There while the wild winds whistled o er the main. Thus careful I address'd the listening train.

380

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471

475

With speed the bark we climb; the spacious sails
Loosed from the yards invite the impelling gales.
Past sight of shore, along the surge we bound,
And all above is sky, and ocean all around;
When lo! a murky cloud the Thunderer forms
Full o'er our heads, and blackens heaven with storms.
Night dwells o'er all the deep: and now outflies
The gloomy West, and whistles in the skies.
The mountain-billows roar! the furious blast
Howls o'er the shroud, and rends it from the mast: 480
The mast gives way, and crackling as it bends,
Tears up the deck; and all at once descends;
The pilot by the tumbling ruin slain,
Dash'd from the helm, falls headlong in the main
Then Jove in anger bids his thunders roll,
And forky lightnings flash from pole to pole:
395 Fierce at our heads his deadly bolt he aims,
Red with uncommon wrath, and wrapt in flames :
Full on the bark it fell; now high, now low,
Toss'd and re-toss'd, it reel'd beneath the blow;
At once into the main the crew it shook:
400 Sulphureous odours rose, and smouldering smoke.
Like fowl that haunt the floods, they sink, they rise,
Now lost, now seen, with shrieks and dreadful cries,
And strive to gain the bark; but Jove denies.
Firm at the helm I stand, when fierce the main

O friends, be wise! nor dare the flocks destroy
Of these fair pastures: if ye touch, ye die.
Warn'd by the high command of heaven, be awed;
Holy the flocks, and dreadful is the god!
That god who spreads the radiant beams of light,
And views wide earth and heaven's unmeasured height.
And now the moon had run her monthly round,
The south-east blustering with a dreadful sound:
Unhurt the beeves, untouch'd the woolly train
Low through the grove, or range the flowery plain: 390
Then fail'd our food; then fish we make our prey,
Or fowl that screaming haunt the watry way.
Till now, from sea or food no succour found,
Famine and meagre want besieged us round.
Pensive and pale from grove to grove I stray'd,
From the loud storms to find a sylvan shade;
There o'er my hands the living wave I pour;
And heaven and heaven's immortal thrones adore,
To calm the roarings of the stormy main,
And grant ine peaceful to my realins again.
Then o'er my eyes the gods soft slumber shed,
While thus Eurylochus arising said.

O friends, a thousand ways frail mortals lead
To the cold tomb, and dreadful all to tread;
But dreadful most, when by a slow decay
Pale hunger wastes the manly strength away.
Why cease ye then to implore the powers above
And offer hecatombs to thundering Jove?
Why seize ye not yon beeves, and fleecy prey?
Arise unanimous; arise and slay!
And if the gods ordain a safe return,

To Phoebus shrines shall rise, and altars burn.
But, should the powers that o'er mankind preside
Decree to plunge us in the whelming tide,
Better to rush at once to shades below,
Tnan linger life away, and nourish woe!

Thus he the beeves around securely stray,
When swift to ruin they invade the prey;
They seize, they kill!-but for the rite divine,
The barley fail'd, and for libations wine.
Swift from the oak they strip the shady pride;
And verdant leaves the flowery cake supplied.
With prayer they now address the etherial train,
Slay the selected beeves, and flay the slain :
The thighs, with fat involved, divide with art,
Strew'd o'er with inorsels cut from every part.
Water, instead of wine, is brought in urns,
And pour'd profanely as the victim burns.

he thighs thus offer'd, and the entrails dress'd,
They roast the fragnients, and prepare the feast.
'Twas then soft slumber fled my troubled brain;
Back to the bark I speed along the main.
When lo! an odour from the feast exhales,
Spreads o'er the coast, and scents the tainted gales;
A chilly fear congeal'd my vital blood,
And thus, obtesting heaven, I mourn'd aloud.

O sire of men and gods, immortal Jove!
O all ye blissful powers that reign above!
Why were my cares beguiled in short repose?
O fatal slumber, paid with lasting woes!
A deed so dreadful all the gods alarms,
Vengeance is on the wing, and heaven in arms!
Meantime Lampetie mounts the aërial way,
And kindles into rage the god of day:

495

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495

405 Rush'd with dire noise, and dash'd the sides in twain;
Again impetuous drove the furious blast,
Snapt the strong helm, and bore to sea the mast
Firm to the mast with cords the helm I bind,
And ride aloft, to Providence resign'd,

500

410 Through tumbling billows and a war of wind.

Now sunk the West, and now a southern breeze
More dreadful than the tempest, lash'd the seas;
For on the rocks it bore where Scylla raves,
And dire Charybdis rolls her thundering waves.
415 All night I drove; and at the dawn of day,

