“Antinoüs, mischief-plotter, insolent! The rumor is that thou excellest all Of thy own age among the Ithacans In understanding and in speech. Yet such Thou never wert.
Ferocious as thou art, Why seek the death of my Telemachus, And treat with scorn the suppliants of whose prayer Jove is the witness? An unholy thing It is when men against their fellow-men Plot mischief.
Dost thou then forget that once Thy father came to us a fugitive, In terror of the people, who were wroth Because he joined the Taphian pirate-race, And plundered the Thesprotians, our allies. The people would have slain him, and have torn His heart out, and have pillaged his large wealth; Ulysses checked their rage, and held them back, Fierce as they were.
Now thou dost waste his goods Most shamefully, and woo his wife, and slay His son, and multiply my woes. Cease now, I charge thee, and persuade the rest to cease.”
Eurymachus, the son of Polybus, Replied:
“O daughter of Icarius, sage Penelope, take heart; let no such thought Possess thy mind. There is no man on earth, Nor will there be, who shall lay violent hands Upon Telemachus, thy son, while I Am living, and yet keep the gift of sight. I say, and will perform it—his black blood Shall flow and bathe my spear. Ulysses oft, Spoiler of realms, would take me on his knee, And put the roasted meats into my hands, And give me ruddy wine. I therefore hold Telemachus of all mankind most dear, And I will bid him have no fear of death From any of the suitors. If it come, Sent by the gods, he cannot then escape.”