And then the sage Penelope rejoined:
“Eurymachus, it cannot be that those Should earn the general praise who make the wealth Of a most worthy man their spoil, and bring Dishonor on his house. The stranger’s frame Is powerful and well knit; he claims to be Of noble parentage. Now let him take The bow, and we will see the event; but this I promise, and will make my promise good, If he should bend it—if Apollo give To him that glory—he shall have from me A tunic and a cloak, fair garments both, And a keen javelin, his defence against Both dogs and men, a two-edged sword besides, And sandals for his feet, and I engage To send him whither he desires to go.”
Then spake discreet Telemachus again:
“Mother, in all Achaia there is none Who has more power than I can claim, to grant Or to deny the bow to whom I will. No one of those who rule the rugged coast Of Ithaca, or isles where Elis breeds Her mares, may interpose to thwart my will, If on the stranger I bestow the bow To be his own, and bid him take it hence. Withdraw, O queen, into thy bower; direct Thy household tasks, the distaff and the web, And bid thy maidens speed the work. The bow Belongs to men, and most to me; for here, Within these walls, the authority is mine.”
The queen, astonished, heard him and withdrew,
But kept her son’s wise sayings in her heart.
And then ascending to her bower, among Her maids, she wept her well-beloved lord, Ulysses, till the blue-eyed Pallas came, And poured upon her lids the balm of sleep.