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| The poem opens within forty eight days of the arrival of Ulysses |
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| in his dominions. He had now remained seven years in the Island of |
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| Calypso, when the gods assembled in council, proposed the method |
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| of his departure from thence and his return to his native country. |
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| For this purpose it is concluded to send Mercury to Calypso, and |
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| Pallas immediately descends to Ithaca. She holds a conference with |
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| Telemachus, in the shape of Mantes, king of Taphians; in which she |
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| advises him to take a journey in quest of his father Ulysses, to |
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| Pylos and Sparta, where Nestor and Menelaus yet reigned; then, |
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| after having visibly displayed her divinity, disappears. The |
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| suitors of Penelope make great entertainments, and riot in her |
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| palace till night. Phemius sings to them the return of the |
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| Grecians, till Penelope puts a stop to the song. Some words arise |
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| between the suitors and Telemachus, who summons the council to |
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| meet the day following. |
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| The man for wisdom's various arts renown'd, |
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| Long exercised in woes, O Muse! resound; |
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| Who, when his arms had wrought the destined fall |
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| Of sacred Troy, and razed her heaven-built wall, |
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| Wandering from clime to clime, observant stray'd, |
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| Their manners noted, and their states survey'd, |
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| On stormy seas unnumber'd toils he bore, |
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| Safe with his friends to gain his natal shore: |
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| Vain toils! their impious folly dared to prey |
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| On herds devoted to the god of day; |
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| The god vindictive doom'd them never more |
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| (Ah, men unbless'd!) to touch that natal shore. |
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| Oh, snatch some portion of these acts from fate, |
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| Celestial Muse! and to our world relate. |
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| Now at their native realms the Greeks arrived; |
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| All who the wars of ten long years survived; |
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| And 'scaped the perils of the gulfy main. |
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| Ulysses, sole of all the victor train, |
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| An exile from his dear paternal coast, |
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| Deplored his absent queen and empire lost. |
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| Calypso in her caves constrain'd his stay, |
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| With sweet, reluctant, amorous delay; |
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| In vain-for now the circling years disclose |
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| The day predestined to reward his woes. |
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| At length his Ithaca is given by fate, |
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| Where yet new labours his arrival wait; |
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| At length their rage the hostile powers restrain, |
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| All but the ruthless monarch of the main. |
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| But now the god, remote, a heavenly guest, |
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| In AEthiopia graced the genial feast |
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| (A race divided, whom with sloping rays |
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| The rising and descending sun surveys); |
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| There on the world's extremest verge revered |
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| With hecatombs and prayer in pomp preferr'd, |
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| Distant he lay: while in the bright abodes |
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| Of high Olympus, Jove convened the gods: |
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| The assembly thus the sire supreme address'd, |
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| AEgysthus' fate revolving in his breast, |
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| Whom young Orestes to the dreary coast |
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| Of Pluto sent, a blood-polluted ghost. |
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| "Perverse mankind! whose wills, created free, |
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| Charge all their woes on absolute degree; |
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| All to the dooming gods their guilt translate, |
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| And follies are miscall'd the crimes of fate. |
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| When to his lust AEgysthus gave the rein, |
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| Did fate, or we, the adulterous act constrain? |
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| Did fate, or we, when great Atrides died, |
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| Urge the bold traitor to the regicide? |
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| Hermes I sent, while yet his soul remain'd |
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| Sincere from royal blood, and faith profaned; |
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| To warn the wretch, that young Orestes, grown |
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| To manly years, should re-assert the throne. |
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| Yet, impotent of mind, and uncontroll'd, |
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| He plunged into the gulf which Heaven foretold." |
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| "O thou! from whom the whole creation springs, |
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| The source of power on earth derived to kings! |
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| His death was equal to the direful deed; |
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| So may the man of blood be doomed to bleed! |
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| But grief and rage alternate wound my breast |
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| For brave Ulysses, still by fate oppress'd. |
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| Amidst an isle, around whose rocky shore |
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| The forests murmur, and the surges roar, |
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| The blameless hero from his wish'd-for home |
