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| The patient heavenly man thus suppliant pray'd; |
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| While the slow mules draws on the imperial maid; |
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| Through the proud street she moves, the public gaze; |
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| The turning wheel before the palace stays. |
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| With ready love her brothers, gathering round, |
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| Received the vestures, and the mules unbound. |
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| She seeks the bridal bower: a matron there |
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| The rising fire supplies with busy care, |
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| Whose charms in youth her father's heart inflamed, |
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| Now worn with age, Eurymedusa named; |
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| The captive dame Phaeacian rovers bore, |
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| Snatch'd from Epirus, her sweet native shore |
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| (A grateful prize), and in her bloom bestow'd |
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| On good Alcinous, honor'd as a god; |
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| Nurse of Nausicaa from her infant years, |
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| And tender second to a mother's cares. |
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| The goddess answer'd: "Father, I obey, |
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| And point the wandering traveller his way: |
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| Well known to me the palace you inquire, |
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| For fast beside it dwells my honour'd sire: |
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| But silent march, nor greet the common train |
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| With question needless, or inquiry vain; |
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| A race of ragged mariners are these, |
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| Unpolish'd men, and boisterous as their seas |
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| The native islanders alone their care, |
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| And hateful he who breathes a foreign air. |
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| These did the ruler of the deep ordain |
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| To build proud navies, and command the main; |
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| On canvas wings to cut the watery way; |
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| No bird so light, no thought so swift as they." |
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| Thus having spoke, the unknown celestial leads: |
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| The footsteps of the duty he treads, |
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| And secret moves along the crowded space, |
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| Unseen of all the rude Phaeacian race. |
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| (So Pallas order'd, Pallas to their eyes |
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| The mist objected, and condensed the skies.) |
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| The chief with wonder sees the extended streets, |
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| The spreading harbours, and the riding fleets; |
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| He next their princes' lofty domes admires, |
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| In separate islands, crown'd with rising spires; |
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| And deep entrenchments, and high walls of stone. |
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| That gird the city like a marble zone. |
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| At length the kingly palace-gates he view'd; |
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| There stopp'd the goddess, and her speech renew'd; |
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| "My task is done: the mansion you inquire |
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| Appears before you: enter, and admire. |
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| High-throned, and feasting, there thou shalt behold |
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| The sceptred rulers. Fear not, but be bold: |
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| A decent boldness ever meets with friends, |
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| Succeeds, and even a stranger recommends |
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| First to the queen prefer a suppliant's claim, |
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| Alcinous' queen, Arete is her name. |
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| The same her parents, and her power the same. |
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| For know, from ocean's god Nausithous sprung, |
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| And Peribaea, beautiful and young |
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| (Eurymedon's last hope, who ruled of old |
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| The race of giants, impious, proud, and bold: |
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| Perish'd the nation in unrighteous war, |
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| Perish'd the prince, and left this only heir), |
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| Who now, by Neptune's amorous power compress'd, |
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| Produced a monarch that his people bless'd, ' |
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| Father and prince of the Phaeacian name; |
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| From him Rhexenor and Alcinous came. |
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| The first by Phoebus' hurtling arrows fired, |
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| New from his nuptials, hapless youth! expired. |
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| No son survived; Arete heir'd his state, |
