The Odyssey
Book XIX
Ulysses was left in the cloister, pondering on the means whereby with Minerva′s
help he might be able to kill the suitors. Presently he said to Telemachus,
"Telemachus, we must get the armour together and take it down inside. Make
some excuse when the suitors ask you why you have removed it. Say that
you have taken it to be out of the way of the smoke, inasmuch as it is
no longer what it was when Ulysses went away, but has become soiled and
begrimed with soot. Add to this more particularly that you are afraid Jove
may set them on to quarrel over their wine, and that they may do each other
some harm which may disgrace both banquet and wooing, for the sight of
arms sometimes tempts people to use them."
Telemachus approved of what his father had said, so he called nurse
Euryclea and said, "Nurse, shut the women up in their room, while I take
the armour that my father left behind him down into the store room. No
one looks after it now my father is gone, and it has got all smirched with
soot during my own boyhood. I want to take it down where the smoke cannot
reach it."
"I wish, child," answered Euryclea, "that you would take the management
of the house into your own hands altogether, and look after all the property
yourself. But who is to go with you and light you to the store room? The
maids would have so, but you would not let them.
"The stranger," said Telemachus, "shall show me a light; when people
eat my bread they must earn it, no matter where they come
from."
Euryclea did as she was told, and bolted the women inside their
room. Then Ulysses and his son made all haste to take the helmets, shields,
and spears inside; and Minerva went before them with a gold lamp in her
hand that shed a soft and brilliant radiance, whereon Telemachus said,
"Father, my eyes behold a great marvel: the walls, with the rafters, crossbeams,
and the supports on which they rest are all aglow as with a flaming fire.
Surely there is some god here who has come down from
heaven."
"Hush," answered Ulysses, "hold your peace and ask no questions,
for this is the manner of the gods. Get you to your bed, and leave me here
to talk with your mother and the maids. Your mother in her grief will ask
me all sorts of questions."
On this Telemachus went by torch-light to the other side of the
inner court, to the room in which he always slept. There he lay in his
bed till morning, while Ulysses was left in the cloister pondering on the
means whereby with Minerva′s help he might be able to kill the
suitors.
Then Penelope came down from her room looking like Venus or Diana,
and they set her a seat inlaid with scrolls of silver and ivory near the
fire in her accustomed place. It had been made by Icmalius and had a footstool
all in one piece with the seat itself; and it was covered with a thick
fleece: on this she now sat, and the maids came from the women′s room to
join her. They set about removing the tables at which the wicked suitors
had been dining, and took away the bread that was left, with the cups from
which they had drunk. They emptied the embers out of the braziers, and
heaped much wood upon them to give both light and heat; but Melantho began
to rail at Ulysses a second time and said, "Stranger, do you mean to plague
us by hanging about the house all night and spying upon the women? Be off,
you wretch, outside, and eat your supper there, or you shall be driven
out with a firebrand."
Ulysses scowled at her and answered, "My good woman, why should
you be so angry with me? Is it because I am not clean, and my clothes are
all in rags, and because I am obliged to go begging about after the manner
of tramps and beggars generall? I too was a rich man once, and had a fine
house of my own; in those days I gave to many a tramp such as I now am,
no matter who he might be nor what he wanted. I had any number of servants,
and all the other things which people have who live well and are accounted
wealthy, but it pleased Jove to take all away from me; therefore, woman,
beware lest you too come to lose that pride and place in which you now
wanton above your fellows; have a care lest you get out of favour with
your mistress, and lest Ulysses should come home, for there is still a
chance that he may do so. Moreover, though he be dead as you think he is,
yet by Apollo′s will he has left a son behind him, Telemachus, who will
note anything done amiss by the maids in the house, for he is now no longer
in his boyhood."
Penelope heard what he was saying and scolded the maid, "Impudent
baggage, said she, "I see how abominably you are behaving, and you shall
smart for it. You knew perfectly well, for I told you myself, that I was
going to see the stranger and ask him about my husband, for whose sake
I am in such continual sorrow."
Then she said to her head waiting woman Eurynome, "Bring a seat
with a fleece upon it, for the stranger to sit upon while he tells his
story, and listens to what I have to say. I wish to ask him some
questions."
Eurynome brought the seat at once and set a fleece upon it, and
as soon as Ulysses had sat down Penelope began by saying, "Stranger, I
shall first ask you who and whence are you? Tell me of your town and
parents."
