Page:The Iliad and Odyssey of Homer (IA iliadodysseyofho02home).pdf/419

Book XVII. Haunting, my beeves and sheep and fatted goats Slay for the banquet, and my casks exhaust Extravagant, whence endless waste ensues; For no such friend as was Ulysses once Have I to expel the mischief. But might he Revisit once his native shores again, Then, aided by his son, he should avenge, Incontinent, the wrongs which now I mourn. Then sneezed Telemachus with sudden force, That all the palace rang; his mother laugh'd, And in wing'd accents thus the swain bespake. Haste—bid him hither—hear'st thou not the sneeze Propitious of my son? oh might it prove A presage of inevitable death To all these revellers! may none escape! Now mark me well. Should the event his tale Confirm, at my own hands he shall receive Mantle and tunic both for his reward. She spake; he went, and where Ulysses sat Arriving, in wing'd accents thus began. Penelope, my venerable friend! Calls thee, the mother of Telemachus. Oppress'd by num'rous troubles, she desires To ask thee tidings of her absent Lord. And should the event verify thy report, Thy meed shall be (a boon which much thou need'st) Tunic and mantle; but she gives no more;