425

Fast by the rocks beheld the desperate way:
Just when the sea within her gulfs subsides,
And in the roaring whirlpools rush the tides.
Swift from the float I vaulted with a bound,
420 The lofty fig-tree seized, and clung around:
So to the beam the bat tenacious clings,
And pendant round it clasps his leathern wings.
High in the air the tree its boughs display'd,
And o'er the dungeon cast a dreadful shade,
All unsustain'd between the wave and sky,
Beneath my feet the whirling billows fly,
What time the judge forsakes the noisy bar
To take repast, and stills the wordy war;
Charybdis rumbling from her inmost caves,
430 The mast refunded on her refluent waves.
Swift from the tree, the floating mast to gain,
Sudden I dropp'd amidst the flashing main;
Once more undaunted on the ruin rode,
And oar'd with labouring arms along the flood.
Unseen I pass'd by Scylla's dire abodes:
So Jove de reed (dread sire of nien and gods),
Then nine long days I plough'd the caliner seas,
Heaved by the surge, and wafted by the breeze.
Weary and wet the Ogygian shores I gain,
440 When the tenth sun descended to the main.
There, in Calypso's ever-fragrant bowers,
Refresh'd I lay, and joy beguiled the hours.
My following fates to thee, O king, are known,
And the bright partner of thy royal throne.
Enough: in misery can words avail?
And what so tedious as a twice-told tale?

435

446

Vengeance, ye powers (he cries), and thou whose hand
Ains the red bolt, and hurls the writhen brand!
Slain are those herds which I with pride survey,
When through the ports of heaven I pour the day,
Or deep in ocean plunge the burning ray,
Vengeance, ye gods! or I the skies forego,
And bear the lamp of heaven to shades below.

450

To whom the thundering Power: O source of day! Whose radiant lamp adorns the azure way,

505

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515

520

525

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535

Still inay thy beams through heaven's bright portals rise,
The joy of earth, and glory of the skies;

455

Lo! my red arm I bare, my thunders guide,
To dash the offenders in the whelming tide.

To fair Calypso, from the bright abodes,

Hermes convey'd these counsels of the gods.

Meantime from man to man my tongue exclains, 460 Ulysses takes leave of Alcinous and Arcte, und

embarks in the evening. Next morning the ship arrives at Ithaca; where the sailors as Ulysses is yet sleeping, lay him on the shore with all his treasures. On their return, Neptune changes their ship into a rock. In the meantime Ulysses awak. ing, knows not his native Ithaca, by reason of a mist which Pallas hud cast round him. He breaks into loud lamentations; till the goddess appearing to him in the form of a shepherd, discovers the country to him, and points out the particular places

He then tells a feigned story of his adventures, upon which she manifests herself, and they consult together of the measures to be taken to destroy the suitors. To conceal his return, and disguise his person the more effectually, she changes him into the figure of an old beggar.

BOOK XIII.

HE ceased; but left so pleasing on their ear
His voice, that listening still they seem'd to hear.
A pause of silence hush'd the shady rooms:
The grateful conference then the king resumes.
Whatever toils the great Ulysses pass'd,
Beneath this happy roof they end at last;
No longer now from shore to shore to roam,
Smooth seas and sentle winds invite him home.
But hear me, princes! whom these walls inclose,
For whom my chanter sings, and goblet flows
With wine unmix'd (an honour due to age,
To cheer the grave, and warm the poet's rage);
Though labour'd gold and many a dazzling vest
Lie heap'd already for our godlike guest;
Without new treasures let him not remove,
Large, and expressive of the public love:
Each peer a tripod, each a vase bestow,

A general tribute, which the state shall owe.

Sent by Aicinous; of Aretè's train
Three chosen maids attended him to the main ;
This does a tunic and white vest convey,
A various casket that, of rich inlay,
And bread and wine the third. The cheerful mates
Safe in the hollow poop dispose the cates:
Upon the deck soft painted robes they spread,
With linen cover'd, for the hero's bed.
He climb'd the lofty stern; then gently press'd
The swelling couchi, and lay composed to rest.
Now placed in order, the Phæacian train
Their cables loose, and launch into the main:
At once they bend, and strike their equal oars,
And leave the sinking hills and lessening shores.
While on the deck the chief in silence lies,

5 And pleasing slumbers steal upon his eyes.
As fiery coursers in the rapid race
Urged by fierce drivers through the dusty space,
Toss their high heads, and scour along the plain;
So mounts the bounding vessel o'er the main.
10 Back to the stern the parted billows flow,
And the black ocean foams and roars below.
Thus with spread sails the winged galley flies;
Less swift an eagle cuts the liquid skies;
Divine Ulysses was her sacred load,

15 A man, in wisdom equal to a god!

This sentence pleased: then all their steps address'd
To separate mansions, and retired to rest.

