Book VIII
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| | Alcinous calls a council, in which it is resolved to transport | |
| | Ulysses into his country. After which splendid entertainments are | |
| | made, where the celebrated musician and poet, Demodocus, plays and | |
| | sings to the guests. They next proceed to the games, the race, the | |
| | wrestling, discus, &c., where Ulysses casts a prodigious length, | |
| | to the admiration of all the spectators. They return again to the | |
| | banquet and Demodocus sings the loves of Mars and Venus. Ulysses, | |
| | after a compliment to the poet, desires him to sing the | |
| | introduction of the wooden horse into Troy, which subject | |
| | provoking his tears, Alcinous inquires of his guest his name, | |
| | parentage, and fortunes. | |
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|
| | Now fair Aurora lifts her golden ray, | |
| | And all the ruddy orient flames with day: | |
| | Alcinous, and the chief, with dawning light, | |
| | Rose instant from the slumbers of the night; | |
| | Then to the council-seat they bend their way, | |
| | And fill the shining thrones along the bay. | |
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|
| | Meanwhile Minerva, in her guardian care, | |
| | Shoots from the starry vault through fields of air; | |
| | In form, a herald of the king, she flies | |
| | From peer to peer, and thus incessant cries; | |
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| | "Nobles and chiefs who rule Phaeacia's states, | |
| | The king in council your attendance waits; | |
| | A prince of grace divine your aid implores, | |
| | O'er unknown seas arrived from unknown shores." | |
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|
| | She spoke, and sudden with tumultuous sounds | |
| | Of thronging multitudes the shore rebounds: | |
| | At once the seats they fill; and every eye | |
| | Glazed, as before some brother of the sky. | |
| | Pallas with grace divine his form improves, | |
| | More high he treads, and more enlarged he moves: | |
| | She sheds celestial bloom, regard to draw; | |
| | And gives a dignity of mien, to awe; | |
| | With strength, the future prize of fame to play, | |
| | And gather all the honours of the day. | |
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|
| | Then from his glittering throne Alcinous rose; | |
| | "Attend (he cried) while we our will disclose. | |
| | Your present aid this godlike stranger craves, | |
| | Toss'd by rude tempest through a war of waves; | |
| | Perhaps from realms that view the rising day, | |
| | Or nations subject to the western ray. | |
| | Then grant, what here all sons of wine obtain | |
| | (For here affliction never pleads in vain); | |
| | Be chosen youth prepared, expert to try | |
| | The vast profound and hid the vessel fly; | |
| | Launch the tall back, and order every oar; | |
| | Then in our court indulge the genial hour. | |
| | Instant, you sailors to this task attend; | |
| | Swift to the palace, all ye peers ascend; | |
| | Let none to strangers honours due disclaim: | |
| | Be there Demodocus the bard of fame, | |
| | Taught by the gods to please, when high he sings | |
| | The vocal lay, responsive to the strings." | |
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|
| | Thus spoke the prince; the attending peers obey; | |
| | In state they move; Alcinous heads the way | |
| | Swift to Demodocus the herald flies, | |
| | At once the sailors to their charge arise; | |
| | They launch the vessel, and unfurl the sails, | |
| | And stretch the swelling canvas to the gales; | |
| | Then to the palace move: a gathering throng, | |
| | Youth, and white age, tumultuous pour along. | |
| | Now all accesses to the dome are fill'd; | |
| | Eight boars, the choicest of the herd, are kill'd; | |
| | Two beeves, twelve fatlings, from the flock they bring | |
| | To crown the feast; so wills the bounteous king, | |
| | The herald now arrives, and guides along | |
| | The sacred master of celestial song; | |
| | Dear to the Muse! who gave his days to flow | |
| | With mighty blessings, mix'd with mighty woe; | |
| | With clouds of darkness quench'd his visnal ray, | |
| | But gave him skill to raise the lofty lay. | |
| | High on a radiant throne sublime in state, | |
| | Encircled by huge multitudes, he sate; | |
| | With silver shone the throne; his lyre, well strung | |
| | To rapturous sounds, at hand Poutonous hung. | |
| | Before his seat a polish'd table shines, | |
| | And a full goblet foams with generous wines; | |
| | His food a herald bore; and now they fed; | |
