In presence of the num'rous guests, beneath
The portal of the stately dome she stood
Between her maidens, with her lucid veil 260
Mantling her lovely cheeks. Then, ev'ry knee
Trembled, and ev'ry heart with am'rous heat
Dissolv'd, her charms all coveting alike,
While to Telemachus her son she spake.
Telemachus! thou art no longer wise 265
As once thou wast, and even when a child.
For thriven as thou art, and at full size
Arrived of man, so fair proportion'd, too,
That ev'n a stranger, looking on thy growth
And beauty, would pronounce thee nobly born, 270
Yet is thy intellect still immature.
For what is this? why suffer'st thou a guest
To be abused in thy own palace? how?
Know'st not that if the stranger seated here
Endure vexation, the disgrace is thine? 275
Her answer'd, then, Telemachus discrete.
I blame thee not, my mother, that thou feel'st
Thine anger moved; yet want I not a mind
Able to mark and to discern between
Evil and good, child as I lately was, 280
Although I find not promptitude of thought
Sufficient always, overaw'd and check'd
By such a multitude, all bent alike
On mischief, of whom none takes part with me.
But Irus and the stranger have not fought, 285
Urged
