Book XIX

my hands that everyone Who meets thee should rejoice with thee. And yet The thought abides with me, and so indeed It must be, that Ulysses will no more Return, nor wilt thou find an escort hence; For now no master like Ulysses rules⁠— And what a man was he!⁠—within these walls, To welcome or dismiss the honored guest. But now, ye maidens, let the stranger bathe, And spread his couch with blankets, fleecy cloaks, And showy tapestries, that he may lie Warm till the Morning, in her golden car, Draw near; then with the early morn again Bathe and anoint him, that he may sit down Beside Telemachus prepared to take His morning meal. Ill shall he fare who dares Molest the stranger; he shall have no place Or office here, however he may rage. And how, O stranger, wouldst thou learn that I In mind and thoughtful wisdom am above All other women, if I let thee sit Squalid and meanly clad at banquets here? Short is the life of man, and whoso bears A cruel heart, devising cruel things, On him men call down evil from the gods While living, and pursue him, when he dies, With scoffs. But whoso is of generous heart And harbors generous aims, his guests proclaim His praises far and wide to all mankind, And numberless are they who call him good.”