Book XXII

But Odysseus of many a rede of his rags he stripped him bare,
And on the great threshold he leapt, and the bow, and the quiver
Fulfilled of arrows he handled, and all the shafts to the ground

Before his feet then poured he, and spake to those Wooers around: fair

"Thuswise then is accomplished the strife so hard to do;
Now another mark will I loose at that no man hath hit hitherto,
If I perchance may attain it, and so fame of Apollo be earned."

So he spake, and the bitter shaft on Antinoüs then he turned;
Who e'en now was just upraising a golden cup wrought fair
Two-eared; and to drink of the wine his hands about it were,
And no foreboding of slaughter his heart was heeding then;
For who might ever be deeming that amidst of feasting men
That man alone among many, for as stark as he were and great,
For him would fashion the death-day, and the bale of the blackness of fate?
But Odysseus loosed, and smote him amidmost of the throat,
And therewith the head of the arrow through his tender neck thrust out,
And sidelong he rolled over; from his hand down fell the cup

As he gat the hurt, and straightway through his nostrils spouted up
The thick gush of the man's-blood; and his feet spurned out at the board
And cast it adown, that the victuals wide over the ground were poured,

And the bread and the roasted flesh were defiled. And all over the hall
Uprose the din of the Wooers when they saw their fellow's fall.
And uprisen, about the feast-hall they leapt from bench and chair,
And turned their eyes from all sides to the walls well-builded there,
Where never a shield was hanging, or strong spear for them to take.
Then they railed upon Odysseus, and in bitter words they spake:
"Ill shootest thou at menfolk, O guest, and no contest again
Hereafter shalt thou hap on; for sure is thy bitter bane,
Since a man thou thus hast slaughtered far best of all youths that be
In Ithaca here; but the vultures hereby shall devour thee."
So each one spake; for they deemed that unwitting the man he had slain,
And they had no understanding, fools as they were, and vain,
That to all the end of the Death-doom was hard upon them now;
Unto whom spake the wise Odysseus, scowling from knitted brow:

"O Dogs! And ye were saying that I should come home no more
From the people of the Trojans! So ye wasted my house and my store,
And lay with my women servants perforce and against my will,

And wert wooing my wife from off me when I was living still;

And neither the Gods were ye fearing that hold the heavens the wide,
Nor yet the vengeance of menfolk that hereafter should betide.
But now the end of the Death-doom is on you one and all."

So he spake; and over them all thereon did the pale fear fall,
And about him each glared, seeking whereby sheer bane to shun;
But Eurymachus spake in answer, and he the only one:

"Tf thou be indeed Odysseus the Ithacan come back,
Of the deeds of us Achæans no right thy word doth lack,
For much folly here in the homestead and much afield have we wrought;
But Antinoüs, he that here lieth already come to nought,
Was the cause of all, for he speeded such evil deeds and such,
Not longing so much for the wedding, nor heeding it overmuch,
As devising other matters which Zeus hath not fulfilled;
For to rule o'er the Ithacan land well-builded this he willed,
And to lie in wait for thy son that he might slay him there.
But himself by the Death-doom is dead: so thy people do thou spare,
And we mid the people hereafter will make atonement for all,
For what we have eaten and drunken within thine house and hall.
And a twenty-beeve atonement from each man shall there be,
And gold and brass shail be given till we melt the heart in thee.
But meanwhile 'tis nought blameworthy that thou art wrathful now."
Then spake all-wise Odysseus as he scowled from knitted brow:
"Eurymachus, were ye to give me your heritage every whit,
Yea all ye have, and whatso from elsewhere ye might add to it,
Yet not e'en so from the slaying these hands will I withhold
Ere on the Wooers I wreak me for their folly manifold.
—There then it lieth before you to fight me face to face,
Or whoso may 'scape the Death-doom to flee from out the place.
Yet no man here, meseemeth, the bitter bane shall shun."
So he spake, and the hearts within them and their knees failed all undone,
But the second time Eurymachus spake forth unto them there:
"O friends, since this man will stay not his hands that none may bear,

