<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=410330" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Odyssey: Book 24</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then Mercury of Cyllene summoned the ghosts of the suitors, and in<br>his hand he held the fair golden wand with which he seals men's eyes<br>in sleep or wakes them just as he pleases; with this he roused the<br>ghosts and led them, while they followed whining and gibbering<br>behind him. As bats fly squealing in the hollow of some great cave,<br>when one of them has fallen out of the cluster in which they hang,<br>even so did the ghosts whine and squeal as Mercury the healer of<br>sorrow led them down into the dark abode of death. When they had<br>passed the waters of Oceanus and the rock Leucas, they came to the<br>gates of the sun and the land of dreams, whereon they reached the<br>meadow of asphodel where dwell the souls and shadows of them that<br>can labour no more.<br>Here they found the ghost of Achilles son of Peleus, with those of<br>Patroclus, Antilochus, and Ajax, who was the finest and handsomest man<br>of all the Danaans after the son of Peleus himself.<br>They gathered round the ghost of the son of Peleus, and the ghost of<br>Agamemnon joined them, sorrowing bitterly. Round him were gathered<br>also the ghosts of those who had perished with him in the house of<br>Aeisthus; and the ghost of Achilles spoke first.<br>"Son of Atreus," it said, "we used to say that Jove had loved you<br>better from first to last than any other hero, for you were captain<br>over many and brave men, when we were all fighting together before<br>Troy; yet the hand of death, which no mortal can escape, was laid upon<br>you all too early. Better for you had you fallen at Troy in the<br>hey-day of your renown, for the Achaeans would have built a mound over<br>your ashes, and your son would have been heir to your good name,<br>whereas it has now been your lot to come to a most miserable end."<br>"Happy son of Peleus," answered the ghost of Agamemnon, "for<br>having died at Troy far from Argos, while the bravest of the Trojans<br>and the Achaeans fell round you fighting for your body. There you<br>lay in the whirling clouds of dust, all huge and hugely, heedless<br>now of your chivalry. We fought the whole of the livelong day, nor<br>should we ever have left off if Jove had not sent a hurricane to<br>stay us. Then, when we had borne you to the ships out of the fray,<br>we laid you on your bed and cleansed your fair skin with warm water<br>and with ointments. The Danaans tore their hair and wept bitterly<br>round about you. Your mother, when she heard, came with her immortal<br>nymphs from out of the sea, and the sound of a great wailing went<br>forth over the waters so that the Achaeans quaked for fear. They would<br>have fled panic-stricken to their ships had not wise old Nestor<br>whose counsel was ever truest checked them saying, 'Hold, Argives, fly<br>not sons of the Achaeans, this is his mother coming from the sea<br>with her immortal nymphs to view the body of her son.'<br>"Thus he spoke, and the Achaeans feared no more. The daughters of<br>the old man of the sea stood round you weeping bitterly, and clothed<br>you in immortal raiment. The nine muses also came and lifted up<br>their sweet voices in lament- calling and answering one another; there<br>was not an Argive but wept for pity of the dirge they chaunted. Days<br>and nights seven and ten we mourned you, mortals and immortals, but on<br>the eighteenth day we gave you to the flames, and many a fat sheep<br>with many an ox did we slay in sacrifice around you. You were burnt in<br>raiment of the gods, with rich resins and with honey, while heroes,<br>horse and foot, clashed their armour round the pile as you were<br>burning, with the tramp as of a great multitude. But when the flames<br>of heaven had done their work, we gathered your white bones at<br>daybreak and laid them in ointments and in pure wine. Your mother<br>brought us a golden vase to hold them- gift of Bacchus, and work of<br>Vulcan himself; in this we mingled your bleached bones with those of<br>Patroclus who had gone before you, and separate we enclosed also those<br>of Antilochus, who had been closer to you than any other of your<br>comrades now that Patroclus was no more.<br>"Over these the host of the Argives built a noble tomb, on a point<br>jutting out over the open Hellespont, that it might be seen from far<br>out upon the sea by those now living and by them that shall be born<br>hereafter. Your mother begged prizes from the gods, and offered them<br>to be contended for by the noblest of the Achaeans. You must have been<br>present at the funeral of many a hero, when the young men gird<br>themselves and make ready to contend for prizes on the death of some<br>great chieftain, but you never saw such prizes as silver-footed Thetis<br>offered in your honour; for the gods loved you well. Thus even in<br>death your fame, Achilles, has not been lost, and your name lives<br>evermore among all mankind. But as for me, what solace had I when<br>the days of my fighting were done? For Jove willed my destruction on<br>my return, by the hands of Aegisthus and those of my wicked wife."