thought, not one of you, to call Me from my sleep, although ye must have known Full well when he embarked in his black ship. And if it had been told me that he planned This voyage, then, impatient as he was To sail, he would have certainly remained, Or else have left me in these halls a corpse. And now let one of my attendants call The aged Dolius, whom, when first I came To this abode, my father gave to me To be my servant, and who has in charge My orchards. Let him haste and take his place Beside Laertes, and to him declare All that has happened, that he may devise Some fitting remedy, or go among The people, to deplore the dark designs Of those who now are plotting to destroy The heir of great Ulysses and his own.”
Then Eurycleia, the beloved nurse, Answered:
“Dear lady, slay me with the sword, Or leave me here alive; I will conceal Nothing that has been done or said. I gave All that he asked, both bread and delicate wine, And took a solemn oath, which he required, To tell thee naught of this till twelve days passed, Or till thou shouldst thyself inquire and hear Of his departure, that those lovely cheeks Might not be stained with tears. Now bathe and put Fresh garments on, and to the upper rooms Ascending, with thy handmaids offer prayer To Pallas, daughter of the god who bears The aegis. She will then protect thy son, Even from death. Grieve not the aged man, Already much afflicted. Sure I am The lineage of Arcesius has not lost The favor of the gods, but someone yet Surviving will possess its lofty halls And its rich acres, stretching far away.”
She spake; the queen repressed her grief, and held Her eyes from tears. She took the bath and put Fresh garments on, and, to the upper rooms Ascending with her maidens, heaped with cakes A canister, and prayed to Pallas thus:—