(I cut out a couple lines from the original and the rest is more an adaptation of the Loeb edition than a translation, though various points I did go through Perseus looking up most of the words. But often I liked what Loeb picked because I wouldn’t have ever tried it, like “had no joy of him”)
On the other side of the yard
from the grubby beggar who was talking
about benched ships and his grumbling stomach
up went the ears of the dog lying there who now peeked out
and furrowed his head,
stouthearted Odysseus’s, who bred him himself,
but for a long time had no joy of him.
In the past, the young men picked him out
for wild goats and deer and rabbits; but
now he lay in the deep banks of manure
that waited by the doors to be distributed
to Odysseus’s wide lands. The dog Argos lay there,
full of dog ticks. But now, when
he became aware of Odysseus, he wagged
and lowered his ears, he didn’t
have the strength to go nearer.
Across the yard, Odysseus looked
aside and abducted a tear
from the left of his nose,
and asked loud to Eumaeus (who was unaware),
It’s odd to see, Eumaeus,
this dog in the dung. This fine dog,
what a frame! Does he run fast or is he
The swineherd Eumaeus answered, This
is too much the dog of a man who died far away.
If he were in build and at work like he was
when Odysseus left for Troy, you’d gape
in wonder at how quick and strong he is.
But now his master is lost;
and this one is
untended by the numb slaves.
With that, they entered the hall to join the fine suitors.
But as for the dog Argos, black death received him
once he had seen Odysseus in the twentieth year.