Then she:  “In these thy kingly walls remain
(My son) full fifty of the handmaid train,
Taught by my care to cull the fleece or weave,
And servitude with pleasing tasks deceive;
Of these, twice six pursue their wicked way,
Nor me, nor chaste Penelope obey;
Nor fits it that Telemachus command
(Young as he is) his mother’s female band. 
Hence to the upper chambers let me fly
Where slumbers soft now close the royal eye;
There wake her with the news”—­the matron cried
“Not so (Ulysses, more sedate, replied),
Bring first the crew who wrought these guilty deeds.” 
In haste the matron parts:  the king proceeds;
“Now to dispose the dead, the care remains
To you, my son, and you, my faithfull swains;
The offending females to that task we doom,
To wash, to scent, and purify the room;
These (every table cleansed, and every throne,
And all the melancholy labour done)
Drive to yon court, without the palace wall,
There the revenging sword shall smite them all;
So with the suitors let them mix in dust,
Stretch’d in a long oblivion of their lust.” 
He said:  the lamentable train appear,
Each vents a groan, and drops a tender tear;
Each heaved her mournful burden, and beneath
The porch deposed the ghastly heap of death. 
The chief severe, compelling each to move,
Urged the dire task imperious from above;
With thirsty sponge they rub the tables o’er
(The swains unite their toil); the walls, the floor,
Wash’d with the effusive wave, are purged of gore. 
Once more the palace set in fair array,
To the base court the females take their way;
There compass’d close between the dome and wall
(Their life’s last scene) they trembling wait their fall.

Then thus the prince:  “To these shall we afford
A fate so pure as by the martial sword? 
To these, the nightly prostitutes to shame,
And base revilers of our house and name?”

Thus speaking, on the circling wall he strung
A ship’s tough cable from a column hung;
Near the high top he strain’d it strongly round,
Whence no contending foot could reach the ground. 
Their heads above connected in a row,
They beat the air with quivering feet below: 
Thus on some tree hung struggling in the snare,
The doves or thrushes flap their wings in air. 
Soon fled the soul impure, and left behind
The empty corse to waver with the wind.

Then forth they led Melanthius, and began
Their bloody work; they lopp’d away the man,
Morsel for dogs! then trimm’d with brazen shears
The wretch, and shorten’d of his nose and ears;
His hands and feet last felt the cruel steel: 
He roar’d, and torments gave his soul to hell. 
They wash, and to Ulysses take their way: 
So ends the bloody business of the day.

To Euryclea then address’d the king: 
("Bring hither fire, and hither sulphur bring,
To purge the palace:  then the queen attend,
And let her with her matron-train descend;
The matron-train, with all the virgin-band,
Assemble here, to learn their lord’s command.”