And went for Pylos.” Thus went he for home, And left the rest with envy overcome; Who sat, and pastime left. Eupitheus son, Sad, and with rage his entrails overrun, His eyes like flames, thus interpos’d his speech: “Strange thing! An action of how proud a reach Is here committed by Telemachus! A boy, a child, and we, a sort of us, Vow’d ’gainst his voyage, yet admit it thus! With ship and choice youth of our people too! But let him on, and all his mischief do, Jove shall convert upon himself his pow’rs, Before their ill presum’d he brings on ours. Provide me then a ship, and twenty men To give her manage, that, against again He turns for home, on th’ Ithacensian seas, Or cliffy Samian, I may interprease, Way-lay, and take him, and make all his craft Sail with his ruin for his father saft.” This all applauded, and gave charge to do, Rose, and to greet Ulysses’ house did go. But long time past not, ere Penelope Had notice of their far-fetch’d treachery. Medon the herald told her, who had heard Without the hall how they within conferr’d, And hasted straight to tell it to the queen, Who, from the entry having Medon seen, Prevents him thus: “Now herald, what affair Intend the famous Wooers, in your repair? To tell Ulysses’ maids that they must cease From doing our work, and their banquets dress? I would to heav’n, that, leaving wooing me, Nor ever troubling other company, Here might the last feast be, and most extreme, That ever any shall address for them. They never meet but to consent in spoil, And reap the free fruits of another’s toil. O did they never, when they children were, What to their fathers was Ulysses, hear? Who never did ’gainst anyone proceed With unjust usage, or in word or deed? ’Tis yet with other kings another right, One to pursue with love, another spite; He still yet just, nor would, though might, devour, Nor to the worst did ever taste of pow’r. But their unrul’d acts show their minds’ estate. Good turns receiv’d once, thanks grow out of date.” Medon, the learn’d in wisdom, answer’d her: “I wish, O queen, that their ingratitudes were Their worst ill towards you; but worse by far, And much more deadly, their endeavours are, Which Jove will fail them in. Telemachus Their purpose is, as he returns to us, To give their sharp steels in a cruel death; Who now is gone to learn, if fame can breathe News of his sire, and will the Pylian shore, And sacred Sparta, in his search explore.” This news dissolv’d to her both knees and heart, Long silence held her ere one word would part, Her eyes stood full of tears, her small soft voice All late use lost; that yet at last had choice Of wonted words, which briefly thus she us’d: “Why left my son his mother? Why refus’d His wit the solid shore, to try the seas, And put in ships the trust of his distress, That are at sea to men unbridled horse, And run, past rule, their far-engagéd course, Amidst a moisture past all mean unstaid? No need compell’d this. Did he it, afraid