steeps In smoke the noble hall. He bade me come To call thee. Follow me, that ye may give Your hearts to gladness—for ye have endured Great sorrows both, and your long-cherished hope Is now fulfilled. He hath returned alive To his dear home, and finds thee and his son Yet in his palace, and hath terribly Avenged himself upon the guilty men Who under his own roof have done him wrong.”
Then spake the sage Penelope again: “Beloved nurse, exult not overmuch, Nor rashly boast. Well is it known to thee, Were he to come beneath this roof again, How welcome he would be to all, but most To me and to the son to whom we gave His being. Yet thy tidings are not true. Someone of the immortals must have slain The arrogant suitors, angry to behold Their foul injustice and their many crimes; For no respect had they to mortal man, Good he might be, or bad, whome’er they met; And therefore have they made an evil end. But my Ulysses must have perished far From Ithaca, cut off from his return.”