The thighs, with fat involv'd, divide with art,
Strew'd o'er with morsels cut from every part.
Water instead of wine, is brought in urns,
And pour'd profanely as the victim burns.
The thighs thus offer'd, and the entrails drest,
They roast the fragments, and prepare the feast.
"Twas then soft slumber fled my troubled brain;
Back to the bark I speed along the main.
When, lo! an odour from the feast exhales,
Spreads o'er the coast, and scents the tainted gales,
A chilly fear congeal'd my vital blood,
And thus obtesting Heaven I mourn'd aloud :

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

"Vengeance, ye powers,' (he cries) and thou whose hand

Aims the red bolt, and hurls the writhen brand!
Slain are those herds which I with pride survey,
When through the ports of Heaven I pour the day,
Or deep in ocean plunge the burning ray.
Vengeance, ye gods! or I the skies forego,
And bear the lamp of Heaven to shades below.'
"To whom the thundering power:
Whose radiant lamp adorns the azure way, [of day!
Still may thy beams through Heaven's bright por-
tals rise,

O source

The joy of Earth, and glory of the skies;
Lo! my red arm I bare, my thunders guide,
To dash th' offenders in the whelming tide.'

"To fair Calypso, from the bright abodes, Hermes convey'd these councils of the gods. "Meantime from man to man my tongue exclaims,

My wrath is kindled, and my soul in flames.
In vain! I view perform'd the direful deed,
Beeves, slain by heaps, along the ocean bleed.
"Now Heaven gave signs of wrath; along the
ground

Crept the raw hides, and with a bellowing sound
Roar'd the dead limbs; the burning entrails groan'd.
Six guilty days my wretched mates employ
In impious feasting, and unhallow'd joy;
The seventh arose, and now the sire of gods
Rein'd the rough storms, and calm'd the tossing
floods :

With speed the bark we climb; the spacious sails
Loos'd from the yards invite th' impelling gales.
Past sight of shore, along the surge we bound,
And all above is sky, and ocean all around!
When, lo! a murky cloud the thunderer forms
Full o'er our heads, and blackens Heaven with
storms.

Night dwells o'er all the deep: and now outflies
The gloomy west, and whistles in the skies,
The mountain-billows roar! the furious blast
Howls o'er the shroud, and rends it from the mast:
The mast gives way, and, crackling as it bends,
Tears up the deck; then all at once descends;
The pilot by the tumbling ruin slain,
Dash'd from the helm, falls headlong in the main.
Then Jove in anger bids his thunders roll,
And forky lightnings flash from pole to pole.
Fierce at our heads his deadly bolt he aims,
Red with uncommon wrath, and wrapt in flames:

Full on the bark it fell; now high, now low: Toss'd and re-toss'd, it reel'd beneath the blow At once into the main the crew it shook : Sulphureous odours rose, and smouldering smoke. Like fowl that haunt the floods, they sink, they rise, Now lost, now seen, with shrieks and dreadful cries; And strive to gain the bark; but Jove denies. Firm at the helm I stand, when fierce the main Rush'd with dire noise, and dash'd the sides in | Again impetuous drove the furious blast, [twain; Snapt the strong helm, and bore to sea the mast. Firm to the mast with cords the helm I bind, And ride aloft, to providence resign'd, Through tumbling billows, and a war of wind. "Now sunk the west, and now a southern breeze,

6

More dreadful than the tempest, lash'd the seas
For on the rocks it bore where Scylla raves,
And dire Charybdis rolls her thundering waves.
All night I drove; and at the dawn of day,
Fast by the rocks, beheld the desperate way:
Just when the sea within her gulfs subsides,
And in the roaring whirlpools rush the tides,
Swift from the float I vaulted with a bound,
The lofty fig-tree seiz'd, and clung around.
So to the beam the bat tenacious clings,
And pendent round it clasps his leathern wings.
High in the air the tree its boughs display'd,
And o'er the dungeon cast a dreadful shade,
All unsustain'd between the wave and sky,
Beneath my feet the whirling billows fly,
What time the judge forsakes the noisy bar
To take repast, and stills the wordy war;
Charybdis rumbling from her inmost caves,
The mast refunded on her refluent waves.
Swift from the tree, the floating mast to gain,
Sudden I dropt amidst the flashing main;
Once more undaunted on the ruin rode,
And oar'd with labouring arms along the flood.
Unseen I pass'd by Scylla's dire abodes:
So Jove decreed (dread sire of men and gods)!
Then nine long days I plough the calmer seas,
Heav'd by the surge, and wafted by the breeze.
Weary and wet th' Ogygian shores I gain,
When the tenth Sun descended to the main.
There, in Calypso's ever-fragrant bowers,
Refresh'd I lay, and joy beguil'd the hours.