And whereas the bow well-shaven he hath, and the quiver withal,
He will shoot from the fair-smoothed threshold until he hath slain us all.
But now let us be mindful of the happy tide of war,
And draw forth our swords from the scabbards, and hold up the boards before

These shafts with black death laden, and in close array fall on
To drive him from the threshold and the door, if it may be done.
And then go we to the city and in haste send up the cry;

And so shall this man have speeded his last shaft ere he die."
And e'en as the word he uttered, he drew his keen sword out
Brazen, on each side shearing, and with a fearful shout
Rushed on him; but Odysseus that very while let fly
And smote him with the arrow in the breast, the pap hard by,

And drove the swift shaft to the liver, and adown to the ground fell the
From out of his hand, and doubled he hung above the board,
And staggered; and whirling he fell, and the meat was scattered around, sword
And the double cup moreover, and his forehead smote the ground;
And his heart was wrung with torment, and with both feet spurning he
The high-seat; and over his eyen did the cloud of darkness float,

And then it was Amphinomus, who drew his whetted sword smote

And fell on, making his onrush 'gainst Odysseus the glorious lord,
If perchance he might get him out-doors: but Telemachus him forewent,
And a cast of the brazen war-spear from behind him therewith sent
Amidmost of his shoulders, that drave through his breast and out,

And clattering he fell, and the earth all the breadth of his forehead smote
Then a-back Telemachus hastened, and left his long-shaft spear
Still stuck there in Amphinomus, since the onset did he fear
Of some one of those Achæans as the long spear forth he drew,
Who should smite with the sword a down-stroke, or thrust him through
and through.
So he ran and unto his father beloved his way did he make,
And standing close anigh him a winged word he spake:
"O father, forsooth, a war-shield and two spears will I bring thee now,
And a helm all brazen-fashioned well fitted to thy brow,
And myself will go and arm me and give arms to the swineherd here,
And others unto the neatherd; for 'twere better our armour to bear."

But to him then spake and answered Odysseus of many a rede:
"Run, bring them while yet are the arrows to ward me in my need,
Lest they thrust me off from the doorway, one man 'gainst many here."

So he spake, and Telemachus straightway obeyed his father dear,
And ran his ways to the chamber, where the glorious war-gear lay,
And thence he took four war-shields, four spears he had away,
And four helms brazen-fashioned, and bushed with horses' hair,
And he bore them along, and right swiftly came aback to his father dear.
Then he the first among them the brass on his body had,
And the two thralls in like manner in the lovely arms were clad,
And they stood about Odysseus the wise and the diverse of rede.
But he, while he yet had the arrows to ward him in his need,
Still one by one of the Wooers that yet in his house did dwell
He aimed at and shot, and there ever one over another they fell;
But when he lacked of arrows for his shaft-speeding hand,
He laid by the bow and leaned it against the door-post to stand
Of that well-builded feast-hall, 'gainst the shining entrance wall,
And he across his shoulders cast the sevenfold shield withal,
And the well-wrought helm hair-crested he set on his noble head,
And from aloft now nodded the battle-crest of dread,
And two spears he took strong-fashioned, and shod with the shining brass.
Now a certain high-up postern mid the well-built wall there was,
And thereby at the top of the threshold of that well-builded hall
Was a way to the aisle by door-leaves well-fitted and shut withal.
Thereof was Odysseus bidding the swineherd have a care,
And take his stand beside it, for no outgate else was there.
Now amidst them spake Agelaus, and said to all thereby:
"O friends, now might not some one go up to the postern on high,
And tell the folk, that the rumour and cry all around be cast,
And speedily then would this man have shot his latest and last?"
Then Melanthius the goatherd spake out amidst them there:
"Not so, Zeus-bred Agelaus, for thereto fearfully near
Are the lovely doors to the forecourt, and the mouth of the aisle is strait,
And e'en one man might ward it, if he were stark and great.
But come now, from the chamber let me bring you battle-gear
To arm you; for meseemeth therein and no otherwhere
Has Odysseus laid his armour, with his well-renowned son."
And with that word the goatherd, Melanthius, straightway won
Up to Odysseus' chamber through the windows of the hall,
And thence he gat twelve war-shields and as many spears withal,
And as many brazen war-helms bushed with the horses' hair,
And therewith ran back swiftly, and gave to the Wooers there.