<br>Thus did they converse, and presently Mercury came up to them with<br>the ghosts of the suitors who had been killed by Ulysses. The ghosts<br>of Agamemnon and Achilles were astonished at seeing them, and went<br>up to them at once. The ghost of Agamemnon recognized Amphimedon son<br>of Melaneus, who lived in Ithaca and had been his host, so it began to<br>talk to him.<br>"Amphimedon," it said, "what has happened to all you fine young men-<br>all of an age too- that you are come down here under the ground? One<br>could pick no finer body of men from any city. Did Neptune raise his<br>winds and waves against you when you were at sea, or did your<br>enemies make an end of you on the mainland when you were<br>cattle-lifting or sheep-stealing, or while fighting in defence of<br>their wives and city? Answer my question, for I have been your<br>guest. Do you not remember how I came to your house with Menelaus,<br>to persuade Ulysses to join us with his ships against Troy? It was a<br>whole month ere we could resume our voyage, for we had hard work to<br>persuade Ulysses to come with us."<br>And the ghost of Amphimedon answered, "Agamemnon, son of Atreus,<br>king of men, I remember everything that you have said, and will tell<br>you fully and accurately about the way in which our end was brought<br>about. Ulysses had been long gone, and we were courting his wife,<br>who did not say point blank that she would not marry, nor yet bring<br>matters to an end, for she meant to compass our destruction: this,<br>then, was the trick she played us. She set up a great tambour frame in<br>her room and began to work on an enormous piece of fine needlework.<br>'Sweethearts,' said she, 'Ulysses is indeed dead, still, do not<br>press me to marry again immediately; wait- for I would not have my<br>skill in needlework perish unrecorded- till I have completed a pall<br>for the hero Laertes, against the time when death shall take him. He<br>is very rich, and the women of the place will talk if he is laid out<br>without a pall.' This is what she said, and we assented; whereupon<br>we could see her working upon her great web all day long, but at night<br>she would unpick the stitches again by torchlight. She fooled us in<br>this way for three years without our finding it out, but as time<br>wore on and she was now in her fourth year, in the waning of moons and<br>many days had been accomplished, one of her maids who knew what she<br>was doing told us, and we caught her in the act of undoing her work,<br>so she had to finish it whether she would or no; and when she showed<br>us the robe she had made, after she had had it washed, its splendour<br>was as that of the sun or moon.<br>"Then some malicious god conveyed Ulysses to the upland farm where<br>his swineherd lives. Thither presently came also his son, returning<br>from a voyage to Pylos, and the two came to the town when they had<br>hatched their plot for our destruction. Telemachus came first, and<br>then after him, accompanied by the swineherd, came Ulysses, clad in<br>rags and leaning on a staff as though he were some miserable old<br>beggar. He came so unexpectedly that none of us knew him, not even the<br>older ones among us, and we reviled him and threw things at him. He<br>endured both being struck and insulted without a word, though he was<br>in his own house; but when the will of Aegis-bearing Jove inspired<br>him, he and Telemachus took the armour and hid it in an inner chamber,<br>bolting the doors behind them. Then he cunningly made his wife offer<br>his bow and a quantity of iron to be contended for by us ill-fated<br>suitors; and this was the beginning of our end, for not one of us<br>could string the bow- nor nearly do so. When it was about to reach the<br>hands of Ulysses, we all of us shouted out that it should not be given<br>him, no matter what he might say, but Telemachus insisted on his<br>having it. When he had got it in his hands he strung it with ease<br>and sent his arrow through the iron. Then he stood on the floor of the<br>cloister and poured his arrows on the ground, glaring fiercely about<br>him. First he killed Antinous, and then, aiming straight before him,<br>he let fly his deadly darts and they fell thick on one another. It was<br>plain that some one of the gods was helping them, for they fell upon<br>us with might and main throughout the cloisters, and there was a<br>hideous sound of groaning as our brains were being battered in, and<br>the ground seethed with our blood. This, Agamemnon, is how we came<br>by our end, and our bodies are lying still un-cared for in the house<br>of Ulysses, for our friends at home do not yet know what has happened,<br>so that they cannot lay us out and wash the black blood from our<br>wounds, making moan over us according to the offices due to the<br>departed."