My following fates to thee, O king, are known, And the bright partner of thy royal throne. Enough in misery can words avail?

:

And what so tedious as a twice-told tale ?"

THE ODYSSEY.

BOOK XIII.

ARGUMENT.

THE ARRIVAL OF ULYSSES IN ITHACA.

ULYSSES takes his leave of Alcinous and Arete, and embarks in the evening. Next morning the ship arrives at Ithaca; where the sailors, as Ulysses is yet sleeping, lay him on the shore with all his treasures. On their return, Neptune changes their ship into a rock. In the mean time Ulysses, awaking, knows not his native Ithaca, by reason

of a mist which Pallas had cast round him. He breaks into loud lamentations: till the goddess, appearing to him in the form of a shepherd, discovers the country to him, and points out the particular places. He then tells a feigned story of his adventures, upon which she manifests herself, and they consult together of the measures to be taken to destroy the suitors. To conceal his return, and disguise his person the more effectually, she changes him into the figure of an old beggar.

He ceas'd; but left so pleasing on their ear
His voice, that listening still they seem'd to hear.
A pause of silence hush'd the shady rooms:
The grateful conference then the king resumes:
"Whatever toils the great Ulysses past,
Beneath this happy roof they end at last;
No longer now from shore to shore to roam,
Smooth seas and gentle winds invite him home.
But hear me, princess! whom these walls enclose,
To whom my chanter sings, and goblet flows
With wines unmix'd (an honour due to age,
To cheer the grave, and warm the poet's rage)
Though labour'd gold and many a dazzling vest
Lie heap'd already for our godlike guest;
Without new treasures let him not remove,
Large, and expressive of the public love:
Each peer a tripod, each a vase bestow,
A general tribute, which the state shall owe."
This sentence pleas'd: then all their steps addrest
To separate mansions, and retir'd to rest.

Now did the rosy-finger'd Morn arise,
And shed her sacred light along the skies.
Down to the haven and the ships in haste
They bore the treasures, and in safety plac'd.
The king himself the vases rang'd with care:
Then bade his followers to the feast repair.
A victim ox beneath the sacred hand
Of great Alcinous falls, and stains the sand.
To Jove th' eternal (power above all powers!
Who wings the winds, and darkens Heaven with
showers)

The flames ascend: till evening they prolong
The rites, more sacred made by heavenly song:
For in the midst, with public honours grac'd,
Thy lyre divine, Demodocus! was plac'd;
All, but Ulysses, heard with fix'd delight:
He sate, and ey'd the Sun, and wish'd the night;
Slow seem'd the Sun to move, the hours to roll,
His native home deep imag'd in his soul.
As the tir'd ploughman, spent with stubborn toil,
Whose oxen long have torn the furrow'd soil,
Sees with delight the Sun's declining ray,
When home with feeble knees he bends his way
To late repast (the day's hard labour done);
So to Ulysses welcome set the Sun.
Then instant to Alcinous and the rest
(The Scherian states) he turn'd, and thus ad-
drest:

"O thou, the first in merit and command!
And you, the peers and princes of the land!
May every joy be yours! nor this the least,
When due libation shall have crown'd the feast,
Safe to my home to send your happy guest.
Complete are now the bounties you have given.
Be all those bounties but confirm'd by Heaven!
So may I find, when all my wanderings cease,
My consort blameless, and my friends in peace.
VOL. XIX.

On you be every bliss; and every day,
In home-felt joys delighted, roll away:
Yourselves, your wives, your long-descending race,
May every god enrich with every grace!
Sure fix'd on virtue may your nation stand,
And public evil never touch the land!"

