Odysseus listened, and a flood of emotion filled his mind, so sad were the memories recalled by the minstrel’s lay.  Of all his gallant peers, for ten years his companions in many a joyful feast, and many a high adventure, how many were left?  And he, among the last of the survivors, was now growing old, after twenty years of war and wandering, far from his wife and home.  He was now, indeed, on the eve of his return; but at what a price had it been won!  And who could tell what heavy trials awaited him when once more he set foot on his native soil?  Was it not but too probable that he would find his house made desolate, Telemachus dead, and Penelope wedded to another?

Overpowered by these gloomy forebodings, he covered his face, and wept aloud.  When Demodocus paused in his singing he wiped away his tears, and poured a drink-offering from his cup; but every time the minstrel resumed his lay a new fit of weeping succeeded.  At last, Alcinous, who had hitherto been totally absorbed in that rare minstrelsy, observed his guest’s emotion, and partly divining the cause came to his relief.  “How say ye, fair sirs?” he said, rising and addressing the company.  “Shall we go forth for awhile, and show the stranger that we have other and manlier pastimes, now that we have eaten and drunken, and cheered our souls with song?  Let him not say of us when he goes home that we sit all day by the wine-cup, but let him learn that the Phaeacians surpass all mankind in boxing, and in wrestling, and in leaping, and in the speed of their feet.”

So saying he rose from his seat and led the way to the place of assembly.  Crowds soon flocked to see the friendly trial of strength and skill.  The first event was the foot race, and this was followed by matches of wrestling, boxing, leaping, and throwing the weight.  Odysseus stood watching the Phaeacians at their sports, and thinking of the mighty feats which he had witnessed and shared at the funeral games of Patroclus.  Presently he felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard himself challenged by a young Phaeacian, whose name was Euryalus, in these terms:  “Why so gloomy, father?  Away with care!  All is ready for thy departure, and thou shalt soon be home again.  But come, give us a proof of thy manhood, if thou knowest aught of games of skill.  Thou seemest a stout fellow, and I doubt not that thou wilt acquit thee well.”

“Friend,” answered Odysseus, “mock me not.  Thou seest how broken I am, and worn by my long battle with the sea; and care sits heavy on my heart, forbidding me to think of the things which thou namest.”

“Nay,” said Euryalus, with a scornful laugh, “I see that I was mistaken in thee.  Thou art plainly no athlete, but some cunning merchant, with thy head full of thy cargo, and fingers only skilled in counting thy gains.”