<br>"Happy Ulysses, son of Laertes," replied the ghost of Agamemnon,<br>"you are indeed blessed in the possession of a wife endowed with<br>such rare excellence of understanding, and so faithful to her wedded<br>lord as Penelope the daughter of Icarius. The fame, therefore, of<br>her virtue shall never die, and the immortals shall compose a song<br>that shall be welcome to all mankind in honour of the constancy of<br>Penelope. How far otherwise was the wickedness of the daughter of<br>Tyndareus who killed her lawful husband; her song shall be hateful<br>among men, for she has brought disgrace on all womankind even on the<br>good ones."<br>Thus did they converse in the house of Hades deep down within the<br>bowels of the earth. Meanwhile Ulysses and the others passed out of<br>the town and soon reached the fair and well-tilled farm of Laertes,<br>which he had reclaimed with infinite labour. Here was his house,<br>with a lean-to running all round it, where the slaves who worked for<br>him slept and sat and ate, while inside the house there was an old<br>Sicel woman, who looked after him in this his country-farm. When<br>Ulysses got there, he said to his son and to the other two:<br>"Go to the house, and kill the best pig that you can find for<br>dinner. Meanwhile I want to see whether my father will know me, or<br>fail to recognize me after so long an absence."<br>He then took off his armour and gave it to Eumaeus and Philoetius,<br>who went straight on to the house, while he turned off into the<br>vineyard to make trial of his father. As he went down into the great<br>orchard, he did not see Dolius, nor any of his sons nor of the other<br>bondsmen, for they were all gathering thorns to make a fence for the<br>vineyard, at the place where the old man had told them; he therefore<br>found his father alone, hoeing a vine. He had on a dirty old shirt,<br>patched and very shabby; his legs were bound round with thongs of<br>oxhide to save him from the brambles, and he also wore sleeves of<br>leather; he had a goat skin cap on his head, and was looking very<br>woe-begone. When Ulysses saw him so worn, so old and full of sorrow,<br>he stood still under a tall pear tree and began to weep. He doubted<br>whether to embrace him, kiss him, and tell him all about his having<br>come home, or whether he should first question him and see what he<br>would say. In the end he deemed it best to be crafty with him, so in<br>this mind he went up to his father, who was bending down and digging<br>about a plant.<br>"I see, sir," said Ulysses, "that you are an excellent gardener-<br>what pains you take with it, to be sure. There is not a single<br>plant, not a fig tree, vine, olive, pear, nor flower bed, but bears<br>the trace of your attention. I trust, however, that you will not be<br>offended if I say that you take better care of your garden than of<br>yourself. You are old, unsavoury, and very meanly clad. It cannot be<br>because you are idle that your master takes such poor care of you,<br>indeed your face and figure have nothing of the slave about them,<br>and proclaim you of noble birth. I should have said that you were<br>one of those who should wash well, eat well, and lie soft at night<br>as old men have a right to do; but tell me, and tell me true, whose<br>bondman are you, and in whose garden are you working? Tell me also<br>about another matter. Is this place that I have come to really Ithaca?<br>I met a man just now who said so, but he was a dull fellow, and had<br>not the patience to hear my story out when I was asking him about an<br>old friend of mine, whether he was still living, or was already dead<br>and in the house of Hades. Believe me when I tell you that this man<br>came to my house once when I was in my own country and never yet did<br>any stranger come to me whom I liked better. He said that his family<br>came from Ithaca and that his father was Laertes, son of Arceisius.<br>I received him hospitably, making him welcome to all the abundance<br>of my house, and when he went away I gave him all customary<br>presents. I gave him seven talents of fine gold, and a cup of solid<br>silver with flowers chased upon it. I gave him twelve light cloaks,<br>and as many pieces of tapestry; I also gave him twelve cloaks of<br>single fold, twelve rugs, twelve fair mantles, and an equal number<br>of shirts. To all this I added four good looking women skilled in<br>all useful arts, and I let him take his choice."