"Madam;" answered Ulysses, "who on the face of the whole earth
can dare to chide with you? Your fame reaches the firmament of heaven itself;
you are like some blameless king, who upholds righteousness, as the monarch
over a great and valiant nation: the earth yields its wheat and barley,
the trees are loaded with fruit, the ewes bring forth lambs, and the sea
abounds with fish by reason of his virtues, and his people do good deeds
under him. Nevertheless, as I sit here in your house, ask me some other
question and do not seek to know my race and family, or you will recall
memories that will yet more increase my sorrow. I am full of heaviness,
but I ought not to sit weeping and wailing in another person′s house, nor
is it well to be thus grieving continually. I shall have one of the servants
or even yourself complaining of me, and saying that my eyes swim with tears
because I am heavy with wine."
Then Penelope answered, "Stranger, heaven robbed me of all beauty,
whether of face or figure, when the Argives set sail for Troy and my dear
husband with them. If he were to return and look after my affairs I should
be both more respected and should show a better presence to the world.
As it is, I am oppressed with care, and with the afflictions which heaven
has seen fit to heap upon me. The chiefs from all our islands- Dulichium,
Same, and Zacynthus, as also from Ithaca itself, are wooing me against
my will and are wasting my estate. I can therefore show no attention to
strangers, nor suppliants, nor to people who say that they are skilled
artisans, but am all the time brokenhearted about Ulysses. They want me
to marry again at once, and I have to invent stratagems in order to deceive
them. In the first place heaven put it in my mind to set up a great tambour-frame
in my room, and to begin working upon an enormous piece of fine needlework.
Then I said to them, ′Sweethearts, Ulysses is indeed dead, still, do not
press me to marry again immediately; wait- for I would not have my skill
in needlework perish unrecorded- till I have finished making a pall for
the hero Laertes, to be ready against the time when death shall take him.
He is very rich, and the women of the place will talk if he is laid out
without a pall.′ This was what I said, and they assented; whereon I used
to keep working at my great web all day long, but at night I would unpick
the stitches again by torch light. I fooled them in this way for three
years without their finding it out, but as time wore on and I was now in
my fourth year, in the waning of moons, and many days had been accomplished,
those good-for-nothing hussies my maids betrayed me to the suitors, who
broke in upon me and caught me; they were very angry with me, so I was
forced to finish my work whether I would or no. And now I do not see how
I can find any further shift for getting out of this marriage. My parents
are putting great pressure upon me, and my son chafes at the ravages the
suitors are making upon his estate, for he is now old enough to understand
all about it and is perfectly able to look after his own affairs, for heaven
has blessed him with an excellent disposition. Still, notwithstanding all
this, tell me who you are and where you come from- for you must have had
father and mother of some sort; you cannot be the son of an oak or of a
rock."
Then Ulysses answered, "madam, wife of Ulysses, since you persist
in asking me about my family, I will answer, no matter what it costs me:
people must expect to be pained when they have been exiles as long as I
have, and suffered as much among as many peoples. Nevertheless, as regards
your question I will tell you all you ask. There is a fair and fruitful
island in mid-ocean called Crete; it is thickly peopled and there are nine
cities in it: the people speak many different languages which overlap one
another, for there are Achaeans, brave Eteocretans, Dorians of three-fold
race, and noble Pelasgi. There is a great town there, Cnossus, where Minos
reigned who every nine years had a conference with Jove himself. Minos
was father to Deucalion, whose son I am, for Deucalion had two sons Idomeneus
and myself. Idomeneus sailed for Troy, and I, who am the younger, am called
Aethon; my brother, however, was at once the older and the more valiant
of the two; hence it was in Crete that I saw Ulysses and showed him hospitality,
for the winds took him there as he was on his way to Troy, carrying him
out of his course from cape Malea and leaving him in Amnisus off the cave
of Ilithuia, where the harbours are difficult to enter and he could hardly
find shelter from the winds that were then xaging. As soon as he got there
he went into the town and asked for Idomeneus, claiming to be his old and
valued friend, but Idomeneus had already set sail for Troy some ten or
twelve days earlier, so I took him to my own house and showed him every
kind of hospitality, for I had abundance of everything. Moreover, I fed
the men who were with him with barley meal from the public store, and got
subscriptions of wine and oxen for them to sacrifice to their heart′s content.