| | And now the rage of craving hunger fled. | |
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|
| | Then, fired by all the Muse, aloud he sings | |
| | The mighty deeds of demigods and kings; | |
| | From that fierce wrath the noble song arose, | |
| | That made Ulysses and Achilles foes; | |
| | How o'er the feast they doom the fall of Troy; | |
| | The stern debate Atrides hears with joy; | |
| | For Heaven foretold the contest, when he trod | |
| | The marble threshold of the Delphic god, | |
| | Curious to learn the counsels of the sky, | |
| | Ere yet he loosed the rage of war on Troy. | |
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| | Touch'd at the song, Ulysses straight resign'd | |
| | To soft affliction all his manly mind. | |
| | Before his eyes the purple vest he drew, | |
| | Industrious to conceal the falling dew; | |
| | But when the music paused, he ceased to shed | |
| | The flowing tear, and raised his drooping head; | |
| | And, lifting to the gods a goblet crown'd, | |
| | He pour'd a pure libation to the ground. | |
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| | Transported with the song, the listening train | |
| | Again with loud applause demand the strain; | |
| | Again Ulysses veil'd his pensive head. | |
| | Again unmann'd, a shower of sorrows shed; | |
| | Conceal'd he wept; the king observed alone | |
| | The silent tear, and heard the secret groan; | |
| | Then to the bard aloud—"O cease to sing, | |
| | Dumb be thy voice and mute the harmonious string; | |
| | Enough the feast has pleased, enough the power | |
| | Of heavenly song has crown'd the genial hour! | |
| | Incessant in the games your strength display, | |
| | Contest, ye brave the honours of the day! | |
| | That pleased the admiring stranger may proclaim | |
| | In distant regions the Phaeacian fame: | |
| | None wield the gauntlet with so dire a sway, | |
| | Or swifter in the race devour the way; | |
| | None in the leap spring with so strong a bound, | |
| | Or firmer, in the wrestling, press the ground." | |
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| | Thus spoke the king; the attending peers obey; | |
| | In state they move, Alcinous lends the way; | |
| | His golden lyre Demodocus unstrung, | |
| | High on a column in the palace hung; | |
| | And guided by a herald's guardian cares, | |
| | Majestic to the lists of Fame repairs. | |
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| | Now swarms the populace: a countless throng, - | |
| | Youth and boar age; and man drives man along. | |
| | The games begin; ambitious of the prize, | |
| | Acroneus, Thoon, and Eretmeus rise; | |
| | The prize Ocyalus and Prymneus claim, | |
| | Anchialus and Ponteus, chiefs of fame. | |
| | There Proreus, Nautes, Eratreus, appear | |
| | And famed Amphialus, Polyneus' heir; | |
| | Euryalus, like Mars terrific, rose, | |
| | When clad in wrath he withers hosts of foes; | |
| | Naubolides with grace unequall'd shone, | |
| | Or equall'd by Laodamas alone. | |
| | With these came forth Ambasineus the strong: | |
| | And three brave sons, from great Alcinous sprung. | |
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| | Ranged in a line the ready racers stand, | |
| | Start from the goal, and vanish o'er the strand: | |
| | Swift as on wings of winds, upborne they fly, | |
| | And drifts of rising dust involve the sky. | |
| | Before the rest, what space the hinds allow | |
| | Between the mule and ox, from plough to plough, | |
| | Clytonius sprung: he wing'd the rapid way, | |
| | And bore the unrivall'd honours of the day. | |
| | With fierce embrace the brawny wrestlers join; | |
| | The conquest, great Euryalus, is thine. | |
| | Amphialus sprung forward with a bound, | |
| | Superior in the leap, a length of ground. | |
| | From Elatreus' strong arm the discus flies, | |
| | And sings with unmatch'd force along the skies. | |
| | And Laodam whirls high, with dreadful sway, | |
| | The gloves of death, victorious in the fray. | |
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|
| | While thus the peerage in the games contends, | |
| | In act to speak, Laodamas ascends. | |
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| | "O friends (he cries), the stranger seems well skill'd | |
| | To try the illustrious labours of the field: | |
| | I deem him brave: then grant the brave man's claim, | |
| | Invite the hero to his share of fame. | |
| | What nervous arms he boasts! how firm his tread! | |
| | His limbs how turn'd! how broad his shoulders spread! | |
| | By age unbroke!—but all-consuming care | |
