
Strangers come from Zeus
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οἰκέομεν δʼ ἀπάνευθε πολυκλύστῳ ἐνὶ πόντῳ, ἔσχατοι, οὐδέ τις ἄμμι βροτῶν ἐπιμίσγεται ἄλλος. ἀλλʼ ὅδε τις δύστηνος ἀλώμενος ἐνθάδʼ ἱκάνει, τὸν νῦν χρὴ κομέειν· πρὸς γὰρ Διός εἰσιν ἅπαντες ξεῖνοί τε πτωχοί τε, δόσις δʼ ὀλίγη τε φίλη τε.
We dwell apart in the surging sea, farthest of all, and no other mortal has dealings with us. But this poor wanderer has come here, and we must now tend him; for all strangers and beggars come from Zeus, and a gift, though small, is dear.
Nausicaa reassures her maids that the Phaeacians, remote and beloved of the gods, have nothing to fear — and draws from their very isolation the duty to shelter the stranger who has reached them.
Nausicaa finishes her reassurance and turns it into a duty. Her people live at the sea's far edge, mingling with no one — yet a wanderer has washed up among them, and that changes everything: he must be cared for. Strangers and beggars, she says, come under Zeus's own protection, and a gift, however small, is welcome.
Here is the great law of Homeric hospitality, stated as plainly as the poem ever states it: πρὸς Διός εἰσιν … ξεῖνοι, ‘strangers come from Zeus.’ The most isolated people in the world invokes the one obligation that reaches even them. It is this ethic — not pity, but a sacred rule with a god behind it — that will feed, clothe, and finally ferry Odysseus home.
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