to-night; but rouse thee betimes to-morrow, and send me with all speed to my native land. Let me once see my possessions, and my household, and my stately home, and then I will close mine eyes in peace.”
A murmur of approval went round the hall as Odysseus ended his speech. One by one the guests took leave of Alcinous, and he and his hosts sat awhile conversing together, while the servants were removing the remnants of the feast, and setting the house in order for the night. Arete was the first to speak, for she recognised the garments which Odysseus was wearing as the work of her own hands. “Friend,” said she, “let me ask thee one question. How camest thou by this raiment? For surely thou hast not brought it with thee in thy voyage across the deep. Say who thou art and whence thou comest.”
Thus challenged Odysseus told her all the story of his shipwreck on the island of Calypso, of his long sojourn there, of his voyage on the raft, his second shipwreck, and his landing on the coast of Phaeacia. Concluding he touched feelingly on his meeting with Nausicaae, and the kindness, courtesy, and modesty of her behaviour. “Never saw I such grace and prudence,” he added, “in one so young and so lovely.”
“Yet in this she did not well,” replied Alcinous, “that she brought thee not straightway to this house, but suffered thee to find thy way alone.”
“Nay, blame her not,” answered Odysseus, “she bade me come hither with herself and the maidens, but I feared to offend thee, and chose to come alone.”