Loose then grew the knees of Odysseus, and the heart in him grew soft,
When he saw how they donned the hauberks, and in their hands aloft
Were shaking the spears long-shafted, for his work seemed great indeed.
And unto Telemachus straightway a winged word did he speed:

"Telemachus, one of the women about the house I wis
Stirs up ill war against us; or Melanthius else it is."
Then Telemachus the heedful thus answering fell to say:
"Twas I myself, O father, that herein went astray,
And none else was blameworthy, for the doors that fit aright
Of the chamber I left ajar, and their watch was o'er-keen of sight.
But go thou, good Eumæus, and the chamber door shut to,
And note if one of the women this deed 'gainst us doth do,
Or Dolius' son Melanthius, whom indeed for the doer I take."
But while unto each other in e'en such wise they spake,
Melanthius the goatherd to the chamber went again
To fetch the goodly war-gear, whom the swineherd good marked plain,
And spake therewith to Odysseus who stood anigh that while:
"O Zeus-bred son of Laertes, Odysseus of many a guile,
Now he, that man of mischief, e'en he whom he deemed was the man,
Is going unto the chamber; so tell me as straight as ye can
Whether I myself shall slay him if the better man I be,
Or shall I bring him hither, that he may pay to thee
For all his many transgressions that he in thine house did devise?"
But to him thus spake in answer Odysseus diversely wise:
"Within the halls here soothly shall Telemachus here with me

Yet hold the high-heart Wooers, for as eager-fierce as they be;
But ye twain, his hands to his feet do ye twist aback and bind,
And cast him into the chamber; and shut ye the doors behind,
And withal make fast unto him a cable twisted well,

And haul him aloft to a pillar anigh the rafters to dwell,
That he a long while living may suffer grievous pain."

So he spake, and straight they hearkened and did his bidding, they twain.
They went their ways to the chamber, and unseen of the man they were,
For within the nook of the chamber he sought about for gear,

While standing each by a doorpost abided there those men:
So Melanthius the goatherd came o'er the threshold then,
And a war-helm wrought full fairly in one hand did he hold,

And a broad shield in the other, old now and foul with mould:
"Twas Laertes the lord who bore it, while yet a youth, in his hands,
But cast aside had it lain, and all gone were the seams of its bands.

So the twain rushed on and caught him, and haled him in by the hair,
And him heart-smitten with anguish they cast on the pavement there,
And hand to foot they bound him, and sore the bonds they made,
Hard twisting the limbs behind him, e'en as the master bade,
The toil-stout goodly Odysseus, the old Laertes' son.

Then they made him fast to a cable of strands well over-done,
And hailed him aloft to a pillar close up to the beams of the place.

Then didst thou, O swineherd Eumæus, speak a bitter word to his face:
"Yea there forsooth, Melanthius, shalt thou watch all through the night
In a fair and soft bed lying, as for thee is meet and right;

Nor yet shalt thou miss beholding the gold-throned Mother of Day
Coming up from the eddies of Ocean as thou bringest thy goats on their
Up hither to the Wooers, a feast in the house to dight."

There then for that while they left him in grievous bond strained tight, way
And the twain did on their war-weed, and shut the shining door,
And went their ways to Odysseus, the wise-heart, crafty of lore.

There then all breathing fury those four on the threshold stood,
And they in the house withinwards were a many men and good;

But amidst them the Daughter of Zeus, Athene, came standing anigh,
And like was her body to Mentor's and like was the voice of her cry;
And Odysseus rejoiced when he saw her, and spake out a word to hear:

"Ward off me the war-play, Mentor! remember thy fellow dear!
Who hath done thee good deeds ever; and like-aged thou art unto me."