They stayed with me twelve days, for there was a gale blowing from the
North so strong that one could hardly keep one′s feet on land. I suppose
some unfriendly god had raised it for them, but on the thirteenth day the
wind dropped, and they got away."
Many a plausible tale did Ulysses further tell her, and Penelope
wept as she listened, for her heart was melted. As the snow wastes upon
the mountain tops when the winds from South East and West have breathed
upon it and thawed it till the rivers run bank full with water, even so
did her cheeks overflow with tears for the husband who was all the time
sitting by her side. Ulysses felt for her and was for her, but he kept
his eyes as hard as or iron without letting them so much as quiver, so
cunningly did he restrain his tears. Then, when she had relieved herself
by weeping, she turned to him again and said: "Now, stranger, I shall put
you to the test and see whether or no you really did entertain my husband
and his men, as you say you did. Tell me, then, how he was dressed, what
kind of a man he was to look at, and so also with his
companions."
"Madam," answered Ulysses, "it is such a long time ago that I can
hardly say. Twenty years are come and gone since he left my home, and went
elsewhither; but I will tell you as well as I can recollect. Ulysses wore
a mantle of purple wool, double lined, and it was fastened by a gold brooch
with two catches for the pin. On the face of this there was a device that
showed a dog holding a spotted fawn between his fore paws, and watching
it as it lay panting upon the ground. Every one marvelled at the way in
which these things had been done in gold, the dog looking at the fawn,
and strangling it, while the fawn was struggling convulsively to escape.
As for the shirt that he wore next his skin, it was so soft that it fitted
him like the skin of an onion, and glistened in the sunlight to the admiration
of all the women who beheld it. Furthermore I say, and lay my saying to
your heart, that I do not know whether Ulysses wore these clothes when
he left home, or whether one of his companions had given them to him while
he was on his voyage; or possibly some one at whose house he was staying
made him a present of them, for he was a man of many friends and had few
equals among the Achaeans. I myself gave him a sword of bronze and a beautiful
purple mantle, double lined, with a shirt that went down to his feet, and
I sent him on board his ship with every mark of honour. He had a servant
with him, a little older than himself, and I can tell you what he was like;
his shoulders were hunched, he was dark, and he had thick curly hair. His
name was Eurybates, and Ulysses treated him with greater familiarity than
he did any of the others, as being the most like-minded with
himself."
Penelope was moved still more deeply as she heard the indisputable
proofs that Ulysses laid before her; and when she had again found relief
in tears she said to him, "Stranger, I was already disposed to pity you,
but henceforth you shall be honoured and made welcome in my house. It was
I who gave Ulysses the clothes you speak of. I took them out of the store
room and folded them up myself, and I gave him also the gold brooch to
wear as an ornament. Alas! I shall never welcome him home again. It was
by an ill fate that he ever set out for that detested city whose very name
I cannot bring myself even to mention."
Then Ulysses answered, "Madam, wife of Ulysses, do not disfigure
yourself further by grieving thus bitterly for your loss, though I can
hardly blame you for doing so. A woman who has loved her husband and borne
him children, would naturally be grieved at losing him, even though he
were a worse man than Ulysses, who they say was like a god. Still, cease
your tears and listen to what I can tell I will hide nothing from you,
and can say with perfect truth that I have lately heard of Ulysses as being
alive and on his way home; he is among the Thesprotians, and is bringing
back much valuable treasure that he has begged from one and another of
them; but his ship and all his crew were lost as they were leaving the
Thrinacian island, for Jove and the sun-god were angry with him because
his men had slaughtered the sun-god′s cattle, and they were all drowned
to a man. But Ulysses stuck to the keel of the ship and was drifted on
to the land of the Phaecians, who are near of kin to the immortals, and
who treated him as though he had been a god, giving him many presents,
and wishing to escort him home safe and sound. In fact Ulysses would have
been here long ago, had he not thought better to go from land to land gathering
wealth; for there is no man living who is so wily as he is; there is no
one can compare with him. Pheidon king of the Thesprotians told me all
this, and he swore to me- making drink-offerings in his house as he did
so- that the ship was by the water side and the crew found who would take
Ulysses to his own country. He sent me off first, for there happened to
be a Thesprotian ship sailing for the wheat-growing island of Dulichium,
but he showed me all treasure Ulysses had got together, and he had enough
lying in the house of king Pheidon to keep his family for ten generations;
but the king said Ulysses had gone to Dodona that he might learn Jove′s
mind from the high oak tree, and know whether after so long an absence
he should return to Ithaca openly or in secret. So you may know he is safe
and will be here shortly; he is close at hand and cannot remain away from
home much longer; nevertheless I will confirm my words with an oath, and
call Jove who is the first and mightiest of all gods to witness, as also
that hearth of Ulysses to which I have now come, that all I have spoken
shall surely come to pass. Ulysses will return in this self same year;
with the end of this moon and the beginning of the next he will be
here."
