“Go now, Telemachus, and hither call The nurse, Dame Eurycleia. I would say Somewhat to her that comes into my thought.”
So spake the chief. Telemachus obeyed The word, and smote the door, and called the nurse:—
“Come hither, ancient dame, who hast in charge To oversee the women in their tasks; My father calls thee, and would speak with thee.”
He spake; nor flew the word in vain; she flung Apart the portals of those stately rooms, And came in haste. Before her went the prince. Among the corpses of the slain they found Ulysses, stained with blood, and grimed with dust. As when a lion, who has just devoured A bullock of the pasture, moves away, A terror to the sight, with breast and cheeks All bathed in blood; so did Ulysses seem, His feet and hands steeped in the blood of men. She, when she saw the corpses and the pools Of blood, and knew the mighty task complete, Was moved to shout for joy. Ulysses checked Her eager zeal, and said in winged words:—
“Rejoice in spirit, dame, but calm thyself, And shout not. To exult aloud o’er those Who lie in death is an unholy thing. The pleasure of the gods, and their own guilt, Brought death on these; for no respect had they To any of their fellow-men—the good Or evil—whosoever he might be That came to them, and thus on their own heads They drew this fearful fate. Now name to me The women of the palace; let me know Who is disloyal, and who innocent.”
Then thus the well-beloved nurse replied: “My son, I will declare the truth. There dwell Here in thy palace fifty serving-maids, Whom we have taught to work, to comb the fleece And serve the household. Twelve of these have walked The way of shame. To me they give no heed, Nor to Penelope herself. Thy son Has just now grown to manhood, and the queen Has never suffered him to rule the maids; But let me now, ascending to her room— The royal bower—apprise thy wife, to whom Some deity has sent the gift of sleep.”