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Translation of: The Odyssey of Homer: Book XXII

    By William Cowper



    ARGUMENT

    Ulysses, with some little assistance from Telemachus, Eumæus and Philoetius, slays all the suitors, and twelve of the female servants who had allowed themselves an illicit intercourse with them, are hanged. Melanthius also is punished with miserable mutilation.


            Then, girding up his rags, Ulysses sprang
            With bow and full-charged quiver to the door;
            Loose on the broad stone at his feet he pour'd
            His arrows, and the suitors, thus, bespake.
                This prize, though difficult, hath been atchieved.
            Now for another mark which never man
            Struck yet, but I will strike it if I may,
            And if Apollo make that glory mine.
                He said, and at Antinoüs aimed direct
            A bitter shaft; he, purposing to drink,
            Both hands advanced toward the golden cup
            Twin-ear'd, nor aught suspected death so nigh.
            For who, at the full banquet, could suspect
            That any single guest, however brave,
            Should plan his death, and execute the blow?
            Yet him Ulysses with an arrow pierced
            Full in the throat, and through his neck behind
            Started the glitt'ring point. Aslant he droop'd;
            Down fell the goblet, through his nostrils flew
            The spouted blood, and spurning with his foot
            The board, he spread his viands in the dust.
            Confusion, when they saw Antinoüs fall'n,
            Seized all the suitors; from the thrones they sprang,
            Flew ev'ry way, and on all sides explored
            The palace-walls, but neither sturdy lance
            As erst, nor buckler could they there discern,
            Then, furious, to Ulysses thus they spake.
                Thy arrow, stranger, was ill-aimed; a man
            Is no just mark. Thou never shalt dispute
            Prize more. Inevitable death is thine.
            For thou hast slain a Prince noblest of all
            In Ithaca, and shalt be vultures' food.
                Various their judgments were, but none believed
            That he had slain him wittingly, nor saw
            Th' infatuate men fate hov'ring o'er them all.
            Then thus Ulysses, louring dark, replied.
                O dogs! not fearing aught my safe return
            From Ilium, ye have shorn my substance close,
            Lain with my women forcibly, and sought,
            While yet I lived, to make my consort yours,
            Heedless of the inhabitants of heav'n
            Alike, and of the just revenge of man.
            But death is on the wing; death for you all.
                He said; their cheeks all faded at the sound,
            And each with sharpen'd eyes search'd ev'ry nook
            For an escape from his impending doom,
            Till thus, alone, Eurymachus replied.
                If thou indeed art he, the mighty Chief
            Of Ithaca return'd, thou hast rehears'd
            With truth the crimes committed by the Greeks
            Frequent, both in thy house and in thy field.
            But he, already, who was cause of all,
            Lies slain, Antinoüs; he thy palace fill'd
            With outrage, not solicitous so much
            To win the fair Penelope, but thoughts
            Far diff'rent framing, which Saturnian Jove
            Hath baffled all; to rule, himself, supreme
            In noble Ithaca, when he had kill'd
            By an insidious stratagem thy son.
            But he is slain. Now therefore, spare thy own,
            Thy people; public reparation due
            Shall sure be thine, and to appease thy wrath
            For all the waste that, eating, drinking here
            We have committed, we will yield thee, each,
            Full twenty beeves, gold paying thee beside
            And brass, till joy shall fill thee at the sight,
            However just thine anger was before.
                To whom Ulysses, frowning stern, replied,
            Eurymachus, would ye contribute each
            His whole inheritance, and other sums
            Still add beside, ye should not, even so,
            These hands of mine bribe to abstain from blood,
            Till ev'ry suitor suffer for his wrong.
            Ye have your choice. Fight with me, or escape
            (Whoever may) the terrours of his fate,
            But ye all perish, if my thought be true.
                He ended, they with trembling knees and hearts
            All heard, whom thus Eurymachus address'd.