| | Destroys perhaps the strength that time would spare: | |
| | Dire is the ocean, dread in all its forms! | |
| | Man must decay when man contends with storms." | |
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|
| | "Well hast thou spoke (Euryalus replies): | |
| | Thine is the guest, invite him thou to rise." | |
| | Swift as the word, advancing from the crowd, | |
| | He made obeisance, and thus spoke aloud: | |
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| | "Vouchsafes the reverend stranger to display | |
| | His manly worth, and share the glorious day? | |
| | Father, arise! for thee thy port proclaims | |
| | Expert to conquer in the solemn games. | |
| | To fame arise! for what more fame can yield | |
| | Than the swift race, or conflict of the field? | |
| | Steal from corroding care one transient day, | |
| | To glory give the space thou hast to stay; | |
| | Short is the time, and lo! e'en now the gales | |
| | Call thee aboard, and stretch the swelling sails." | |
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|
| | To whom with sighs Ulysses gave reply: | |
| | "Ah why the ill-suiting pastime must I try? | |
| | To gloomy care my thoughts alone are free; | |
| | Ill the gay sorts with troubled hearts agree; | |
| | Sad from my natal hour my days have ran, | |
| | A much-afflicted, much-enduring man! | |
| | Who, suppliant to the king and peers, implores | |
| | A speedy voyage to his native shore." | |
| | "Wise wanders, Laodam, thy erring tongue | |
| | The sports of glory to the brave belong | |
| | (Retorts Euryalus): he bears no claim | |
| | Among the great, unlike the sons of Fame. | |
| | A wandering merchant he frequents the main | |
| | Some mean seafarer in pursuit of gain; | |
| | Studious of freight, in naval trade well skill'd, | |
| | But dreads the athletic labours of the field." | |
| | Incensed, Ulysses with a frown replies: | |
| | "O forward to proclaim thy soul unwise! | |
| | With partial hands the gods their gifts dispense; | |
| | Some greatly think, some speak with manly sense; | |
| | Here Heaven an elegance of form denies, | |
| | But wisdom the defect of form supplies; | |
| | This man with energy of thought controls, | |
| | And steals with modest violence our souls; | |
| | He speaks reservedly, but he speaks with force, | |
| | Nor can one word be changed but for a worse; | |
| | In public more than mortal he appears, | |
| | And as he moves, the praising crowd reveres; | |
| | While others, beauteous as the etherial kind, | |
| | The nobler portion went, a knowing mind, | |
| | In outward show Heaven gives thee to excel. | |
| | But Heaven denies the praise of thinking well | |
| | I'll bear the brave a rude ungovern'd tongue, | |
| | And, youth, my generous soul resents the wrong. | |
| | Skill'd in heroic exercise, I claim | |
| | A post of honour with the sons of Fame. | |
| | Such was my boast while vigour crown'd my days, | |
| | Now care surrounds me, and my force decays; | |
| | Inured a melancholy part to bear | |
| | In scenes of death, by tempest and by war | |
| | Yet thus by woes impair'd, no more I waive | |
| | To prove the hero—slander stings the brave." | |
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|
| | Then gliding forward with a furious bound | |
| | He wrench'd a rocky fragment from the ground | |
| | By far more ponderous, and more huge by far | |
| | Than what Phaeacia's sons discharged in air. | |
| | Fierce from his arm the enormous load he flings; | |
| | Sonorous through the shaded air it sings; | |
| | Couch'd to the earth, tempestuous as it flies, | |
| | The crowd gaze upward while it cleaves the skies. | |
| | Beyond all marks, with many a giddy round | |
| | Down-rushing, it up-turns a hill of ground. | |
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| | That Instant Pallas, bursting from a cloud, | |
| | Fix'd a distinguish'd mark, and cried aloud: | |
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| | "E'en he who, sightless, wants his visual ray | |
| | May by his touch alone award the day: | |
| | Thy signal throw transcends the utmost bound | |
| | Of every champion by a length of ground: | |
| | Securely bid the strongest of the train | |
| | Arise to throw; the strongest throws in vain." | |
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| | She spoke: and momentary mounts the sky: | |
| | The friendly voice Ulysses hears with joy. | |
| | Then thus aloud (elate with decent pride) | |
| | "Rise, ye Phaecians, try your force (he cried): | |
| | If with this throw the strongest caster vie, | |
