That he has perished, and returns no more,
There still remains his son Telemachus,
Who by Apollo's grace is now a man,
And no one of the women in these halls
May think to misbehave, and yet escape
His eye, for he no longer is a boy."

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He spake; Penelope, the prudent, heard, And, calling to her maid, rebuked her thus:"O bold and shameless! I have taken note Of thy behavior; thou hast done a wrong For which thy head should answer. Well thou

know'st,

For thou hast heard me say, that I would ask
The stranger in these halls if aught he knows
Of my Ulysses, for whose sake I grieve."

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Then to the matron of the household turned The queen, and thus bespake Eurynomè :"Bring now a seat, Eurynomè, and spread A fleece upon it, where the stranger guest May sit at ease, and hear what I shall say, And answer me, for I have much to ask.” She spake; the ancient handmaid brought with

speed

A polished seat, and o'er it spread a fleece.
Ulysses, much-enduring chief, sat down,

And thus the sage Penelope began:

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"First will I ask thee who thou art, and whence, Where is thy birthplace, and thy parents who?" 19 Ulysses, the sagacious, answered thus:

१

"O lady, none in all the boundless earth

Can speak of thee with blame. Thy fame has reached
To the great heavens.
It is like the renown

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Of some most excellent king, of godlike sway 135
O'er many men and mighty, who upholds
Justice in all his realm. The dark-soiled earth
Brings wheat and barley forth; the trees are bowed
With fruit; the meadows swarm with noble herds,
The sea with fish, and under his wise reign
The people prosper. Therefore ask, I pray,
Of other things, while I am underneath
Thy palace-roof, but of my race and home
Inquire not, lest thou waken in my mind
Unhappy memories. I am a man
Of sorrow, and it would become me ill
To sit lamenting in another's house
And shedding tears. Besides, a grief indulged
Doth grow in violence. Thy maids would blame,
And thou perhaps, and ye would call my tears

The maudlin tears of one o'ercome with wine."

Then spake the sage Penelope again :
Stranger, such grace of feature and of form
As once I had the immortals took away,
What time the Argive warriors sailed for Troy,
And my Ulysses with them. Could he now
Return to rule my household as of yore,
The wider and the brighter were my fame.
But now I lead a wretched life, so great
And many are the evils which some god

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Heaps on me. For the chieftains who bear sway
Over the isles-Dulichium, and the fields.

Of Samos, and Zacynthus dark with woods,
And those who rule in sunny Ithaca —
Woo me against my will, and waste away
My substance. Therefore have I small regard
For strangers and for suppliants, and the tribe
Of heralds, servants of the public weal,
But, pining for Ulysses, wear away

My life. The suitors urge the marriage rite,
And I with art delay it. Once some god
Prompted me to begin an ample web,
Wide and of subtle texture, in my rooms.
And then I said: 'Youths, who are pressing me
To marriage, since Ulysses is no more,
Urge me no further till I shall complete -
That so the threads may not be spun in vain
This shroud for old Laertes, when grim fate
And death's long sleep at last shall overtake
The hero; else among the multitude
Of Grecian women I shall bear the blame,
If one whose ample wealth so well was known
Should lie in death without a funeral robe.'

I spake, and easily their minds were swayed
By what I said, and I began to weave

The ample web, but ravelled it again

By torchlight every evening. For three years

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I foiled them thus; but when the fourth year came, And brought its train of hours and changing moons,

And many days had passed, they came on me,
And through my maidens' fault, a careless crew,
They caught me at my fraud, and chid me sore.
So, though unwilling, I was forced to end
My task, and cannot longer now escape
The marriage, nor is any refuge left.
My parents both exhort me earnestly

To choose a husband, and my son with grief
Beholds the suitors wasting his estate,

And he already is a man and well

Can rule his household; Jupiter bestows

Now, I pray, declare

Such honor on him.
Thy lineage, for thou surely art not sprung

From the old fabulous oak, nor from a rock."
Ulysses, the sagacious, answered her :

"O royal consort of Laertes' son!

Wilt thou still ask my lineage? I will then
Disclose it, but thou wakest in my heart
New sorrows. So it ever is with one
Who long, like me, is far away from home,
Wandering in many realms, and suffering much;
But since thou dost require it, thou shalt hear.
"Crete is a region lying in the midst
Of the black deep, a fair and fruitful land,
Girt by the waters. Many are the men,
Nay, numberless, who make it their abode,
And ninety are its cities. Different tongues
Are spoken by the dwellers of the isle.
In part they are Achaians, and in part

Are Cretans of the soil, a gallant stock;

There dwell Cydonians, Dorians of three tribes, 220
And proud Pelasgians. Their great capital
Is Cnossus, where the monarch Minos dwelt,
He who at every nine years' end conferred
With Jove almighty; and to him was born.
Deucalion, my brave father, who begat
Me and Idomeneus, the King of Crete.
To Ilium in his beakéd galleys sailed
Idomeneus with Atreus' sons.

My name

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A name well known - is Ethon. 'T was at Crete
I saw Ulysses, who received from me

The welcome due a guest. A violent wind
Had driven him from Maleia and the course
That led to Ilium, and had carried him

To Crete, and lodged him in the dangerous port
Amnisus, close to Ilithyia's cave,

Where scarce his fleet escaped the hurricane.
Thence came he to the city, and inquired
For King Idomeneus, who was, he said,

His dear and honored guest; but he had sailed
Ten days before, perhaps eleven, for Troy,
In his beaked galleys. To the palace there
I led Ulysses, and with liberal cheer
Welcomed the chief, for plentifully stored
The royal dwelling was.
I also gave

Meal from the public magazines to him

And those who followed him, and dark red wine

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Brought from the country round, and beeves to slay