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| A goddess guards in her enchanted dome; |
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| (Atlas her sire, to whose far-piercing eye |
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| The wonders of the deep expanded lie; |
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| The eternal columns which on earth he rears |
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| End in the starry vault, and prop the spheres). |
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| By his fair daughter is the chief confined, |
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| Who soothes to dear delight his anxious mind; |
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| Successless all her soft caresses prove, |
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| To banish from his breast his country's love; |
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| To see the smoke from his loved palace rise, |
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| While the dear isle in distant prospect lies, |
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| With what contentment could he close his eyes! |
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| And will Omnipotence neglect to save |
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| The suffering virtue of the wise and brave? |
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| Must he, whose altars on the Phrygian shore |
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| With frequent rites, and pure, avow'd thy power, |
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| Be doom'd the worst of human ills to prove, |
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| Unbless'd, ahandon'd to the wrath of Jove?" |
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| "Daughter! what words have pass'd thy lips unweigh'd! |
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| (Replied the Thunderer to the martial maid;) |
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| Deem not unjustly by my doom oppress'd, |
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| Of human race the wisest and the best. |
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| Neptune, by prayer repentant rarely won, |
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| Afflicts the chief, to avenge his giant son, |
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| Whose visual orb Ulysses robb'd of light; |
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| Great Polypheme, of more than mortal might? |
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| Him young Thousa bore (the bright increase |
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| Of Phorcys, dreaded in the sounds and seas); |
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| Whom Neptune eyed with bloom of beauty bless'd, |
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| And in his cave the yielding nymph compress'd |
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| For this the god constrains the Greek to roam, |
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| A hopeless exile from his native home, |
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| From death alone exempt - but cease to mourn; |
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| Let all combine to achieve his wish'd return; |
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| Neptune atoned, his wrath shall now refrain, |
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| Or thwart the synod of the gods in vain." |
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| "Father and king adored!" Minerva cried, |
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| "Since all who in the Olympian bower reside |
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| Now make the wandering Greek their public care, |
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| Let Hermes to the Atlantic isle repair; |
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| Bid him, arrived in bright Calypso's court, |
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| The sanction of the assembled powers report: |
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| That wise Ulysses to his native land |
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| Must speed, obedient to their high command. |
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| Meantime Telemachus, the blooming heir |
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| Of sea-girt Ithaca, demands my care; |
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| 'Tis mine to form his green, unpractised years |
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| In sage debates; surrounded with his peers, |
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| To save the state, and timely to restrain |
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| The bold intrusion of the suitor-train; |
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| Who crowd his palace, and with lawless power |
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| His herds and flocks in feastful rites devour. |
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| To distant Sparta, and the spacious waste |
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| Of Sandy Pyle, the royal youth shall haste. |
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| There, warm with filial love, the cause inquire |
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| That from his realm retards his god-like sire; |
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| Delivering early to the voice of fame |
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| The promise of a green immortal name." |
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| She said: the sandals of celestial mould, |
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| Fledged with ambrosial plumes, and rich with gold, |
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| Surround her feet: with these sublime she sails |
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| The aerial space, and mounts the winged gales; |
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| O'er earth and ocean wide prepared to soar, |
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| Her dreaded arm a beamy javelin bore, |
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| Ponderous and vast: which, when her fury burns, |
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| Proud tyrants humbles, and whole hosts o'erturns. |
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| From high Olympus prone her flight she bends, |
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| And in the realms of Ithaca descends, |
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| Her lineaments divine, the grave disguise |
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| Of Mentes' form conceal'd from human eyes |
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| (Mentes, the monarch of the Taphian land); |
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| A glittering spear waved awful in her hand. |
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| There in the portal placed, the heaven-born maid |
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| Enormous riot and misrule survey'd. |
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| On hides of beeves, before the palace gate |
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| (Sad spoils of luxury), the suitors sate. |
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| With rival art, and ardour in their mien, |
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| At chess they vie, to captivate the queen; |
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| Divining of their loves. Attending nigh, |
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| A menial train the flowing bowl supply. |