"May it be even so," answered Penelope; "if your words come true
you shall have such gifts and such good will from me that all who see you
shall congratulate you; but I know very well how it will be. Ulysses will
not return, neither will you get your escort hence, for so surely as that
Ulysses ever was, there are now no longer any such masters in the house
as he was, to receive honourable strangers or to further them on their
way home. And now, you maids, wash his feet for him, and make him a bed
on a couch with rugs and blankets, that he may be warm and quiet till morning.
Then, at day break wash him and anoint him again, that he may sit in the
cloister and take his meals with Telemachus. It shall be the worse for
any one of these hateful people who is uncivil to him; like it or not,
he shall have no more to do in this house. For how, sir, shall you be able
to learn whether or no I am superior to others of my sex both in goodness
of heart and understanding, if I let you dine in my cloisters squalid and
ill clad? Men live but for a little season; if they are hard, and deal
hardly, people wish them ill so long as they are alive, and speak contemptuously
of them when they are dead, but he that is righteous and deals righteously,
the people tell of his praise among all lands, and many shall call him
blessed."
Ulysses answered, "Madam, I have foresworn rugs and blankets from
the day that I left the snowy ranges of Crete to go on shipboard. I will
lie as I have lain on many a sleepless night hitherto. Night after night
have I passed in any rough sleeping place, and waited for morning. Nor,
again, do I like having my feet washed; I shall not let any of the young
hussies about your house touch my feet; but, if you have any old and respectable
woman who has gone through as much trouble as I have, I will allow her
to wash them."
To this Penelope said, "My dear sir, of all the guests who ever
yet came to my house there never was one who spoke in all things with such
admirable propriety as you do. There happens to be in the house a most
respectable old woman- the same who received my poor dear husband in her
arms the night he was born, and nursed him in infancy. She is very feeble
now, but she shall wash your feet." "Come here," said she, "Euryclea, and
wash your master′s age-mate; I suppose Ulysses′ hands and feet are very
much the same now as his are, for trouble ages all of us dreadfully
fast."
On these words the old woman covered her face with her hands; she
began to weep and made lamentation saying, "My dear child, I cannot think
whatever I am to do with you. I am certain no one was ever more god-fearing
than yourself, and yet Jove hates you. No one in the whole world ever burned
him more thigh bones, nor gave him finer hecatombs when you prayed you
might come to a green old age yourself and see your son grow up to take
after you; yet see how he has prevented you alone from ever getting back
to your own home. I have no doubt the women in some foreign palace which
Ulysses has got to are gibing at him as all these sluts here have been
gibing you. I do not wonder at your not choosing to let them wash you after
the manner in which they have insulted you; I will wash your feet myself
gladly enough, as Penelope has said that I am to do so; I will wash them
both for Penelope′s sake and for your own, for you have raised the most
lively feelings of compassion in my mind; and let me say this moreover,
which pray attend to; we have had all kinds of strangers in distress come
here before now, but I make bold to say that no one ever yet came who was
so like Ulysses in figure, voice, and feet as you are."
"Those who have seen us both," answered Ulysses, "have always said
we were wonderfully like each other, and now you have noticed it
too.
Then the old woman took the cauldron in which she was going to
wash his feet, and poured plenty of cold water into it, adding hot till
the bath was warm enough. Ulysses sat by the fire, but ere long he turned
away from the light, for it occurred to him that when the old woman had
hold of his leg she would recognize a certain scar which it bore, whereon
the whole truth would come out. And indeed as soon as she began washing
her master, she at once knew the scar as one that had been given him by
a wild boar when he was hunting on Mount Parnassus with his excellent grandfather
Autolycus- who was the most accomplished thief and perjurer in the whole
world- and with the sons of Autolycus. Mercury himself had endowed him
with this gift, for he used to burn the thigh bones of goats and kids to
him, so he took pleasure in his companionship. It happened once that Autolycus
had gone to Ithaca and had found the child of his daughter just born. As
soon as he had done supper Euryclea set the infant upon his knees and said,
you must find a name for your grandson; you greatly wished that you might
have one."
