Now approached an aged man, Dolius, attended by his sons, who came Weary with toil, for the Sicilian dame, The nurse who reared them, went and summoned them— She who in his late age with faithful care Cherished the father. These, when at the board They saw Ulysses, and knew who he was, Stopped in the hall astonished. Instantly Ulysses called to them with friendly words:—
“Sit at the board, old man; let none of you Give way to blank amazement. Know that we, Though keen our appetite for this repast, Have waited long, expecting your return.”
He spake, and Dolius sprang with outstretched arms And seized Ulysses by the hand, and kissed The wrist; and thus in winged words he spake:—
“Dear master! since thou art returned to us, Who longed and yet expected not to see Thy face again—since some divinity Has led thee hither—hail! and great may be Thy happiness, and may the gods bestow All blessings on thee! But declare, for I Would gladly know, if sage Penelope Have heard the tidings yet of thy return, Or must we send them by a messenger.”
Ulysses, the sagacious, answered thus: “My aged friend, she knows already all. Why wouldst thou take that care upon thyself?”
He spake, and Dolius on a polished seat Sat down, but round the great Ulysses came His sons, and welcomed him with loving words, And hung upon his hand, and then they took Their places by their father. So they sat Beneath Laertes’ roof, and banqueted.
Now through the city meantime swiftly ran The rumor that the suitors all had met A bloody death. No sooner had men heard The tidings than they came with cries and moans Before the palace, moving to and fro. Each carried forth his dead, and gave to each His funeral rites, except to those who came From distant cities; these they put on board Swift-sailing