Now did the rosy-finger'd morn arise,
And shed her sacred light along the skies.
Down to the haven and the ships in haste
They bore the treasures, and in safety placed.
The king himself the vases ranged with care;
Then bade his followers to the feast repair.
A victim ox beneath the sacred hand

Of great Alcinous falls, and stains the sand.
To Jove the Eternal (power above all powers!

31

90

95

100

105

Much danger, long and mighty toils he bore,
In storms by sea, and combats on the shore:

All which soft sleep now banish'd from his breast,
Wrapt in a pleasing, deep, and death-like rest.
But when the morning star with early ray
Flamed in the front of heaven, and promised day;
Like distant clouds the mariner descries
Fair Ithaca's emerging hills arise.
Far from the town a spacious port appears,

110

115

25 Sacred to Phorcy's power, whose name it bears.
Two craggy rocks projecting to the main.
The roaring wind's tempestuous rage restrain;
Within the waves in softer murmurs glide,
And ships secure without their balsers ride.
High at the head, a branching olive grows,
And crowns the pointed cliffs with shady boughs.
Beneath, a gloomy grotto's cool recess
Delights the Nereids of the neighbouring seas,
Where bowls and urns were form'd of living stone,
35 And massy beams in native marble shone;
On which the labours of the nymphs were roll'd,
Their webs divine of purple mix'd with gold.
Within the cave the clustering bees attend
Their waxen works, or from the roof depend.
40 Perpetual waters o'er the pavement glide:
Two marble doors unfold on either side;
Sacred the south, by which the gods descend;
But mortals enter at the northern end.

4

Who wings the winds, and darkens heaven with showers)
The flames ascend: till evening they prolong
The rites more sacred made by heavenly song:
For in the midst, with public honours graced
Thy lyre divine, Demodocus! was placed.
All, but Ulysses, heard with fix'd delight:
He sate, and eyed the sun, and wish'd the night:
Slow seem'd the sun to move, the hours to roll
His native home deep-imaged in his soul.
As the tired ploughman spent with stubborn toil,
Whose oxen long have torn the furrow'd soil,
Sees with delight the sun's declining ray,
When home with feeble knees he bends his way
To late repast (the day's hard labour done):
So to Ulysses welcome set the sun;
Then instant to Alcinoüs and the rest
(The Scheran states) he turn'd, and thus address'd,
O thou the first in merit and command!
And you the peers and princes of the land
May every joy be yours! nor this the least,
When due libation shall have crown'd the feast,
Sate to my home to send your happy guest.
Complete are now the bounties you have given,
Be all those bounties but confirm'd by heaven!
So may I find, when all my wanderings cease,
My consort blameless, and my friends in peace.
On you be every bliss; and every day,
In home-felt joys, delighted roll away:
Yourselves, your wives, your long-descending race,
May every god enrich with every grace!
Sure fix'd on Virtue may your nation stand,
And public evil never touch the land!

His words well weigh'd, the general voice approved
Benign, and instant his dismission moved.
The monarch to Pontonous gave the sign,
To fill the goblet high with rosy wine:
Great Jove the Father first (he cried) implore ;
Then send the stranger to his native shore.

The luscious wine the obedient herald brought:
Around the mansions flow'd the purple draught:
Each from his seat to each immortal pours,
Whom glory circles in the Olympian bowers.
Ulysses sole with air majestic stands,
The bowl presenting to Aretè's hands;
Then thus: O queen, farewell! be still possess'd
Of dear remembrance, blessing still and bless'd
Fill age and death shall gently call thee hence,
(Sure fate of every mortal excellence !)
Farewell! and joys successive ever spring
To thee, to thine, the people, and the king!
Thus he; then parting prints the sandy shore
To the fair port: a herald march d before,

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125

130

135

Ulysses sleeping on his couch they bore,
And gently placed him on the rocky shore.
His treasures next, Alcinoüs' gifts, they laid
In the wild olive's unfrequented shade,

Thither they bent, and haul'd their ship to land (The crooked keel divides the yellow sand);

50 Secure from theft; then launch'd the bark again,
Resumed their oars, and measured back the main
Nor yet forgot old Ocean's dread supreme-
The vengeance vow'd for eyeless Polypheme.
Before the throne of mighty Jove he stood
55 And sought the secret counsels of the god.

