Thus jovial they; but nought the prince replies;

Full on his sire he roll’d his ardent eyes:

Impatient straight to flesh his virgin-sword;

From the wise chief he waits the deathful word.

Nigh in her bright alcove, the pensive queen

To see the circle sate, of all unseen.

Sated at length they rise, and bid prepare

An eve-repast, with equal cost and care:

But vengeful Pallas, with preventing speed,

A feast proportion’d to their crimes decreed;

A feast of death, the feasters doom’d to bleed!


BOOK XXI.


ARGUMENT.

THE BENDING OF ULYSSES’ BOW.


Penelope, to put an end to the solicitation of the suitors, proposes to marry

the person who shall first bend the bow of Ulysses, and shoot through the

ringlets. After their attempts have proved ineffectual, Ulysses, taking Eumaeus

and Philaetius apart, discovers himself to them; then returning, desires leave

to try his strength at the bow, which, though refused with indignation by the

suitors, Penelope and Telemachus cause it to be delivered to his hands. He

bends it immediately, and shoots through all the rings. Jupiter at the same

instant thunders from heaven; Ulysses accepts the omen, and gives a sign to

Telemachus, who stands ready armed at his side.


And Pallas now, to raise the rivals’ fires,

With her own art Penelope inspires

Who now can bend Ulysses’ bow, and wing

The well-aim’d arrow through the distant ring,

Shall end the strife, and win the imperial dame:

But discord and black death await the game!


The prudent queen the lofty stair ascends:

At distance due a virgin-train attends;

A brazen key she held, the handle turn’d,

With steel and polish’d elephant adorn’d:

Swift to the inmost room she bent her way,

Where, safe reposed, the royal treasures lay:

There shone high heap’d the labour’d brass and ore,

And there the bow which great Ulysses bore;

And there the quiver, where now guiltless slept

Those winged deaths that many a matron wept.