So spake the youth, and his beloved nurse Sobbed, wept aloud, and spake these winged words:—
“Why should there come, dear child, a thought like this Into thy heart. Why wouldst thou wander forth To distant regions—thou an only son And dearly loved? Ulysses, nobly born, Has perished, from his native land afar, ’Mid a strange race. These men, when thou art gone, At once will lay their plots to take thy life, And share thy wealth among them. Stay thou here Among thy people; need is none that thou Shouldst suffer, roaming o’er the barren deep.”
Then spake discreet Telemachus again:— “Be of good cheer, O nurse, for my design Is not without the sanction of a god; But swear thou not to let my mother know Of my intent until the eleventh day Or twelfth shall pass, or till, in missing me, She learn of my departure, lest she weep And stain with tears the beauty of her face.”
He spake; the ancient woman solemnly Swore by the gods, and when the rite was o’er Drew wine into the jars, and poured the meal Into the well-sewn skins. Telemachus Entered the hall and joined the suitor train.
Then did the blue-eyed goddess turn her thoughts To other plans, and taking on herself The semblance of Telemachus, she ranged The city, speaking to each man in turn, And bidding him at nightfall to repair To where the good ship lay. That gallant ship She begged of the renowned Noëmon, son Of Phronius, who with cheerful grace complied.
The sun went down, the city streets lay all In shadow. Then she drew the good ship down Into the sea, and brought and put on board The appointments every well-built galley needs, And moored her at the bottom of the port, Where, in a throng, obedient to the word Of Pallas, round her came her gallant crew.
With yet a new device the blue-eyed maid Went to the palace of the godlike chief Ulysses, where she poured a gentle sleep Over the suitors.