                To your defence, my friends! for respite none
            Will he to his victorious hands afford,
            But, arm'd with bow and quiver, will dispatch
            Shafts from the door till he have slain us all.
            Therefore to arms--draw each his sword--oppose
            The tables to his shafts, and all at once
            Rush on him; that, dislodging him at least
            From portal and from threshold, we may give
            The city on all sides a loud alarm,
            So shall this archer soon have shot his last.
                Thus saying, he drew his brazen faulchion keen
            Of double edge, and with a dreadful cry
            Sprang on him; but Ulysses with a shaft
            In that same moment through his bosom driv'n
            Transfix'd his liver, and down dropp'd his sword.
            He, staggering around his table, fell
            Convolv'd in agonies, and overturn'd
            Both food and wine; his forehead smote the floor;
            Woe fill'd his heart, and spurning with his heels
            His vacant seat, he shook it till he died.
            Then, with his faulchion drawn, Amphinomus
            Advanced to drive Ulysses from the door,
            And fierce was his assault; but, from behind,
            Telemachus between his shoulders fix'd
            A brazen lance, and urged it through his breast.
            Full on his front, with hideous sound, he fell.
            Leaving the weapon planted in his spine
            Back flew Telemachus, lest, had he stood
            Drawing it forth, some enemy, perchance,
            Should either pierce him with a sudden thrust
            Oblique, or hew him with a downright edge.
            Swift, therefore, to his father's side he ran,
            Whom reaching, in wing'd accents thus he said.
                My father! I will now bring thee a shield,
            An helmet, and two spears; I will enclose
            Myself in armour also, and will give
            Both to the herdsmen and Eumæus arms
            Expedient now, and needful for us all.
                To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
            Run; fetch them, while I yet have arrows left,
            Lest, single, I be justled from the door.
                He said, and, at his word, forth went the Prince,
            Seeking the chamber where he had secured
            The armour. Thence he took four shields, eight spears,
            With four hair-crested helmets, charged with which
            He hasted to his father's side again,
            And, arming first himself, furnish'd with arms
            His two attendants. Then, all clad alike
            In splendid brass, beside the dauntless Chief
            Ulysses, his auxiliars firm they stood.
            He, while a single arrow unemploy'd
            Lay at his foot, right-aiming, ever pierced
            Some suitor through, and heaps on heaps they fell.
            But when his arrows fail'd the royal Chief,
            His bow reclining at the portal's side
            Against the palace-wall, he slung, himself,
            A four-fold buckler on his arm, he fix'd
            A casque whose crest wav'd awful o'er his brows
            On his illustrious head, and fill'd his gripe
            With two stout spears, well-headed both, with brass.
                There was a certain postern in the wall[103]
            At the gate-side, the customary pass
            Into a narrow street, but barr'd secure.
            Ulysses bade his faithful swine-herd watch
            That egress, station'd near it, for it own'd
            One sole approach; then Agelaüs loud
            Exhorting all the suitors, thus exclaim'd.
                Oh friends, will none, ascending to the door
            Of yonder postern, summon to our aid
            The populace, and spread a wide alarm?
            So shall this archer soon have shot his last.
                To whom the keeper of the goats replied
            Melanthius. Agelaüs! Prince renown'd!
            That may not be. The postern and the gate[104]
            Neighbour too near each other, and to force
            The narrow egress were a vain attempt;
            One valiant man might thence repulse us all.
            But come--myself will furnish you with arms
            Fetch'd from above; for there, as I suppose,
            (And not elsewhere) Ulysses and his son
            Have hidden them, and there they shall be found.
                So spake Melanthius, and, ascending, sought
            Ulysses' chambers through the winding stairs
            And gall'ries of the house. Twelve bucklers thence
            He took, as many spears, and helmets bright
            As many, shagg'd with hair, then swift return'd
            And gave them to his friends. Trembled the heart
            Of brave Ulysses, and his knees, at sight
            Of his opposers putting armour on,
            And shaking each his spear; arduous indeed
            Now seem'd his task, and in wing'd accents brief
            Thus to his son Telemachus he spake.