So he spake, but the people's Uprouser, Athene, he deemed it to be,
But the Wooers amid the feast-hall cried out from the other side,
And Damastor's son Agelaus, he fell the Maid to chide:

"Mentor, let not Odysseus with words prevail o'er thee
To fight against the Wooers and his battle-aid to be!
For this our mind and purpose, meseemeth, shall be done;
And whenso these we have slain, the father and the son,

Then thou with them shalt be slain, whereas in the halls of the stead
Such deeds thou art set on doing, for which thou shalt pay with thine head.
But when with the brass we have reft you of the might that once was yours,
Thy goods, yea all that thou holdest in thine house and out a-doors,
We will mingle with those of Odysseus, and neither the sons of thee,
Nor thy daughters will we suffer within the halls to be,
Nor thy trusty wife will we suffer mid the Ithacan folk to go."

So he spake, and exceeding anger in Athene's heart 'gan grow,
And she fell to upbraid Odysseus with bitter words and to say:
"Nought bideth thy might, Odysseus, and thy valour hath no stay,
As when concerning Helen, the white-armed well-begot,
For nine years long with the Troy-folk ye fought and faltered not,
And in the fearful war-play ye slew so many an one,
And the wide-wayed Burg of Priam by thy devise was won;
And now that thou art gotten to thine havings and thine house

Art thou woe that against the Wooers thou must needs be valorous?
Come hither, my weakling! Stand by me and look on the deeds to be
That thou may'st behold the fashion of Mentor Alcimus' son,
How he payeth back well-doing amid the rout of foes!" done,

So she spake, and yet not wholly gave clear victory unto those,
For yet a little longer would she try the valour and might,
Both of the man Odysseus, and his son, the glory of fight;
But flying aloft, she gat her to the darkling feast-hall's beam,

And there sat her adown, and a swallow to look on did she seem.
Now fell to stir up the Wooers Agelaus, Damastor's son,
And Eurynomus and Amphimedon and Demoptolemus fell on,
And Peisandrus son of Polyctor, and heart-wise Polybus;
For these were the best of the Wooers, and by far most valorous
Of those who yet were living and fought their lives to gain,
But the rest, the bow had quelled them, and the rush of the arrow-rain.
So amid them cried Agelaus, and to all spake out the tale:
"Friends, now shall this man refrain him and his hands that never fail;

With a word of empty boasting hence now hath Mentor gone,
And in the first of the doorway are these men left alone.
Therefore not all together your long spears do ye cast,

Let but six hurl together; and may Zeus grant us at last
The smiting of Odysseus, and for us the glory and gain!
No need to care for the others when he hath fallen slain."

So he spake, and all right eager hurled even as he bade,
But all the casts Athene but vain and idle made:
For one, he smote the doorpost of that well-builded house,

And another reached the doorleaves that were fitted well and close,
And the ashen shaft brass heavy of another smote the wall.
But when the spears of the Wooers they had thus 'scaped one and all
Then fell to speech Odysseus, the goodly toil-stout lord:

"O friends, at last I say it, and give to you the word
To hurl into the throng of the Wooers, so sore as now they long
To strip us after the slaughter, and heap up wrong on wrong."

So he spake, and all they forthright the whetted war-spears threw,
Straight aiming: Demoptolemus therewith Odysseus slew,
Telemachus slew Euryades, and the swineherd there did quell
Lord Elatus, and Peisandrus before the neatherd fell.
There all they lay a-grovelling and the wide floor bit withal.
Then aback shrank the throng of the Wooers to the inmost of the hall,
And the others rushed upon them, and drew out the spears from the dead.
Then again the eager Wooers their whetted war-spears sped,
But Athene so wrought that a many thereof in vain should fall,
For one of them smote the doorpost of that well-builded hall,
And another smote the door-leaves well fashioned close to fit,
And the ashen shaft brass-heavy of one the wall did hit.

But Amphimedon smote Telemachus his hand about the wrist,
Where the brass did graze but lightly, and all but barely missed:
And Ctesippus smote Eumæus o'er the shield with a long-shaft spear,
And his shoulder grazed; but the shaft flew on and fell down there.