| | Still, further still, I bid the discus fly. | |
| | Stand forth, ye champions, who the gauntlet wield, | |
| | Or ye, the swiftest racers of the field! | |
| | Stand forth, ye wrestlers, who these pastimes grace! | |
| | I wield the gauntlet, and I run the race. | |
| | In such heroic games I yield to none, | |
| | Or yield to brave Laodamas alone: | |
| | Shall I with brave Laodamas contend? | |
| | A friend is sacred, and I style him friend. | |
| | Ungenerous were the man, and base of heart, | |
| | Who takes the kind, and pays the ungrateful part: | |
| | Chiefly the man, in foreign realms confined, | |
| | Base to his friend, to his own interest blind: | |
| | All, all your heroes I this day defy; | |
| | Give me a man that we our might may try. | |
| | Expert in every art, I boast the skill | |
| | To give the feather'd arrow wings to kill; | |
| | Should a whole host at once discharge the bow, | |
| | My well-aim'd shaft with death prevents the foe: | |
| | Alone superior in the field of Troy, | |
| | Great Philoctetes taught the shaft to fly. | |
| | From all the sons of earth unrivall'd praise | |
| | I justly claim; but yield to better days, | |
| | To those famed days when great Alcides rose, | |
| | And Eurytus, who bade the gods be foes | |
| | (Vain Eurytus, whose art became his crime, | |
| | Swept from the earth, he perish'd in his prime: | |
| | Sudden the irremeable way he trod, | |
| | Who boldly durst defy the bowyer god). | |
| | In fighting fields as far the spear I throw | |
| | As flies an arrow from the well-drawn bow. | |
| | Sole in the race the contest I decline, | |
| | Stiff are my weary joints, and I resign; | |
| | By storms and hunger worn; age well may fail, | |
| | When storms and hunger doth at once assail." | |
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| | Abash'd, the numbers hear the godlike man, | |
| | Till great Alcinous mildly thus began: | |
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| | "Well hast thou spoke, and well thy generous tongue | |
| | With decent pride refutes a public wrong: | |
| | Warm are thy words, but warm without offence; | |
| | Fear only fools, secure in men of sense; | |
| | Thy worth is known. Then hear our country's claim, | |
| | And bear to heroes our heroic fame: | |
| | In distant realms our glorious deeds display, | |
| | Repeat them frequent in the genial day; | |
| | When, blest with ease, thy woes and wanderings end, | |
| | Teach them thy consort, bid thy sons attend; | |
| | How, loved of Jove, he crown'd our sires with praise, | |
| | How we their offspring dignify our race. | |
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| | "Let other realms the deathful gauntlet wield, | |
| | Or boast the glories of the athletic field: | |
| | We in the course unrivall'd speed display, | |
| | Or through cerulean billows plough the way; | |
| | To dress, to dance, to sing, our sole delight, | |
| | The feast or bath by day, and love by night: | |
| | Rise, then, ye skill'd in measures; let him bear | |
| | Your fame to men that breathe a distant air; | |
| | And faithful say, to you the powers belong | |
| | To race, to sail, to dance, to chant the song. | |
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| | "But, herald, to the palace swift repair, | |
| | And the soft lyre to grace our pastimes bear." | |
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| | Swift at the word, obedient to the king, | |
| | The herald flies the tuneful lyre to bring. | |
| | Up rose nine seniors, chosen to survey | |
| | The future games, the judges of the day | |
| | With instant care they mark a spacious round | |
| | And level for the dance the allotted ground: | |
| | The herald bears the lyre: intent to play, | |
| | The bard advancing meditates the lay. | |
| | Skill'd in the dance, tall youths, a blooming band, | |
| | Graceful before the heavenly minstrel stand: | |
| | Light bounding from the earth, at once they rise, | |
| | Their feet half-viewless quiver in the skies: | |
| | Ulysses gazed, astonish'd to survey | |
| | The glancing splendours as their sandals play. | |
| | Meantime the bard, alternate to the strings, | |
| | The loves of Mars and Cytherea sings: | |
| | How the stern god, enamour'd with her charms | |
| | Clasp'd the gay panting goddess in his arms, | |
| | By bribes seduced; and how the sun, whose eye | |
| | Views the broad heavens, disclosed the lawless joy. | |
| | Stung to the soul, indignant through the skies | |
| | To his black forge vindictive Vulcan flies: | |
| | Arrived, his sinewy arms incessant place | |
| | The eternal anvil on the massy base. | |