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| Others, apart, the spacious hall prepare, |
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| And form the costly feast with busy care. |
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| There young Telemachus, his bloomy face |
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| Glowing celestial sweet, with godlike grace |
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| Amid the circle shines: but hope and fear |
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| (Painful vicissitude!) his bosom tear. |
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| Now, imaged in his mind, he sees restored |
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| In peace and joy the people's rightful lord; |
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| The proud oppressors fly the vengeful sword. |
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| While his fond soul these fancied triumphs swell'd, |
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| The stranger guest the royal youth beheld; |
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| Grieved that a visitant so long should wait |
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| Unmark'd, unhonour'd, at a monarch's gate; |
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| Instant he flew with hospitable haste, |
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| And the new friend with courteous air embraced. |
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| "Stranger, whoe'er thou art, securely rest, |
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| Affianced in my faith, a ready guest; |
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| Approach the dome, the social banquet share, |
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| And then the purpose of thy soul declare." |
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| Thus affable and mild, the prince precedes, |
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| And to the dome the unknown celestial leads. |
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| The spear receiving from the hand, he placed |
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| Against a column, fair with sculpture graced; |
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| Where seemly ranged in peaceful order stood |
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| Ulysses' arms now long disused to blood. |
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| He led the goddess to the sovereign seat, |
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| Her feet supported with a stool of state |
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| (A purple carpet spread the pavement wide); |
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| Then drew his seat, familiar, to her side; |
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| Far from the suitor-train, a brutal crowd, |
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| With insolence, and wine, elate and loud: |
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| Where the free guest, unnoted, might relate, |
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| If haply conscious, of his father's fate. |
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| The golden ewer a maid obsequious brings, |
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| Replenish'd from the cool, translucent springs; |
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| With copious water the bright vase supplies |
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| A silver laver of capacious size; |
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| They wash. The tables in fair order spread, |
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| They heap the glittering canisters with bread: |
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| Viands of various kinds allure the taste, |
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| Of choicest sort and savour, rich repast! |
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| Delicious wines the attending herald brought; |
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| The gold gave lustre to the purple draught. |
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| Lured with the vapour of the fragrant feast, |
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| In rush'd the suitors with voracious haste; |
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| Marshall'd in order due, to each a sewer |
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| Presents, to bathe his hands, a radiant ewer. |
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| Luxurious then they feast. Observant round |
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| Gay stripling youths the brimming goblets crown'd. |
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| The rage of hunger quell'd, they all advance |
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| And form to measured airs the mazy dance; |
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| To Phemius was consign'd the chorded lyre, |
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| Whose hand reluctant touch'd the warbling wire; |
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| Phemius, whose voice divine could sweetest sing |
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| High strains responsive to the vocal string. |
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| "Indulge my rising grief, whilst these (my friend) |
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| With song and dance the pompous revel end. |
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| Light is the dance, and doubly sweet the lays, |
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| When for the dear delight another pays. |
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| His treasured stores those cormarants consume, |
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| Whose bones, defrauded of a regal tomb |
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| And common turf, lie naked on the plain, |
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| Or doom'd to welter in the whelming main. |
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| Should he return, that troop so blithe and bold, |
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| With purple robes inwrought, and stiff with gold, |
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| Precipitant in fear would wing their flight, |
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| And curse their cumbrous pride's unwieldy weight. |
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| But ah, I dream!-the appointed hour is fled. |
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| And hope, too long with vain delusion fed, |
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| Deaf to the rumour of fallacious fame, |
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| Gives to the roll of death his glorious name! |
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| With venial freedom let me now demand |
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| Thy name, thy lineage, and paternal land; |
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| Sincere from whence began thy course, recite, |
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| And to what ship I owe the friendly freight? |
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| Now first to me this visit dost thou deign, |
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| Or number'd in my father's social train? |
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| All who deserved his choice he made his own, |
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| And, curious much to know, he far was known." |
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| "My birth I boast (the blue-eyed virgin cries) |
