this thy guest, Since he has sought thy lodge, I give to him A cloak and tunic, seemly of their kind, A two-edged sword, and sandals for his feet. And I will send him to whatever coast He may desire to go. Yet, if thou wilt, Lodge him beneath thy roof, and I will send Raiment and food, that he may be no charge To thee or thy companions. To my house Among the suitor-train I cannot bear That he should go. Those men are insolent Beyond all measure; they would scoff at him, And greatly should I grieve. The boldest man Against so many might contend in vain, And greater is their power by far than mine.”
Then spake Ulysses, the great sufferer: “O friend—since I have liberty to speak— My very heart is wounded when I hear What wrongs the suitors practise in thy halls Against a youth like thee. But give me leave To ask if thou submittest willingly, Or do thy people, hearkening to some god, Hate thee with open hatred? Dost thou blame Thy brothers?—for in brothers men confide Even in a desperate conflict. Would that I Were young again, and with the will I have, Or that I could become Ulysses’ 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