"At last, 'twould seem, the much-wooed queen our marriage doth prepare,
Nor knoweth how the murd'rous toils are spread her son to snare."
E'en so some roisterer spake, but none was of the truth aware.
Then thus to them Antinous spake: "Sirs, I advise each man
Refrain from overweening speech, and boasting of our plan,
Lest some one bear the tale within. Arise we, and proceed
In silence to perform the act to which we stand agreed."
He spake, and twenty of their best selected for his band,
And sought the ship that high and dry lay yet upon the strand.
Then first they drew her to the deep, and launched her from the land,
And quick within the ship's black hull they placed the lofty mast,
And with his twisted leathern thong each man his oar made fast.
All now in place, the linen sails unfurled to wait their need,
Their arms the bold attendants brought to work the murd'rous deed.
Then anchored well away from shore they left her safe to ride,
And disembarked, and took their meal, awaiting eventide.
Meanwhile, within her upper room, the queen, in grief and dread,
Tasting nor food nor drink, lay racked with doubt upon her bed,
Whether her son was fated yet unharmed from death to fly,
Or of the haughty suitors' toils to be the prey, and die.
E'en as when men are closing round, perplexed in helpless fear,
Some lion sees th' encircling foe draw nearer and more near,-
Till o'er her eyes sweet slumber stole as thus she thought and wept :
Her wearied limbs at length relaxed, she back reclined and slept.
Then of another fresh device the stern-eyed goddess thought:
A phantom, that the semblance wore of female form, she wrought.
In brave Icarius' daughter's shape 'twas moulded to the life,-
Iphthimè, her whom Phere's chief, Eumelus, took to wife.
Then to Ulysses' dwelling-place she sent it forth to go,
And bid the sorely-sorrowing queen cease from her tearful woe.
So by the bolt-slit did the shade her noiseless entrance make,
And standing o'er the sleeper's head in soothing words thus spake :
"Penelope, with sorrowing heart here dost thou lie and sleep?
The gods who dwell in bliss secure bid thee no more to weep.
Be sure thy son will home return in safety o'er the main,
For of no sin against the gods rests on his hands the stain."
But her the wise Penelope did thus in answer greet,
As there in dreamland's gates she lay, fast bound by slumber sweet :
"Why, sister, art thou hither come? thou wert not wont before Hither to wend, for far away thou dwellest from our shore,And dost exhort me from my tears and grief profound to rest, And from the many ceaseless pangs that aye torment my breast? For first my lion-hearted spouse, that noble chief, I lost, Who in all virtues did excel amid the Grecian host,
The noble hero, brave in fight, whose deeds and glorious name
Through Hellas and 'mid Argos' land have widely spread his fame.
And now on shipboard on the sea mine only child is gone,-
A youth who of debate or war experience yet hath none;
And more for him than for his sire I sorrow in my home,-
Trembling and fear have seized my heart lest evil on him come
On sea or on the land of those 'mongst whom he now may roam,-
For many foes against his life are plotting deadly bane,
And seek to slay him ere he reach his fatherland again.”
Then thus in answer the dim shape the sorrowing queen addressed :
"Take courage, nor by anxious fear be thus too much depressed,
For such an escort doth thy son upon his voyage lead,
As many another would desire,-for great her power indeed,
E'en Pallas, who, by pity moved for this thy sorrowing state,
Hath sent me hither, that these things I might to thee relate."
To her Penelope replied: "If thou a goddess art,
Or hast a god's behest obeyed, this too to me impart,-
If yet that other wretched one behold the light of day;
Or, dead, hath to the gloomy halls of Hades found his way?
To whom in answer thus the dream replied: "Oh, sister dear!
Of him, be he alive or dead, I will not tell thee clear;
And idle words are bad for me to speak, for thee to hear."
The phantom spake, and gliding through the bolt-slit of the door,
Fled swiftly on the wings of air, and soon was seen no more.
Awaking from her sleep profound, Icarius' daughter rose,
And lightened was her heart once more of its sad weight of woes,-
Rejoicing that to soothe her grief a form so plain to sight
Had come, a welcome visitant, through the dead hours of night.
Meanwhile the suitor band embarked upon the wat'ry way,
Revolving in their heart each scheme Telemachus to slay.
Now in the middle of the sea a rocky isle doth rise,-
Midway 'twixt rugged Same's crest and Ithaca it lies,-
Hight Asteris; though small, it boasts harbour with outlets twain :
There ambushed did the Grecian band, waiting their prey, remain.
Now from her lord Tithonus' side arose the morning bright,
To mortals and immortals both bringing the rosy light.
To council gathered then the gods; the Thund'rer from on high,
Great Jove, amid them sat supreme, whose power none may defy :
And Pallas unto them began Ulysses' woes to tell,
Mindful how in the nymph's abode he was constrained to dwell.
"O father Jove, and gods above who live for ever blest,
Let sceptred king bear gentle heart no more within his breast,
Nor in the ways of justice strive to walk with loyal mind,
But with a tyrant's thought and deed his people let him grind ;
For none of all o'er whom he ruled with mild paternal sway
Recalls to mind the godlike chief, Ulysses, at this day.
He on a far-off island lies, and bitter woe doth bear
In nymph Calypso's halls, who keeps the hero prisoned there.
Nor can he reach his country dear, for comrades none hath he,
Nor well-manned ships to bear him o'er the boundless waste of sea.
E'en now his loved and only son men lie in wait to slay,
When he shall to his home return across the wat'ry way,-
For sacred Pylos he has sought, and Sparta, to inquire
If rumour he perchance may hear of his long-missing sire."
She spake; the cloud-compelling Jove to her in answer said:
“O daughter mine, what words are these that from thy lips have fled?
Didst not thyself this counsel weave for bold Ulysses' sake,
That on these men at his return he might dire vengeance take?
Guide by thine art Telemachus thyself to his own home,
And see, as well thou canst, that there unharmed the prince may come.
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