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War from abroad, and I had but a shield,
Two spears, and, fitted to my brows, a helm
Of brass, thou wouldst behold me pressing on
Among the foremost warriors, and would see
No cause to rail at my keen appetite.
But arrogantly thou dost bear thyself,
And pitilessly; thou in thine own eyes
Art great and mighty, since thou dost consort
With few, and those are not the best of men.
Yet should Ulysses come to his own land,
These gates that seem so wide would suddenly
Become too narrow for thee in thy flight.”

He spake. Eurymachus grew yet more wroth,
And frowned on him, and said in winged words:⁠—

“Wretch! I shall do thee mischief. Thou art bold,
And babblest unabashed among us all.
The wine, perhaps, is in thy foolish head,
Or thou art always thus, and ever prone
To prattle impudently. Art thou proud
Of conquering Irus, that poor vagabond?”

Thus having said, he brandished in the air
A footstool; but Ulysses, to escape
The anger of Eurymachus, sat down
Before the knees of the Dulichian prince,
Amphinomus. The footstool flew, and struck
On the right arm the cupbearer. Down fell
The beaker ringing; he who bore it lay
Stretched in the dust. Then in those shadowy halls
The suitors rose in tumult. One of them
Looked at another by his side, and said:⁠—

“Would that this vagabond had met his death
Ere he came hither. This confusion, then,
Had never been. ’Tis for a beggar’s sake
We wrangle, and the feast will henceforth give
No pleasure; we shall go from bad to worse.”

Then rose in majesty Telemachus,
And said: “Ye are not in your senses sure,
Unhappy men, who cannot eat and drink
In peace. Some deity, no doubt, has moved
Your minds to frenzy. Now, when each of you
Has feasted well, let each withdraw to sleep,
Just when he will. I drive no man away.”

He spake; the suitors heard, and bit their lips,
And wondered at Telemachus, who spake
So resolutely. Then Amphinomus,
The son of Nisus Aretiades,
Stood forth, harangued the suitor-crowd, and said:⁠—

“O friends! let no one here with carping words
Seek to deny what is so justly said,
Nor yet molest the stranger, nor do harm
To any of the servants in the halls
Of the great chief Ulysses. Now let him
Who brings the guests their wine begin and fill
The cups, that, pouring to the gods their part,
We may withdraw to sleep. The stranger here
Leave me within the palace, and in charge
Of him to whom he came, Telemachus.”

He ended. All were pleased, and Mutlus then,
Hero and herald from Dulichium’s coast,
And follower of the prince Amphinomus,
Mingled a jar of wine, and went to each,
Dispensing it. They to the blessed gods
Poured first a part, and then they drank themselves
The generous juice. And when the wine was poured,
And they had drunk what each desired, they went
Homeward to slumber, each in his abode.

Book XIX Ulysses Recognized by Eurycleia

Remoyal of the weapons from the hall by Ulysses and his son⁠—Interview of Penelope and Ulysses, who tells her that he has seen her husband in Crete, describes his person and dress, and affirms that within a month he will be in Ithaca⁠—The bath administered to Ulysses by Eurycleia, who recognizes him by a scar on his leg⁠—Narrative of the manner in which the scar was caused.

Now was the godlike chief Ulysses left
In his own palace, planning, with the aid
Of Pallas, to destroy the suitor-train,
And thus bespake his son with winged words:⁠—

“Now is the time, Telemachus, to take
The weapons thac are here, and store them up
In the inner rooms. Then, if the suitors ask
The reason, answer them with specious words:
Say, ‘I have put them where there comes no smoke.
Since even now they do not seem the arms
Left by Ulysses when he sailed for Troy,
So tarnished are they by the breath of fire;
And yet another reason sways my mind,
The prompting of some god, that ye, when flushed
With wine and in the heat of a dispute,
May smite and wound each other, and disgrace
The banquet and your wooing; for the sight
Of steel doth draw men on to violence.’ ”

He ended, and Telemachus obeyed
His father’s words, and calling forth his nurse,
The aged Eurycleia, said to her:⁠—

“Go, nurse, and see the women all shut up
In their own place, while in our inner room
I lay away my father’s beautiful arms,
Neglected long, and sullied by the smoke,
While he was absent. I was then a child,
But now would keep them from the breath of fire.”

And thus the nurse, Dame Eurycleia, said:
“Would that at length, my child, thou didst exert
Thy proper wisdom here, and take in charge
Thy house and thy possessions. But who goes
With thee to bear a torch, since none of these,
Thy handmaids, are allowed to light thy way?”

And thus discreet Telemachus replied:
“This stranger. No man may be idle here
Who eats my bread, though from a distant land.”

He spake, nor flew his words in vain. The nurse
Closed all the portals of that noble pile.
Ulysses and his glorious son in haste
Bore off the helmets, and the bossy shields,
And the sharp spears, while Pallas held to them
A golden lamp, that shed a fair clear light.
Then to his father spake Telemachus:⁠—

“Father! my eyes behold a marvel. All
The palace walls, each beautiful recess,
The fir-tree beams, the aspiring columns, shine,
Before my eyes, as with a blaze of fire.
Some god is surely here, someone of those
Who make their dwelling in the high broad heaven.”

Ulysses, the sagacious, answered thus:
“Keep silence; give thy thought no speech, nor ask
Concerning aught. Such is the wont of those
Who dwell upon Olympus. Now withdraw
To rest upon thy couch, while I remain,
For I would move thy mother and her maids
To ask of what concerns me. She, I deem,
Full sadly will inquire of many things.”

He spake; Telemachus departed thence,
By torchlight, to his chamber, there to rest
Where he was wont to lie when gentle sleep
Came over him. There lay he down to wait
The hallowed morning, while Ulysses, left
Within the palace, meditated still
Death to the suitors with Minerva’s aid.

The sage Penelope now left her bower;
Like Dian or like golden Venus came
The queen. Beside the hearth they placed for her
The throne where she was wont to sit, inlaid
With ivory and silver, which of yore
The artisan Icmalius wrought. They laid
Close to the

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