;

140

145

5

160

60

70

Shall then no inore, O sire of gods! be mine
The rights and honours of a power divine?
Scorn'd even by man, and (oli severe disgrace!
By soft Phæacians, my degenerate race!
Against yon destined head in vain I swore,
And menaced vengeance, ere he reach'd his shore:
To reach his natal shore was thy decree;
Mild I obey'd, for who shall war with thee?
Behold him landed careless and asleep,
65 From all the eluded dangers of the deep;
Lo where he lies, amidst a shining store
Of brass, rich garments, and refulgent ore
And bears triumphant to his native isle
A prize more worth than Ilion's noble spoil.
To whom the Father of the immortal powers,
Who swells the clouds, and gladdens earth with showers.
Can mighty Neptune thus of man complain?
Neptune, tremendous o'er the boundless main!
Revered and awful even in heaven's abodes,

150

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180

Sighs for his country, and laments again
175 To the deaf rocks, and hoarse-resounding main.
When lo the guardian goddess of the wise,
Celestial Pallas, stood before his eyes;
In show a youthful swain, of forin divine,
Who seem'd descended from some princely line.
A graceful robe her slender body dress'd:
Around her shoulders flew the waving vest,
Her decent hand a shining javelin bore,
And painted sandals on her feet she wore.
To whom the king: Whoe'er of human race
Thou art, that wander'st in this desert place!
With joy to thee, as to some god, I bend,
To thee my treasures and niyself commend.
O tell a wretch in exile dooni'd to stray,
What air I breathe, what country I survey?
190 The fruitful continent's extremest bound,

To warn the thoughtless self-confiding train,
No more unlicensed thus to brave the main.
Full in their port a shady hill shall rise,
If such thy will.-We will it, Jove replies.
Even when with transport blackening all the strand,
The swarming people hail their ship to land,
Fix her for ever, a memorial stone:
Still let her seem to sail, and seem alone:
The trembling crowds shall see the sudden shade
Of whelming mountains overhang their head!
With that the god whose earthquakes rock the ground,
Fierce to Phæacia cross'd the vast profound.
185
Swift as a swallow sweeps the liquid way,
The winged pinnace shot along the sea.
The god arrests her with a sudden stroke,
And roots her down an everlasting rock.
Aghast the Scherians stand in deep surprise;
All press to speak, all question with their eyes.
What hands unseen the rapid bark restrain!
And yet it swims, or seems to swim, the main !
Thus they, unconscious of the deed divine:
Till great Alcinoüs rising own'd the sign.

195

Or some fair isle which Neptune's arms surround?
From what far clime (said she) remote from fame
Arrivest thou here a stranger to our name?
Thou seest an island, not to those unknown
Whose hills are brighten'd by the rising sun,
Nor those that placed beneath his utmost reign
Behold him sinking in the western main.
The rugged soil allows no level space
For flying chariots, or the rapid race;
200 Yet, not ungrateful to the peasant's pain,
Suffices fulness to the swelling grain:
The loaded trees their various fruits produce,
And clustering grapes afford a generous juice:
Woods crown our mountains, and in every grove
The bounding goats and frisking heifers rove:
Soft rains and kindly dews refresh the field,
And rising springs eternal verdure yield.
Even to those shores is Ithaca renown'd,
Where Troy's majestic ruins strew the ground.
At this, the chief with transport was possess'd,
His panting heart exulted in his breast:
Yet, well dissembling his untimely joys,
And veiling truth in plausible disguise,
Thus, with an air sincere, in fiction bold,
215 His ready tale the inventive hero told:

Behold the long-predestined day! (he cries);
O certain faith of ancient prophecies!
These ears have heard my royal sire disclose
A dreadful story, big with future woes;
How moved with wrath, that careless we convey
Promiscuous every guest to every bay,
Stern Neptune raged; and how by his command
Firm rooted in the surge a ship should stand
(A monument of wrath); and mound on mound
Should hide our walls, or whelm beneath the ground. 20!
The Fates have follow'd as declared the seer.
Be humbled, nations! and your monarch hear.
No more unlicensed brave the deeps, no more
With every stranger pass from shore to shore:
Ou angry Neptune now for mercy call;
To his high name let twelve black oxen fall.
So may the god reverse his purposed will,
Nor o'er our city hang the dreadful hill.