His words, well weigh'd, the general voice ap-
Benign, and instant his dismission mov'd. [prov'd
The monarch to Pontorious gave the sign,
To fill the goblet high with rosy wine:
[plore;
"Great Jove the father first," he cried,
*" im-
Then send the stranger to his native shore."
The luscious wine th' obedient herald brought;
Around the mansion flow'd the purple draught:
Each from his seat to each immortal pours,
Whom glory circles in th' Olympian bowers.
Ulysses sole with air majestic stands,

The bowl presenting to Arete's hands;
Then thus: "O queen, farewell! be still possest
Of dear remembrance, blessing still and blest!
Till age and death shall gently call thee hence,
(Sure fate of every mortal excellence!)
Farewell; and joys successive ever spring
To thee, to thine, the people, and the king!"
Thus he; then, parting, prints the sandy shore
To the fair port: a herald march'd before,
Sent by Alcinous; of Arete's train
Three chosen maids attend him to the main ;
This does a tunic and white vest convey,

A various casket that, of rich inlay,

And bread and wine the third. The cheerful mates
Safe in the hollow poop dispose the cates :
Upon the deck soft painted robes they spread,
With linen cover'd for the hero's bed.
He climb'd the lofty stern; then gently prest
The swelling couch, and lay compos'd to rest.

Now plac'd in order, the Phæacian train
Their cables loose, and lanch into the main :
At once they bend, and strike their equal oars,
And leave the sinking hills and lessening shores.
While on the deck the chief in silence lies,
And pleasing slumbers steal upon his eyes.
As fiery coursers in the rapid race
Urg'd by fierce drivers through the dusty space,
Toss their high heads, and scour along the plain;
So mounts the bounding vessel o'er the main.
Back to the stern the parted billows flow,
And the black ocean foams and roars below.

Thus with spread sails the winged galley flies;
Less swift an eagle cuts the liquid skies;
Divine Ulysses was her sacred load,

A man, in wisdom equal to a god!
Much danger, long and mighty toils, he bore,
In storms by sea, and combats on the shore:
All which soft sleep now banish'd from his breast,
Wrapt in a pleasing, deep, and death-like rest.
But when the morning star with early ray
Flam'd in the front of Heaven, and promis'd day;
Like distant clouds the mariner descries
Fair Ithaca's emerging hills arise.

Far from the town a spacious port appears,
Sacred to Phoreys' power, whose name it bears:
Two craggy rocks projecting to the main,
The roaring wind's tempestuous rage restrain;
Within, the waves in softer murmurs glide,
And ships secure without their halsers ride,
High at the head a branching olive grows,
And crowns the pointed cliffs with shady boughs.
Beneath, a gloomy grotto's cool recess
Delights the Nereids of the neighbouring seas,

Q

Where bowls and urns were form'd of living stone,
And massy beams in native marble shone;
On which the labours of the nymph were roll'd,
Their webs divine of purple mix'd with gold.
Within the cave the clustering bees attend
Their waxen works, or from the roof depend,
Perpetual waters o'er the pavement glide;
Two marble doors unfold on either side,
Sacred the south, by which the gods descend;
But mortals enter at the northern end.

Thither they bent, and haul'd their ship to land;
(The crooked keel divides the yellow sand);
Ulysses sleeping on his couch they bore,
And gently plac'd him on the rocky shore.
His treasures next, Alcinous' gifts, they laid
In the wild olive's unfrequented shade,
Secure from theft: then lanch'd the bark again,
Resum'd their oars, and measur'd back the main.
Nor yet forgot old Ocean's dread supreme
The vengeance vow'd for eyeless Polypheme.
Before the throne of mighty Jove he stood;
And sought the secret counsels of the god :

"Shall then no more, O sire of gods, be mine
The rights and honours of a power divine?
Scorn'd ev'n by man, and (oh! severe disgrace!)
By soft Phæacians, my degenerate race!
Against yon destin'd head in vain I swore,

And menac'd vengeance, ere he reach'd his shore;
To reach his natal shore was thy decree;
Mild I obey'd, for who shall war with thee?
Pehold him landed, careless and asleep,
From all th' eluded dangers of the deep!
Lo! where he lies, amidst a shining store
Of brass, rich garments, and refulgent ore:
And bears triumphant to his native isle
A prize more worth than Ilion's noble spoil."

