"... Now when they had tidied all the room, They led the women from the well-built hall Between the round-house and the sacred fence About the court, and penned them in a strait Whence there was no escape. Then to the others First spake the wise Telemachus: ‘Now never by a clean death let me take These women’s lives, who on my head have poured Disgrace, and on my mother, and were used To lie beside the suitors.’ Upon the word he tied to a great column The cable of a blue-prowed ship, and slung it About the round-house, stretching it high up So that the feet of none might touch the ground. And, as when thrushes with long wings, or doves Dash right into a snare set in a thicket, When they are making for their rest, and ’tis A cruel bed that takes them, so the women Held in a row their heads, and round the necks Of all were nooses cast, that they might die A death most piteous. With their feet they writhed A little while—not long."