That all the handmaids of the household come."
And thus in turn Dame Eurycleia spake :
"Well hast thou said, my son, but suffer me
To bring thee clothes, a tunic and a cloak,
Nor with those rags on thy broad shoulders stand
In thine own palace; it becomes thee not."
Ulysses, the sagacious, answered thus: "First let a fire be kindled in this hall."
He spake, and Eurycleia, the dear nurse, Obeyed, and brought the sulphur and the fire. Ulysses steeped in smoke the royal pile.
Both hall and court. The matron, passing through The stately palace of Ulysses, climbed
The stair to find and summon all the maids.
And forth they issued, bearing in their hands
Torches, and, crowding round Ulysses, gave
Glad greeting, seized his hands, embraced him,
His hands and brow and shoulders. The desire To weep for joy o'ercame the chief; his eyes O'erflowed with tears; he sobbed; he knew them all.
P to the royal bower the matron went
With an exulting heart, to tell the queen
That her beloved husband was within.
With knees that faltered not, and quick light step She went, and, standing by her mistress, said:- 5 "Awake, Penelope, dear child, and see
With thine own eyes what thou hast pined for long.
Ulysses has returned; thy lord is here,
Though late, and he has slain the arrogant crew
Of suitors, who disgraced his house, and made
His wealth a spoil, and dared insult his son."
And thus discreet Penelope replied:
The gods, dear nurse, have made thee mad; for
Have power to change the wisest men to fools,
And make the foolish wise, and they have warped 15
Thy mind once sound. How canst thou mock me
Amidst my sorrows, with such idle tales?
Why wake me from the pleasant sleep that closed My lids so softly? Never have I slept
So sweetly since Ulysses went from me.
To that bad city, which no tongue should name.
Go, then; return into the lower rooms.
Had any of my women save thyself
Brought such a message to disturb my sleep,
I would have sent her back into the hall
With angry words; thy years are thy excuse."
But Eurycleia, the dear nurse, rejoined:
"Nay, my dear child, I mock thee not.
It is that thy Ulysses has returned,
And here he is at home, as I have said.
The stranger whom they scoffed at in the hall
Is he; and long Telemachus has known
That he was here, but wisely kept from all
His father's secret, till he should avenge
Upon those violent men their guilty deeds."
She ended, and her mistress, overjoyed,
Sprang from her couch, embraced the aged dame,
And wept, and said to her in winged words :
“Tell me, dear nurse, and truly, if indeed
Ulysses have returned as thou hast said.
How smote he those proud suitors? — he alone,
And they so many, gathered in the hall."
And thus the well-beloved nurse replied:
"I saw it not, nor knew of it. I heard
Only the moanings of the slain, while we
The maids, affrighted, sat in a recess
Of that well-vaulted chamber; the firm doors
Closed us all in, until at length thy son,
Sent by his father, called me forth. I found
Ulysses standing midst the dead that lay
Heaped on each other, everywhere along
The solid pavement. Thou wouldst have rejoiced
To see him like a lion with the stains
Now the suitors lie
Before the portals of the palace-court,
And he has kindled a great fire, and steeps
In smoke the noble hall. He bade me come
To call thee. Follow me, that ye may give
Your hearts to gladness, — for ye have endured
Great sorrows both, and your long-cherished hope 60
Is now fulfilled. He hath returned alive
To his dear home, and finds thee and his son
Yet in his palace, and hath terribly
Avenged himself upon the guilty men
Who under his own roof have done him wrong." 65
Then spake the sage Penelope again :
"Beloved nurse, exult not overmuch,
Nor rashly boast. Well is it known to thee,
Were he to come beneath this roof again,
How welcome he would be to all, but most
To me and to the son to whom we gave
His being. Yet thy tidings are not true.
Some one of the immortals must have slain
The arrogant suitors, angry to behold
Their foul injustice and their many crimes;
For no respect had they to mortal man,
Good he might be, or bad, whome'er they met;
And therefore have they made an evil end.
But my Ulysses must have perished far
From Ithaca, cut off from his return."
Then Eurycleia, the dear nurse, rejoined:
"What words are these, my child, that pass thy lips?
Sayst thou, then, that thy husband, who now stands
Upon thy hearthstone, never will return?
O slow of faith! but thou wert ever thus.
Come, then, I give a certain proof. I saw
Myself, when he was at the bath, the scar
Left on him by the white tusk of a boar,
And would have told thee, but he laid his hands
Upon my mouth, and would not suffer me
To bear the tidings, such his forecast was.
Now follow me; I give my life in pledge.
If I deceive thee, slay me ruthlessly."
Then spake discreet Penelope again :
"Dear nurse, though thou in many things art wise, 95
Think not to scan the counsels of the gods,
Who live forever. Yet will we descend,
And meet my son, and look upon the slain,
And see the avenger by whose hand they fell.”
She spake, and from the royal bower went down,
Uncertain whether she should stand aloof
And question there her lord, or haste to him
And clasp his hands in hers and kiss his brow.
But having passed the threshold of hewn stone,
Entering she took her seat right opposite
Ulysses, in the full glow of the fire,
Against the other wall. Ulysses sat
Beside a lofty column with his eyes
Cast down, and waiting for his high-born wife
To speak when she had seen him.
In silence, for amazement overpowered
Her senses. Sometimes, looking in his eyes,
She saw her husband there, and then again,
Clad in those sordid weeds, she knew him not.
Then spake Telemachus, and chid her thus:- 1x5
Mother, unfeeling mother! hard of heart
Art thou; how else couldst thou remain aloof?
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