And there lay the back-bent bow and the quiver that held the arrows, and many arrows were in it, fraught with groanings—gifts which a friend of Odysseus had given him when he met him once in Lacedaemon , even Iphitus, son of Eurytus, a man like unto the immortals.
Odysseus verily had come to collect a debt which the whole people owed him, for the men of Messene had lifted from Ithaca in their benched ships three hundred sheep and the shepherds with them.
And Iphitus, on his part, had come in search of twelve brood mares, which he had lost, with sturdy mules at the teat; but to him thereafter did they bring death and doom, [25] when he came to the stout-hearted son of Zeus, the man Heracles, who well knew 1 deeds of daring; for Heracles slew him, his guest though he was, in his own house, ruthlessly, and had regard neither for the wrath of the gods nor for the table which he had set before him, but slew the man thereafter, [30] and himself kept the stout-hoofed mares in his halls.
It was while asking for these that Iphitus met Odysseus, and gave him the bow, which of old great Eurytus had been wont to bear, and had left at his death to his son in his lofty house.
And to Iphitus Odysseus gave a sharp sword and a mighty spear, [35] as the beginning of loving friendship; yet they never knew one another at the table, for ere that might be the son of Zeus had slain Iphitus, son of Eurytus, a man like unto the immortals, who gave Odysseus the bow. This bow goodly Odysseus, when going forth to war, would never [40] take with him on the black ships, but it lay in his halls at home as a memorial of a dear friend, and he carried it in his own land.
Now when the fair lady had come to the store-room, and had stepped upon the threshold of oak, which of old the carpenter had skilfully planed and made straight to the line— [45] thereon had he also fitted door-posts, and set on them bright doors—straightway she quickly loosed the thong 2 from the handle and thrust in the key, and with sure aim shot back the bolts. And as a bull bellows [50] when grazing in a meadow, even so bellowed the fair doors, smitten by the key; and quickly they flew open before her.
Then she stepped upon the high floor, where the chests stood in which fragrant raiment was stored, and stretched out her hand from thence and took from its peg the bow together with the bright case which surrounded it. But when she had had her fill of tearful wailing, she went her way to the hall, to the company of the lordly wooers, bearing in her hands the back-bent bow and the quiver [60] that held the arrows, and many arrows were in it, fraught with groanings.
And by her side her maidens bore a chest, wherein lay abundance of iron and bronze, the battle-gear of her lord. Now when the fair lady reached the wooers, she stood by the door-post of the well-built hall, [65] holding before her face her shining veil; and a faithful handmaid stood on either side of her.
Nay, come now, ye wooers, since this is shewn to be your prize. And, bursting into tears, Eumaeus took them and laid them down, and in another place the neatherd wept, when he saw the bow of his lord. Wretched pair, why now do you shed tears, and trouble the soul in the breast of the lady, whose heart even as it is lies low in pain, seeing that she has lost her dear husband?
Nay, sit and feast in silence, [90] or else go forth and weep, and leave the bow here behind as a decisive 4 contest for the wooers; for not easily, methinks, is this polished bow to be strung. For there is no man among all these here such as Odysseus was, and I myself saw him. Yet verily he was to be the first to taste of an arrow from the hands of noble Odysseus, whom then he, [] as he sat in the halls, was dishonoring, and urging on all his comrades.
My dear mother, for all that she is wise, declares that she will follow another lord, forsaking this house; [] yet I laugh, and am glad with a witless mind.
Come then, ye wooers, since this is shewn to be your prize, a lady, the like of whom is not now in the Achaean land, neither in sacred Pylos , nor in Argos , nor in Mycene, nor yet in Ithaca itself, nor in the dark mainland. Come then, put not the matter aside with excuses, nor any more turn away too long from the drawing of the bow, that we may see the issue.
Yea, and I would myself make trial of yon bow. If I shall string it and shoot an arrow through the iron, [] it will not vex me that my honored mother should leave this house and go along with another, seeing that I should be left here able now to wield the goodly battle-gear of my father.
And amazement seized all who saw him, that he set them out so orderly, though before he had never seen them. Then he went and stood upon the threshold, and began to try the bow. And now at the last he would haply have strung it in his might, as for the fourth time he sought to draw up the string, but Odysseus nodded in dissent, and checked him in his eagerness. But, come now, you that are mightier than I, [] make trial of the bow, and let us end the contest.