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| From great Anchialus, renown'd and wise; |
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| Mentes my name; I rule the Taphian race, |
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| Whose bounds the deep circumfluent waves embrace; |
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| A duteous people, and industrious isle, |
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| To naval arts inured, and stormy toil. |
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| Freighted with iron from my native land, |
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| I steer my voyage to the Brutian strand |
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| To gain by commerce, for the labour'd mass, |
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| A just proportion of refulgent brass. |
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| Far from your capital my ship resides |
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| At Reitorus, and secure at anchor rides; |
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| Where waving groves on airy Neign grow, |
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| Supremely tall and shade the deeps below. |
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| Thence to revisit your imperial dome, |
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| An old hereditary guest I come; |
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| Your father's friend. Laertes can relate |
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| Our faith unspotted, and its early date; |
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| Who, press'd with heart-corroding grief and years, |
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| To the gay court a rural shed pretors, |
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| Where, sole of all his train, a matron sage |
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| Supports with homely fond his drooping age, |
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| With feeble steps from marshalling his vines |
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| Returning sad, when toilsome day declines. |
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| "With friendly speed, induced by erring fame, |
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| To hail Ulysses' safe return I came; |
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| But still the frown of some celestial power |
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| With envious joy retards the blissful hour. |
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| Let not your soul be sunk in sad despair; |
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| He lives, he breathes this heavenly vital air, |
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| Among a savage race, whose shelfy bounds |
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| With ceaseless roar the foaming deep surrounds. |
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| The thoughts which roll within my ravish'd breast, |
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| To me, no seer, the inspiring gods suggest; |
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| Nor skill'd nor studious, with prophetic eye |
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| To judge the winged omens of the sky. |
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| Yet hear this certain speech, nor deem it vain; |
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| Though adamantine bonds the chief restrain, |
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| The dire restraint his wisdom will defeat, |
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| And soon restore him to his regal seat. |
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| But generous youth! sincere and free declare, |
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| Are you, of manly growth, his royal heir? |
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| For sure Ulysses in your look appears, |
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| The same his features, if the same his years. |
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| Such was that face, on which I dwelt with joy |
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| Ere Greece assembled stemm'd the tides to Troy; |
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| But, parting then for that detested shore, |
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| Our eyes, unhappy? never greeted more." |
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| "Magnificence of old (the prince replied) |
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| Beneath our roof with virtue could reside; |
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| Unblamed abundance crowned the royal board, |
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| What time this dome revered her prudent lord; |
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| Who now (so Heaven decrees) is doom'd to mourn, |
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| Bitter constraint, erroneous and forlorn. |
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| Better the chief, on Ilion's hostile plain, |
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| Had fall'n surrounded with his warlike train; |
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| Or safe return'd, the race of glory pass'd, |
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| New to his friends' embrace, and breathed his last! |
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| Then grateful Greece with streaming eyes would raise, |
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| Historic marbles to record his praise; |
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| His praise, eternal on the faithful stone, |
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| Had with transmissive honour graced his son. |
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| Now snatch'd by harpies to the dreary coast. |
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| Sunk is the hero, and his glory lost; |
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| Vanish'd at once! unheard of, and unknown! |
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| And I his heir in misery alone. |
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| Nor for a dear lost father only flow |
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| The filial tears, but woe succeeds to woe |
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| To tempt the spouseless queen with amorous wiles |
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| Resort the nobles from the neighbouring isles; |
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| From Samos, circled with the Ionian main, |
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| Dulichium, and Zacynthas' sylvan reign; |
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| Ev'n with presumptuous hope her bed to ascend, |
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| The lords of Ithaca their right pretend. |
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| She seems attentive to their pleaded vows, |
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| Her heart detesting what her ear allows. |
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| They, vain expectants of the bridal hour, |
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| My stores in riotous expense devour. |
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| In feast and dance the mirthful months employ, |
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| And meditate my doom to crown their joy." |
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| With tender pity touch'd, the goddess cried: |
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| "Soon may kind Heaven a sure relief provide, |
