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Book XVII. Him Euryclea, first, his nurse, perceived, While on the variegated seats she spread Their fleecy cov'ring; swift with tearful eyes She flew to him, and the whole female train Of brave Ulysses swarm'd around his son, Clasping him, and his forehead and his neck Kissing affectionate; then came, herself, As golden Venus or Diana fair, Forth from her chamber to her son's embrace, The chaste Penelope; with tears she threw Her arms around him, his bright-beaming eyes And forehead kiss'd, and with a murmur'd plaint Maternal, in wing'd accents thus began. Thou hast return'd, light of my eyes! my son! My lov'd Telemachus! I had no hope To see thee more when once thou hadst embark'd For Pylus, privily, and with no consent From me obtain'd, news seeking of thy sire. But haste; unfold. Declare what thou hast seen. To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied. Ah mother! let my sorrows rest, nor me From death so lately 'scaped afflict anew, But, bathed and habited in fresh attire, With all the maidens of thy train ascend To thy superior chamber, there to vow A perfect hecatomb to all the Gods, When Jove shall have avenged our num'rous wrongs. I seek the forum, there to introduce