Her nap ended, Penelope resumes her conversation with the beggar, telling him she has been favored by a dream portending the death of the suitors.  Still, she realizes there are two kinds of dreams,—­those that come true issuing from Somnus’ palace by the gate of horn, while deceptive dreams pass through an ivory gate.  After providing for the beggar’s comfort, Penelope retires, and as usual spends most of the night mourning for her absent partner.

Book XX. Sleeping beneath the portico on the skins of the animals slain to feast the horde of suitors, Ulysses sees the maids slip out of the palace to join the suitors, who have wooed them surreptitiously.  Then he falls asleep and is visited by Minerva, who infuses new strength and courage in his veins.  At dawn Ulysses is awakened by Telemachus, and soon after the house is once more invaded by the suitors, who with their own hands slay the animals provided for their food.  Once more they display their malevolence by ill treating the beggar, and taunt Telemachus, who apparently pays no heed to their words.

Book XXI. Meantime Minerva has prompted Penelope to propose to the suitors to string Ulysses’ bow and shoot an arrow through twelve rings.  Armed with this weapon, and followed by handmaids bearing bow, string, and arrows, Penelope appears in the banquet-hall, where the suitors eagerly accept her challenge.  But, after Antinous has vainly striven to bend the bow, the others warily try sundry devices to ensure its pliancy.

Meantime, noticing that the swineherd and one of his companions—­upon whose fidelity he counts—­have left the hall, Ulysses follows them, makes himself known by means of his scar, and directs them what to do.  Then, returning into the hall, he silently watches the suitors’ efforts to bend the bow, and, when the last has tried and failed, volunteers to make the attempt, thereby rousing general ridicule.  All gibes are silenced, however, when the beggar not only spans the bow, but sends his first arrow through the twelve rings.  At the same time the faithful servants secure the doors of the apartment, and Telemachus, darting to his father’s side, announces he is ready to take part in the fray.

Book XXII.

  Then fierce the hero o’er the threshold strode;
  Stript of his rags, he blazed out like a god. 
  Full in their face the lifted bow he bore,
  And quiver’d deaths, a formidable store;
  Before his feet the rattling shower he threw,
  And thus, terrific, to the suitor-crew: 
  “One venturous game this hand hath won to-day;
  Another, princes! yet remains to play: 
  Another mark our arrow must attain. 
  Phoebus, assist! nor be the labor vain.” 
  Swift as the word the parting arrow sings;
  And bears thy fate, Antinous, on its wings. 
  Wretch that he was, of unprophetic soul! 
  High in his hands he rear’d the golden bowl: 
  E’en then to drain it lengthen’d