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| And her, Alcinous chose his royal mate. |
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| With honours yet to womankind unknown. |
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| This queen he graces, and divides the throne; |
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| In equal tenderness her sons conspire, |
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| And all the children emulate their sire. |
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| When through the streets she gracious deigns to move |
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| (The public wonder and the public love), |
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| The tongues of all with transport sound her praise, |
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| The eyes of all, as on a goddess, gaze. |
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| She feels the triumph of a generous breast; |
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| To heal divisions, to relieve the oppress'd; |
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| In virtue rich; in blessing others, bless'd. |
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| (to then secure, thy humble suit prefer |
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| And owe thy country and tby friends to her." |
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|
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| Meanwhile Ulysses at the palace waits, |
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| There stops, and anxious with his soul debates, |
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| Fix'd in amaze before the royal gates. |
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| The front appear'd with radiant splendours gay, |
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| Bright as the lamp of night, or orb of day, |
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| The walls were massy brass: the cornice high |
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| Blue metals crown'd in colours of the sky, |
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| Rich plates of gold the folding doors incase; |
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| The pillars silver, on a brazen base; |
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| Silver the lintels deep-projecting o'er, |
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| And gold the ringlets that command the door. |
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| Two rows of stately dogs, on either hand, |
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| In sculptured gold and labour'd silver stood |
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| These Vulcan form'd with art divine, to wait |
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| Immortal guardians at Alcinous' gate; |
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| Alive each animated frame appears, |
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| And still to live beyond the power of years, |
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| Fair thrones within from space to space were raised, |
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| Where various carpets with embroidery blessed, |
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| The work of matrons: these the princes press'd. |
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| Day following day, a long-continued feast, |
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| Refulgent pedestals the walls surround, |
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| Which boys of gold with illuming torches crown'd; |
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| The polish'd oar, reflecting every ray, |
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| Blazed on the banquets with a double day. |
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| Full fifty handmaids form the household train; |
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| Some turn the mill, or sift the golden grain; |
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| Some ply the loom; their busy fingers move |
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| Like poplar-leaves when Zephyr fans the grove. |
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| Not more renown'd the men of Scheria's isle |
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|
| For sailing arts and all the naval toil, |
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|
| Than works of female skill their women's pride, |
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|
| The flying shuttle through the threads to guide: |
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|
| Pallas to these her double gifts imparts, |
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| Incentive genius, and industrious arts. |
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| Close to the gates a spacious garden lies, |
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|
| From storms defended and inclement skies. |
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|
| Four acres was the allotted space of ground, |
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| Fenced with a green enclosure all around. |
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|
| Tall thriving trees confess'd the fruitful mould: |
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|
| The reddening apple ripens here to gold. |
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|
| Here the blue fig with luscious juice o'erflows, |
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|
| With deeper red the full pomegranate glows; |
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|
| The branch here bends beneath the weighty pear, |
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|
| And verdant olives flourish round the year, |
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|
| The balmy spirit of the western gale |
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|
| Eternal breathes on fruits, unthought to fail: |
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|
| Each dropping pear a following pear supplies, |
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|
| On apples apples, figs on figs arise: |
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|
| The same mild season gives the blooms to blow, |
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|
| The buds to harden, and the fruits to grow. |
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| Such were the glories which the gods ordain'd, |
