Book XIX

warriors sailed for Troy, And my Ulysses with them. Could he now Return to rule my household as of yore, The wider and the brighter were my fame. But now I lead a wretched life, so great And many are the evils which some god Heaps on me. For the chieftains who bear sway Over the isles⁠—Dulichium, and the fields Of Samos, and Zacynthus dark with woods, And those who rule in sunny Ithaca⁠— Woo me against my will, and waste away My substance. Therefore have I small regard For strangers and for suppliants, and the tribe Of heralds, servants of the public weal, But, pining for Ulysses, wear away My life. The suitors urge the marriage rite, And I with art delay it. Once some god Prompted me to begin an ample web, Wide and of subtle texture, in my rooms. And then I said: ‘Youths, who are pressing me To marriage, since Ulysses is no more, Urge me no further till I shall complete⁠— That so the threads may not be spun in vain⁠— This shroud for old Laertes, when grim fate And death’s long sleep at last shall overtake The hero; else among the multitude Of Grecian women I shall bear the blame, If one whose ample wealth so well was known Should lie in death without a funeral