Book XXIV

for the hero-chief Laertes, when his fatal hour shall come, With death’s long sleep; else some Achaian dame Might blame me, should I leave without a shroud Him who in life possessed such ample wealth.’ Such were her words, and easily they won Upon our generous minds. So went she on Weaving that ample web, and every night Unravelled it by torchlight. Three full years She practised thus, and by the fraud deceived The Grecian youths; but when the hours had brought The fourth year round, a woman who knew all Revealed the mystery, and we ourselves Saw her unravelling the ample web. Thenceforth constrained, and with unwilling hands, She finished it. And when at length she showed The vesture she had woven, the broad web That she had bleached to brightness like the sun’s Or like the moon’s, some hostile deity Brought back Ulysses to a distant nook Of his own fields, and to his swineherd’s lodge. And thither also came in his black ship His son, returning from the sandy coast Of Pylos. Thence the twain, when they had planned To slay the suitors, came within the walls Of the great city; first Telemachus, And after him Ulysses, with his guide The swineherd. He was clad in sordid weeds, And seemed a wretched beggar, very old, Propped on a staff. In that disguise of rags None knew him, as he suddenly appeared, Not even the oldest of us all. Harsh words And blows we gave him. He endured them all Awhile with patience, smitten and reviled In his own palace. Moved at length by Jove, He and his son Telemachus bore off The shining weapons from the hall, to lie In a far chamber, and barred all the doors. Then, prompted by her husband’s craft, the queen Proposed a game of archery, with bow And rings of hoary steel, to all of us Ill-fated suitors. This drew on our