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| To grace Alcinous, and his happy land. |
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|
| E'en from the chief whom men and nations knew, |
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| The unwonted scene surprise and rapture drew; |
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| In pleasing thought he ran the prospect o'er, |
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| Then hasty enter'd at the lofty door. |
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|
| Night now approaching, in the palace stand, |
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| With goblets crown'd, the rulers of the land; |
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|
| Prepared for rest, and offering to the god |
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|
| Who bears the virtue of the sleepy rod, |
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|
| Unseen he glided through the joyous crowd, |
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|
| With darkness circled, and an ambient cloud. |
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|
| Direct to great Alcinous' throne he came, |
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|
| And prostrate fell before the imperial dame. |
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|
| Then from around him dropp'd the veil of night; |
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|
| Sudden he shines, and manifest to sight. |
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| The nobles gaze, with awful fear oppress'd; |
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| Silent they gaze, and eye the godlike guest. |
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|
| "Daughter of great Rhexenor! (thus began, |
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| Low at her knees, the much-enduring man) |
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| To thee, thy consort, and this royal train, |
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|
| To all that share the blessings of your reign, |
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|
| A suppliant bends: oh pity human woe! |
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|
| 'Tis what the happy to the unhappy owe. |
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|
| A wretched exile to his country send, |
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|
| Long worn with griefs, and long without a friend |
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|
| So may the gods your better days increase, |
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| And all your joys descend on all your race; |
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| So reign for ever on your country's breast, |
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| Your people blessing, by your people bless'd!" |
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| His sage advice the listening king obeys, |
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|
| He stretch'd his hand the prudent chief to raise, |
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|
| And from his seat Laodamas removed |
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| (The monarch's offspring, and his best-beloved); |
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|
| There next his side the godlike hero sate; |
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|
| With stars of silver shone the bed of state. |
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|
| The golden ewer a beauteous handmaid brings, |
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|
| Replenish'd from the cool translucent springs, |
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|
| Whose polish'd vase with copious streams supplies |
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|
| A silver layer of capacious size. |
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|
| The table next in regal order spread, |
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|
| The glittering canisters are heap'd with bread: |
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|
| Viands of various kinds invite the taste, |
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|
| Of choicest sort and savour, rich repast! |
|
|
| Thus feasting high, Alcinous gave the sign, |
|
|
| And bade the herald pour the rosy wine; |
|
|
| "Let all around the due libation pay |
|
|
| To Jove, who guides the wanderer on his way." |
|
|
|
|
| "Princes and peers, attend; while we impart |
|
|
| To you the thoughts of no inhuman heart. |
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|
| Now pleased and satiate from the social rite |
|
|
| Repair we to the blessings of the night; |
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|
| But with the rising day, assembled here, |
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|
| Let all the elders of the land appear, |
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|
| Pious observe our hospitable laws, |
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|
| And Heaven propitiate in the stranger's cause; |
|
|
| Then join'd in council, proper means explore |
|
|
| Safe to transport him to the wished-for shore |
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|
| (How distant that, imports us not to know, |
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|
| Nor weigh the labour, but relieve the woe). |
|
|
| Meantime, nor harm nor anguish let him bear |
|
|
| This interval, Heaven trusts him to our care |
|
|
| But to his native land our charge resign'd, |
|
|
| Heaven's is his life to come, and all the woes behind. |
|
|
| Then must he suffer what the Fates ordain; |
|
|
| For Fate has wove the thread of life with pain? |
|
|
| And twins, e'en from the birth, are Misery and Man! |
|
|
| But if, descended from the Olympian bower, |
|
|
| Gracious approach us some immortal power; |
|
|
| If in that form thou comest a guest divine: |
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|
| Some high event the conscious gods design. |
|
|
| As yet, unbid they never graced our feast, |
|
|
| The solemn sacrifice call'd down the guest; |
|
|
| Then manifest of Heaven the vision stood, |
|
|
| And to our eyes familiar was the god. |
|
|
| Oft with some favour'd traveller they stray, |
|
|
| And shine before him all the desert way; |
|
|
| With social intercourse, and face to face, |
|
|
| The friends and guardians of our pious race. |
|
|
| So near approach we their celestial kind, |
|
|