Then first arose Leiodes, son of Oenops, [] who was their soothsayer, and ever sat by the fair mixing-bowl in the innermost part of the hall; deeds of wanton folly were hateful to him alone, and he was full of indignation at all the wooers. He it was who now first took the bow and swift arrow, and he went and stood upon the threshold, and began to try the bow; [] but he could not string it. For many princes shall this bow rob of spirit and of life, since verily it is better far [] to die than to live on and fail of that for the sake of which we ever gather here, waiting expectantly day after day.
Now many a man even hopes in his heart and desires to wed Penelope, the wife of Odysseus; but when he shall have made trial of the bow, and seen the outcome, thereafter let him woo [] some other of the fair-robed Achaean women with his gifts, and seek to win her; then should Penelope wed him who offers most, and who comes as her fated lord. I am angered to hear it, [] if forsooth this bow is to rob princes of spirit and of life, because thou art not able to string it.
For, I tell thee, thy honored mother did not bear thee of such strength as to draw a bow and shoot arrows; but others of the lordly wooers will soon string it. Therewith the youths warmed the bow, and made trial of it, but they could not [] string it, for they were far lacking in strength.
Now Antinous was still persisting and godlike Eurymachus, leaders of the wooers, who were far the best in valiance; but those other two had gone forth both together from the hall, the neatherd and the swineherd of divine Odysseus; [] and after them Odysseus himself went forth from the house.
Nay, my spirit bids me tell it. Would you bear aid to the wooers or to Odysseus? Each handle probably has a metal ring on the end opposite the blade so that it can easily be hung on a wall peg.
That ring is what Odysseus shoots his arrow through. Twelve in a row is an amazing but conceivable feat, and because he is sitting on a stool at the time, he is at about the right height for such a shot. Several folklore motifs appear in this section of the epic. Most prominent is a contest involving a mystical weapon that only the hero can wield.
In Beowulf, for example, the hero Beowulf strikes down his foe's Grendel's mother with a mystical sword inscribed with runic symbols. In the Arthurian legend, only Arthur, the true king, is able to pull the sword Excalibur from the stone. The difference here is that the challenge in The Odyssey requires less magic and more skill and physical strength. Other motifs are the disguise of the hero, the battle for the bride, revenge upon interlopers, maturation of the heir apparent, and restoration of a king to his rightful reign.
Telemachus' role at the contest is secondary but significant. His attempt at stringing the bow symbolically illustrates that, although he isn't quite yet ready to assume the burden of leadership from Odysseus, he is, indeed, the destined heir to Odysseus' legacy.
Some critics also complain that Telemachus is unduly rude when he sends his mother to her quarters as Odysseus is about to string the bow; other suggest that he is angry.
Neither is the case. In fact, Telemachus is accomplishing two important tasks. He is asserting his own position in the household, and he is removing his mother from harm's way. She may suspect that the beggar is her husband, but Telemachus knows that a battle is about to take place and that his place is at the side of the king.
The structure of the contest section is especially effective. Odysseus reenters the palace, where Eurymachus has just failed to string the bow. Odysseus -the-beggar advises the suitors to rest and pray to the archer god while he himself tries the bow, just to amuse them. Antinous warns him angrily that he may end up like the drunken Centaur Eurythion, who was mauled by his hosts the Lapiths.
But Penelope urges the suitors to let the stranger try his luck; there is no shame in such a thing, she says, compared to the shame the suitors have brought on the household. Telemachus asserts his right to be the one to hand over the bow and sends Penelope to her quarters. Odysseus maintains his ruse until the very end — perhaps he takes pride in the art of disguise. Antinous's warning shows that he does not comprehend honor and custom: honor does not lie in one's social standing, so there is nothing dishonorable in a beggar competing against a lord.
Penelope says as much. Telemachus demonstrates his growing maturity and confidence by giving his mother orders and thereby protecting her from the coming battle. Piety, Customs, and Justice. Related Quotes with Explanations. Eumaeus carries the bow to the king amidst the mocking of the suitors. Odysseus strings the bow as gracefully as a bard tuning his lyre; Zeus sends down a bolt of lightning. Then the king shoots the arrow cleanly through the row of axes.
He says to Telemachus : it's time for the song and dance that follow a feast. Homer compares Odysseus to a bard to show both his facility with the unwieldy bow and the artfulness of his schemes. In this moment, Odysseus regains his heroic stature; but his glory is now more human as it contains traces of the helplessness, despair, and humiliation he experienced in his 20 years of travel back to Ithaca.
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