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?
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.
Hush, and disturb her not. Go. Summon first
Those wantons, who have long deserved to die.
To summon those bad women, and, meantime,
Calling his son, Philœtius, and Eumæus,
Ulysses in wing’d accents thus began.
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.
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.
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.
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.
That I may fumigate my walls; then bid
Penelope with her attendants down,
And summon all the women of her train.
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.
Not so. Bring fire for fumigation first.
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
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