For those of ye who recognise this tale, and ye that don't also

But that man – if they caught sight of him home in Ithaca,
land you here in Ithaca? Who did they say they are?
Lord of the Taphian men who love their oars.
He, I gather, no longer ventures into town
on a wave-washed island, and hard men, savages,
you’re truly Odysseus’ son? You’ve sprung up so!
But I am not so certain. Who, on his own,
but tell me about all this and spare me nothing.
Once this house was rich, no doubt, beyond reproach
but now the whirlwinds have ripped him away, no fame for him!
She neither rejects a marriage she despises
as strong as the man I glimpsed that first time
whether or not he’ll come and pay them back,
the array that goes with a daughter dearly loved. For you,
now, if you hear your father’s alive and heading home,
by stealth or in open combat.
Waiting for my return. It all rests with you.
A host will give a stranger, friend to friend."
Charged with his father’s memory more than ever now.
And down the steep stair from her chamber she descended,

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