The monarch spoke: they trembled and obey'd.
Forth on the sands the victim oxen led:
The gather'd tribes before the altars stand,
And chiefs and rulers, a majestic band.
The king of ocean all the tribes implore;
The blazing altars redden all the shore.
Meanwhile Ulysses in his country lay,

Released from sleep, and round him might survey
The solitary shore and rolling sea.
Yet had his mind through tedious absence lost
The dear resemblance of his native coast;
Besides, Minerva, to secure her care,
Diffused around a veil of thicken'd air:
For so the gods ordain'd, to keep unseen
His royal person from his friends and queen;
Till the proud suitors for their crimes afford
An ample vengeance to their injured lord.

Now all the land another prospect bore,
Another port appear'd, another shore,
And long-continued ways, and winding floods.

210

Oft have I heard in Crete, this island's name:
For 'twas from Crete my native soil I came,
Self-banish'd thence. I sail'd before tl.e wind,
And left my children and my friends behind
220 From fierce Idomeneus' revenge I flew,

225

Whose son, the swift Orsilochus, I slew
(With brutal force he seized my Trojan prey,
Due to the toils of many a bloody day).
Unseen I 'scaped, and, favour'd by the night,
In a Phoenician vessel took my flight,
For Pyle or Elis bound: but tempests toss'd
And raging billows drove us on your coast.
In dead of night an unknown port we gain'd,
Spent with fatigue, and slept secure on land.
230 But ere the rosy morn renew'd the day,

235

And unknown mountains, crown'd with unknown woods.
Pensive and slow, with sudden grief oppress'd
The king arose, and beat his careful breast,
Cast a long look o'er all the coast and main,
And sought, around, his native realm in vain:
Then with erected eyes stood fix'd in woe,
And as he spoke, the tears began to flow.

Ye gods, he cried, upon what barren coast,
In what new region, is Ulysses toss'd?
Possess'd by wild barbarians, fierce in arnis?
Or men whose bosom tender pity warms?
Where shall this treasure now in safety lie?
And whither, whither its sad owner fly?
Ah why did I Alcinoüs' grace implore?
Ah why forsake Phæacia's happy shore?
Some juster prince perhaps had entertain'd,
And safe restored me to my native land.
Is this the promised, long-expected coast,
And this the faith Phæacia's rulers boast?
Oh righteous gods! of all the great, how few
Are just to heaven, and to their promise true!
But he, the power to whose all-seeing eyes
The deeds of men appear without disguise,
Tis his alone to avenge the wrongs I bear:
For still the oppress'd are his peculiar care.
To count these presents, and from thence to prove
Their faith, is mine: the rest belongs to Jove.
Then on the sands he ranged his wealthy store,
The gold, the vests, the tripods number'd o'er:
All these he found, but still in error lost
Disconsolate he wanders on the coast,

While in the embrace of pleasing sleep I lay,
Sudden, invited by auspicious gales,
They land my goods, and hoist their flying sails.
Abandon'd here, my fortune I deplore,
A hapless exile on a foreign shore.

Thus while he spoke, the blue-eyed niaid began
With pleasing smiles to view the godlike man:
Then changed her form: and now, divinely bright,
Jove's heavenly daughter stood confess'd to sight;

240 Like a fair virgin in her beauty's bloom,
Skill'd in the illustrious labours of the loom.
O still the same Ulysses! she rejoin'd,
In useful craft successfully refined!
Artful in speech, in action,, and in mind!
245 Sufficed it not, that, thy long labours past,
Secure thou seest thy native shore at last?
But this to me? who, like thyself, excel
In arts of counsel, and dissembling well:
To me? whose wit exceeds the powers divine,
250 No less than mortals are surpass'd by thine.

265

270

275

280

285

Know'st thou not me? who made thy life my care,
Through ten years' wandering, and through ten years'

war;

Who taught thee arts, Alcinoüs to persuade,

255 To raise his wonder and engage his aid;

And now appear, thy treasures to protect,
Conceal thy person, thy designs direct,
And tell what more thou must from Fate expect,
Domestic woes far heavier to be borne !

260

The pride of fools and slaves' insulting scorn.

But thou be silent, nor reveal thy state;

Yield to the force of unresisted fate,

And bear unmoved the wrongs of base mankind,
The last, and hardest, conquest of the mind.

Goddess of wisdom! Ithacus replies,
He who discerns thee must be truly wise,
So seldom view'd, and ever in disguise!
When the bold Argives led their warring powers,
A gainst proud Ilion's well-defended towers;
Ulysses was thy care, celestial maid!

