"Lo, it is I, through many grievous toils now in the twentieth year come to my native land! And yet I know that of my servants none but you desire my coming. From all the rest I have not heard one prayer that I return. To you then I will truly tell what shall hereafter be. If God by me subdues the lordly suitors, I will obtain you wives and give you wealth and homes established near my own; and henceforth in my eyes you shall be friends and brethren of Telemachus. Come, then, and I will show you too a very trusty sign,--that you may know me certainly and be assured in heart,--the scar the boar dealt long ago with his white tusk, when I once journeyed to Parnassus with Autolycus's sons." So saying, he drew aside his rags from the great scar. And when the two beheld and understood it all, their tears burst forth; they threw their arms round wise Ulysses, and passionately kissed his face and neck. So likewise did Ulysses kiss their heads and hands. And daylight had gone down upon their weeping had not Ulysses stayed their tears and said,-- "Have done with grief and wailing, or somebody in coming from the hall may see, and tell the tale indoors. Nay, go in one by one, not all together. I will go first, you after. And let this be agreed: the rest within, the lordly suitors, will not allow me to receive the bow and quiver. But, noble Eumæus, bring the bow along the room and lay it in my hands. Then tell the women to lock the hall's close-fitting doors; and if from their inner room they hear a moaning or a strife within our walls, let no one venture forth, but stay in silence at her work. And noble Philoetius, in your care I put the courtyard gates. Bolt with the bar and quickly lash the fastening." So saying, Ulysses made his way into the stately house, and went and took the seat from which he first arose. And soon the serving-men of princely Ulysses entered too. Now Eurymachus held the bow and turned it up and down, trying to heat it at the glowing fire. But still, with all his pains, he could not bend it; his proud soul groaned aloud. Then bitterly he spoke; these were the words he said,-- "Ah! here is woe for me and woe for all! Not that I so much mourn missing the marriage, though vexed I am at that. Still, there are enough more women of Achaia, both here in sea-girt Ithaca and in the other cities. But if in strength we fall so short of princely Ulysses that we cannot bend his bow--oh, the disgrace for future times to know!"