§1.60Ille mihi de te multa rogatus abit, §1.61Quamque tibi reddat, si te modo viderit usquam, §1.62Traditur huic digitis charta notata meis.
He departs, having been asked by me many things about you, and so that he may deliver it to you, if only he sees you anywhere, a letter marked by my fingers is delivered to him.
We sent to Pylos, the Neleian fields of ancient Nestor; the report sent back from Pylos was uncertain.
§1.65Misimus et Sparten; Sparte quoque nescia veri.
We sent also to Sparta; Sparta too is ignorant of the truth.
§1.66Quas habitas terras, aut ubi lentus abes?
What lands do you inhabit, or where do you linger absent?
It would be more useful if even now the walls of Phoebus were standing — alas, inconsistent myself, I am angry with my own vows!
I would know where you were fighting, and would fear only wars, and my complaint would be joined with many others.
What I should fear, I know not — yet I fear everything, madly, and a wide field lies open for my anxieties.
§1.73Quaecumque aequor habet, quaecumque pericula tellus, §1.74Tam longae causas suspicor esse morae.
Whatever dangers the sea holds, whatever the land holds, I suspect to be the causes of so long a delay.
While I foolishly fear these things, such is the lust of you men, you may be captivated by a foreign love.
§1.77Forsitan et narres, quam sit tibi rustica coniunx, §1.78Quae tantum lanas non sinat esse rudes.
Perhaps you even tell how rustic your wife is, who only does not allow her wool to remain unworked.
May I be mistaken, and may this accusation vanish into thin air, nor may you, free to return, wish to remain absent!
My father Icarius compels me to depart from my widowed bed and continually reproaches my endless delays.
Let him reproach continually — I am yours, I must be called yours; I, Penelope, will always be the wife of Ulysses.
He, however, by my filial devotion and chaste prayers is softened and himself moderates his own force.
§1.87Dulichii Samiique et quos tulit alta Zacynthos, §1.88Turba ruunt in me luxuriosa proci, §1.89Inque tua regnant nullis prohibentibus aula; §1.90Viscera nostra, tuae dilacerantur opes.
Those of Dulichium and Samos, and those whom high Zacynthos bore, a luxurious crowd of suitors, rush upon me, and they rule in your palace, with no one forbidding them; our very vitals, your wealth, are torn to pieces.
§1.91Quid tibi Pisandrum Polybumque Medontaque dirum §1.92Eurymachique avidas Antinoique manus §1.93Atque alios referam, quos omnis turpiter absens §1.94Ipse tuo partis sanguine rebus alis?
Why should I recount to you Pisander and Polybus and dreadful Medon, and the greedy hands of Eurymachus and Antinous, and others, all of whom, in your shameful absence, you yourself nourish with possessions acquired by your blood?
The needy Irus and Melanthius, the driver of sheep to be eaten, are added as the final shame to your losses.
We are three, unwarlike in number: a wife without strength, and Laertes the old man, and Telemachus the boy.
The latter was recently almost taken from me by treachery, while he prepared to go to Pylos against the wishes of all.
§1.101Di, precor, hoc iubeant, ut euntibus ordine fatis §1.102Ille meos oculos conprimat, ille tuos!
May the gods, I pray, command this, that, as fates go in order, he may close my eyes, and he yours!
§1.103Hac faciunt custosque boum longaevaque nutrix, §1.104Tertius inmundae cura fidelis harae; §1.105Sed neque Laertes, ut qui sit inutilis armis, §1.106Hostibus in mediis regna tenere potest — §1.107Telemacho veniet, vivat modo, fortior aetas; §1.108Nunc erat auxiliis illa tuenda patris — §1.109Nec mihi sunt vires inimicos pellere tectis.
On this side stand also the keeper of cattle and the aged nurse, and, third, the faithful keeper of the unclean sty; but neither can Laertes, being useless in arms, hold the kingdom in the midst of enemies — for Telemachus a stronger age will come, if only he lives; now that age ought to have been protected by his father's help — nor do I have the strength to drive the enemies from our home.
§1.110Tu citius venias, portus et ara tuis!
May you come more quickly, a harbor and an altar for your people!
You have, and may you have, I pray, a son who in his tender years ought to have been instructed in his father's arts.
Look upon Laertes; so that you may close his eyes, he is holding out for his final day of fate.