| | A wondrous net he labours, to betray | |
| | The wanton lovers, as entwined they lay, | |
| | Indissolubly strong; Then instant bears | |
| | To his immortal dome the finish'd snares: | |
| | Above, below, around, with art dispread, | |
| | The sure inclosure folds the genial bed: | |
| | Whose texture even the search of gods deceives, | |
| | Thin as the filmy threads the spider weaves, | |
| | Then, as withdrawing from the starry bowers, | |
| | He feigns a journey to the Lemnian shores, | |
| | His favourite isle: observant Mars descries | |
| | His wish'd recees, and to the goddess flies; | |
| | He glows, he burns, the fair-hair'd queen of love | |
| | Descends, smooth gliding from the courts of Jove, | |
| | Gay blooming in full charms: her hand he press'd | |
| | With eager joy, and with a sigh address'd: | |
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| | "Come, my beloved! and taste the soft delights: | |
| | Come, to repose the genial bed invites: | |
| | Thy absent spouse, neglectful of thy charms, | |
| | Prefers his barbarous Sintians to thy arms!" | |
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| | Then, nothing loth, the enamour'd fair he led, | |
| | And sunk transported on the conscious bed. | |
| | Down rush'd the toils, inwrapping as they lay | |
| | The careless lovers in their wanton play: | |
| | In vain they strive; the entangling snares deny | |
| | (Inextricably firm) the power to fly. | |
| | Warn'd by the god who sheds the golden day, | |
| | Stern Vulcan homeward treads the starry way: | |
| | Arrived, he sees, he grieves, with rage he burns: | |
| | Full horribly he roars, his voice all heaven returns. | |
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| | "O Jove (he cried) O all ye powers above, | |
| | See the lewd dalliance of the queen of love! | |
| | Me, awkward me, she scorns; and yields her charms | |
| | To that fair lecher, the strong god of arms. | |
| | If I am lame, that stain my natal hour | |
| | By fate imposed; such me my parent bore. | |
| | Why was I born? See how the wanton lies! | |
| | Oh sight tormenting to a husband's eyes! | |
| | But yet, I trust, this once e'en Mars would fly | |
| | His fair-one's arms—he thinks her, once, too nigh. | |
| | But there remain, ye guilty, in my power, | |
| | Till Jove refunds his shameless daughter's dower. | |
| | Too dear I prized a fair enchanting face: | |
| | Beauty unchaste is beauty in disgrace." | |
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| | Meanwhile the gods the dome of Vulcan throng; | |
| | Apollo comes, and Neptune comes along; | |
| | With these gay Hermes trod the starry plain; | |
| | But modesty withheld the goddess train. | |
| | All heaven beholds, imprison'd as they lie, | |
| | And unextinguish'd laughter shakes the sky. | |
| | Then mutual, thus they spoke: "Behold on wrong | |
| | Swift vengeance waits; and art subdues the strong! | |
| | Dwells there a god on all the Olympian brow | |
| | More swift than Mars, and more than Vulcan slow? | |
| | Yet Vulcan conquers, and the god of arms | |
| | Must pay the penalty for lawless charms." | |
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| | Thus serious they; but he who gilds the skies, | |
| | The gay Apollo, thus to Hermes cries: | |
| | "Wouldst thou enchain'd like Mars, O Hermes, lie | |
| | And bear the shame like Mars to share the joy?" | |
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| | "O envied shame! (the smiling youth rejoin'd;) | |
| | And thrice the chains, and thrice more firmly bind; | |
| | Gaze all ye gods, and every goddess gaze, | |
| | Yet eager would I bless the sweet disgrace." | |
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| | Loud laugh the rest, e'en Neptune laughs aloud, | |
| | Yet sues importunate to loose the god. | |
| | "And free, (he cries) O Vulcan! free from shame | |
| | Thy captives; I ensure the penal claim." | |
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| | "Will Neptune (Vulcan then) the faithless trust? | |
| | He suffers who gives surety for the unjust: | |
| | But say, if that lewd scandal of the sky, | |
| | To liberty restored, perfidious fly: | |
| | Say, wilt thou bear the mulct?" He instant cries, | |
| | "The mulct I bear, if Mars perfidious flies." | |
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| | To whom appeased: "No more I urge delay; | |
| | When Neptune sues, my part is to obey." | |
| | Then to the snares his force the god applies; | |
| | They burst; and Mars to Thrace indignant flies: | |
| | To the soft Cyprian shores the goddess moves, | |
