ning of their journey, and whose body still lay unburied in the
house of Circe. Registering a mental vow to perform all due rites to
that poor spirit on his homeward voyage, Odysseus warned him back, and
stood waiting for the coming of the seer.

At last came one with tottering footsteps, leaning on a golden
sceptre, and halted on the farther edge of the trench. It seemed a
very aged man, with flowing white beard, and sightless eyes; and
Odysseus knew by these signs that he was in the presence of Teiresias,
the famous prophet of Thebes, who alone among departed spirits
preserves his understanding, while the rest are flitting phantoms,
with no sense at all. "What wouldst thou of me, Odysseus, son of
Laertes," said the spectre in faltering tones, "and wherefore hast
thou left the glad light of day to visit this drear and joyless realm
of the dead? Draw back from the trench, and put up thy sword in its
sheath, that I may drink of the blood and tell thee all that thou
wouldst know."

Thereupon Odysseus fell back, and sheathed his sword; and Teiresias,
when he had drunk of the blood, spoke again in firmer and clearer
tones: "Thou art fain to hear of thy home-coming, illustrious hero;
but thy path to Ithaca shall be beset with sorrows, because of the
wrath of Poseidon, whose son, Polyphemus, thou hast blinded.
Nevertheless thou and all thy company shall return safe to Ithaca, if
only ye leave untouched the sacred flocks and herds of Helios,[1] when
ye come to the island of Thrinacia. But if harm befall them at your
hands, from that hour thy ship and all her crew are doomed and forfeit
to destruction: and though thou thyself escape, yet thou shalt return
after many days, in evil plight, to a house of woe.[2] And now learn
how thou mayest at last appease the anger of the god who pursues thee
with his vengeance. When thou art once more master in thine own house
thou shalt go on a far journey, carrying with thee an oar of thy
vessel, until thou comest to a people that dwell far from the sea, and
know naught of ships or the mariner's art. And there shalt meet thee
by the way a man who shall say that thou bearest a winnowing shovel[3]
on thy shoulder; and this shall be a sign unto thee, whereby thou
shalt know that thou hast reached the end of thy journey. Then plant
thy oar in the ground, and offer sacrifice to Poseidon. This shall be
the end of thy toils, and death shall come softly upon thee where thou
dwellest in a green old