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| Soon may your sire discharge the vengeance due, |
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| And all your wrongs the proud oppressors rue! |
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| Oh! in that portal should the chief appear, |
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| Each hand tremendous with a brazen spear, |
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| In radiant panoply his limbs incased |
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| (For so of old my fathers court he graced, |
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| When social mirth unbent his serious soul, |
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| O'er the full banquet, and the sprightly bowl); |
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| He then from Ephyre, the fair domain |
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| Of Ilus, sprung from Jason's royal strain, |
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| Measured a length of seas, a toilsome length, in vain. |
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| For, voyaging to learn the direful art |
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| To taint with deadly drugs the barbed dart; |
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| Observant of the gods, and sternly just, |
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| Ilus refused to impart the baneful trust; |
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| With friendlier zeal my father's soul was fired, |
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| The drugs he knew, and gave the boon desired. |
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| Appear'd he now with such heroic port, |
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| As then conspicuous at the Taphian court; |
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| Soon should you boasters cease their haughty strife, |
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| Or each atone his guilty love with life. |
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| But of his wish'd return the care resign, |
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| Be future vengeance to the powers divine. |
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| My sentence hear: with stern distaste avow'd, |
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| To their own districts drive the suitor-crowd; |
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| When next the morning warms the purple east, |
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| Convoke the peerage, and the gods attest; |
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| The sorrows of your inmost soul relate; |
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| And form sure plans to save the sinking state. |
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| Should second love a pleasing flame inspire, |
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| And the chaste queen connubial rights require; |
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| Dismiss'd with honour, let her hence repair |
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| To great Icarius, whose paternal care |
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| Will guide her passion, and reward her choice |
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| With wealthy dower, and bridal gifts of price. |
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| Then let this dictate of my love prevail: |
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| Instant, to foreign realms prepare to sail, |
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| To learn your father's fortunes; Fame may prove, |
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| Or omen'd voice (the messenger of Jove), |
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| Propitious to the search. Direct your toil |
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| Through the wide ocean first to sandy Pyle; |
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| Of Nestor, hoary sage, his doom demand: |
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| Thence speed your voyage to the Spartan strand; |
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| For young Atrides to the Achaian coast |
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| Arrived the last of all the victor host. |
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| If yet Ulysses views the light, forbear, |
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| Till the fleet hours restore the circling year. |
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| But if his soul hath wing'd the destined flight, |
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| Inhabitant of deep disastrous night; |
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| Homeward with pious speed repass the main, |
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| To the pale shade funereal rites ordain, |
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| Plant the fair column o'er the vacant grave, |
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| A hero's honours let the hero have. |
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| With decent grief the royal dead deplored, |
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| For the chaste queen select an equal lord. |
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| Then let revenge your daring mind employ, |
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| By fraud or force the suitor train destroy, |
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| And starting into manhood, scorn the boy. |
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| Hast thou not heard how young Orestes, fired |
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| With great revenge, immortal praise acquired? |
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| His virgin-sword AEgysthus' veins imbrued; |
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| The murderer fell, and blood atoned for blood. |
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| O greatly bless'd with every blooming grace! |
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| With equal steps the paths of glory trace; |
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| Join to that royal youth's your rival name, |
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| And shine eternal in the sphere of fame. |
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| But my associates now my stay deplore, |
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| Impatient on the hoarse-resounding shore. |
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| Thou, heedful of advice, secure proceed; |
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| My praise the precept is, be thine the deed. |
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| Abrupt, with eagle-speed she cut the sky; |
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| Instant invisible to mortal eye. |
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| Then first he recognized the ethereal guest; |
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| Wonder and joy alternate fire his breast; |
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| Heroic thoughts, infused, his heart dilate; |
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| Revolving much his father's doubtful fate. |
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| At length, composed, he join'd the suitor-throng; |
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| Hush'd in attention to the warbled song. |
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| His tender theme the charming lyrist chose. |
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| Minerva's anger, and the dreadful woes |