′Son-in-law and daughter," replied Autolycus, "call the child thus:
I am highly displeased with a large number of people in one place and another,
both men and women; so name the child ′Ulysses,′ or the child of anger.
When he grows up and comes to visit his mother′s family on Mount Parnassus,
where my possessions lie, I will make him a present and will send him on
his way rejoicing."
Ulysses, therefore, went to Parnassus to get the presents from
Autolycus, who with his sons shook hands with him and gave him welcome.
His grandmother Amphithea threw her arms about him, and kissed his head,
and both his beautiful eyes, while Autolycus desired his sons to get dinner
ready, and they did as he told them. They brought in a five year old bull,
flayed it, made it ready and divided it into joints; these they then cut
carefully up into smaller pieces and spitted them; they roasted them sufficiently
and served the portions round. Thus through the livelong day to the going
down of the sun they feasted, and every man had his full share so that
all were satisfied; but when the sun set and it came on dark, they went
to bed and enjoyed the boon of sleep.
When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, the sons
of Autolycus went out with their hounds hunting, and Ulysses went too.
They climbed the wooded slopes of Parnassus and soon reached its breezy
upland valleys; but as the sun was beginning to beat upon the fields, fresh-risen
from the slow still currents of Oceanus, they came to a mountain dell.
The dogs were in front searching for the tracks of the beast they were
chasing, and after them came the sons of Autolycus, among whom was Ulysses,
close behind the dogs, and he had a long spear in his hand. Here was the
lair of a huge boar among some thick brushwood, so dense that the wind
and rain could not get through it, nor could the sun′s rays pierce it,
and the ground underneath lay thick with fallen leaves. The boar heard
the noise of the men′s feet, and the hounds baying on every side as the
huntsmen came up to him, so rushed from his lair, raised the bristles on
his neck, and stood at bay with fire flashing from his eyes. Ulysses was
the first to raise his spear and try to drive it into the brute, but the
boar was too quick for him, and charged him sideways, ripping him above
the knee with a gash that tore deep though it did not reach the bone. As
for the boar, Ulysses hit him on the right shoulder, and the point of the
spear went right through him, so that he fell groaning in the dust until
the life went out of him. The sons of Autolycus busied themselves with
the carcass of the boar, and bound Ulysses′ wound; then, after saying a
spell to stop the bleeding, they went home as fast as they could. But when
Autolycus and his sons had thoroughly healed Ulysses, they made him some
splendid presents, and sent him back to Ithaca with much mutual good will.
When he got back, his father and mother were rejoiced to see him, and asked
him all about it, and how he had hurt himself to get the scar; so he told
them how the boar had ripped him when he was out hunting with Autolycus
and his sons on Mount Parnassus.
As soon as Euryclea had got the scarred limb in her hands and had
well hold of it, she recognized it and dropped the foot at once. The leg
fell into the bath, which rang out and was overturned, so that all the
water was spilt on the ground; Euryclea′s eyes between her joy and her
grief filled with tears, and she could not speak, but she caught Ulysses
by the beard and said, "My dear child, I am sure you must be Ulysses himself,
only I did not know you till I had actually touched and handled
you."
As she spoke she looked towards Penelope, as though wanting to
tell her that her dear husband was in the house, but Penelope was unable
to look in that direction and observe what was going on, for Minerva had
diverted her attention; so Ulysses caught Euryclea by the throat with his
right hand and with his left drew her close to him, and said, "Nurse, do
you wish to be the ruin of me, you who nursed me at your own breast, now
that after twenty years of wandering I am at last come to my own home again?
Since it has been borne in upon you by heaven to recognize me, hold your
tongue, and do not say a word about it any one else in the house, for if
you do I tell you- and it shall surely be- that if heaven grants me to
take the lives of these suitors, I will not spare you, though you are my
own nurse, when I am killing the other women."
"My child," answered Euryclea, "what are you talking about? You
know very well that nothing can either bend or break me. I will hold my
tongue like a stone or a piece of iron; furthermore let me say, and lay
my saying to your heart, when heaven has delivered the suitors into your
hand, I will give you a list of the women in the house who have been ill-behaved,
and of those who are guiltless."
