Then, leading her toward a footstool'd throne Magnificent, which first he overspread With linen, there he seated her, apart From that rude throng, and for himself disposed A throne of various colours at her side, Lest, stunn'd with clamour of the lawless band, The new-arrived should loth perchance to eat, And that more free he might the stranger's ear 170 With questions of his absent Sire address, And now a maiden charg'd with golden ew'r, And with an argent laver, pouring first Pure water on their hands, supplied them, next, With a resplendent table, which the chaste Directress of the stores furnish'd with bread And dainties, remnants of the last regale. Then, in his turn, the sewer[2] with sav'ry meats, Dish after dish, served them, of various kinds, And golden cups beside the chargers placed, 180 Which the attendant herald fill'd with wine. Ere long, in rush'd the suitors, and the thrones And couches occupied, on all whose hands The heralds pour'd pure water; then the maids Attended them with bread in baskets heap'd, And eager they assail'd the ready feast. At length, when neither thirst nor hunger more They felt unsatisfied, to new delights Their thoughts they turn'd, to song and sprightly dance, Enlivening sequel of the banquet's joys. 190 An herald, then, to Phemius' hand consign'd His beauteous lyre; he through constraint regaled The suitors with his song, and while the chords He struck in prelude to his pleasant strains, Telemachus his head inclining nigh To Pallas' ear, lest others should his words Witness, the blue-eyed Goddess thus bespake. My inmate and my friend! far from my lips Be ev'ry word that might displease thine ear! The song--the harp,--what can they less than charm 200 These wantons? who the bread unpurchased eat Of one whose bones on yonder continent Lie mould'ring, drench'd by all the show'rs of heaven, Or roll at random in the billowy deep. Ah! could they see him once to his own isle Restored, both gold and raiment they would wish Far less, and nimbleness of foot instead. But He, alas! hath by a wretched fate, Past question perish'd, and what news soe'er We hear of his return, kindles no hope 210 In us, convinced that he returns no more. But answer undissembling; tell me true; Who art thou? whence? where stands thy city? where Thy father's mansion? In what kind of ship Cam'st thou? Why steer'd the mariners their course To Ithaca, and of what land are they? For that on foot thou found'st us not, is sure. This also tell me, hast thou now arrived New to our isle, or wast thou heretofore My father's guest? Since many to our house 220