AtthistheWandererwasafraid，knowingthatanimmortalwasathand；
forthecomingsandgoingsofthegodswereattended，ashehadseen，bythiswonderfullightofunearthlyfire。Sohebowedhishead，andhidhisfaceashesatbythealtarintheholiestoftheholyshrine，andwithhisrighthandhegraspedthehornsofthealtar。Ashesatthere，perchancehewoke，andperchanceheslept。Howeveritwas，itseemedtohimthatsoontherecameamurmuringandawhisperingofthemyrtleleavesandlaurels，andasoundinthetopsofthepines，andthenhisfacewasfannedbyabreathmorecoldthanthewindthatwakesthedawn。AtthetouchofthisbreaththeWanderershuddered，andthehaironhisfleshstoodup，socoldwasthestrangewind。
Therewassilence；andheheardavoice，andheknewthatitwasthevoiceofnomortal，butofagoddess。Forthespeechofgoddesseswasnotstrangeinhisears；heknewtheclarioncryofAthene，theQueenofWisdomandofWar；andthewinningwordsofCirce，theDaughteroftheSun，andthesweetsongofCalypso’svoiceasshewovewithhergoldenshuttleattheloom。Butnowthewordscamesweeterthanthemoaningofdoves，moresoftthansleep。Socamethegoldenvoice，whetherhewokeorwhetherhedreamed。
“Odysseus，thouknowestmenot，noramIthylady，norhastthoueverbeenmyservant！Whereisshe，theQueenoftheAir，Athene，andwhycomest/thou/hereasasuppliantatthekneesofthedaughterofDione？“
Heanswerednothing，buthebowedhisheadindeepersorrow。