death. Not one of us could bend that sturdy bow, None had the strength. But as it passed from us Into Ulysses’ hands, we loudly chid The bearer, and forbade him, but in vain. Telemachus alone with stern command Bade him deliver it. When in his hands The much-enduring chief, Ulysses, took The bow, he drew the string with ease, and sent A shaft through all the rings. He sprang and stood Upon the threshold; at his feet he poured The winged arrows, cast a terrible glance Around him, and laid King Antinoüs dead, Then sent the fatal shafts at those who stood Before him; side by side they fell and died. Some god, we saw, was with them, as they rushed Upon us mightily, and chased us through The palace, slaying us on every side; And fearful were the groans of dying men, As skulls were cloven, and the pavement swam With blood. Such, Agamemnon, was the fate By which we perished. Now our bodies lie Neglected at the palace; for not yet Our kindred, dwelling in our homes, have heard The tidings, nor have come to cleanse our wounds From the dark blood, and lay us on the bier With tears—such honors as are due the dead.”
In turn the soul of Agamemnon spake:
“Son of Laertes, fortunate and wise, Ulysses! thou by feats of eminent might And valor dost possess thy wife again. And nobly minded is thy blameless queen, The daughter of Icarius, faithfully Remembering him to whom she gave her troth While yet a virgin. Never shall the fame Of his great valor perish, and the gods Themselves shall frame, for those who dwell on earth, Sweet strains in praise of sage Penelope. Not such was she who treacherously slew The husband of her youth—she of the house Of Tyndarus. Her name among mankind Shall be the hateful burden of a song; And great is the dishonor it has brought On women, even the faithful and the good.”