THE PATIENT heavnly man thus suppliant prayd; | |
| While the slow mules draw on th imperial maid: | |
| Thro the proud street she moves, the public gaze; | |
| The turning wheel before the palace stays. | |
| With ready love her brothers gathring round, | 5 |
| Receivd the vestures, and the mules unbound. | |
| She seeks the bridal bower: a matron there | |
| The rising fire supplies with busy care, | |
| Whose charms in youth her fathers heart inflamed, | |
| Now worn with age, Eurymedusa named: | 10 |
| The captive dame Phæacian rovers bore, | |
| Snatchd from Epirus, her sweet native shore | |
| (A grateful prize), and in her bloom bestowd | |
| On good Alcinoüs, honourd as a God; | |
| Nurse of Nausicaa from her infant years, | 15 |
| And tender second to a mothers cares. | |
| Now from the sacred thicket, where he lay, | |
| To town Ulysses took the winding way. | |
| Propitious Pallas, to secure her care, | |
| Around him spread a veil of thickend air; | 20 |
| To shun th encounter of the vulgar crowd, | |
| Insulting still, inquisitive and loud. | |
| When near the famed Phæacian walls he drew, | |
| The beauteous city opening to his view, | |
| His step a virgin met, and stood before: | 25 |
| A polishd urn the seeming virgin bore, | |
| And youthful smild; but in the low disguise | |
| Lay hid the Goddess with the Azure Eyes. | |
| Show me, fair daughter (thus the Chief demands), | |
| The house of him who rules these happy lands; | 30 |
| Thro many woes and wandrings, lo! I come | |
| To good Alcinoüs hospitable dome. | |
| Far from my native coast, I rove alone, | |
| A wretched stranger, and of all unknown! | |
| The Goddess answerd: Father, I obey, | 35 |
| And point the wandring traveller his way: | |
| Well known to me the palace you inquire, | |
| For fast beside it dwells my honourd sire: | |
| But silent march, nor greet the common train | |
| With question needless, or inquiry vain: | 40 |
| A race of rugged mariners are these: | |
| Unpolishd men, and boistrous as their seas: | |
| The native islanders alone their care, | |
| And hateful he who breathes a foreign air. | |
| These did the ruler of the deep ordain | 45 |
| To build proud navies, and command the main; | |
| On canvas wings to cut the watry way; | |
| No bird so light, no thought so swift as they. | |
| Thus having spoke, th unknown Celestial leads: | |
| The footsteps of the deity he treads, | 50 |
| And secret moves along the crowded space, | |
| Unseen of all the rude Phæacian race | |
| (So Pallas orderd. Pallas to their eyes | |
| The mist objected, and condensd the skies). | |
| The Chief with wonder sees th extended streets, | 55 |
| The spreading harbours, and the riding fleets; | |
| He next their Princes lofty domes admires, | |
| In seprate islands, crownd with rising spires; | |
| And deep intrenchments, and high walls of stone, | |
| That gird the city like a marble zone. | 60 |
| At length the kingly palace gates he viewd; | |
| There stoppd the Goddess, and her speech renewd. | |
| My task is done; the mansion you inquire | |
| Appears before you: enter, and admire. | |
| High-throned, and feasting, there thou shalt behold | 65 |
| The sceptred rulers. Fear not, but be bold: | |
| A decent boldness ever meets with friends, | |
| Succeeds, and evn a stranger recommends. | |
| First to the Queen prefer a suppliants claim, | |
| Alcinoüs Queen, Aretè is her name, | 70 |
| The same her parents, and her power the same. | |
| For know, from Oceans God Nausithoüs sprung, | |
| And Periba, beautiful and young; | |
| (Eurymedons last hope, who ruled of old | |
| The race of giants, impious, proud, and bold; | 75 |
| Perishd the nation in unrighteous war, | |
| Perishd the Prince, and left this only heir); | |
| Who now, by Neptunes amrous power compressd, | |
| Produced a Monarch that his people blessd, | |
| Father and Prince of the Phæacian name; | 80 |
| From him Rhexenor and Alcinoüs came. | |