And Ulysses answered, "Nurse, you ought not to speak in that way;
I am well able to form my own opinion about one and all of them; hold your
tongue and leave everything to heaven."
As he said this Euryclea left the cloister to fetch some more water,
for the first had been all spilt; and when she had washed him and anointed
him with oil, Ulysses drew his seat nearer to the fire to warm himself,
and hid the scar under his rags. Then Penelope began talking to him and
said:
"Stranger, I should like to speak with you briefly about another
matter. It is indeed nearly bed time- for those, at least, who can sleep
in spite of sorrow. As for myself, heaven has given me a life of such unmeasurable
woe, that even by day when I am attending to my duties and looking after
the servants, I am still weeping and lamenting during the whole time; then,
when night comes, and we all of us go to bed, I lie awake thinking, and
my heart comes a prey to the most incessant and cruel tortures. As the
dun nightingale, daughter of Pandareus, sings in the early spring from
her seat in shadiest covert hid, and with many a plaintive trill pours
out the tale how by mishap she killed her own child Itylus, son of king
Zethus, even so does my mind toss and turn in its uncertainty whether I
ought to stay with my son here, and safeguard my substance, my bondsmen,
and the greatness of my house, out of regard to public opinion and the
memory of my late husband, or whether it is not now time for me to go with
the best of these suitors who are wooing me and making me such magnificent
presents. As long as my son was still young, and unable to understand,
he would not hear of my leaving my husband′s house, but now that he is
full grown he begs and prays me to do so, being incensed at the way in
which the suitors are eating up his property. Listen, then, to a dream
that I have had and interpret it for me if you can. I have twenty geese
about the house that eat mash out of a trough, and of which I am exceedingly
fond. I dreamed that a great eagle came swooping down from a mountain,
and dug his curved beak into the neck of each of them till he had killed
them all. Presently he soared off into the sky, and left them lying dead
about the yard; whereon I wept in my room till all my maids gathered round
me, so piteously was I grieving because the eagle had killed my geese.
Then he came back again, and perching on a projecting rafter spoke to me
with human voice, and told me to leave off crying. ′Be of good courage,′
he said, ′daughter of Icarius; this is no dream, but a vision of good omen
that shall surely come to pass. The geese are the suitors, and I am no
longer an eagle, but your own husband, who am come back to you, and who
will bring these suitors to a disgraceful end.′ On this I woke, and when
I looked out I saw my geese at the trough eating their mash as
usual."
"This dream, Madam," replied Ulysses, "can admit but of one interpretation,
for had not Ulysses himself told you how it shall be fulfilled? The death
of the suitors is portended, and not one single one of them will
escape."
And Penelope answered, "Stranger, dreams are very curious and unaccountable
things, and they do not by any means invariably come true. There are two
gates through which these unsubstantial fancies proceed; the one is of
horn, and the other ivory. Those that come through the gate of ivory are
fatuous, but those from the gate of horn mean something to those that see
them. I do not think, however, that my own dream came through the gate
of horn, though I and my son should be most thankful if it proves to have
done so. Furthermore I say- and lay my saying to your heart- the coming
dawn will usher in the ill-omened day that is to sever me from the house
of Ulysses, for I am about to hold a tournament of axes. My husband used
to set up twelve axes in the court, one in front of the other, like the
stays upon which a ship is built; he would then go back from them and shoot
an arrow through the whole twelve. I shall make the suitors try to do the
same thing, and whichever of them can string the bow most easily, and send
his arrow through all the twelve axes, him will I follow, and quit this
house of my lawful husband, so goodly and so abounding in wealth. But even
so, I doubt not that I shall remember it in my dreams."
Then Ulysses answered, "Madam wife of Ulysses, you need not defer
your tournament, for Ulysses will return ere ever they can string the bow,
handle it how they will, and send their arrows through the
iron."
To this Penelope said, "As long, sir, as you will sit here and
talk to me, I can have no desire to go to bed. Still, people cannot do
permanently without sleep, and heaven has appointed us dwellers on earth
a time for all things. I will therefore go upstairs and recline upon that
couch which I have never ceased to flood with my tears from the day Ulysses
set out for the city with a hateful name."
She then went upstairs to her own room, not alone, but attended
by her maidens, and when there, she lamented her dear husband till Minerva
shed sweet sleep over her eyelids.
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