                Either some woman of our train contrives
            Hard battle for us, furnishing with arms
            The suitors, or Melanthius arms them all.
                Him answer'd then Telemachus discrete.
            Father, this fault was mine, and be it charged
            On none beside; I left the chamber-door
            Unbarr'd, which, more attentive than myself,
            Their spy perceived. But haste, Eumæus, shut
            The chamber-door, observing well, the while,
            If any women of our train have done
            This deed, or whether, as I more suspect,
            Melanthius, Dolius' son, have giv'n them arms.
                Thus mutual they conferr'd; meantime, again
            Melanthius to the chamber flew in quest
            Of other arms. Eumæus, as he went,
            Mark'd him, and to Ulysses' thus he spake.
                Laertes' noble son, for wiles renown'd!
            Behold, the traytor, whom ourselves supposed,
            Seeks yet again the chamber! Tell me plain,
            Shall I, should I superior prove in force,
            Slay him, or shall I drag him thence to thee,
            That he may suffer at thy hands the doom
            Due to his treasons perpetrated oft
            Against thee, here, even in thy own house?
                Then answer thus Ulysses shrewd return'd.
            I, with Telemachus, will here immew
            The lordly suitors close, rage as they may.
            Ye two, the while, bind fast Melanthius' hands
            And feet behind his back, then cast him bound
            Into the chamber, and (the door secured)
            Pass underneath his arms a double chain,
            And by a pillar's top weigh him aloft
            Till he approach the rafters, there to endure,
            Living long time, the mis'ries he hath earned.
                He spake; they prompt obey'd; together both
            They sought the chamber, whom the wretch within
            Heard not, exploring ev'ry nook for arms.
            They watching stood the door, from which, at length,
            Forth came Melanthius, bearing in one hand
            A casque, and in the other a broad shield
            Time-worn and chapp'd with drought, which in his youth
            Warlike Laertes had been wont to bear.
            Long time neglected it had lain, till age
            Had loosed the sutures of its bands. At once
            Both, springing on him, seized and drew him in
            Forcibly by his locks, then cast him down
            Prone on the pavement, trembling at his fate.
            With painful stricture of the cord his hands
            They bound and feet together at his back,
            As their illustrious master had enjoined,
            Then weigh'd him with a double chain aloft
            By a tall pillar to the palace-roof,
            And thus, deriding him, Eumæus spake.
                Now, good Melanthius, on that fleecy bed
            Reclined, as well befits thee, thou wilt watch
            All night, nor when the golden dawn forsakes
            The ocean stream, will she escape thine eye,
            But thou wilt duly to the palace drive
            The fattest goats, a banquet for thy friends.
                So saying, he left him in his dreadful sling.
            Then, arming both, and barring fast the door,
            They sought brave Laertiades again.
            And now, courageous at the portal stood
            Those four, by numbers in the interior house
            Opposed of adversaries fierce in arms,
            When Pallas, in the form and with the voice
            Approach'd of Mentor, whom Laertes' son
            Beheld, and joyful at the sight, exclaim'd.
                Help, Mentor! help--now recollect a friend
            And benefactor, born when thou wast born.
                So he, not unsuspicious that he saw
            Pallas, the heroine of heav'n. Meantime
            The suitors fill'd with menaces the dome,
            And Agelaüs, first, Damastor's son,
            In accents harsh rebuked the Goddess thus.
                Beware, oh Mentor! that he lure thee not
            To oppose the suitors and to aid himself,
            For thus will we. Ulysses and his son
            Both slain, in vengeance of thy purpos'd deeds
            Against us, we will slay thee next, and thou
            With thy own head shalt satisfy the wrong.
            Your force thus quell'd in battle, all thy wealth
            Whether in house or field, mingled with his,
            We will confiscate, neither will we leave
            Or son of thine, or daughter in thy house
            Alive, nor shall thy virtuous consort more
            Within the walls of Ithaca be seen.