<br>His father shed tears and answered, "Sir, you have indeed come to<br>the country that you have named, but it is fallen into the hands of<br>wicked people. All this wealth of presents has been given to no<br>purpose. If you could have found your friend here alive in Ithaca,<br>he would have entertained you hospitably and would have required<br>your presents amply when you left him- as would have been only right<br>considering what you have already given him. But tell me, and tell<br>me true, how many years is it since you entertained this guest- my<br>unhappy son, as ever was? Alas! He has perished far from his own<br>country; the fishes of the sea have eaten him, or he has fallen a prey<br>to the birds and wild beasts of some continent. Neither his mother,<br>nor I his father, who were his parents, could throw our arms about him<br>and wrap him in his shroud, nor could his excellent and richly dowered<br>wife Penelope bewail her husband as was natural upon his death bed,<br>and close his eyes according to the offices due to the departed. But<br>now, tell me truly for I want to know. Who and whence are you- tell me<br>of your town and parents? Where is the ship lying that has brought you<br>and your men to Ithaca? Or were you a passenger on some other man's<br>ship, and those who brought you here have gone on their way and left<br>you?"<br>"I will tell you everything," answered Ulysses, "quite truly. I come<br>from Alybas, where I have a fine house. I am son of king Apheidas, who<br>is the son of Polypemon. My own name is Eperitus; heaven drove me<br>off my course as I was leaving Sicania, and I have been carried here<br>against my will. As for my ship it is lying over yonder, off the<br>open country outside the town, and this is the fifth year since<br>Ulysses left my country. Poor fellow, yet the omens were good for<br>him when he left me. The birds all flew on our right hands, and both<br>he and I rejoiced to see them as we parted, for we had every hope that<br>we should have another friendly meeting and exchange presents."<br>A dark cloud of sorrow fell upon Laertes as he listened. He filled<br>both hands with the dust from off the ground and poured it over his<br>grey head, groaning heavily as he did so. The heart of Ulysses was<br>touched, and his nostrils quivered as he looked upon his father;<br>then he sprang towards him, flung his arms about him and kissed him,<br>saying, "I am he, father, about whom you are asking- I have returned<br>after having been away for twenty years. But cease your sighing and<br>lamentation- we have no time to lose, for I should tell you that I<br>have been killing the suitors in my house, to punish them for their<br>insolence and crimes."<br>"If you really are my son Ulysses," replied Laertes, "and have<br>come back again, you must give me such manifest proof of your identity<br>as shall convince me."<br>"First observe this scar," answered Ulysses, "which I got from a<br>boar's tusk when I was hunting on Mount Parnassus. You and my mother<br>had sent me to Autolycus, my mother's father, to receive the<br>presents which when he was over here he had promised to give me.<br>Furthermore I will point out to you the trees in the vineyard which<br>you gave me, and I asked you all about them as I followed you round<br>the garden. We went over them all, and you told me their names and<br>what they all were. You gave me thirteen pear trees, ten apple<br>trees, and forty fig trees; you also said you would give me fifty rows<br>of vines; there was corn planted between each row, and they yield<br>grapes of every kind when the heat of heaven has been laid heavy<br>upon them."<br>Laertes' strength failed him when he heard the convincing proofs<br>which his son had given him. He threw his arms about him, and<br>Ulysses had to support him, or he would have gone off into a swoon;<br>but as soon as he came to, and was beginning to recover his senses, he<br>said, "O father Jove, then you gods are still in Olympus after all, if<br>the suitors have really been punished for their insolence and folly.<br>Nevertheless, I am much afraid that I shall have all the townspeople<br>of Ithaca up here directly, and they will be sending messengers<br>everywhere throughout the cities of the Cephallenians."<br>Ulysses answered, "Take heart and do not trouble yourself about<br>that, but let us go into the house hard by your garden. I have already<br>told Telemachus, Philoetius, and Eumaeus to go on there and get dinner<br>ready as soon as possible."<br>Thus conversing the two made their way towards the house. When<br>they got there they found Telemachus with the stockman and the<br>swineherd cutting up meat and mixing wine with water. Then the old<br>Sicel woman took Laertes inside and washed him and anointed him with<br>oil. She put him on a good cloak, and Minerva came up to him and<br>gave him a more imposing presence, making him taller and stouter<br>than before. When he came back his son was surprised to see him<br>looking so like an immortal, and said to him, "My dear father, some<br>one of the gods has been making you much taller and better-looking."