The Odyssey: Book 22

Terror gripped them all, blanched their faces white,
each man glancing wildly—how to escape his instant death?

Only Eurymachus had the breath to venture, "If you,
you're truly Odysseus of Ithaca, home at last,
you're right to accuse these men of what they've done..."

But here he lies,
quite dead, and he incited it all—Antinous—
look, the man who drove us all to crime!

Later we'll recoup
your costs with a tax laid down upon the land,
covering all we ate and drank inside your halls,
and each of us here will pay full measure too—
twenty oxen in value, bronze and gold we'll give
until we melt your heart.

This man will never restrain his hands, invincible hands—
now that he's seized that polished bow and quiver, look,
he'll shoot from the sill until he's killed us all!

This man will never restrain his hands, invincible hands—
now that he's seized that polished bow and quiver, look,
he'll shoot from the sill until he's killed us all!

And even as they conspired, back the goatherd
climbed to the room to fetch more burnished arms...

Odysseus, wily captain,
there he goes again, the infernal nuisance—
just as we suspected—back to the storeroom.

So they left him, trussed in his agonizing sling;
they clapped on armor again, shut the gleaming doors
and ran to rejoin Odysseus, mastermind of war.

Rousing words—
but she gave no all-out turning of the tide, not yet,
she kept on testing Odysseus and his gallant son,
putting their force and fighting heart to proof.

Pisander, Polyctor's son, and Polybus ready, waiting—
head and shoulders the best and bravest of the lot
still left to fight for their lives,
now that the pelting shafts had killed the rest.

And again the suitors hurled their whetted shafts
but Athena sent the better part of the salvo wide—
one of them hit the jamb of the great hall's doors,
another the massive door itself, and the heavy bronze point
of a third ashen javelin crashed against the wall.

And again the suitors hurled their whetted shafts
but Athena sent the better part of the salvo wide—
one of them hit the jamb of the great hall's doors,
another the massive door itself, and the heavy bronze point
of a third ashen javelin crashed against the wall.

Love your mockery, do you? Son of that blowhard Polytherses!
No more shooting off your mouth, you idiot, such big talk—
leave the last word to the gods—they're much stronger!

How hard you must have prayed in my own house
that the heady day of my return would never dawn—
my dear wife would be yours, would bear your children!

Odysseus scanned his house to see if any man
still skulked alive, still hoped to avoid black death.

Fifty women you have inside your house,
women we've trained to do their duties well,
to card the wool and bear the yoke of service.

The women crowded in, huddling all together...
wailing convulsively, streaming live warm tears.

Bring sulfur, nurse, to scour all this pollution—
bring me fire too, so I can fumigate the house.

Odysseus
purged his palace, halls and court, with cleansing fumes.