Of menials culinary, at the gate
Enter’d of Menelaus, Chief renown’d;
They brought him sheep, with heart-ennobling wine,
While all their wives, their brows with frontlets bound,
Came charg’d with bread. Thus busy they prepared
A banquet in the mansion of the King.
The suitors sported with the quoit and spear
On the smooth area, customary scene
Of all their strife and angry clamour loud.
There sat Antinoüs, and the godlike youth
Eurymachus, superior to the rest
And Chiefs among them, to whom Phronius’ son
Noëmon drawing nigh, with anxious mien
Question’d Antinoüs, and thus began.
When to expect Telemachus at home
Again from Pylus? in my ship he went,
Which now I need, that I may cross the sea
To Elis, on whose spacious plain I feed
Twelve mares, each suckling a mule-colt as yet
Unbroken, but of which I purpose one
To ferry thence, and break him into use.
They deem’d not to Nelëian Pylus gone,
But haply into his own fields, his flocks
To visit, or the steward of his swine.
Then thus, Eupithes’ son, Antinoüs, spake.
Whom chose he for his followers? his own train
Of slaves and hirelings? hath he pow’r to effect
This also? Tell me too, for I would learn—
Took he perforce thy sable bark away,
Or gav’st it to him at his first demand?
I gave it voluntary; what could’st thou,
Should such a prince petition for thy bark
In such distress? Hard were it to refuse.
Brave youths (our bravest youths except yourselves)
Attend him forth; and with them I observed
Mentor embarking, ruler o’er them all,
Or, if not him, a God; for such he seem’d.
But this much moves my wonder. Yester-morn
I saw, at day-break, noble Mentor here,
Whom shipp’d for Pylus I had seen before.
They, hearing, sat aghast. Their games meantime
Finish’d, the suitors on their seats reposed,
To whom Eupithes’ son, Antinoüs, next,
Much troubled spake; a black storm overcharged
His bosom, and his vivid eyes flash’d fire.
This voyage of Telemachus, by us
Pronounced impracticable; yet the boy
In downright opposition to us all,
Hath headlong launched a ship, and, with a band
Selected from our bravest youth, is gone.
He soon will prove more mischievous, whose pow’r
Jove wither, ere we suffer its effects!
But give me a swift bark with twenty rowers,
That, watching his return within the streights
Of rocky Samos and of Ithaca,
I may surprise him; so shall he have sail’d
To seek his Sire, fatally for himself.
With warm encouragement. Then, rising all,
Into Ulysses’ house at once they throng’d.
Nor was Penelope left uninformed
Long time of their clandestine plottings deep,
For herald Medon told her all, whose ear
Their councils caught while in the outer-court
He stood, and they that project framed within.
Swift to Penelope the tale he bore,
Who as he pass’d the gate, him thus address’d.
Thee foremost? Wou’d they that my maidens lay
Their tasks aside, and dress the board for them?
Here end their wooing! may they hence depart
Never, and may the banquet now prepared,
This banquet prove your last! who in such throngs
Here meeting, waste the patrimony fair
Of brave Telemachus; ye never, sure,
When children, heard how gracious and how good
Ulysses dwelt among your parents, none
Of all his people, or in word or deed
Injuring, as great princes oft are wont,
By favour influenc’d now, now by disgust.
He no man wrong’d at any time; but plain
Your wicked purpose in your deeds appears,
Who sense have none of benefits conferr’d.
Oh Queen! may the Gods grant this prove the worst.
But greater far and heavier ills than this
The suitors plan, whose counsels Jove confound!
Their base desire and purpose are to slay
Telemachus on his return; for he,
To gather tidings of his Sire is gone
To Pylus, or to Sparta’s land divine.
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