Pierced through and through the solid gate resounds,

Then to the prince: "Nor have I wrought thee shame;

Nor err'd this hand unfaithful to its aim;

Nor prov'd the toil too hard; nor have I lost

That ancient vigour, once my pride and boast.

Ill I deserved these haughty peers' disdain;

Now let them comfort their dejected train,

In sweet repast their present hour employ,

Nor wait till evening for the genial joy:

Then to the lute's soft voice prolong the night;

Music, the banquet's most refined delight."

He said, then gave a nod; and at the word

Telemachus girds on his shining sword.

Fast by his father's side he takes his stand:

The beamy javelin lightens in his hand.

544

The Odyssey of Homer