
The feasting hall and the golden torch-boys
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ἔνθα δὲ Φαιήκων ἡγήτορες ἑδριόωντο πίνοντες καὶ ἔδοντες· ἐπηετανὸν γὰρ ἔχεσκον. χρύσειοι δʼ ἄρα κοῦροι ἐυδμήτων ἐπὶ βωμῶν ἕστασαν αἰθομένας δαΐδας μετὰ χερσὶν ἔχοντες, φαίνοντες νύκτας κατὰ δώματα δαιτυμόνεσσι.
There the Phaeacian leaders sat drinking and eating; for they always had it in plenty. And golden youths stood upon well-built pedestals, holding blazing torches in their hands, giving light by night through the halls for the banqueters.
Still cataloguing the marvels of the palace: the Phaeacian nobles feast here in perpetual abundance, and around the hall stand golden statues of youths on pedestals, holding lit torches to light the diners through the night.
The scene fills with people and light. The Phaeacian chiefs feast here without stint — ἐπηετανόν, the food never runs out — and golden figures of young men stand on their stands, torches raised, turning the hall bright after dark. Wealth here is not stored away but always on show and always enough.
The golden torch-bearers rhyme with the golden dogs at the door: this is a house where the line between crafted image and living servant blurs. Phaeacia is a place of effortless plenty, the reward of a people the gods favour. For a man just dragged half-dead from the sea, the endless feast is both a wonder and a measure of how far he still is from the lean, contested table waiting at home.
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