Another seat (all garnish’d wondrous fair, To rest or sleep on in the day) he set, Far from the prease of wooers, lest at meat The noise they still made might offend his guest, Disturbing him at banquet or at rest, Ev’n to his combat with that pride of theirs, That kept no noble form in their affairs. And these he set far from them, much the rather To question freely of his absent father. A table fairly-polish’d then was spread, On which a rev’rend officer set bread, And other servitors all sorts of meat (Salads, and flesh, such as their haste could get) Serv’d with observance in. And then the sewer Pour’d water from a great and golden ewer, That from their hands t’ a silver caldron ran. Both wash’d, and seated close, the voiceful man Fetch’d cups of gold, and set by them, and round Those cups with wine with all endeavour crown’d. Then rush’d in the rude wooers, themselves plac’d; The heralds water gave; the maids in haste Serv’d bread from baskets. When, of all prepar’d And set before them, the bold wooers shar’d, Their pages plying their cups past the rest. But lusty wooers must do more than feast; For now, their hungers and their thirsts allay’d, They call’d for songs and dances; those, they said, Were th’ ornaments of feast. The herald straight A harp, carv’d full of artificial sleight, Thrust into Phemius’, a learn’d singer’s, hand, Who, till he much was urg’d, on terms did stand, But, after, play’d and sung with all his art. Telemachus to Pallas then (apart, His ear inclining close, that none might hear) In this sort said: “My guest, exceeding dear, Will you not sit incens’d with what I say? These are the cares these men take; feast and play. Which eas’ly they may use, because they eat, Free and unpunish’d, of another’s meat; And of a man’s, whose white bones wasting lie In some far region; with th’ incessancy Of show’rs pour’d down upon them, lying ashore, Or in the seas wash’d nak’d. Who, if he wore Those bones with flesh and life and industry, And these might here in Ithaca set eye On him return’d, they all would wish to be Either past other in celerity Of feet and knees, and not contend t’ exceed In golden garments. But his virtues feed The fate of ill death; nor is left to me The least hope of his life’s recovery, No, not if any of the mortal race Should tell me his return; the cheerful face Of his return’d day never will appear. But tell me, and let Truth your witness bear, Who, and from whence you are? What city’s birth? What parents? In what vessel set you forth? And with what mariners arriv’d you here? I cannot think you a foot passenger. Recount then to me all, to teach me well Fit usage for your worth. And if it fell In chance now first that you thus see us here, Or that in former passages you were My father’s guest? For many men have been Guests to my father. Studious of men His sociable nature ever was.” On him again the grey-eyed Maid did pass This kind reply: “I’ll answer passing true