Graced with thy sight, and favour'd with thy aid.
But when the Trojan piles in ashes lay,
And bound for Greece we plough'd the watry way;
Our fleet dispersed and driven from coast to coast,
Thy sacred presence from that hour I lost;
Till I beheld thy radiant form once miere,
And heard thy counsels on Phæacia's shore.
But, by the alınighty author of thy race,
Tell me, oh tell, is this my native place?
For much I fear, long tracts of land and sca
Divide this coast from distant Ithaca ;
The sweet delusion kindly you impose,
To soothe my hopes, and mitigate my woes.

Thus he. The blue-eyed goddess thus replies.
How prone to doubt, how cautious are the wise!
Who, versed in fortune, fear the flattering show,
And taste not half the bliss the gods bestow.
The more shall Pallas aid thy just desires,
And guard the wisdom which herself inspires.
Others, long absent from their native place,
Straight seek their home, and fly with eager pace
To their wives' arms, and children's dear embrace.
Not thus Ulysses: he decrees to prove

His subjects' faith, and queen's suspected love;
Who mourn'd her lord twice ten revolving years,
And wastes the days in grief, the nights in tears.
But Pallace knew (thy friends and navy lost)
Once more 'twas given thee to behold thy coast:
Yet how could I with adverse Fate engage,
And mighty Neptune's unrelenting rage?
Now lift thy longing eyes, while I restore
The pleasing prospect of thy native shore.
Behold the port of Phorcys! fenced around
With rocky mountains, and with olives crown'd.
Behold the gloomy grot! whose cool recess
Delights the Nereids of the neighbouring seas:
Whose now-neglected altars in thy reign
Blush'd with the blood of sheep and oxen slain.
Behold where Neritus the clouds divides,
And shakes the waving forests on his sides.

So spake the goddess; and the prospect clear'd,
The mists dispersed, and all the coast appear'd.
The king with joy confess'd his place of birth,
And on his knees salutes his mother earth:
Then, with his suppliant hands upheld in air,
Thus to the sea-green sisters sends his prayer.

All hail! ye virgin daughters of the main !
Ye streams, beyond my hopes beheld again!
To you once more your own Ulysses bows;
Attend his transports, and receive his vows!
If Jove prolong my days, and Pallas crown
The growing virtues of my youthful son,
To you shall rites divine be ever paid,
And grateful offerings on your altars laid.

Thus then Minerva. From that anxious breast
Dismiss those cares, and leave to heaven the rest.
Our task be now thy treasured stores to save,
Deep in the close recesses of the cave:
Then future means consult-She spoke, and trod
The shady grot, that brighten'd with the god.
The closest caverns of the grot she sought;
The gold, the brass, the robes, Ulysses brought;
These in the secret gloom the chief disposed;
The entrance with a rock the goddess closed.
Now, seated in the olive's sacred shade,
Confer the hero and the martial maid.
The goddess of the azure eyes began:
Son of Laërtes! much-experienced man!
The suitor-train thy earliest care demand,
Of that luxurious race to rid the land:

376 Estrange thee from thy own; thy son, thy wife
From the loathed object every sight shall turn,
And the blind suitors their destruction scorn.
Go first the master of thy herds to find,
True to his charge, a loyal swain and kind:
375 For thee he sighs; and to the royal heir
And chaste Penelope extends his care.
At the Coracian rock he now resides,
Where Arethusa's sable water glides ;
The sable water and the copious mast

465

470

380 Swell the fat herd; luxuriant, large repast!
With him rest peaceful in the rural cell,
And all you ask his faithful tongue shall tell.
Me into other realms my cares convey,
To Sparta, still with female beauty gay:
385 For know, to Sparta thy loved offspring came,
To learn thy fortunes from the voice of Fame.
At this the father, with a father's care.
Must he too suffer? he, oh goddess! bear
Of wanderings and of woes a wretched share?
390 Through the wild ocean plough the dangerous way,
And leave his fortunes and his house a prey ?
Why wouldst not thou, oh all-enlighten & mind!
Inform him certain, and protect him, kind?
To whom Minerva. Be thy soul at rest;

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400 But lo! an ambush waits his passage o'er;
Fierce foes insidious intercept the shore:
In vain; far sooner all the murderous brood
This injured land shall fatten with their blood.
She spake, ther. touch'd hin. with her powerful wand:

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405 The skin shrunk up, and wither'd at her hand:
A swift old age o'er all his members spread;
A sudden frost was sprinkled on his head;
Nor longer in the heavy eye-ball shined
The glance divine, forth-beaming from the mind.
410 His robe, which spots indelible besmear,
In rags dishonest Butters with the air:
A stag's torn bide is lapt around his reins;
A rugged staff his trembling hand sustains;
And at his side a wretched scrip was hung,
415 Wide-patch'd, and knotted to a twisted thong.
So look'd the chief, so moved to mortal eyes
Object uncouth! a man of miseries!
While Pallas, cleaving the wide fields of air.
To Sparta flies, Telemachus her care.

