'd to the Thesprots, our allies?
They would have torn his heart, and would have laid
All his delights and his possessions waste,
But my Ulysses slaked the furious heat
Of their revenge, whom thou requitest now
Wasting his goods, soliciting his wife, 510
Slaying his son, and filling me with woe.
But cease, I charge thee, and bid cease the rest.
To whom the son of Polybus replied,
Eurymachus.--Icarius' daughter wise!
Take courage, fair Penelope, and chace
These fears unreasonable from thy mind!
The man lives not, nor shall, who while I live,
And faculty of sight retain, shall harm
Telemachus, thy son. For thus I say,
And thus will I perform; his blood shall stream 520
A sable current from my lance's point
That moment; for the city-waster Chief
Ulysses, oft, me placing on his knees,
Hath fill'd my infant grasp with sav'ry food,
And giv'n me ruddy wine. I, therefore, hold
Telemachus of all men most my friend,
Nor hath he death to fear from hand of ours.
Yet, if the Gods shall doom him, die he must.
So he encouraged her, who yet, himself,
Plotted his death. She, re-ascending, sought 530
Her stately chamber, and, arriving there,
Deplored with tears her long-regretted Lord
Till Athenaean Pallas azure-eyed
Dews of soft slumber o'er her lids diffused.
And now, at even-tide, Eumaeus reach'd
Ulysses and his son. A yearling swine
Just slain they skilfully for food prepared,
When Pallas, drawing nigh, smote with her wand
Ulysses, at the stroke rend'ring him old,
And his apparel sordid as before, 540
Lest, knowing him, the swain at once should seek
Penelope, and let the secret forth.
Then foremost him Telemachus address'd.
Noble Eumaeus! thou art come; what news
Bring'st from the city? Have the warrior band
Of suitors, hopeless of their ambush, reach'd
The port again, or wait they still for me?
To whom Eumaeus, thou didst thus reply.
No time for such enquiry, nor to range,
Curious, the streets had I, but anxious wish'd 550
To make my message known, and to return.
But, as it chanced, a nimble herald sent
From thy companions, met me on the way,
Who reach'd thy mother first. Yet this I know,
For this I saw. P