To whom the father of th' immortal powers, Who swells the clouds, and gladdens earth with

showers:

"Can mighty Neptune thus of man complain!
Neptune, tremendous o'er the boundless main!
Rever'd and awful ev'n in Heaven's abodes,
Ancient and great! a god above the gods!
If that low race offend thy power divine,
(Weak, daring creatures?) is not vengeance thine?
Go then, the guilty at thy will chastise."
He said the shaker of the Earth replies :
"This then I doom: to fix the gallant ship
A mark of vengeance on the sable deep:
To warn the thoughtless self-confiding train,
No more unlicens'd thus to brave the main.
Full in their port a shady hill shall rise,

If such thy will"-" We will it," Jove replies:
"Even when, with transport blackening all the
The swarming people hail their ship to land, [strand,
Fix her for ever, a memorial stone:

Still let her seem to sail, and seem alone;
The trembling crowds shall see the sudden shade
Of whelming mountains overhang their head !"
With that the god, whose earthquakes rock the
ground,

Fierce to Phæacia cross'd the vast profound,
Swift as a swallow sweeps the liquid way,
The winged pinnace shot along the sea.
The god arrests her with a sudden stroke,
And roots her down an everlasting rock.
Aghast the Scherians stand in deep surprise;
All press to speak, all question with their eyes.
What hands unseen the rapid bark restrain!
And yet it swims, or seems to swim, the main!

Thus they, unconscious of the dred divine :
Till great Alcinous, rising, own'd the sign.
"Behold the long predestin'd day!" he cries;
"Oh! certain faith of ancient prophecies!
These ears have heard my royal sire disclose
A dreadful story, big with future woes;
How mov'd with wrath, that careless we convey
Promiscuous every guest to every bay,

Stern Neptune rag'd; and how by his command Firm rooted in the surge a ship should stand | (A monument of wrath): and mound on mound Should hide our walls, or whelm beneath the ground.

"The Fates have follow'd, as declar'd the seer. Be humbled, nations! and your monarch hear, No more unlicens'd brave the deeps, no more With every stranger pass from shore to shore; On angry Neptune now for mercy call: To his high name let twelve black oxen fall. So may the god reverse his purpos'd will, Nor o'er our city hang the dreadful hill."

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

Meanwhile Ulysses in his country lay, Releas'd from sleep, and round him might survey The solitary shore and rolling sea.

Yet had his mind, through tedious absence, lost
The dear remembrance of his native coast;
Besides, Minerva, to secure her care,
Diffus'd around a veil of thicken'd air:
For so the gods ordain'd, to keep unseen
His royal person from his friends and queen;
Till the proud suitors for their crimes afford
An ample vengeance to their injur'd lord.

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

Pensive and slow, with sudden grief opprest,
The king arose, and beat his careful breast,
Cast a long look o'er all the coast and main,
And sought around, his native realm in vain :
Then with erected eyes stood fix'd in woe,
And, as he spoke, the tears began to flow:
"Ye gods!" he cry'd, upon what barren coast,
In what new region, is Ulysses tost?
Possess'd by wild barbarians, fierce in arms?
Or men whose bosom tender pity warms?
Where shall this treasure now in safety lie?
And whither, whither, its sad owner йy ?
Ah! why did I Alcinous' grace implore?
Ah! why forsake Phæacia's happy shore?
Some juster prince, perhaps, had entertain'd,
And safe restor'd me to my native land.
Is this the promis'd, long-expected coast,
And this the faith Phæacia's rulers boast?
O righteous gods! of all the great, how few
Are just to Heaven, and to their promise true!
But he, the power to whose all seeing eyes
The deeds of men appear without disguise;
'Tis his alone t' avenge the wrongs 1 bear:
For still th' opprest are his peculiar care.
To count these presents, and from thence to

prove

Their faith, is mine: the rest belongs to Jove."

Then on the sands he rang'd his wealthy store, The gold, the vests, the tripods, number'd o er: All these he found, but still in errour lost, Disconsolate he wanders on the coast, Sighs for his country, and laments again To the deaf rocks, and hoarse resounding main. When, lo! the guardian goddess of the wise, Celestial Pallas, stood before his eyes; In show a youthful swain, of form divine, Who seem'd descended from some princely line. A graceful robe her slender body drest, Around her shoulders flew the waving vest; Her decent hand a shining javelin bore, And painted sandals on her feet she wore. To whom the king: "Whoe'er of human race Thou art, that wander'st in this desert place! With joy to thee, as to some god, I bend, To thee my treasures and myself commend. Oh! tell a wretch, in exile doom'd to stray, What air I breathe, what country I survey? The fruitful continent's extremest bound, Or some fair isle which Neptune's arms surround!" "From what fair clime," said she, "remote from Arriv'st thou here a stranger to our name? [fame, Thou see'st an island, not to those unknown Whose hills are brighten'd by the rising Sun, Nor those that, plac'd beneath his utmost reign, Behold him sinking in the western main. The rugged soil allows no level space For flying chariots, or the rapid race: Yet, not ungrateful to the peasant's pain, Suffices fulness to the swelling grain: The loaded trees their various fruits produce, And clustering grapes afford a generous juice: Woods crown our mountains, and in every grove The bounding goats and frisking heifers rove: Soft rains and kindly dews refresh the field, And rising springs eternal verdure yield. Er'n to those shores is Ithaca renown'd, Where Troy's majestic ruins strow the ground." At this the chief with transport was possest, His panting heart exulting in his breast: Yet, well dissembling his untimely joys, And veiling truth in plausible disguise, Thus, with an air sincere, in fiction bold, His ready tale th' inventive hero told :

