The voice spake again:
"Behold, thy house is desolate; thy hearth is cold. The wild hare breeds
on thy hearthstone, and the night-bird roosts beneath thy roof-tree.
Thou hast neither child nor wife nor native land, and _she_ hath
forsaken thee--thy Lady Athene. Many a time didst thou sacrifice to her
the thighs of kine and sheep, but didst thou ever give so much as a
pair of dove to _me_? Hath she left thee, as the Dawn forsook Tithonus,
because there are now threads of silver in the darkness of thy hair? Is
the wise goddess fickle as a nymph of the woodland or the wells? Doth
she love a man only for the bloom of his youth? Nay, I know not; but
this I know, that on thee, Odysseus, old age will soon be hastening--old
age that is pitiless, and ruinous, and weary, and weak--age that cometh
on all men, and that is hateful to the Gods. Therefore, Odysseus, ere
yet it be too late, I would bow even thee to my will, and hold thee for
my thrall. For I am she who conquers all things living: Gods and beasts
and men. And hast thou thought that thou only shalt escape Aphrodite?
Thou that hast never loved as I would have men love; thou that hast
never obeyed me for an hour, nor ever known the joy and the sorrow that
are mine to give? For thou didst but ensure the caresses of Circe, the
Daughter of the Sun, and thou wert aweary in the arms of Calypso, and
the Sea King's daughter came never to her longing.
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