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435

Three years thy house their lawless rule has seen,
And proud addresses to the matchless queen.
But she thy absence mourns from day to day,
And inly bleeds, and silent wastes away:
Elusive of the bridal hour, she gives
Fond hopes to all, and all with hopes deceives.
To this Ulysses. Oh, celestial maid!
Praised be thy counsel, and thy timely aid:
Else had I seen my native walls in vain,
Like great Atrides, just restored and slain.
Vouchsafe the means of vengeance to debate,
And plan with all thy arts the scene of fate,
Then, then be present, and my soul inspire,
As when we wrapt Troy's heaven-built walls in fire.
Though leagued against me hundred heroes stand, 445
Hundreds shall fall, if Pallas aid my hand.

440

OOK XIV.

ARGUMENT

The Conversation with Eumæus

Ulysses arrives in disguise at the house of Eun.æss where he is received, entertained, and lodged w tr the utmost hospitality. The several discourses of that faithful old servant, with the feigned story told by Ulysses to conceal himself, and other con versations on various subjects, take up this entire book.

BOOK XIV.

BUT he, deep-musing, o'er the mountains stray'd
Through mazy thickets of the woodland shale
And cavern'd ways, the shaggy coast along,
With cliffs and nodding forests overhung:

G

Eumæus at his sylvan lodge he sought,
A faithful servant, and without a fault.
Ulysses found him busied, as he sate
Before the threshold of his rustic gate;
Around, the mansion in a circle shone;
A rural portico of rugged stone

(In absence of his lord, with honest toil

His own industrious hands had raised the pile).

The wall was stone from neighbouring quarries borne
Encircled with a fence of native thorn,

And strong with pales, by many a weary stroke
Of stubborn labour hewn from heart of oak:
Frequent and thick. Within the space were rear'd
Twelve ample cells, the lodgenients of his herd,
Full fifty pregnant females each contain'd;
The males without (a smaller race) remain'd;
Doom'd to supply the suitors' wasteful feast,
A stock by daily luxury decreased;

Now scarce four hundred left. These to defend,
Four savage dogs, a watchful guard, attend.
Here sate Euniæus, and his cares applied

To forin strong buskins of well-season'd hide.
Of four assistants who his labour share,
Three now were absent on the rural care;
The fourth drove victims to the suitor-train:
But he, of ancient faith, a simple swain,
Sigh'd, while he furnish'd the luxurious board,
And wearied heaven with wishes for his lord.
Soon as Ulysses near the inclosure drew,
With open mouths the furious mastiffs flew:
Down sate the sage, and cautious to withstand,
Let fall the offensive truncheon from his hand.
Sudden, the master runs; aloud he calls;
And from his hasty hand the leather falls;
With showers of stones he drives them far away;
The scattering dogs around at distance bay.

Unhappy stranger! (thus the faithful swain
Began with accent gracious and humane)
What sorrow had been mine, if at my gate
Thy reverend age had met a shameful fate.
Enough of woes already have I known;
Enough my master's sorrows and my own.
While here (ungrateful task!) his herds I feed,
Ordain'd for lawless rioters to bleed;
Perhaps, supported at another's board,
Far from his country roams iny hapless lord!
Or sigh'd in exile forth his latest breath,
Now cover'd with the eternal shade of death!
But enter this my homely roof, and see
Our woods not void of hospitality.

Then tell me whence thou art, and what the share
Of woes and wanderings thou wert born to bear?
He said, and, seconding the kind request,
With friendly step precedes his unknown guest.
A shaggy goat's soft hide beneath him spread,
And with fresh rushes heap'd an ample bed:
Joy tonch'd the hero's tender soul, to find
So just reception from a heart so kind;
And, oh, ye gods! with all your blessings grace
(He thus broke forth) this friend of human race!
The swain replied. It never was our guise
To slight the poor, or aught humane despise ;
For Jove unfolds our hospitable door,
"Tis Jove that sends the stranger and the poor.
Little, alas is all the good I can;

A man oppress'd, dependent, yet a man:
Accept such treatment as a swain affords,
Slave to the insolence of youthful lords!
Far hence is by unequal gods removed
That man of bounties, loving and beloved!
To whom whate'er his slave enjoys is owed,
And more, had Fate allow'd had been bestow'd:
But Fate condeun'd him to a foreign shore ;
Much have I sorrow'd, but niy master more.
Now cold he lies, to death's embrace resign'd:
Ah, perish Helen! perish all her kind!
For whose cursed cause, in Agamemnon's name,
He trod so fatally the paths of Faine.

