'...No doubt you will pay them back in blood when you come home!But once you have killed those suitors in your halls-by stealth or in open fight with slashing bronze-go forth once more, you must...carry your well-planed oar until you cometo a race of people who knowing nothing of the sea, whose food is never seasoned with salt, strangers allto ships with their crimson prows and long slim oars,wings tht make ships fly. And here is your sign-unmistakable, clear, so clear you cannot miss it:When another traveler falls in with you and callsthat weight across your shoulders a fan to winnow grain,then plant your bladed, balanced oar in the earthand sacrifice fine beasts to the lord god of the sea,Poseidon - a ram, a bull and a ramping wild boar-then journey home and render noble offerings up to the deathless gods who rule the vaulting skies,to all the gods in order.And at last your own death will steal up you...a gentle, painless death, far from the sea it comesto take you down, borne down with the years in ripe old agewith all your people there in blessed peace around you.All that I have told you will come true''Oh Tiresias,'I replied as the prophet finished, 'surely the godshave spun this out as fate, the gods themselves...'
"if it's bed you want," reserved Penelope replied,"it's bed you'll have, whenever the spirit moves you,now that the gods have brought you home againto native land, your grand and gracious house.But since you've alluded to it,since a god has put it in your mind,please, tell me about this trial still to come.I'm bound to learn of it later, I am sure-what's the harm if I hear of it tonight?"
not tenderness for a son, nor filial dutytoward my aged father, nor the love I owedPenelope that would have made her glad,could overcome the fervor that was mineto gain experience of the worldand learn about man's vices, and his worth.
With this brief speech I had my companionsso ardent for the journeyI could scarce have held them back.
We rejoiced, but joy soon turned to grief:for from that unknown land there camea whirlwind that struck the ship head-on.
Where sky and water meet,Where the waves grow sweet,Doubt not, Reepicheep,To find all you seek,There is the utter East.
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