son, Or were that chief himself returned at last From all his wanderings—and there yet is hope Of his return—then might another strike My head off if I would not instantly Enter the house of Laertiades And make myself a mischief to them all. But should they overcome me, thus alone Contending with such numbers, I would choose Rather in mine own palace to be slain Than every day behold such shameful deeds— Insulted guests, maidservants foully dragged Through those fair palace chambers, wine-casks drained, And gluttons feasting idly, wastefully, And others toiling for them without end.”
Then spake again discreet Telemachus: “Stranger, thou shalt be answered faithfully. Know, then, the people are by no means wroth With me, nor have I brothers to accuse, Though in a desperate conflict men rely Upon a brother’s aid. Saturnian Jove Confines our lineage to a single head. The king Arcesius had an only son, Laertes, and to him was only born Ulysses; and Ulysses left me here, The only scion of his house, and he Had little joy of me. Our halls are filled With enemies, the chief men of the isles— Dulichium, Samos, and Zacynthus dark With forests, and the rugged