His vest succinct then girding round his waist,
Forth rush'd the swain with hospitable haste.
Straight to the lodgements of his herd he run,
Where the fat porkers slept beneath the sun;
Of two, his cutlass launch'd the spouting blood;
These quarter'd, singed, and fix'd on forks of wood,
All hasty on the hissing coals he threw ;
And, smoking, back the tasteful viands drew,
Broachers and all; then on the board display'd
The ready meal, before Ulysses laid

With flour inbrown'd; next mingled wine yet new,
And luscious as the bees' nectareous dew,

Then sate companion of the friendly feast,

With open look; and thus bespoke his guest.

The best our lords consume; those thoughtless peers,
Rich without bounty, guilty without fears
Yet sure the gods their impious acts detest,

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15

10 And honour justice and the righteous breast.
Pirates and conquerors of harden'd mind,
The foes of peace, and scourges of mankind,
To whom offending men are made a prey
When Jove in vengeance gives a land away;
Even these, when of their ill-got spoils possess'd,
Find sure tormentors in the guilty breast:
Some voice of god close whispering from within,
"Wretch! this is villany, and this is sin."
But these, no doubt, some oracle explore,

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110

Hence springs their confidence, and from our sighs
Their rapine strengthens, and their riots rise:
Constant as Jove the night and day bestows,
Bleeds a whole hecatomb, a vintage flows.

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20 That tells, the great Ulysses is no more.

25 None inatch'd this hero's wealth, of all who reign
O'er the fair islands of the neighbouring main.
Nor all the monarchs whose far-dreaded sway
The wide-extended continents obey :
First, on the main-land, of Ulysses' breed

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30 Twelve herds, twelve flocks, on ocean's margin feed;
As many stalls for shaggy goats are rear'd
As many lodgements for the tusky herd,
Those foreign keepers guard: and here are seen
Twelve herds of goats that graze our utmost green;

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40

35 To native pastors is their charge assign'd,
And mine the care to feed the bristly kind:
Each day the fattest bleeds of either herd,
All to the suitors' wasteful board preferr'd.
Thus he, benevolent: his unknown guest
With hunger keen devours the savoury feast;
While schemes of vengeance ripen in his breast
Silent and thoughtful while the board he eyed,
Eumæus pours on high the purple tide;
The king with smiling looks his joy express'd,
45 And thus the kind inviting host address'd.

Say now, what man is he, the man deplored,
So rich, so potent, whom you style your lord?
Late with such affluence and possessions bless'd,
And now in honour's glorious bed at rest.
50 Whoever was the warrior, he must be

To Fame no stranger, nor perhaps to me;
Who (so the gods, and so the fates ordain'd)
Have wander'd many a sea, and many a land.
Small is the faith the prince and queen ascribe
55 (Replied Eumæus) to the wandering tribe.
For needy strangers still to flattery fly,
And want too oft betrays the tongue to lie.
Each vagrant traveller, that touches here,
Deludes with fallacies the royal ear,

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150

60 To dear remembrance makes his image rise,
And calls the springing sorrows from her eyes,
Such thou may'st be. But he whose name you crave
Moulders in earth, or welters on the wave,
Or food for fish or dogs his relics lie,

155

65 Or torn by birds and scatter'd through the sky
So perish'd he and left (for ever lost)
Much woe to all, but sure to me the most.
So mild a master never shall I find;
Less dear the parents whom I left behind,

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80 The master of his grief, the man of patient mind.
Ulysses, friend! shall view his old abodes
(Distrustful as thou art), nor doubt the gods.
Nor speak I rashly, but with faith averr'd,
And what I speak attesting heaven has heard.
85 If so, a cloak and vesture be my meed:
Till his return no title shall I plead,
Though certain be my news, and great my need.
Who want itself can force untruths to tell,
My soul detests him as the gates of hell.
Thou first be witness, hospitable Jove.
And every god inspiring social love!
And witness every household power that waits
Guard of these fires, and angel of these gates!
Ere the next moon increase, or this decay,,
His ancient realins Ulysses shall survey,

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