| | To visit Paphos and her blooming groves, | |
| | Where to the Power an hundred altars rise, | |
| | And breathing odours scent the balmy skies; | |
| | Concealed she bathes in consecrated bowers, | |
| | The Graces unguents shed, ambrosial showers, | |
| | Unguents that charm the gods! she last assumes | |
| | Her wondrous robes; and full the goddess blooms. | |
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| | Thus sung the bard: Ulysses hears with joy, | |
| | And loud applauses read the vaulted sky. | |
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| | Then to the sports his sons the king commands, | |
| | Each blooming youth before the monarch stands, | |
| | In dance unmatch'd! A wondrous ball is brought | |
| | (The work of Polypus, divinely wrought); | |
| | This youth with strength enermous bids it fly, | |
| | And bending backward whirls it to the sky; | |
| | His brother, springing with an active bound, | |
| | At distance intercepts it from the ground. | |
| | The ball dismissed, in dance they skim the strand, | |
| | Turn and return, and scarce imprint the sand. | |
| | The assembly gazes with astonished eyes, | |
| | And sends in shouts applauses to the skies. | |
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| | Then thus Ulysses: "Happy king, whose name | |
| | The brightest shines in all the rolls of fame! | |
| | In subjects happy with surprise I gaze; | |
| | Thy praise was just; their skill transcends thy praise." | |
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| | Pleas'd with his people's fame, the monarch hears, | |
| | And thus benevolent accosts the peers: | |
| | "Since wisdom's sacred guidance he pursues, | |
| | Give to the stranger-guest a stranger's dues: | |
| | Twelve princes in our realm dominion share, | |
| | O'er whom supreme, imperial power I bear; | |
| | Bring gold, a pledge of love: a talent bring, | |
| | A vest, a robe, and imitate your king. | |
| | Be swift to give: that he this night may share | |
| | The social feast of joy, with joy sincere. | |
| | And thou, Euryalus, redeem thy wrong; | |
| | A generous heart repairs a slanderous tongue." | |
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| | The assenting peers, obedient to the king, | |
| | In haste their heralds send the gifts to bring. | |
| | Then thus Euryalus: "O prince, whose sway | |
| | Rules this bless'd realm, repentant I obey; | |
| | Be his this sword, whose blade of brass displays | |
| | A ruddy gleam; whose hilt a silver blaze; | |
| | Whose ivory sheath, inwrought with curious pride,- | |
| | Adds graceful terror to the wearer's side." | |
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| | He said, and to his hand the sword consign'd: | |
| | "And if (he cried) my words affect thy mind, | |
| | Far from thy mind those words, ye whirlwinds, bear, | |
| | And scatter them, ye storms, in empty air! | |
| | Crown, O ye heavens, with joy his peaceful hours, | |
| | And grant him to his spouse, and native shores." | |
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| | "And blest be thou, my friend, (Ulysses cries,) | |
| | Crown him with every joy, ye favouring skies | |
| | To thy calm hours continued peace afford, | |
| | And never, never mayst thou want this sword," | |
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|
| | He said, and o'er his shoulder flung the blade. | |
| | Now o'er the earth ascends the evening shade: | |
| | The precious gifts the illustrious heralds bear, | |
| | And to the court the embodied peers repair. | |
| | Before the queen Alcinous' sons unfold | |
| | The vests, the robes. and heaps of shining gold; | |
| | Then to the radiant thrones they move in state: | |
| | Aloft, the king in pomp imperial sate. | |
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|
| | Thence to the queen: "O partner of our reign, | |
| | O sole beloved! command thy menial train | |
| | A polish'd chest and stately robes to bear, | |
| | And healing waters for the bath prepare; | |
| | That, bathed, our guest may bid his sorrows cease, | |
| | Hear the sweet song, and taste the feast in peace. | |
| | A bowl that flames with gold, of wondrous frame, | |
| | Ourself we give, memorial of our name; | |
| | To raise in offerings to almighty Jove, | |
| | And every god that treads the courts above." | |
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|
| | Instant the queen, observant of the king, | |
| | Commands her train a spacious vase to bring, | |
| | The spacious vase with ample streams suffice, | |
| | Heap the high wood, and bid the flames arise. | |
