“Well said!” cried all the suitors, “and we agree to it. Hand us the bow, Telemachus, and let us make the trial.”
First Antinous took the bow in his hands, and struggled long to bend it. Then, losing patience, he threw it upon the ground and strode away. “None but a giant can string a bow like that,” he said.
Then, one by one, the other suitors made trial of their strength; but all in vain.
“Perhaps the old beggar who has just had his feet washed would like to take a part in this contest,” said Agelaus, with a sneer.
Then Ulysses in his beggar’s rags rose from his seat and went with halting steps to the head of the hall. He lifted the great bow and looked with fond recollection at its polished back and its long, well-shaped arms, stout as bars of iron. “Methinks,” he said, “that in my younger days I once saw a bow like this.”
He took the slender bowstring of rawhide in his fingers. With seeming awkwardness he fumbled long with the bow, seeming unable to bend it.“Enough! enough, old man!” cried Antinous, striking him in the face with his hand. “Drop the bow, and stay no longer in the company of your betters.”
Suddenly a great change came over Ulysses. Without apparent effort he bent the great bow and strung it. Then, rising to his full height, he shook off his beggar’s rags and appeared in his own true likeness, clad in a