Then silent to the joyous hall returns,

To the proud suitors bears in pensive state

The unbended bow, and arrows winged with fate.


Behind, her train the polish’d coffer brings,

Which held the alternate brass and silver rings.

Full in the portal the chaste queen appears,

And with her veil conceals the coming tears:

On either side awaits a virgin fair;

While thus the matron, with majestic air:


“Say you, when these forbidden walls inclose,

For whom my victims bleed, my vintage flows:

If these neglected, faded charms can move?

Or is it but a vain pretence, you love?

If I the prize, if me you seek to wife,

Hear the conditions, and commence the strife.

Who first Ulysses’ wondrous bow shall bend,

And through twelve ringlets the fleet arrow send;

Him will I follow, and forsake my home,

For him forsake this loved, this wealthy dome,

Long, long the scene of all my past delight,

And still to last, the vision of my night!”


Graceful she said, and bade Eumaeus show

The rival peers the ringlets and the bow.

From his full eyes the tears unbidden spring,

Touch’d at the dear memorials of his king.

Philaetius too relents, but secret shed

The tender drops. Antinous saw, and said:


“Hence to your fields, ye rustics! hence away,

Nor stain with grief the pleasures of the day;

Nor to the royal heart recall in vain

The sad remembrance of a perish’d man.

Enough her precious tears already flow—

Or share the feast with due respect; or go

To weep abroad, and leave to us the bow,

No vulgar task! Ill suits this courtly crew

That stubborn horn which brave Ulysses drew.

I well remember (for I gazed him o’er

While yet a child), what majesty he bore!

And still (all infant as I was) retain

The port, the strength, the grandeur of the man.”


He said, but in his soul fond joys arise,

And his proud hopes already win the prize.

To speed the flying shaft through every ring,

Wretch! is not thine: the arrows of the king