When at last their hunger was appeased, and every goblet stood empty,
Phemius, the minstrel, stood up in their midst, and after striking a
few chords on his harp, began to sing a famous lay. Then the youth who
had been entertaining the stranger drew closer his chair, and thus
addressed him, speaking low in his ear: "Thou seest what fair company
we keep, how wanton they are, and how gay. Yet there was once a man
who would have driven them, like beaten hounds, from this hall, even
he whose substance they are devouring. But his bones lie whitening at
the bottom of the sea, and we who are left must tamely suffer this
wrong. But now thou hast eaten, and I may question thee without
reproach. Say, therefore, who art thou, and where is thy home? Comest
thou for the first time to Ithaca, or art thou an old friend of this
house, bound to us by ties of ancient hospitality?"
"My name is Mentes," answered the stranger, "and I am a prince of the
Taphians, a bold race of sailors. I am a friend of this house, well
known to its master, Odysseus, and his father, Laertes. Be of good
cheer, for he whom thou mournest is not dead, nor shall his coming be
much longer delayed. But tell me now of a truth, art not thou the son
of that man? I knew him well, and thou hast the very face and eyes of
Odysseus."
"My mother calls me his son," replied the youth, who was indeed
Telemachus himself, "and I am bound to believe her.
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