                He ended, and his words with wrath inflamed
            Minerva's heart the more; incensed, she turn'd
            Towards Ulysses, whom she thus reproved.
                Thou neither own'st the courage nor the force,
            Ulysses, now, which nine whole years thou showd'st
            At Ilium, waging battle obstinate
            For high-born Helen, and in horrid fight
            Destroying multitudes, till thy advice
            At last lay'd Priam's bulwark'd city low.
            Why, in possession of thy proper home
            And substance, mourn'st thou want of pow'r t'oppose
            The suitors? Stand beside me, mark my deeds,
            And thou shalt own Mentor Alcimides
            A valiant friend, and mindful of thy love.
                She spake; nor made she victory as yet
            Entire his own, proving the valour, first,
            Both of the sire and of his glorious son,
            But, springing in a swallow's form aloft,
            Perch'd on a rafter of the splendid roof.
            Then, Agelaüs animated loud
            The suitors, whom Eurynomus also roused,
            Amphimedon, and Demoptolemus,
            And Polyctorides, Pisander named,
            And Polybus the brave; for noblest far
            Of all the suitor-chiefs who now survived
            And fought for life were these. The bow had quell'd
            And shafts, in quick succession sent, the rest.
            Then Agelaüs, thus, harangued them all.
                We soon shall tame, O friends, this warrior's might,
            Whom Mentor, after all his airy vaunts
            Hath left, and at the portal now remain
            Themselves alone. Dismiss not therefore, all,
            Your spears together, but with six alone
            Assail them first; Jove willing, we shall pierce
            Ulysses, and subduing him, shall slay
            With ease the rest; their force is safely scorn'd.
                He ceas'd; and, as he bade, six hurl'd the spear
            Together; but Minerva gave them all
            A devious flight; one struck a column, one
            The planks of the broad portal, and a third[105]
            Flung right his ashen beam pond'rous with brass
            Against the wall. Then (ev'ry suitor's spear
            Eluded) thus Ulysses gave the word--
                Now friends! I counsel you that ye dismiss
            Your spears at them, who, not content with past
            Enormities, thirst also for our blood.
                He said, and with unerring aim, all threw
            Their glitt'ring spears. Ulysses on the ground
            Stretch'd Demoptolemus; Euryades
            Fell by Telemachus; the swine-herd slew
            Elatus; and the keeper of the beeves
            Pisander; in one moment all alike
            Lay grinding with their teeth the dusty floor.
            Back flew the suitors to the farthest wall,
            On whom those valiant four advancing, each
            Recover'd, quick, his weapon from the dead.
            Then hurl'd the desp'rate suitors yet again
            Their glitt'ring spears, but Pallas gave to each
            A frustrate course; one struck a column, one
            The planks of the broad portal, and a third
            Flung full his ashen beam against the wall.
            Yet pierced Amphimedon the Prince's wrist,
            But slightly, a skin-wound, and o'er his shield
            Ctesippus reach'd the shoulder of the good
            Eumæus, but his glancing weapon swift
            O'erflew the mark, and fell. And now the four,
            Ulysses, dauntless Hero, and his friends
            All hurl'd their spears together in return,
            Himself Ulysses, city-waster Chief,
            Wounded Eurydamas; Ulysses' son
            Amphimedon; the swine-herd Polybus;
            And in his breast the keeper of the beeves
            Ctesippus, glorying over whom, he cried.
                Oh son of Polytherses! whose delight
            Hath been to taunt and jeer, never again
            Boast foolishly, but to the Gods commit
            Thy tongue, since they are mightier far than thou.
            Take this--a compensation for thy pledge
            Of hospitality, the huge ox-hoof,
            Which while he roam'd the palace, begging alms,
            Ulysses at thy bounteous hand received.