| By justice, truth, and probity of mind; |
|
|
| As our dire neighbours of Cyclopean birth |
|
|
| Match in fierce wrong the giant-sons of earth." |
|
|
|
|
| "Let no such thought (with modest grace rejoin'd |
|
|
| The prudent Greek) possess the royal mind. |
|
|
| Alas! a mortal, like thyself, am I; |
|
|
| No glorious native of yon azure sky: |
|
|
| In form, ah how unlike their heavenly kind! |
|
|
| How more inferior in the gifts of mind! |
|
|
| Alas, a mortal! most oppress'd of those |
|
|
| Whom Fate has loaded with a weight of woes; |
|
|
| By a sad train of Miseries alone |
|
|
| Distinguish'd long, and second now to none! |
|
|
| By Heaven's high will compell'd from shore to shore; |
|
|
| With Heaven's high will prepared to suffer more. |
|
|
| What histories of toil could I declare! |
|
|
| But still long-wearied nature wants repair; |
|
|
| Spent with fatigue, and shrunk with pining fast, |
|
|
| My craving bowels still require repast. |
|
|
| Howe'er the noble, suffering mind may grieve |
|
|
| Its load of anguish, and disdain to live, |
|
|
| Necessity demands our daily bread; |
|
|
| Hunger is insolent, and will be fed. |
|
|
| But finish, oh ye peers! what you propose, |
|
|
| And let the morrow's dawn conclude my woes. |
|
|
| Pleased will I suffer all the gods ordain, |
|
|
| To see my soil, my son, my friends again. |
|
|
| That view vouchsafed, let instant death surprise |
|
|
| With ever-during shade these happy eyes!" |
|
|
|
|
| "Hard is the task, O princess! you impose |
|
|
| (Thus sighing spoke the man of many woes), |
|
|
| The long, the mournful series to relate |
|
|
| Of all my sorrows sent by Heaven and Fate! |
|
|
| Yet what you ask, attend. An island lies |
|
|
| Beyond these tracts, and under other skies, |
|
|
| Ogygia named, in Ocean's watery arms; |
|
|
| Where dwells Calypso, dreadful in her charms! |
|
|
| Remote from gods or men she holds her reign, |
|
|
| Amid the terrors of a rolling main. |
|
|
| Me, only me, the hand of fortune bore, |
|
|
| Unblest! to tread that interdicted shore: |
|
|
| When Jove tremendous in the sable deeps |
|
|
| Launch'd his red lightning at our scattered ships; |
|
|
| Then, all my fleet and all my followers lost. |
|
|
| Sole on a plank on boiling surges toss'd, |
|
|
| Heaven drove my wreck the Ogygian Isle to find, |
|
|
| Full nine days floating to the wave and wind. |
|
|
| Met by the goddess there with open arms, |
|
|
| She bribed my stay with more than human charms; |
|
|
| Nay, promised, vainly promised, to bestow |
|
|
| Immortal life, exempt from age and woe; |
|
|
| But all her blandishments successless prove, |
|
|
| To banish from my breast my country's love. |
|
|
| I stay reluctant seven continued years, |
|
|
| And water her ambrosial couch with tears, |
|
|
| The eighth she voluntary moves to part, |
|
|
| Or urged by Jove, or her own changeful heart. |
|
|
| A raft was formed to cross the surging sea; |
|
|
| Herself supplied the stores and rich array, |
|
|
| And gave the gales to waft me on my way, |
|
|
| In seventeen days appear'd your pleasing coast, |
|
|
| And woody mountains half in vapours lost. |
|
|
| Joy touched my soul; my soul was joy'd in vain, |
|
|
| For angry Neptune roused the raging main; |
|
|
| The wild winds whistle, and the billows roar; |
|
|
| The splitting raft the furious tempest tore; |
|
|
| And storms vindictive intercept the shore. |
|
|
| Soon as their rage subsides, the seas I brave |
|
|
| With naked force, and shoot along the wave, |
|
|
| To reach this isle; but there my hopes were lost, |
|
|
| The surge impell'd me on a craggy coast. |
|
|
| I chose the safer sea, and chanced to find |
|
|
| A river's mouth impervious to the wind, |
|
|
| And clear of rocks. I fainted by the flood; |
|
|
| Then took the shelter of the neighbouring wood. |
|
|
| 'Twas night, and, covered in the foliage deep, |
|
|
| Jove plunged my senses in the death of sleep. |
|
|
| All night I slept, oblivious of my pain: |
|
|
| Aurora dawned and Phoebus shined in vain, |
|
|
| Nor, till oblique he sloped his evening ray, |
|
|
| Had Somnus dried the balmy dews away. |
|
|
| Then female voices from the shore I heard: |
|
|
| A maid amidst them, goddess-like appear'd; |
|
|
| To her I sued, she pitied my distress; |
|
|
| Like thee in beauty, nor in virtue less. |
|
|
| Who from such youth could hope considerate care? |
|
|
| In youth and beauty wisdom is but rare! |
|
|
| She gave me life, relieved with just supplies |
|
|
| My wants, and lent these robes that strike your eyes. |
|
|
| This is the truth: and oh, ye powers on high! |
|
|
| Forbid that want should sink me to a lie." |
|
|
|
|
| "Far from my soul (he cried) the gods efface |
|
|
| All wrath ill-grounded, and suspicion base! |
|
|
| Whate'er is honest, stranger, I approve, |
|
|
| And would to Phoebus, Pallas, and to Jove, |
|
|
| Such as thou art, thy thought and mine were one, |
|
|
| Nor thou unwilling to be called my son. |
|
|
| In such alliance couldst thou wish to join, |
|
|
| A palace stored with treasures should be thine. |
|
|
| But if reluctant, who shall force thy stay? |
|
|
| Jove bids to set the stranger on his way, |
|
|
| And ships shall wait thee with the morning ray. |
|
|
| Till then, let slumber cross thy careful eyes: |
|
|
| The wakeful mariners shall watch the skies, |
|
|
| And seize the moment when the breezes rise: |
|
|
| Then gently waft thee to the pleasing shore, |
|
|
| Where thy soul rests, and labour is no more. |
|
|
| Far as Euboea though thy country lay, |
|
|
| Our ships with ease transport thee in a day. |
|
|
| Thither of old, earth's giant son to view, |
|
|
| On wings of wind with Rhadamanth they flew; |
|
|
| This land, from whence their morning course begun, |
|
|
| Saw them returning with the setting sun. |
|
|
| Your eyes shall witness and confirm my tale, |
|
|
| Our youth how dexterous, and how fleet our sail, |
|
|
| When justly timed with equal sweep they row, |
|
|
| And ocean whitens in long tracks below." |
|
|
|
|
| Meantime Arete, for the hour of rest, |
|
|
| Ordains the fleecy couch, and covering vest; |
|
|
| Bids her fair train the purple quilts prepare, |
|
|
| And the thick carpets spread with busy care. |
|
|
| With torches blazing in their hands they pass'd, |
|
|
| And finish'd all their queen's command with haste: |
|
|
| Then gave the signal to the willing guest: |
|
|
| He rose with pleasure, and retired to rest. |
|
|
| There, soft extended, to the murmuring sound |
|
|
| Of the high porch, Ulysses sleeps profound! |
|
|
| Within, released from cares, Alcinous lies; |
|
|
| And fast beside were closed Arete's eyes. |
|
|