<br>Laertes answered, "Would, by Father Jove, Minerva, and Apollo,<br>that I were the man I was when I ruled among the Cephallenians, and<br>took Nericum, that strong fortress on the foreland. If I were still<br>what I then was and had been in our house yesterday with my armour on,<br>I should have been able to stand by you and help you against the<br>suitors. I should have killed a great many of them, and you would have<br>rejoiced to see it."<br>Thus did they converse; but the others, when they had finished their<br>work and the feast was ready, left off working, and took each his<br>proper place on the benches and seats. Then they began eating; by<br>and by old Dolius and his sons left their work and came up, for<br>their mother, the Sicel woman who looked after Laertes now that he was<br>growing old, had been to fetch them. When they saw Ulysses and were<br>certain it was he, they stood there lost in astonishment; but<br>Ulysses scolded them good-naturedly and said, "Sit down to your<br>dinner, old man, and never mind about your surprise; we have been<br>wanting to begin for some time and have been waiting for you."<br>Then Dolius put out both his hands and went up to Ulysses. "Sir,"<br>said he, seizing his master's hand and kissing it at the wrist, "we<br>have long been wishing you home: and now heaven has restored you to us<br>after we had given up hoping. All hail, therefore, and may the gods<br>prosper you. But tell me, does Penelope already know of your return,<br>or shall we send some one to tell her?"<br>"Old man," answered Ulysses, "she knows already, so you need not<br>trouble about that." On this he took his seat, and the sons of<br>Dolius gathered round Ulysses to give him greeting and embrace him one<br>after the other; then they took their seats in due order near Dolius<br>their father.<br>While they were thus busy getting their dinner ready, Rumour went<br>round the town, and noised abroad the terrible fate that had<br>befallen the suitors; as soon, therefore, as the people heard of it<br>they gathered from every quarter, groaning and hooting before the<br>house of Ulysses. They took the dead away, buried every man his own,<br>and put the bodies of those who came from elsewhere on board the<br>fishing vessels, for the fishermen to take each of them to his own<br>place. They then met angrily in the place of assembly, and when they<br>were got together Eupeithes rose to speak. He was overwhelmed with<br>grief for the death of his son Antinous, who had been the first man<br>killed by Ulysses, so he said, weeping bitterly, "My friend, this<br>man has done the Achaeans great wrong. He took many of our best men<br>away with him in his fleet, and he has lost both ships and men; now,<br>moreover, on his return he has been killing all the foremost men among<br>the Cephallenians. Let us be up and doing before he can get away to<br>Pylos or to Elis where the Epeans rule, or we shall be ashamed of<br>ourselves for ever afterwards. It will be an everlasting disgrace to<br>us if we do not avenge the murder of our sons and brothers. For my own<br>part I should have no mote pleasure in life, but had rather die at<br>once. Let us be up, then, and after them, before they can cross over<br>to the mainland."<br>He wept as he spoke and every one pitied him. But Medon and the bard<br>Phemius had now woke up, and came to them from the house of Ulysses.<br>Every one was astonished at seeing them, but they stood in the<br>middle of the assembly, and Medon said, "Hear me, men of Ithaca.<br>Ulysses did not do these things against the will of heaven. I myself<br>saw an immortal god take the form of Mentor and stand beside him. This<br>god appeared, now in front of him encouraging him, and now going<br>furiously about the court and attacking the suitors whereon they<br>fell thick on one another."<br>On this pale fear laid hold of them, and old Halitherses, son of<br>Mastor, rose to speak, for he was the only man among them who knew<br>both past and future; so he spoke to them plainly and in all<br>honesty, saying,<br>"Men of Ithaca, it is all your own fault that things have turned out<br>as they have; you would not listen to me, nor yet to Mentor, when we<br>bade you check the folly of your sons who were doing much wrong in the<br>wantonness of their hearts- wasting the substance and dishonouring the<br>wife of a chieftain who they thought would not return. Now, however,<br>let it be as I say, and do as I tell you. Do not go out against<br>Ulysses, or you may find that you have been drawing down evil on<br>your own heads."