Then they about Odysseus the heart-wise, diverse of rede,
Amidst the throng of the Wooers their whetted spears did speed.
There city-waster Odysseus smote Eurydamas outright,

And Telemachus Amphimedon, and the swineherd did Polybus smite,
And the man that herded the oxen, Ctesippus, there he smote
Amidmost the breast; and thereover a boasting word did he shout:

"Polytherses' son, taunt-loving, now never any more
Talk big and yield to thy folly, but turn the matter o'er
To the Gods, since they full soothly are better far than thou.
Take this guest-gift for the ox-foot that thou gavest even now
Unto Odysseus the godlike when he begged adown his hall."
Thus the herd of the shambling oxen. But Odysseus therewithal,
Hand to hand with the son of Damastor, with his long spear thrust him
And Telemachus Leocritus, Evenor's son, did undo through,
With a spear-thrust amidst of the belly, and drave the brass right out,
And he fell on his face, and the hall-floor the breadth of his forehead smote.
But her man-destroying Ægis upheld Athene then
Aloft from the roof; and fear-struck were the souls of all those men,
And they fled about the feast-hall in such wise as the kine of the herd,
Whom the gadfly the swift-flitting hath fallen upon and scared
In the season of the spring-tide, when long out the day-time draws.
But the others, e'en as vultures hook-nebbed, of crooked claws
From out the mountains coming, stoop on the birds that go
Swift hurrying over the plain, from the high clouds cowering a-low,
And those fall on and slaughter, nor is there any might,
Nor ever a way for fleeing; and men in the prey delight:
—In such wise on the Wooers about the house fell those,
And on either hand they smote them, and fearful the groans arose
As the skulls of men were smitten, and in blood did the pavement swim.
But Leiodes ran to Odysseus, and caught the knees of him,
And fell to praying him pity; and such winged words spake he:
"By thy knees, I beseech thee, Odysseus, to have compassion on me,
For I tell thee that unto the women that are in thine house and hall
I have said and done nought wanton; but the other Wooers withal
Have I refrained them, whenever of such deeds they had a will,
Though nought to me would they hearken to hold their hands from ill.
So now for this wanton folly an ugly fate have they won:
But I, their priest of burnt-offering, who nought herein have done,
Shall fall, and no grace abideth for doing righteous deed."
But with bent brows looking upon him spake Odysseus of many a rede:

"And if the priest of burnt-offering thou be, as thou dost say, Bar)
Many times in these halls meseemeth wilt thou have been wont to pray
That the end of my glad returning might be far away from me,
That my wife with thee might be wending and bear her babes for thee.
Therefore from the death o'ershadowing thy life thou shalt not save."

Therewith in his hand most mighty he caught up a battle glaive,
That lay there fallen from the hand of Agelaus late slain,
And drave it through amidmost of his neck and clave it atwain,
So that e'en as he was speaking the head with the dust was blent.
But the son of Terpes the minstrel, yet shunning black fate went,
E'en Phemius, he who sang perforce to the Wooers' band;
And there. he stood, yet holding the shrilly harp in hand,
Hard by the postern, and pondered in his mind two ways of it,
Whether going forth of the feast-hall by the well-wrought altar to sit
Of the mighty Zeus of the Garths, whereon Laertes of old
And Odysseus had burned the ox-thighs in offerings manifold;
Or else to Odysseus running to beseech him by his knees;
And, turning it o'er in his mind, it seemed the better of these,
The knees of the son of Laertes, Odysseus, to cling around.
So therewith the harp wrought hollow he set upon the ground,
Midways betwixt the wine-bowl and the high-seat silver-wrought.
And he ran straight up to Odysseus, and his knees about he caught,
And to him in supplication such winged words spake he:
"By thy knees I beseech thee, Odysseus, to have compassion on me,
For to thee shall be grief hereafter for the singer's slaughtering
If ye slay me, who unto the Gods and unto menfolk sing;
And myself myself have learned it: and the God in the mind of me
All manner of lays hath planted; and belike I may sing unto thee
As unto a God. So desire not the smiting of my head!
Forsooth by Telemachus also, thy dear son, shall the tale be said,
That unwilling and unlonging in thine house was I harbouring,
Unto the folk of the Wooers amidst their feasts to sing,
For many men, men mightier, brought me here in mine own despite."
So he spake, and to him was hearkening Telemachus' holy might,
And straight he came up to his father and thuswise spake thereto;

"Withhold thee, nor yet with the brass this sackless man thrust through!
And the henchman Medon spare we, who in this house evermore
Would cherish me and heed me when a youngling heretofore,

If Philcetius or the swineherd have slain him not as yet,
Or thee in thine anger raging midst the house he hath not met."

