My dear, lovely goddess of the craft, of all that is shrouded with the cloak of wisdom, what is there in leading me here? How does it's encompassing cloak entail this seemingly random act of my lady. What great and noble task awaits beyond my eyes that's importance permits you to lead me to my dear, but certainly not divine, friend Eumaeus's hut. When all the while my mother's life and glory ticks away, the suitors demands no longer able to evade, the decision to cut through our hearts and that of my father's on the brink. Curse you, as gently as the words allow, I need not be here. No time for play is portioned, though I know in my heart you do not play, but nothing of greater importance is the name of my family, the name of my father and his things. And with smugness and comedy it seems, you choose to not even allow myself to revel in your image, but instead in this poor ugly beggar's, honestly whose hunger seems more pressing than your games. Oh for the grace of the Graces feed him! Such a condition he is in; it is wrong. Antinous and his warts live in comfort off my father's bread and wine, but here this poor and honest fellow, so brave and upright in his stand, well, his limbs fail him for simple work! Blind him with Dionysus's gift to men like us, the drink made from the god's own divine wine-grapes. The only cure for his somber life of injustices that is, the only chance for mellowing himself into ignorant bliss.
Telemachus glooms in despair as the beggar, to whom his sympathies and compassions lie deep, leaves the hut with a nod and a grin. In his sulking, unaware of Athena's spectacle to the beggar outside, he prays this. For though it seems all hope is lost, Telemachus never loses faith.
"Forgive my anger Minerva, forgive my rage and impatience and forget my curses. The suitors plague every good man and women in Ithaca. Ready to fight for my just goddess I pray, and in light, patience and virtue I wait. I wait for your revealing of all that is righteous and valiant and ready to be the savior of my father's island and of my father's wife. I wait."
When the beggar returns in a new form, Telemachus shines in the presence of Athena's beautiful magic, ecstatic in his prayers answered so quickly. And when the beggar reveals himself as Odysseus, Telemachus rejoices in the beautiful revelation and reunion only a moment, before whispering to his weeping father and beaming Athena, "I knew you'd come".