| | The flames climb round it with a fierce embrace, | |
| | The fuming waters bubble o'er the blaze. | |
| | Herself the chest prepares; in order roll'd | |
| | The robes, the vests are ranged, and heaps of gold | |
| | And adding a rich dress inwrought with art, | |
| | A gift expressive of her bounteous heart. | |
| | Thus spoke to Ithacus: "To guard with bands | |
| | Insolvable these gifts, thy care demands; | |
| | Lest, in thy slumbers on the watery main, | |
| | The hand of rapine make our bounty vain." | |
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|
| | Then bending with full force around he roll'd | |
| | A labyrinth of bands in fold on fold, | |
| | Closed with Circaean art. A train attends | |
| | Around the bath: the bath the king ascends | |
| | (Untasted joy, since that disastrous hour, | |
| | He sail'd ill-fated from Calypso's bower); | |
| | Where, happy as the gods that range the sky, | |
| | He feasted every sense with every joy. | |
| | He bathes; the damsels with officious toil, | |
| | Shed sweets, shed unguents, in a shower of oil; | |
| | Then o'er his limbs a gorgeous robe he spreads, | |
| | And to the feast magnificently treads. | |
| | Full where the dome its shining valves expands, | |
| | Nausicaa blooming as a goddess stands; | |
| | With wondering eyes the hero she survey'd, | |
| | And graceful thus began the royal maid: | |
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| | "Hail, godlike stranger! and when heaven restores | |
| | To thy fond wish thy long-expected shores, | |
| | This ever grateful in remembrance bear: | |
| | To me thou owest, to me, the vital air." | |
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|
| | "O royal maid! (Ulysses straight returns) | |
| | Whose worth the splendours of thy race adorns, | |
| | So may dread Jove (whose arm in vengeance forms | |
| | The writhen bolt, and blackens heaven with storms), | |
| | Restore me safe, through weary wanderings toss'd, | |
| | To my dear country's ever-pleasing coast, | |
| | As while the spirit in this bosom glows, | |
| | To thee, my goddess, I address my vows; | |
| | My life, thy gift I boast!" He said, and sate | |
| | Fast by Alcinous on a throne of state. | |
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| | Now each partakes the feast, the wine prepares, | |
| | Portions the food, and each his portion shares. | |
| | The bard a herald guides; the gazing throng | |
| | Pay low obeisance as he moves along: | |
| | Beneath a sculptur'd arch he sits enthroned, | |
| | The peers encircling form an awful round. | |
| | Then, from the chine, Ulysses carves with art | |
| | Delicious food, an honorary part: | |
| | "This, let the master of the lyre receive, | |
| | A pledge of love! 'tis all a wretch can give. | |
| | Lives there a man beneath the spacious skies | |
| | Who sacred honours to the bard denies? | |
| | The Muse the bard inspires, exalts his mind; | |
| | The muse indulgent loves the harmonious kind." | |
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| | The herald to his hand the charge conveys, | |
| | Not fond of flattery, nor unpleased with praise. | |
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|
| | When now the rage of hunger was allay'd, | |
| | Thus to the lyrist wise Ulysses said: | |
| | "O more than man! thy soul the muse inspires, | |
| | Or Phoebus animates with all his fires; | |
| | For who, by Phoebus uninform'd, could know | |
| | The woe of Greece, and sing so well the woe? | |
| | Just to the tale, as present at the fray, | |
| | Or taught the labours of the dreadful day: | |
| | The song recalls past horrors to my eyes, | |
| | And bids proud Ilion from her ashes rise. | |
| | Once more harmonious strike the sounding string, | |
| | The Epaean fabric, framed by Pallas, sing: | |
| | How stern Ulysses, furious to destroy, | |
| | With latent heroes sack'd imperial Troy. | |
| | If faithful thou record the tale of Fame, | |
| | The god himself inspires thy breast with flame | |
| | And mine shall be the task henceforth to raise | |
| | In every land thy monument of praise." | |
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|
| | Full of the god he raised his lofty strain: | |
| | How the Greeks rush'd tumultuous to the main; | |
| | How blazing tents illumined half the skies, | |
| | While from the shores the winged navy flies; | |
| | How e'en in Ilion's walls, in deathful bands, | |
| | Came the stern Greeks by Troy's assisting hands: | |
| | All Troy up-heaved the steed; of differing mind, | |
| | Various the Trojans counsell'd: part consign'd | |
