Is of importance in whatever cause. For oh that I had youth as I have will, Or that renown'd Ulysses were my sire, 120 Or that himself might wander home again. Whereof hope yet remains! then might I lose My head, that moment, by an alien's hand, If I would fail, ent'ring Ulysses' gate, To be the bane and mischief of them all. But if alone to multitudes opposed I should perchance be foiled; nobler it were With my own people, under my own roof To perish, than to witness evermore Their unexampled deeds, guests shoved aside, 130 Maidens dragg'd forcibly from room to room, Casks emptied of their rich contents, and them Indulging glutt'nous appetite day by day Enormous, without measure, without end. To whom, Telemachus, discrete, replied. Stranger! thy questions shall from me receive True answer. Enmity or hatred none Subsists the people and myself between, Nor have I brothers to accuse, whose aid Is of importance in whatever cause, 140 For Jove hath from of old with single heirs Our house supplied; Arcesias none begat Except Laertes, and Laertes none Except Ulysses, and Ulysses me Left here his only one, and unenjoy'd. Thence comes it that our palace swarms with foes; For all the rulers of the neighbour isles, Samos, Dulichium, and the forest-crown'd Zacynthus, others also rulers here In craggy Ithaca, my mother seek 150 In marriage, and my household stores consume. But neither she those nuptial rites abhorr'd Refuses absolute, nor yet consents To end them; they my patrimony waste Meantime, and will destroy me also soon, As I expect, but heav'n disposes all. Eumæus! haste, my father! bear with speed News to Penelope that I am safe, And have arrived from Pylus; I will wait Till thou return; and well beware that none Hear thee beside, for I have many foes. To whom Eumæus, thou didst thus reply. It is enough. I understand. Thou speak'st To one intelligent. But say beside, Shall I not also, as I go, inform Distress'd Laertes? who while yet he mourn'd Ulysses only, could o'ersee the works, And dieted among his menials oft As hunger prompted him, but now, they say, Since thy departure to the Pylian shore, 170 He neither eats as he was wont, nor drinks, Nor oversees his hinds, but sighing sits And weeping, wasted even to the bone. Him then Telemachus answer'd discrete. Hard though it be, yet to his tears and sighs Him leave we now. We cannot what we would. For, were the ordering of all events Referr'd to our own choice, our first desire Should be to see my father's glad return. But once thy tidings told, wander not thou 180