| The first by Phbus burning arrows fired, | |
| New from his nuptials, hapless youth! expired. | |
| No son survived: Aretè heird his state, | |
| And her Alcinoüs chose his royal mate. | 85 |
| With honours yet to womankind unknown | |
| This Queen he graces, and divides the throne; | |
| In equal tenderness her sons conspire, | |
| And all the children emulate their sire. | |
| When thro the street she gracious deigns to move | 90 |
| (The public wonder and the public love), | |
| The tongues of all with transport sound her praise, | |
| The eyes of all, as on a Goddess, gaze. | |
| She feels the triumph of a genrous breast; | |
| To heal divisions, to relieve th oppressd; | 95 |
| In virtue rich; in blessing others, blessd. | |
| Go then secure, thy humble suit prefer, | |
| And owe thy country and thy friends to her. | |
| With that the Goddess deignd no longer stay, | |
| But oer the world of waters wingd her way: | 100 |
| Forsaking Scherias ever-pleasing shore, | |
| The winds to Marathon the virgin bore: | |
| Thence, where proud Athens rears her towry head, | |
| With opening streets and shining structures spread, | |
| She passd, delighted with the well-known seats; | 105 |
| And to Erectheus sacred dome retreats. | |
| Meanwhile Ulysses at the palace waits, | |
| There stops, and anxious with his soul debates, | |
| Fixd in amaze before the royal gates. | |
| The front appeard with radiant splendours gay, | 110 |
| Bright as the lamp of night, or orb of day. | |
| The walls were massy brass: the cornice high | |
| Blue metals crownd in colours of the sky; | |
| Rich plates of gold the folding doors incase; | |
| The pillars silver, on a brazen base; | 115 |
| Silver the lintels deep-projecting oer, | |
| And gold the ringlets that command the door. | |
| Two rows of stately dogs on either hand, | |
| In sculptured gold and labourd silver stand. | |
| These Vulcan formd with art divine, to wait | 120 |
| Immortal guardians at Alcinoüs gate; | |
| Alive each animated frame appears, | |
| And still to live beyond the power of years. | |
| Fair thrones within from space to space were raisd, | |
| Where various carpets with embroidry blazed, | 125 |
| The work of matrons: these the Princes pressd, | |
| Day follwing day, a long continued feast. | |
| Refulgent pedestals the walls surround, | |
| Which boys of gold with flaming torches crownd; | |
| The polishd ore, reflecting every ray, | 130 |
| Blazed on the banquets with a double day. | |
| Full fifty handmaids formd the household train; | |
| Some turn the mill, or sift the golden grain; | |
| Some ply the loom; their busy fingers move | |
| Like poplar-leaves when Zephyr fans the grove. | 135 |
| Not more renownd the men of Scherias isle, | |
| For sailing arts and all the naval toil, | |
| Than works of female skill their womens pride, | |
| The flying shuttle thro the threads to guide: | |
| Pallas to these her double gifts imparts, | 140 |
| Inventive genius, and industrious arts. | |
| Close to the gates a spacious garden lies, | |
| From storms defended and inclement skies. | |
| Four acres was th allotted space of ground, | |
| Fencd with a green enclosure all around. | 145 |
| Tall thriving trees confessd the fruitful mould; | |
| The reddning apple ripens here to gold. | |
| Here the blue fig with luscious juice oer-flows, | |
| With deeper red the full pomegranate glows; | |
| The branch here bends beneath the weighty pear, | 150 |
| And verdant olives flourish round the year. | |
| The balmy spirit of the western gale | |
| Eternal breathes on fruits, untaught to fail; | |
| Each dropping pear a follwing pear supplies, | |
| On apples apples, figs on figs arise: | 155 |
| The same mild season gives the blooms to blow, | |
| The buds to harden, and the fruits to grow. | |
| Here orderd vines in equal ranks appear, | |
| With all th united labours of the year; | |
| Some to unload the fertile branches run, | 160 |