                So gloried he; then, grasping still his spear,
            Ulysses pierced Damastor's son, and, next,
            Telemachus, enforcing his long beam
            Sheer through his bowels and his back, transpierced
            Leiocritus, he prostrate smote the floor.
            Then, Pallas from the lofty roof held forth
            Her host-confounding Ægis o'er their heads,
            With'ring their souls with fear. They through the hall
            Fled, scatter'd as an herd, which rapid-wing'd
            The gad-fly dissipates, infester fell
            Of beeves, when vernal suns shine hot and long.
            But, as when bow-beak'd vultures crooked-claw'd[106]
            Stoop from the mountains on the smaller fowl;
            Terrified at the toils that spread the plain
            The flocks take wing, they, darting from above,
            Strike, seize, and slay, resistance or escape
            Is none, the fowler's heart leaps with delight,
            So they, pursuing through the spacious hall
            The suitors, smote them on all sides, their heads
            Sounded beneath the sword, with hideous groans
            The palace rang, and the floor foamed with blood.
            Then flew Leiodes to Ulysses' knees,
            Which clasping, in wing'd accents thus he cried.
                I clasp thy knees, Ulysses! oh respect
            My suit, and spare me! Never have I word
            Injurious spoken, or injurious deed
            Attempted 'gainst the women of thy house,
            But others, so transgressing, oft forbad.
            Yet they abstain'd not, and a dreadful fate
            Due to their wickedness have, therefore, found.
            But I, their soothsayer alone, must fall,
            Though unoffending; such is the return
            By mortals made for benefits received!
                To whom Ulysses, louring dark, replied.
            Is that thy boast? Hast thou indeed for these
            The seer's high office fill'd? Then, doubtless, oft
            Thy pray'r hath been that distant far might prove
            The day delectable of my return,
            And that my consort might thy own become
            To bear thee children; wherefore thee I doom
            To a dire death which thou shalt not avoid.
                So saying, he caught the faulchion from the floor
            Which Agelaüs had let fall, and smote
            Leiodes, while he kneel'd, athwart his neck
            So suddenly, that ere his tongue had ceased
            To plead for life, his head was in the dust.
            But Phemius, son of Terpius, bard divine,
            Who, through compulsion, with his song regaled
            The suitors, a like dreadful death escaped.
            Fast by the postern, harp in hand, he stood,
            Doubtful if, issuing, he should take his seat
            Beside the altar of Hercæan Jove,[107]
            Where oft Ulysses offer'd, and his sire,
            Fat thighs of beeves, or whether he should haste,
            An earnest suppliant, to embrace his knees.
            That course, at length, most pleased him; then, between
            The beaker and an argent-studded throne
            He grounded his sweet lyre, and seizing fast
            The Hero's knees, him, suppliant, thus address'd.
                I clasp thy knees, Ulysses! oh respect
            My suit, and spare me. Thou shalt not escape
            Regret thyself hereafter, if thou slay
            Me, charmer of the woes of Gods and men.
            Self-taught am I, and treasure in my mind
            Themes of all argument from heav'n inspired,
            And I can sing to thee as to a God.
            Ah, then, behead me not. Put ev'n the wish
            Far from thee! for thy own beloved son
            Can witness, that not drawn by choice, or driv'n
            By stress of want, resorting to thine house
            I have regaled these revellers so oft,
            But under force of mightier far than I.
                So he; whose words soon as the sacred might
            Heard of Telemachus, approaching quick
            His father, thus, humane, he interposed.
                Hold, harm not with the vengeful faulchion's edge
            This blameless man; and we will also spare
            Medon the herald, who hath ever been
            A watchful guardian of my boyish years,
            Unless Philoetius have already slain him,
            Or else Eumæus, or thyself, perchance,
            Unconscious, in the tumult of our foes.
                He spake, whom Medon hearing (for he lay
            Beneath a throne, and in a new-stript hide
            Enfolded, trembling with the dread of death)
            Sprang from his hiding-place, and casting off
            The skin, flew to Telemachus, embraced
            His knees, and in wing'd accents thus exclaim'd.
