No More Learning

To whom the venerable matron thus.
I mock thee not, my child; no--he is come--
Himself, Ulysses, even as I say, 30
That stranger, object of the scorn of all.
Telemachus well knew his sire arrived,
But prudently conceal'd the tidings, so
To insure the more the suitors' punishment.
So Euryclea she transported heard,
And springing from the bed, wrapp'd in her arms
The ancient woman shedding tears of joy,
And in wing'd accents ardent thus replied.
Ah then, dear nurse inform me! tell me true!
Hath he indeed arriv'd as thou declar'st? 40
How dared he to assail alone that band
Of shameless ones, for ever swarming here?
Then Euryclea, thus, matron belov'd.
I nothing saw or knew; but only heard
Groans of the wounded; in th' interior house
We trembling sat, and ev'ry door was fast.
Thus all remain'd till by his father sent,
Thy own son call'd me forth. Going, I found
Ulysses compass'd by the slaughter'd dead.
They cover'd wide the pavement, heaps on heaps. 50
It would have cheer'd thy heart to have beheld
Thy husband lion-like with crimson stains
Of slaughter and of dust all dappled o'er;
Heap'd in the portal, at this moment, lie
Their bodies, and he fumigates, meantime,
The house with sulphur and with flames of fire,
And hath, himself, sent me to bid thee down.
Follow me, then, that ye may give your hearts
To gladness, both, for ye have much endured;
But the event, so long your soul's desire, 60
Is come; himself hath to his household Gods
Alive return'd, thee and his son he finds
Unharm'd and at your home, nor hath he left
Unpunish'd one of all his enemies.
Her answer'd, then, Penelope discrete.
Ah dearest nurse! indulge not to excess
This dang'rous triumph. Thou art well apprized
How welcome his appearance here would prove
To all, but chief, to me, and to his son,
Fruit of our love. But these things are not so; 70
Some God, resentful of their evil deeds,
And of their biting contumely severe,
Hath slain those proud; for whether noble guest
Arrived or base, alike they scoff'd at all,
And for their wickedness have therefore died.
But my Ulysses distant far, I know,
From Greece hath perish'd, and returns no more.
To whom thus Euryclea, nurse belov'd.
What word my daughter had escaped thy lips,
Who thus affirm'st thy husband, now within 80
And at his own hearth-side, for ever lost?
Canst thou be thus incredulous? Hear again--
I give thee yet proof past dispute, his scar
Imprinted by a wild-boar's iv'ry tusk.
Laving him I remark'd it, and desired,
Myself, to tell thee, but he, ever-wise,
Compressing with both hands my lips, forbad.
Come, follow me. My life shall be the pledge.
If I deceive thee, kill me as thou wilt.
To whom Penelope, discrete, replied. 90
Ah, dearest nurse, sagacious as thou art,
Thou little know'st to scan the counsels wise
Of the eternal Gods.