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| Which voyaging from Troy the victors bore, |
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| While storms vindictive intercept the store. |
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| The shrilling airs the vaulted roof rebounds, |
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| Reflecting to the queen the silver sounds. |
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| With grief renew'd the weeping fair descends; |
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| Their sovereign's step a virgin train attends: |
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| A veil, of richest texture wrought, she wears, |
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| And silent to the joyous hall repairs. |
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| There from the portal, with her mild command, |
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| Thus gently checks the minstrel's tuneful hand: |
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| "Why, dearest object of my duteous love, |
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| (Replied the prince,) will you the bard reprove? |
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| Oft, Jove's ethereal rays (resistless fire) |
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| The chanters soul and raptured song inspire |
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| Instinct divine? nor blame severe his choice, |
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| Warbling the Grecian woes with heart and voice; |
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| For novel lays attract our ravish'd ears; |
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| But old, the mind with inattention hears: |
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| Patient permit the sadly pleasing strain; |
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| Familiar now with grief, your tears refrain, |
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| And in the public woe forget your own; |
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| You weep not for a perish'd lord alone. |
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| What Greeks new wandering in the Stygian gloom, |
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| Wish your Ulysses shared an equal doom! |
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| Your widow'd hours, apart, with female toil |
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| And various labours of the loom beguile; |
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| There rule, from palace-cares remote and free; |
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| That care to man belongs, and most to me." |
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| Meantime, rekindled at the royal charms, |
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| Tumultuous love each beating bosom warms; |
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| Intemperate rage a wordy war began; |
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| But bold Telemachus assumed the man. |
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| "Instant (he cried) your female discord end, |
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| Ye deedless boasters! and the song attend; |
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| Obey that sweet compulsion, nor profane |
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| With dissonance the smooth melodious strain. |
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| Pacific now prolong the jovial feast; |
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| But when the dawn reveals the rosy east, |
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| I, to the peers assembled, shall propose |
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| The firm resolve, I here in few disclose; |
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| No longer live the cankers of my court; |
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| All to your several states with speed resort; |
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| Waste in wild riot what your land allows, |
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| There ply the early feast, and late carouse. |
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| But if, to honour lost, 'tis still decreed |
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| For you my bowl shall flow, my flock shaIl bleed; |
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| Judge and revenge my right, impartial Jove! |
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| By him and all the immortal thrones above |
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| (A sacred oath), each proud oppressor slain, |
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| Shall with inglorious gore this marble stain." |
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| Thus he, though conscious of the ethereal guest, |
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| Answer'd evasive of the sly request. |
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| Meantime the lyre rejoins the sprightly lay; |
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| Love-dittied airs, and dance, conclude the day |
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| But when the star of eve with golden light |
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| Adorn'd the matron brow of sable night, |
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| The mirthful train dispersing quit the court, |
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| And to their several domes to rest resort. |
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| A towering structure to the palace join'd; |
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| To this his steps the thoughtful prince inclined: |
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| In his pavilion there, to sleep repairs; |
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| The lighted torch, the sage Euryclea bears |
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| (Daughter of Ops, the just Pisenor's son, |
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| For twenty beeves by great Laertes won; |
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| In rosy prime with charms attractive graced, |
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| Honour'd by him, a gentle lord and chaste, |
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| With dear esteem: too wise, with jealous strife |
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| To taint the joys of sweet connubial life. |
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| Sole with Telemachus her service ends, |
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| A child she nursed him, and a man attends). |
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| Whilst to his couch himself the prince address'd, |
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| The duteous dame received the purple vest; |
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| The purple vest with decent care disposed, |
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| The silver ring she pull'd, the door reclosed, |
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| The bolt, obedient to the silken cord, |
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| To the strong staple's inmost depth restored, |
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| Secured the valves. There, wrapped in silent shade, |
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| Pensive, the rules the goddess gave he weigh'd; |
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| Stretch'd on the downy fleece, no rest he knows, |
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| And in his raptured soul the vision glows. |
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