                Prince! I am here--oh, pity me! repress
            Thine own, and pacify thy father's wrath,
            That he destroy not me, through fierce revenge
            Of their iniquities who have consumed
            His wealth, and, in their folly scorn'd his son.
                To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied,
            Smiling complacent. Fear not; my own son
            Hath pleaded for thee. Therefore (taught thyself
            That truth) teach others the superior worth
            Of benefits with injuries compared.
            But go ye forth, thou and the sacred bard,
            That ye may sit distant in yonder court
            From all this carnage, while I give command,
            Myself, concerning it, to those within.
                He ceas'd; they going forth, took each his seat
            Beside Jove's altar, but with careful looks
            Suspicious, dreading without cease the sword.
            Meantime Ulysses search'd his hall, in quest
            Of living foes, if any still survived
            Unpunish'd; but he found them all alike
            Welt'ring in dust and blood; num'rous they lay
            Like fishes when they strew the sinuous shore
            Of Ocean, from the grey gulph drawn aground
            In nets of many a mesh; they on the sands
            Lie spread, athirst for the salt wave, till hot
            The gazing sun dries all their life away;
            So lay the suitors heap'd, and thus at length
            The prudent Chief gave order to his son.
                Telemachus! bid Euryclea come
            Quickly, the nurse, to whom I would impart
            The purpose which now occupies me most.
                He said; obedient to his sire, the Prince
            Smote on the door, and summon'd loud the nurse.
                Arise thou ancient governess of all
            Our female menials, and come forth; attend
            My father; he hath somewhat for thine ear.
                So he; nor flew his words useless away,
            For, throwing wide the portal, forth she came,
            And, by Telemachus conducted, found
            Ere long Ulysses amid all the slain,
            With blood defiled and dust; dread he appear'd
            As from the pastur'd ox newly-devoured
            The lion stalking back; his ample chest
            With gory drops and his broad cheeks are hung,
            Tremendous spectacle! such seem'd the Chief,
            Blood-stain'd all over. She, the carnage spread
            On all sides seeing, and the pools of blood,
            Felt impulse forcible to publish loud
            That wond'rous triumph; but her Lord repress'd
            The shout of rapture ere it burst abroad,
            And in wing'd accents thus his will enforced.
                Silent exult, O ancient matron dear!
            Shout not, be still. Unholy is the voice
            Of loud thanksgiving over slaughter'd men.
            Their own atrocious deeds and the Gods' will
            Have slain all these; for whether noble guest
            Arrived or base, they scoff'd at all alike,
            And for their wickedness have, therefore, died.
            But say; of my domestic women, who
            Have scorn'd me, and whom find'st thou innocent?
                To whom good Euryclea thus replied.
            My son! I will declare the truth; thou keep'st
            Female domestics fifty in thy house,
            Whom we have made intelligent to comb
            The fleece, and to perform whatever task.
            Of these, twice six have overpass'd the bounds
            Of modesty, respecting neither me,
            Nor yet the Queen; and thy own son, adult
            So lately, no permission had from her
            To regulate the women of her train.
            But I am gone, I fly with what hath pass'd
            To the Queen's ear, who nought suspects, so sound
            She sleeps, by some divinity composed.
                Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise returned.
            Hush, and disturb her not. Go. Summon first
            Those wantons, who have long deserved to die.
                He ceas'd; then issued forth the ancient dame
            To summon those bad women, and, meantime,
            Calling his son, Philoetius, and Eumæus,
            Ulysses in wing'd accents thus began.
                Bestir ye, and remove the dead; command
            Those women also to your help; then cleanse
            With bibulous sponges and with water all
            The seats and tables; when ye shall have thus
            Set all in order, lead those women forth,
            And in the centre of the spacious court,
            Between the scull'ry and the outer-wall
            Smite them with your broad faulchions till they lose
            In death the mem'ry of their secret loves
            Indulged with wretches lawless as themselves.
