Thus went he on, inventing tales that seemed Like truth. She listened, melting into tears That flowed as when on mountain height the snow, Shed by the west-wind, feels the east-wind’s breath, And flows in water, and the hurrying streams Are filled; so did Penelope’s fair cheeks Seem to dissolve in tears—tears shed for him Who sat beside her even then. He saw His weeping wife, and pitied her at heart; Yet were his eyes like iron or like horn, And moved not in their lids; for artfully He kept his tears from falling. When the queen Had ceased to weep, she answered him and said:—
“Now, stranger, let me prove thee, if in truth Thou didst receive, as thou hast just declared, In thine abode, my husband and his train Of noble friends. Describe the garb he wore; How looked he, and the friends he brought with him?”
Ulysses, the sagacious, answered her: “O lady, hard it is to answer thee, So long have I been far away from home. ’Tis now the twentieth year since he was there And left the isle, but, as my memory bids, So will I speak. A fleecy purple cloak Ulysses wore, a double web; the clasp Was