** Oft have I heard in Crete this island's name; For 'twas from Crete, my native soil, I came, Self-banish'd thence. I sail'd before the wind, And left my children and my friends behind. From fierce Idomeneus' revenge 1 flew, Whose son, the swift Orsilochus, I slew, (With brutal force he seiz'd my Trojan prey, Due to the toils of many a bloody day). Unseen I 'scap'd; and, favour'd by the night, In a Phoenician vessel took my flight, For Pyle or Elis bound: but tempests tost And raging billows drove us on your coast. In dead of night an unknown port we gain'd, Spent with fatigue, and slept secure on land. But here the rosy morn renew'd the day, While in th' embrace of pleasing sleep I lay, Sudden, invited by auspicious gales, They land my goods, and hoist their flying sails. Abandon'd here, my fortune I deplore, A hapless exile on a foreign shore."

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

Like a fair virgin in her beauty's bloom, Skill'd in th' illustrious labours of the loom.

"Ch, still the same Ulysses!" she rejoin'd,
"In useful craft successfully refin'd!
Artful in speech, in action, and in mind!
Suffic'd it not, that, thy long labours past,
Secure thou seest thy native shore at last?
But this to me? who, like thyself, excel
In arts of counsel, and dissembling well;
To me, whose wit exceeds the powers divine,
No less than mortals are surpass'd by thine.
Know'st thou not me? who made thy life my care,
Through ten years' wandering, and through ten
years' war:

Who taught thee arts, Alcinous to persuade,
To raise his wonder, and engage his aid:
And now appear thy treasures to protect,
Conceal thy person, thy designs direct,
And tell what more thou must from fate expect.
Domestic woes far heavier to be borne !
The pride of fools, and slaves' insulting scorn.
But thou be silent, nor reveal thy state:
Yield to the force of unresisted fate,
And bear unmov'd the wrongs of base mankind,
The last, and hardest, conquest of the mind."
"Goddess of wisdom!" Ithacus replies,
"He who discerns thee must be truly wise,
So seldom view'd, and ever in disguise!
When the bold Argives led their warring powers,
Against proud Ilion's well-defended towers;
Ulysses was thy care, celestial maid!
Grac'd with thy sight, and favour'd with thy aid.
But when the Trojan piles in ashes lay,

And, bound for Greece, we plough'd the watery

way;

Our fleet dispers'd and driven from coast to coast,
Thy sacred presence from that hour I lost:
Till I beheld thy radiant form once more,
And heard thy counsels on Phæacia's shore.
But, by th' almighty author of thy race,
Tell me, oh tell! is this my native place?
For much I fear, long tracts of land and sea
Divide this coast from distant Ithaca;
The sweet delusion kindly you impose,
To soothe my hopes, and mitigate my woes.'

"

Thus he. The blue-ey'd goddess thus replies: "How prone to doubt, how cautious, are the wise! Who, vers'd in fortune, fear the flattering show, And taste not half the bliss the gods bestow. The more shall Pallas aid thy just desires, And guard the wisdom which herself inspires. Others, long absent from their native place, Straight seek their home, and fly with eager pace To their wives' arms, and children's dear embrace. Not thus Ulysses: he decrees to prove His subjects' faith, and queen's suspected love; Who mourn'd her lord twice ten revolving years, And wastes the days in grief, the nights in tears. But Pallas knew (thy friends and navy lost) Once more 'twas given thee to behold thy coast! Yet how could I with adverse fate engage, And mighty Neptune's unrelenting rage? Now lift thy longing eyes, while I restore The pleasing prospect of thy native shore: Behold the port of Phorcys! fene'd around With rocky mountains, and with olives crown'd. Behold the gloomy grot! whose cool recess Delights the Nereids of the neighbouring seas: Whose now neglected altars in thy reign

Blush'd with the blood of sheep and oxen slain,