leave the house now yours.’ Such were his words, and all now nears its end. The night will come when a detested marriage falls on doomed me, whom Zeus has stripped of fortune. One bitter vexation, too, touches my heart and soul: this never was the way with suitors heretofore; they who will court a lady of rank, a rich man’s daughter, rivaling one another, bring oxen and sturdy sheep to feast the maiden’s friends and give rich gifts besides. They do not, making no amends, devour another’s substance.”
She spoke, and glad was long-tried royal Odysseus to see her winning gifts and charming the suitors’ hearts with pleasing words, while her mind had a different purpose.
Then said Antinouäs, Eupeithes’ son: “Daughter of Icarius, heedful Penelope, if any Achaean cares to bring gifts here, accept them; for it is not gracious to refuse a gift. But we will never go to our estates, nor elsewhere either, till you are married to the best Achaean here.”
So said Antinouäs, and his saying pleased them; and for the bringing of the gifts each man sent forth his page. The page of Antinouäs brought a fair large robe of many colors; on it were golden brooches, twelve in all, mounted with twisted clasps. To Eurymachus his page presently brought a chain, wrought curiously in gold and set with amber, bright as the sun. His servants brought Eurydamus a pair of earrings, each brilliant with three drops; from them great beauty sparkled. Out of the house of lord Peisander, son of Polyctor, his servant brought a necklace, a jewel exceptionally fine. And other servants brought still other fitting gifts from the Achaeans.
Then went the royal lady to her upper chamber, her slave-maids carrying the handsome gifts. Meanwhile the suitors to dancing and the joyous song turned merrily, and waited for the evening to come on. And on their merriment dark evening came. Straightway they set three braziers in the hall, to give them light, and piled upon them sapless logs,—long seasoned, very dry, and freshly split,—with which they mingled brands. By turns the maids of hardy Odysseus fed the fire; and he, the high-born wise Odysseus, thus addressed them:
“You slave-maids of Odysseus, a master long away, go to the room where your honored mistress stays. There twirl your spindles by her side and furnish her good cheer, as you sit within her hall, and card with your hands the wool. I will supply the light for all these here. Yes, if they wish to stay till bright-throned dawn, they will not weary me; I am practiced to endure.”
At these his words the slave-maids laughed and glanced at one another, and Melanthoaw rudely mocked Odysseus—Melantho the fair-faced girl, daughter of Dolius, whom Penelope had reared and treated as her child, granting her every whim. But for all this, she entertained no sorrow for Penelope, but loved Eurymachus and was his mistress. She now reviled Odysseus in these abusive words:
“Why, silly stranger, you are certainly some imbecile, unwilling to go to the coppersmith’s to sleep, or to the common lodge; but here you prate continually, braving these many lords and unabashed at heart. Surely the wine has touched your wits; or else it is your constant way to chatter idly. Are you beside yourself because you beat that drifter Irus? A better man than Irus may by and by arise, to box your skull with doughty blows and pack you out of doors all dabbled with your blood.”
But looking sternly on her, wise Odysseus said: “You bitch, I go, and at once tell Telemachus what words you use; and he shall rend you limb from limb upon the spot.”
So saying, by his words he frightened off the women. They hurried along the hall. The knees of each grew weak with terror, for they thought he spoke in earnest. He, meanwhile, keeping up the fire, stood by the blazing braziers observing all the men. But other thoughts his heart debated, thoughts not to fail of issue.
Yet Athene allowed the haughty suitors not altogether yet to cease from biting scorn. She wished more pain to pierce the heart of Laeärtes’ son, Odysseus. So Eurymachus the son of Polybus began to speak, and jeering Odysseus raised a laugh among his mates: “Listen, you suitors of the illustrious queen, and let me tell you what the heart within me bids. Not without guidance of a god this fellow comes to the household of Odysseus. At any rate, a torchlight seems to rise