| | The monster to the sword, part sentence gave | |
| | To plunge it headlong in the whelming wave; | |
| | The unwise award to lodge it in the towers, | |
| | An offering sacred to the immortal powers: | |
| | The unwise prevail, they lodge it in the walls, | |
| | And by the gods' decree proud Ilion falls: | |
| | Destruction enters in the treacherous wood, | |
| | And vengeful slaughter, fierce for human blood. | |
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| | He sung the Greeks stern-issuing from the steed, | |
| | How Ilion burns, how all her fathers bleed; | |
| | How to thy dome, Deiphobus! ascends | |
| | The Spartan king; how Ithacus attends | |
| | (Horrid as Mars); and how with dire alarms | |
| | He fights—subdues, for Pallas strings his arms | |
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|
| | Thus while he sung, Ulysses' griefs renew, | |
| | Tears bathe his cheeks, and tears the ground bedew | |
| | As some fond matron views in mortal fight | |
| | Her husband falling in his country's right; | |
| | Frantic through clashing swords she runs, she flies, | |
| | As ghastly pale he groans, and faints and dies; | |
| | Close to his breast she grovels on the ground, | |
| | And bathes with floods of tears the gaping wound; | |
| | She cries, she shrieks: the fierce insulting foe | |
| | Relentless mocks her violence of woe: | |
| | To chains condemn'd, as wildly she deplores; | |
| | A widow, and a slave on foreign shores. | |
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|
| | So from the sluices of Ulysses' eyes | |
| | Fast fell the tears, and sighs succeeded sighs: | |
| | Conceal'd he grieved: the king observed alone | |
| | The silent tear, and heard the secret groan; | |
| | Then to the bard aloud: "O cease to sing, | |
| | Dumb be thy voice, and mute the tuneful string; | |
| | To every note his tears responsive flow, | |
| | And his great heart heaves with tumultuous woe; | |
| | Thy lay too deeply moves: then cease the lay, | |
| | And o'er the banquet every heart be gay: | |
| | This social right demands: for him the sails, | |
| | Floating in air, invite the impelling gales: | |
| | His are the gifts of love: the wise and good | |
| | Receive the stranger as a brother's blood. | |
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|
| | "But, friend, discover faithful what I crave; | |
| | Artful concealment ill becomes the brave: | |
| | Say what thy birth, and what the name you bore, | |
| | Imposed by parents in the natal hour? | |
| | (For from the natal hour distinctive names, | |
| | One common right, the great and lowly claims:) | |
| | Say from what city, from what regions toss'd, | |
| | And what inhabitants those regions boast? | |
| | So shalt thou instant reach the realm assign'd, | |
| | In wondrous ships, self-moved, instinct with mind; | |
| | No helm secures their course, no pilot guides; | |
| | Like man intelligent, they plough the tides, | |
| | Conscious of every coast, and every bay, | |
| | That lies beneath the sun's all-seeing ray; | |
| | Though clouds and darkness veil the encumber'd sky, | |
| | Fearless through darkness and through clouds they fly; | |
| | Though tempests rage, though rolls the swelling main, | |
| | The seas may roll, the tempests rage in vain; | |
| | E'en the stern god that o'er the waves presides, | |
| | Safe as they pass, and safe repass the tides, | |
| | With fury burns; while careless they convey | |
| | Promiscuous every guest to every bay, | |
| | These ears have heard my royal sire disclose | |
| | A dreadful story, big with future woes; | |
| | How Neptune raged, and how, by his command, | |
| | Firm rooted in a surge a ship should stand | |
| | A monument of wrath; how mound on mound | |
| | Should bury these proud towers beneath the ground. | |
| | But this the gods may frustrate or fulfil, | |
| | As suits the purpose of the Eternal Will. | |
| | But say through what waste regions hast thou stray'd | |
| | What customs noted, and what coasts survey'd; | |
| | Possess'd by wild barbarians fierce in arms, | |
| | Or men whose bosom tender pity warms? | |
| | Say why the fate of Troy awaked thy cares, | |
| | Why heaved thy bosom, and why flowed thy tears? | |
| | Just are the ways of Heaven: from Heaven proceed | |
| | The woes of man; Heaven doom'd the Greeks to bleed, | |
| | A theme of future song! Say, then, if slain | |
| | Some dear-loved brother press'd the Phrygian plain? | |
| | Or bled some friend, who bore a brother's part, | |
| | And claim'd by merit, not by blood, the heart?" | |
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