The old woman went out through the room to tell the maids. Then Athena, bright among goddesses, had another thought. She poured sweet sleep over the daughter of Icarius. Penelope sank back and slept, and all her joints were loosed, there on her couch. Meanwhile the bright goddess gave her immortal gifts so the Achaeans would wonder at her.
“Soft sleep covered me in my misery. If only Artemis the pure would give me so soft a death at once, so I need not waste my life away grieving in my heart, longing for my dear husband’s excellence of every kind — for he stood out among the Achaeans.”
She went down from the bright upper room, not alone — two maids went with her. When she came among them she halted at the post of the stout hall, holding her shining veil before her cheeks. A trusted maid stood on either side. The men’s knees went weak with desire. Each prayed he might lie beside her. She spoke to Telemachus, her dear son:
“Telemachus, your mind and purpose are no longer steady as they once were. As a boy you managed better thoughts. Now that you are grown and have reached manhood’s measure — a stranger would say you were a rich man’s son, looking at your size and beauty — your mind and thoughts are no longer right.”
Telemachus answered her with good sense: “Mother, I do not blame your anger. I notice everything and know the good and the bad — I was a child before. Yet I cannot think out everything wisely. These men drive me out of my mind with their evil, and I have no helpers. Even so, this fight between the stranger and Irus did not go as the suitors wished. The stranger proved the stronger.”
So they spoke to each other. Eurymachus then said to Penelope, “Daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope — if all the Achaeans in Ionian Argos could see you, still more suitors would be feasting in your halls from tomorrow on, for you surpass all women in form and stature and in balanced mind.”
Penelope answered with good sense: “Eurymachus, my excellence of face and form the immortals destroyed on the day the Argives sailed for Ilium, and my husband Odysseus with them. If he came back and cared for my life, my fame would be greater and fairer so. Now I grieve. Such is the evil fate a god has laid on me.”
So she spoke. Much-enduring godlike Odysseus was glad that she drew gifts from them and beguiled their hearts with soft words, while her own mind planned otherwise.
Then Antinous son of Eupeithes answered: “Daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, take gifts from any Achaean who wishes to bring them. It is not good to refuse a gift. We will not go back to our own lands or anywhere else until you marry the best man of the Achaeans.”
So he spoke, and the rest agreed. Each man sent a herald for gifts. Antinous’s man brought a great beautiful robe, richly embroidered. On it were twelve brooches of gold, fitted with curved clasps. Eurymachus’s man brought a finely wrought necklace of gold strung with amber, bright as the sun. Eurydamas’s two servants brought earrings with three clustered drops that flashed with grace.