He spake; they hearkened and obeyed. They took The bath, and then they put their garments on. The maids arrayed themselves; the godlike bard Took the curved harp, and woke in all the love Of melody, and of the graceful dance. The spacious pile resounded to the steps Of men and shapely women in their mirth, And one who stood without was heard to say:—
“Someone, no doubt, has made the long-wooed queen His bride at last; a worthless woman she, Who could not, for the husband of her youth, Keep his fair palace till he came again.”
Such words were said, but they who uttered them Knew little what had passed. Eurynomè, The matron of the palace, meantime took Magnanimous Ulysses to the bath In his own dwelling, smoothed his limbs with oil, And threw a gorgeous mantle over him And tunic. Pallas on the hero’s head Shed grace and majesty; she made him seem Taller and statelier, made his locks flow down In curls like blossoms of the hyacinth, As when a workman skilled in many arts, And taught by Pallas and Minerva, twines A golden border round the silver