No More Learning

Him answer'd Euryclea then, discrete.
My son! oh how could so severe a word
Escape thy lips? my fortitude of mind
Thou know'st, and even now shalt prove me firm
As iron, secret as the stubborn rock.
But hear and mark me well. Should'st thou prevail,
Assisted by a Pow'r divine, to slay
The haughty suitors, I will then, myself, 620
Give thee to know of all the female train
Who have dishonour'd thee, and who respect.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
My nurse, it were superfluous; spare thy tongue
That needless task. I can distinguish well
Myself, between them, and shall know them all;
But hold thy peace. Hush! leave it with the Gods.
So he; then went the ancient matron forth,
That she might serve him with a second bath,
For the whole first was spilt. Thus, laved at length, 630
And smooth'd with oil, Ulysses nearer pull'd
His seat toward the glowing hearth to enjoy
More warmth, and drew his tatters o'er the scar.
Then, prudent, thus Penelope began.
One question, stranger, I shall yet propound,
Though brief, for soon the hour of soft repose
Grateful to all, and even to the sad
Whom gentle sleep forsakes not, will arrive.
But heav'n to me immeasurable woe
Assigns,--whose sole delight is to consume 640
My days in sighs, while here retired I sit,
Watching my maidens' labours and my own;
But (night return'd, and all to bed retired)
I press mine also, yet with deep regret
And anguish lacerated, even there.
As when at spring's first entrance, her sweet song
The azure-crested nightingale renews,
Daughter of Pandarus; within the grove's
Thick foliage perch'd, she pours her echoing voice
Now deep, now clear, still varying the strain 650
With which she mourns her Itylus, her son
By royal Zethus, whom she, erring, slew,[85]
So also I, by soul-distressing doubts
Toss'd ever, muse if I shall here remain
A faithful guardian of my son's affairs,
My husband's bed respecting, and not less
My own fair fame, or whether I shall him
Of all my suitors follow to his home
Who noblest seems, and offers richest dow'r.
My son while he was infant yet, and own'd 660
An infant's mind, could never give consent
That I should wed and leave him; but at length,
Since he hath reached the stature of a man,
He wishes my departure hence, the waste
Viewing indignant by the suitors made.
But I have dream'd. Hear, and expound my dream.
My geese are twenty, which within my walls
I feed with sodden wheat; they serve to amuse
Sometimes my sorrow. From the mountains came
An eagle, huge, hook-beak'd, brake all their necks, 670
And slew them; scatter'd on the palace-floor
They lay, and he soar'd swift into the skies.
Dream only as it was, I wept aloud,
Till all my maidens, gather'd by my voice,
Arriving, found me weeping still, and still
Complaining, that the eagle had at once
Slain all my geese. But, to the palace-roof
Stooping again, he sat, and with a voice
Of human sound, forbad my tears, and said--
Courage! O daughter of the far-renown'd 680
Icarius! no vain dream thou hast beheld,
But, in thy sleep, a truth. The slaughter'd geese
Denote thy suitors. I who have appear'd
An eagle in thy sight, am yet indeed
Thy husband, who have now, at last, return'd,
Death, horrid death designing for them all.
He said; then waking at the voice, I cast
An anxious look around, and saw my geese
Beside their tray, all feeding as before.
Her then Ulysses answer'd, ever-wise. 690
O Queen!