“Truly the queen, whom we have wooed so long, Prepares for marriage; little does she know The bloody death we destine for her son.”
So spake they, unaware of what was done Elsewhere. Antinoüs then stood forth and said:—
“Good friends, I warn you all that ye refrain From boasts like these, lest someone should report Your words within. Now let us silently Rise up, and all conspire to put in act The counsel all so heartily approve.”
He spake, and chose a crew of twenty men, The bravest. To the seaside and the ship They went, and down to the deep water drew The ship, and put the mast and sails on board, And fitted duly to their leathern rings The oars, and spread the white sail overhead. Their nimble-handed servants brought them arms, And there they moored the galley, went on board, And supped and waited for the evening star.
Now in the upper chamber the chaste queen, Penelope, lay fasting; food or wine She had not tasted, and her thoughts were still Fixed on her blameless son. Would he escape The threatened death, or perish by the hands Of the insolent suitors? As a lion’s thoughts, When, midst a crowd of men, he sees with dread The hostile circle slowly closing round, Such were her thoughts, when balmy sleep at length Came creeping over her as on her couch She lay reclined, her limbs relaxed in rest.
Now Pallas framed a new device; she called A phantom up, in aspect like the dame Iphthime, whom Eumelus had espoused In Pherae, daughter of the high-souled chief Icarius. Her she sent into the halls Of great Ulysses, that she might beguile The sorrowful Penelope from tears And lamentations. By the thong that held The bolt she slid into the royal bower And standing by her head bespake the queen:—
“Penelope, afflicted as thou art, Art thou asleep? The ever-blessed gods Permit thee not to grieve and weep; thy son, Who has not sinned against them, shall return.”