and threats to coax him into her way of thinking. She knows Odysseus is suffering from exhaustion and despair. She points out that he has lost everything and that there is no guarantee he will make it home if he leaves the island. The prospect of adversity makes it more logical to stay where he is. Furthermore, if fear of the journey is not enough to keep Odysseus with her, Calypso can offer him more than he can hope to find at home: luxury, glamour, her own beautiful body, even eternal youth so that he can live with her forever.

For a time, these threats and promises are sufficient to keep Odysseus by her side, but after a while, Calypso's charms wear thin. Odysseus spends his days on the seashore, gazing towards the horizon and weeping at his captivity, while at night, Calypso must enchant him in order to get him to come to bed with her. This goes on for seven years, and Odysseus grows increasingly despondent about ever leaving Ogygia:

. . . The enchantress in her beauty
fed and caressed me, promised me I should be
immortal, youthful, all the days to come;
but in my heart I never gave consent
though seven years detained. Immortal clothing
I had from her, and kept it wet with tears.

Finally, the goddess Athena demands that her father Zeus intervene on Odysseus's behalf, saying it is outrageous that such a good man has been left to rot in a gilded cage. Zeus sends Hermes to Calypso to inform her that this hostage situation must end. Calypso protests vehemently and very nearly refuses to obey:

Oh you vile gods, in jealousy supernal!
You hate it when we choose to lie with men—
immortal flesh by some dear mortal side.
. . .
So now you grudge me, too, my mortal friend.
But it was I who saved him—saw him straddle
his own keel board, the one man left afloat
when Zeus rent wide his ship with chain lightning
and overturned him in the winedark sea.
Then all his troops were lost, his good companions,
but wind and current washed him here to me.
I fed him, loved him, sang that he should not die
nor grow old, ever, in all the days to come.

In the end, however, there is no refusing Zeus's command, and Calypso reluctantly lets Odysseus leave. Even at the last, she tries to persuade him against going, pleading with him to justify his decision:

Son of Laertes, versatile Odysseus,
after these years with me, you still desire
your old home? Even so, I wish you well.
If you could see it all, before you go—
all the adversity you face at sea—
you would stay here, and guard this house, and be
immortal—though you wanted her forever,
that bride for whom you pine each day.
Can I be less desirable than she is?
Less interesting? Less beautiful? Can mortals
compare with goddesses in grace and form?

Odysseus acknowledges that Calypso is beautiful and powerful and that his own wife cannot compare to her. He knows that by leaving her island, he is risking his life. But, he says,

. . . each day
I long for home, long for the sight of home.
If any god has marked me out again
for shipwreck, my tough heart can undergo it.
What hardship have I not long since endured
at sea, in battle! Let the trial come.