<br>This was what he said, and more than half raised a loud shout, and<br>at once left the assembly. But the rest stayed where they were, for<br>the speech of Halitherses displeased them, and they sided with<br>Eupeithes; they therefore hurried off for their armour, and when<br>they had armed themselves, they met together in front of the city, and<br>Eupeithes led them on in their folly. He thought he was going to<br>avenge the murder of his son, whereas in truth he was never to return,<br>but was himself to perish in his attempt.<br>Then Minerva said to Jove, "Father, son of Saturn, king of kings,<br>answer me this question- What do you propose to do? Will you set<br>them fighting still further, or will you make peace between them?"<br>And Jove answered, "My child, why should you ask me? Was it not by<br>your own arrangement that Ulysses came home and took his revenge<br>upon the suitors? Do whatever you like, but I will tell you what I<br>think will be most reasonable arrangement. Now that Ulysses is<br>revenged, let them swear to a solemn covenant, in virtue of which he<br>shall continue to rule, while we cause the others to forgive and<br>forget the massacre of their sons and brothers. Let them then all<br>become friends as heretofore, and let peace and plenty reign."<br>This was what Minerva was already eager to bring about, so down<br>she darted from off the topmost summits of Olympus.<br>Now when Laertes and the others had done dinner, Ulysses began by<br>saying, "Some of you go out and see if they are not getting close up<br>to us." So one of Dolius's sons went as he was bid. Standing on the<br>threshold he could see them all quite near, and said to Ulysses, "Here<br>they are, let us put on our armour at once."<br>They put on their armour as fast as they could- that is to say<br>Ulysses, his three men, and the six sons of Dolius. Laertes also and<br>Dolius did the same- warriors by necessity in spite of their grey<br>hair. When they had all put on their armour, they opened the gate<br>and sallied forth, Ulysses leading the way.<br>Then Jove's daughter Minerva came up to them, having assumed the<br>form and voice of Mentor. Ulysses was glad when he saw her, and said<br>to his son Telemachus, "Telemachus, now that are about to fight in<br>an engagement, which will show every man's mettle, be sure not to<br>disgrace your ancestors, who were eminent for their strength and<br>courage all the world over."<br>"You say truly, my dear father," answered Telemachus, "and you shall<br>see, if you will, that I am in no mind to disgrace your family."<br>Laertes was delighted when he heard this. "Good heavens, he<br>exclaimed, "what a day I am enjoying: I do indeed rejoice at it. My<br>son and grandson are vying with one another in the matter of valour."<br>On this Minerva came close up to him and said, "Son of Arceisius-<br>best friend I have in the world- pray to the blue-eyed damsel, and<br>to Jove her father; then poise your spear and hurl it."<br>As she spoke she infused fresh vigour into him, and when he had<br>prayed to her he poised his spear and hurled it. He hit Eupeithes'<br>helmet, and the spear went right through it, for the helmet stayed<br>it not, and his armour rang rattling round him as he fell heavily to<br>the ground. Meantime Ulysses and his son fell the front line of the<br>foe and smote them with their swords and spears; indeed, they would<br>have killed every one of them, and prevented them from ever getting<br>home again, only Minerva raised her voice aloud, and made every one<br>pause. "Men of Ithaca," she cried, cease this dreadful war, and settle<br>the matter at once without further bloodshed."<br>On this pale fear seized every one; they were so frightened that<br>their arms dropped from their hands and fell upon the ground at the<br>sound of the goddess's voice, and they fled back to the city for their<br>lives. But Ulysses gave a great cry, and gathering himself together<br>swooped down like a soaring eagle. Then the son of Saturn sent a<br>thunderbolt of fire that fell just in front of Minerva, so she said to<br>Ulysses, "Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, stop this warful strife, or<br>Jove will be angry with you."<br>Thus spoke Minerva, and Ulysses obeyed her gladly. Then Minerva<br>assumed the form and voice of Mentor, and presently made a covenant of<br>peace between the two contending parties.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Homer">Homer</a>, translated by Samuel Butler<div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=410330" data-title="The Odyssey: Book 24 de Homer" data-description="Then Mercury of Cyllene summoned the ghosts of the suitors, and in/his hand he held the fair golden wand with which he seals men's eyes/in sleep or wakes them just as he pleases; with this he roused the/ghosts and led them, while they followed whi..."></div> </div> </div>

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