She spake to try her husband; but, displeased, Ulysses answered thus his virtuous queen:—
“O woman, thou hast said unwelcome words. Who hath displaced my bed? That task were hard For long-experienced hands, unless some god Had come to shift its place. No living man, Even in his prime of years, could easily Have moved it, for in that elaborate work There was a mystery; it was I myself Who shaped it, no one else. Within my court There grew an olive-tree with full-leaved boughs, A tall and flourishing tree; its massive stem Was like a column. Round it I built up A chamber with cemented stones until The walls were finished; then I framed a roof Above it, and put on the well-glued doors Close fitting. Next I lopped the full-leaved boughs, And, cutting off the trunk above the root, Smoothed well the stump with tools, and made of it A post to bear the couch. I bored the wood With wimbles, placed on it the frame, and carved The work till it was done, inlaying it With silver, gold, and ivory. I stretched Upon it thongs of oxhide brightly dyed In purple. Now, O wife, I cannot know Whether my bed remains as then it was, Or whether someone from the root has hewn The olive trunk, and moved it from its place.”
He spake, and her knees faltered and her heart Was melted as she heard her lord recount The tokens all so truly; and she wept, And rose, and ran to him, and flung her arms About his neck, and kissed his brow, and said:—
“Ulysses, look not on me angrily, Thou who in other things art wise above All other men. The gods have made our lot A hard one, jealous lest we should have passed Our youth together happily, and thus Have