So he spake; and Medon heard him, well learned in wisdom fair,
Who, shunning the black death-doom lay low and cowering there
Neath a high seat, and wrapped closely in an oxhide newly flayed;
Then straight he arose from the high-seat, and adown the oxhide laid,
And unto Telemachus running his knees he clasped about,

And to him in supplication these winged words spake out:

"O friend, I am here! withhold thee! to thy father speak the word,
Lest he in his might undo me with the brass of the whetted sword
In his wrath against the Wooers, who in his house and hall

Have wasted his wealth in their folly, nor honoured him at all."
But Odysseus of much counsel smiled in his face and spake:

"Heart up! since this man spares thee, and thy safeguard thus doth make;
That thou in thine heart may'st know it, and to other men may'st tell
That better than ill-doing are the ways of doing well.

But get ye forth from the feast-hall, to the forecourt make your ways,
And sit there aloof from the murder with the singer of many lays,
While yet in the house I labour at whatso needeth there."

So he spake, but straight without doors and forth of the hall did they fare,
And before the great Zeus altar they sat them down they twain,
On all sides peering about them, and still expecting bane.

But about his house peered Odysseus, if yet a man there were
Who shunning the black doom-day was left a-lurking there;
But adown in the dust and the blood he beheld them all lying about
Yea, as many as the fishes which the fishers have drawn out
With a net of many meshes from out the hoary sea
Up on to the hollow sea-beach: there heaped up all they be
Cast up upon the sea-sand, desiring the waves of the brine;
But the sun their life is taking with the glory of his shine,
Thus then in heaps the Wooers on one another lay.

Then at last unto Telemachus did all-wise Odysseus say:
"Telemachus, go and call thou the nurse Euryclea here,
That somewhat I may tell her which on my mind I bear."

So he spake, and Telemachus straightway his loved father obeyed,
And smote on the door and a word to the nurse Euryclea said:
"Up hither, O ancient of days, who over the women-thralls
Art ever the ward and the watcher within our house and halls;
Come! for my father calls thee, and hath a word to tell."
So he spake; and the word was wingless and by her yet did dwell,

And therewith she opened the doors of the hall of the pleasant place,
And went her ways; but the youngling led on before her face.
And there she found Odysseus amidst the men dead slain,

With blood and gore bedabbled, as a lion stalketh amain,
Who cometh from devouring an ox of the meadowy place,
And all his breast is bloody and either side his face,
And fearful is he fashioned to look upon with eyes:
So befouled were the feet of Odysseus and his hands in e'en such wise.
But she, when she saw the corpses and that abundant blood,

Was setting up a joy-shout, so great seemed the work and so good;
But Odysseus refrained and withheld her, though yearning sore indeed,
And sent his voice out toward her, and this winged word fell to speed:

"Rejoice in thy soul, O goodwife, and thy shout of joy refrain,
For nowise is it righteous to boast above the slain.
But these men the Fate of the Gods and their wanton deeds did quell,
Whereas they honoured no man of men on the earth that dwell,
Were he good or were he evil, whosoever came their way.
So through their wanton folly met they loathly end to-day.
But come! of these home-women do thou tell the tale to me,
Whichso of them have shamed us and whichso sackless be."
Then the loved nurse Euryclea, she spake and answered this:
"To thee, forsooth, my nursling, will I tell the tale as it is;
Within the halls of thine homestead a fifty handmaids dwell,
And to work the work of women have we learned them all right well,
Both the carding of wool and the bearing of thraldom as they may.
Of these there are twelve in all who have trodden the shameful way,
And me they nowise honour, nor yet Penelope.

And Telemachus is but new grown into manhood, nor might it be
That his mother him would suffer to order the women thralls.
But now let me go up aloft to the bright bower of the halls

To tell thy wife: for slumber some God on her hath laid."