                He ended, and the damsels came at once
            All forth, lamenting, and with tepid tears
            Show'ring the ground; with mutual labour, first,
            Bearing the bodies forth into the court,
            They lodged them in the portico; meantime
            Ulysses, stern, enjoin'd them haste, and, urged
            By sad necessity, they bore all out.
            With sponges and with water, next, they cleansed
            The thrones and tables, while Telemachus
            Beesom'd the floor, Eumæus in that work
            Aiding him and the keeper of the beeves,
            And those twelve damsels bearing forth the soil.
            Thus, order giv'n to all within, they, next,
            Led forth the women, whom they shut between
            The scull'ry and the outer-wall in close
            Durance, from which no pris'ner could escape,
            And thus Telemachus discrete began.
                An honourable death is not for these
            By my advice, who have so often heap'd
            Reproach on mine and on my mother's head,
            And held lewd commerce with the suitor-train.
                He said, and noosing a strong galley-rope
            To an huge column, led the cord around
            The spacious dome, suspended so aloft
            That none with quiv'ring feet might reach the floor.
            As when a flight of doves ent'ring the copse,
            Or broad-wing'd thrushes, strike against the net
            Within, ill rest, entangled, there they find,
            So they, suspended by the neck, expired
            All in one line together. Death abhorr'd!
            With restless feet awhile they beat the air,
            Then ceas'd. And now through vestibule and hall
            They led Melanthius forth. With ruthless steel
            They pared away his ears and nose, pluck'd forth
            His parts of shame, destin'd to feed the dogs,
            And, still indignant, lopp'd his hands and feet.
            Then, laving each his feet and hands, they sought
            Again Ulysses; all their work was done,
            And thus the Chief to Euryclea spake.
                Bring blast-averting sulphur, nurse, bring fire!
            That I may fumigate my walls; then bid
            Penelope with her attendants down,
            And summon all the women of her train.
                But Euryclea, thus, his nurse, replied.
            My son! thou hast well said; yet will I first
            Serve thee with vest and mantle. Stand not here
            In thy own palace cloath'd with tatters foul
            And beggarly--she will abhor the sight.
                Then answer thus Ulysses wise return'd.
            Not so. Bring fire for fumigation first.
                He said; nor Euryclea his lov'd nurse
            Longer delay'd, but sulphur brought and fire,
            When he with purifying steams, himself,
            Visited ev'ry part, the banquet-room,
            The vestibule, the court. Ranging meantime
            His house magnificent, the matron call'd
            The women to attend their Lord in haste,
            And they attended, bearing each a torch.
            Then gather'd they around him all, sincere
            Welcoming his return; with close embrace
            Enfolding him, each kiss'd his brows, and each
            His shoulders, and his hands lock'd fast in hers.
            He, irresistible the impulse felt
            To sigh and weep, well recognizing all.



Extra Info:
[103] If the ancients found it difficult to ascertain clearly the situation of this +ortothyrê+, well may we. The Translator has given it the position which to him appeared most probable.--There seem to have been two of these posterns, one leading to a part from which the town might be alarmed, the other to the chamber to which Telemachus went for armour. There was one, perhaps, on each side of the portal, and they appear to have been at some height above the floor.

[104] At which Ulysses stood.

[105] The deviation of three only is described, which must be understood, therefore, as instances of the ill success of all.

[106] In this simile we seem to have a curious account of the ancient manner of fowling. The nets (for +nephea+ is used in that sense by Aristophanes) were spread on a plain; on an adjoining rising ground were stationed they who had charge of the vultures (such Homer calls them) which were trained to the sport. The alarm being given to the birds below, the vultures were loosed, when if any of them escaped their talons, the nets were ready to enclose them. See Eustathius Dacier. Clarke.

[107] So called because he was worshipped within the +Erkos+ or wall that surrounded the court.



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