
Even so, I will make trial
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ἔμμεναι, ὄφρʼ ἥβῃ τε πεποίθεα χερσί τʼ ἐμῇσι. νῦν δʼ ἔχομαι κακότητι καὶ ἄλγεσι· πολλὰ γὰρ ἔτλην ἀνδρῶν τε πτολέμους ἀλεγεινά τε κύματα πείρων. ἀλλὰ καὶ ὥς, κακὰ πολλὰ παθών, πειρήσομʼ ἀέθλων· θυμοδακὴς γὰρ μῦθος, ἐπώτρυνας δέ με εἰπών.
to be so, while I trusted both in my youth and in my own hands. But now I am held fast by misery and pains; for I have endured much, cleaving through both the wars of men and the grievous waves. Yet even so, having suffered many evils, I will make trial of the contests; for your word bit my heart, and you spurred me on by speaking.
Stung by Euryalus's jibe that he looks like a trader and no athlete, the still-unnamed stranger has claimed he was once among the best. Here he finishes his retort: age and hardship have worn him, but the insult has stung him back into the ring.
Odysseus admits his prime is behind him. Misery and pain hold him now; he has suffered much, cutting a path through the wars of men and the cruel sea. Even so, he says, he will try the contest — because the taunt bit his heart and drove him to it.
The whole answer turns on a wound to honor, not a wish to win. He speaks of his strength in the past tense — the youth and hands he once trusted — and competes not because he wants to but because he was insulted. It is the reflex of a man raised on the honor-code, and the poem lets us hear the sting before it lets the Phaeacians see what he can still do.
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