But Odysseus of many a rede to her made answer and said:
"Nay, nowise her shalt thou waken: go bid the women here,
E'en they who deeds unseemly have wrought in days that were."

So he spake, and adown the feast-hall therewith did the goodwife go
With the message to the women, to bid them haste thereto.
But Odysseus called unto him Telemachus, and the twain,
The neatherd and the swineherd, and spake winged words again:
"Fall to and bear out the corpses, and bid the women to aid,
And thereafter all the high seats and the tables lovely-made
With water and with sponges hole-pierced cleanse thoroughly.
But when ye have ordered all things in the house as they shall be,
Then, bringing forth the women from out the well-built hall,
Midways 'twixt the vaulted kitchen and the forecourt's holy wall

With the long-edged sword there smite them, till ye have undone clean
The souls of all, and no longer they remember the love that hath been
That they gat from the Wooers in secret, and mingled with them were."

And e'en as the word he was speaking came the women huddling there,
And bitterly they bewailed them, and fast the tears they shed.
First then they bore out of the feast-hall the bodies of the dead,
And laid them under the cloister of the garth well-walled about,

Each propped against the other, and Odysseus himself gave out
The word, and the work he ordered, and perforce the women bare.
And therewithal the high-seats and the tables fashioned fair

With water and with sponges hole-pierced they washed all sweet;
But Telemachus and the swineherd, and the herder of the neat,
Throughout the house well-builded with shovels scraped the floors,
And the handmaids took the scrapings and bore them out a-doors.

But when the hall of the homestead they had set in order at last,
From out the well-built feast-hall with the women-thralls they passed
To betwixt the vaulted kitchen and the forecourt's holy wall,
And in a strait place shut them whence no outgate was at all.
Then Telemachus to his fellows began, and thus he spake:
"By a clean death nought am I willing the lives from these to take,
Who things so grievous shameful have heaped upon my head,
And also on my mother, and have lain in the Wooers' bed."
So he spake; and therewith the cable of a black-prowed ship he found,
And made fast to a lofty pillar and cast it the kitchen around,

And stretched it aloft that no one might touch the earth with her feet;
And e'en as the long-winged thrushes or the doves 'gainst a net may beat,
Which, when unto roost they betake them amidst the boughs is spread,
And verily there are they taken and they come to a loathly bed;
So these held their heads in order, and round their necks each one

Ran the noose, that they might perish by the evilest death undone;
And they writhed with their feet for a little, but their season was but short

Then did they bring Melanthius through the porch and into the court,
And they cropped with the ruthless brass the ears and the nose from his
And drew out his privy parts for the dogs to eat raw in the place,
And hewed off his hands and his feet in their fierce and fell intent. face,
Then their hands and their feet they washed, and into the house they went,
And came unto Odysseus, and done was the work of the day.

Then unto the nurse beloved, Euryclea, did he say:
"Bring brimstone, the cure of evil, goodwife, bring fire unto me,
That I the house may hallow; then bid thou Penelope
That now she get her hither, and her handmaidens withal.
Yea, speed hither all the women that serve in our house and hall"
But the dear nurse Euryclea in turn made answer thus:
"Yea, this thou sayest, O nursling, in manner righteous.

But come, a cloak and a kirtle, fair weed let me bring thee to hand,
Nor with broad shoulders huddled in rags thuswise do thou stand
Amidst of our halls, for soothly blameworthy this thing were."

But Odysseus of many a rede thus spake and answered her:
"Nay, first of all I prithee let the fire in our halls be made."
So he spake, and the nurse, beloved Euryclea, nought gainsaid,
But fetched the fire and the brimstone, and Odysseus therewithal
In goodly fashion hallowed the court and the house and the hall.
Then the goodwife went her ways through Odysseus' house the fair
With her message to the women to bid them hasten there,
And they came forth from the chamber, and candle in hand they had,
And they hung about Odysseus, and embraced him and were glad.

And they kissed him and caressed him, his head and his shoulders withal,
And clung to his hand, and sweet longing upon his soul did fal
For weeping and for wailing; for his heart, he knew them all,