High at the head a branching olive grows,
And crowns the pointed cliffs with fhady boughs.
Beneath, a gloomy Grotto's cool recefs,
Delights the Nereids of the neighb'ring feas;
Where bowls and urns were form'd of living stone,
And maffy beams in native marble fhone,
On which the labours of the nymphs were roll'd,
Their webs divine of purple mix'd with gold.
Within the cave, the cluftring bees attend
Their waxen works, or from the roof depend.
Perpetual waters o'er the pavement glide;
Two marble doors unfold on either fide;
Sacred the fouth, by which the Gods defcend,
But mortals enter at the northern end.
Thither they bent, and haul'd their fhip to land,
(The crooked keel divides the yellow fand)
Ulyffes fleeping, on his couch they bore,
And gently plac'd him on the rocky fhore:
His treasures next, Alcinous' gifts, they laid
In the wild olive's unfrequented fhade;
Secure from theft: then launch'd the bark again, And tugg'd their oars, and meafur'd back the main.
Mean while Ulyffes in his country lay, Releas'd from fleep; and round him might furvey The folitary fhore, and rowling fea.
Yet had his mind, thro' tedious abfence, loft
The dear remembrance of his native coaft;
Befides Minerva, to fecure her care,
Diffus'd around a veil of thicken'd air:
For fo the Gods ordain'd, to keep unseen
His royal perfon from his friends and Queen,
Till the proud fuitors, for their crimes, afford
An ample vengeance to her injur'd Lord.
Now all the land another profpect bore,
Another port appear'd, another shore;
And long-continu'd ways, and winding floods,
And unknown mountains,crown'd with unknown woods.
Penfive and flow, with fudden grief opprest,
The King arose, and beat his careful breast,
Cast a long look o'er all the coaft and main,
And fought around his native realm in vain;
Then with erected eyes ftood fix'd in woe,
And, as he spoke, the tears began to flow.
Ye Gods (he cry'd) upon what barren coast, In what new region is Ulyffes toft? Poffefs'd by wild barbarians fierce in arms? Or men, whose bofom tender pity warms? Where shall this treasure now in fafety lie? And whither, whither its fad owner fly? Ah why did I Alcinous' grace implore? Ah why forfake Phaacia's happy fhore? Some jufter prince perhaps had entertain❜d, And safe restor❜d me to my native land. Is this the promis'd, long expected coast; And this the faith Phæacia's rulers boast? Oh righteous Gods! of all the great, how few Are just to heav'n, and to their promise true! But he the pow'r, to whofe all-feeing eyes The deeds of men appear without disguise, 'Tis his alone, t'avenge the wrongs I bear; For still th' opprefs'd are his peculiar care: To count thefe prefents, and from thence to prove Their faith, is mine, the rest belongs to Jove.
Then on the fands he rang'd his wealthy ftore, The gold, the vefts, the tripods number'd o'er ;
All these he found, but ftill, in error loft,
Difconfolate he wanders on the coast:
Sighs for his country; and laments again lodi ro To the deaf rocks, and hoarse-refounding main,loded When lo! the guardian Goddess of the wife, T Celestial Pallas, stood before his eyes; 4.107
In show a youthful fwain, of form divine, tort Y Who seem'd defcended from fome princely line? A graceful robe her flender body dreft,
Around her fhoulders flew the waving veft, b
Her decent hand a fhining javelin bore,
And painted fandals on her feet fhe wore:
To whom the King Whoe'er of human race
Thou art, that wander'ft in this defart place,
With joy to thee, as to fome God, I bend,
To thee my treasures and my felf commend.
O tell a wretch, in exile doom'd to stray,
What air I breath, what country I furvey?
The fruitful continent's extreameft bound,
Or fome fair ifle which Neptune's arms furround?
From what far clime (faid fhe) remote from fame,
Arriv❜st thou here, a stranger to our name?oil!
op 20
Thou feeft an island, not to those unknown,
Whose hills are brighten'd by the rising fun ;
Nor those that plac'd beneath his utmost reign,
Behold him finking in the western main.
The rugged foil allows no level space
For flying chariots, or the rapid race;
Yet not ungrateful to the peafant's pain,
Suffices fulness to the fwelling grain ;
The loaded trees their various fruits produce,
And cluft'ring grapes afford a gen'rous juice;
Woods crown our mountains, and in ev'ry grove
The bounding goats and frisking heifers rove;
Soft rains and kindly dews refresh the field,
And rifing springs eternal verdure yield.
Ev'n to thofe fhores is Ithaca renown'd,
Where Troy's majestic ruins ftrow the ground,
At this, the chief with transport, was possest,
His panting heart exulted in his breast:
Yet well diffembling his untimely joys,
And veiling truth in plausible disguise;
Thus, with an air fincere, in fiction bold,.
His ready tale th' inventive hero told.
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