“...  Soon as he perceived Long-lost Ulysses nigh, down fell his ears Clapped close, and with his tail glad sign he gave Of gratulation, impotent to rise, And to approach his master as of old.  Ulysses, noting him, wiped off a tear Unmarked. ...  Then his destiny released Old Argus, soon as he had lived to see Ulysses in the twentieth year restored.”

As Ulysses sat eating his portion in the hall, the suitors began to exhibit their insolence to him.  When he mildly remonstrated, one of them, raised a stool and with it gave him a blow.  Telemachus had hard work to restrain his indignation at seeing his father so treated in his own hall, but remembering his father’s injunctions, said no more than what became him as master of the house, though young, and protector of his guests.

Penelope had protracted her decision in favor of either of her suitors so long that there seemed to be no further pretence for delay.  The continued absence of her husband seemed to prove that his return was no longer to be expected.  Meanwhile, her son had grown up, and was able to manage his own affairs.  She therefore consented to submit the question of her choice to a trial of skill among the suitors.  The test selected was shooting with the bow.  Twelve rings were arranged in a line, and he whose arrow was sent through the whole twelve was to have the queen for his prize.  A bow that one of his brother heroes had given to Ulysses in former times was brought from the armory, and with its quiver full of arrows was laid in the hall.  Telemachus had taken care that all other weapons should be removed, under pretence that in the heat of competition there was danger, in some rash moment, of putting them to an improper use.

All things being prepared for the trial, the first thing to be done was to bend the bow in order to attach the string.  Telemachus endeavored to do it, but found all his efforts fruitless; and modestly confessing that he had attempted a task beyond his strength, he yielded the bow to another.  He tried it with no better success, and, amidst the laughter and jeers of his companions, gave it up.  Another tried it and another; they rubbed the bow with tallow, but all to no purpose; it would not bend.  Then spoke Ulysses, humbly suggesting that he should be permitted to try; for, said he, “beggar as I am, I was once a soldier, and there is still some strength in these old limbs of mine.”  The suitors hooted with derision, and commanded to turn him out of the hall for his insolence.  But Telemachus spoke up for him, and, merely to gratify the old man, bade him try.  Ulysses took the bow, and handled it with the hand of a master.  With ease he adjusted the cord to its notch, then fitting an arrow to the bow he drew the string and sped the arrow unerring through the rings.