the wide heaven.”
Ulysses, the sagacious, answered thus: “It is not well, Telemachus, to greet With boundless wonder and astonishment Thy father in this lodge. Be sure of this, That no Ulysses other than myself Will ever enter here. I, who am he, Have suffered greatly and have wandered far, And in the twentieth year am come again To mine own land. Thou hast beheld today A wonder wrought by Pallas, huntress-queen, Who makes me what she will, such power is hers— Sometimes to seem a beggar, and in turn A young man in a comely garb. The gods Whose home is in the heavens can easily Exalt a mortal man, or bring him low.”
He spake and sat him down. Telemachus Around his glorious father threw his arms, And shed a shower of tears. Both felt at heart A passionate desire to weep; they wept Aloud—and louder were their cries than those Of eagles, or the sharp-clawed vulture tribe, Whose young the hinds have stolen, yet unfledged. Still flowed their tears abundantly; the sun Would have gone down and left them weeping still Had not Telemachus at length inquired:—