He spake, and her knees failed her and her heart Sank as she heard. Long time she could not speak; Her eyes were filled with tears, and her clear voice Was choked; yet, finding words at length, she said:—
“O herald! wherefore should my son have gone? There was no need that he should trust himself To the swift ships, those horses of the sea, With which men traverse its unmeasured waste. Was it that he might leave no name on earth?”
And then again experienced Medon spake:— “I know not whether prompted by some god Or moved by his own heart thy son has sailed For Pylos, hoping there to hear some news Of his returning father, or his fate.”
Thus having said, the herald, traversing The palace of Ulysses, went his way, While a keen anguish overpowered the queen, Nor could she longer bear to keep her place Upon her seat—and many seats were there— But on the threshold of her gorgeous rooms Lay piteously lamenting. Round her came Her maidens wailing—all, both old and young, Who formed her household. These Penelope, Sobbing in her great sorrow, thus bespake:—
“Hear me, my friends, the heavens have cast on me Griefs heavier than on any others born And reared with me—me,