| Some dry the blackning clusters in the sun; | |
| Others to tread the liquid harvest join, | |
| The groaning presses foam with floods of wine, | |
| Here are the vines in early flower descried, | |
| Here grapes discolourd on the sunny side, | 165 |
| And there in Autumns richest purple dyed. | |
| Beds of all various herbs, for ever green, | |
| In beauteous order terminate the scene. | |
| Two plenteous fountains the whole prospect crownd: | |
| This thro the gardens leads its streams around, | 170 |
| Visits each plant, and waters all the ground; | |
| While that in pipes beneath the palace flows, | |
| And thence its current on the town bestows: | |
| To various use their various streams they bring, | |
| The people one, and one supplies the King. | 175 |
| Such were the glories which the Gods ordaind, | |
| To grace Alcinoüs, and his happy land. | |
| Evn from the Chief whom men and nations knew, | |
| Th unwonted scene surprise and rapture drew; | |
| In pleasing thought he ran the prospect oer, | 180 |
| Then hasty enterd at the lofty door. | |
| Night now approaching, in the palace stand, | |
| With goblets crownd, the rulers of the land; | |
| Prepared for rest, and offring to the God | |
| Who bears the virtue of the sleepy rod. | 185 |
| Unseen he glided thro the joyous crowd, | |
| With darkness circled, and an ambient cloud, | |
| Direct to great Alcinoüs throne he came, | |
| And prostrate fell before th imperial dame. | |
| Then from around him droppd the veil of night; | 190 |
| Sudden he shines, and manifest to sight. | |
| The nobles gaze, with awful fear oppressd; | |
| Silent they gaze, and eye the godlike guest. | |
| Daughter of great Rhexenor! (thus began, | |
| Low at her knees, the much-enduring man), | 195 |
| To thee, thy consort, and this royal train, | |
| To all that share the blessings of your reign, | |
| A suppliant bends: oh pity human woe! | |
| T is what the happy to th unhappy owe. | |
| A wretched exile to his country send, | 200 |
| Long worn with griefs, and long without a friend. | |
| So may the Gods your better days increase, | |
| And all your joys descend on all your race: | |
| So reign for ever on your countrys breast, | |
| Your people blessing, by your people blessd! | 205 |
| Then to the genial hearth he bowd his face, | |
| And humbled in the ashes took his place. | |
| Silence ensued. The eldest first began, | |
| Echeneus sage, a venerable man! | |
| Whose well-taught mind the present age surpassd, | 210 |
| And joind to that th experience of the last. | |
| Fit words attended on his weighty sense, | |
| And mild persuasion flowd in eloquence. | |
| Oh sight (he cried) dishonest and unjust! | |
| A guest, a stranger, seated in the dust! | 215 |
| To raise the lowly suppliant from the ground | |
| Befits a Monarch. Lo! the peers around | |
| But wait thy word, the gentle guest to grace, | |
| And seat him fair in some distinguishd place. | |
| Let first the herald due libation pay | 220 |
| To Jove, who guides the wandrer on his way; | |
| Then set the genial banquet in his view, | |
| And give the stranger-guest a strangers due. | |
| His sage advice the listning King obeys; | |
| He stretchd his hand the prudent Chief to raise, | 225 |
| And from his seat Laodamas removd | |
| (The Monarchs offspring, and his best-belovd); | |
| There next his side the godlike Hero sate; | |
| With stars of silver shone the bed of state. | |
| The golden ewer a beauteous handmaid brings, | 230 |
| Replenishd from the cool translucent springs, | |
| Whose polishd vase with copious streams supplies | |
| A silver laver of capacious size. | |
| The table next in regal order spread, | |
| The glittring canisters are heapd with bread: | 235 |
| Viands of various kinds invite the taste, | |
| Of choicest sort and savour, rich repast! | |
| Thus feasting high, Alcinoüs gave the sign, | |
| And bade the Herald pour the rosy wine. | |
| Let all around the due libation pay | 240 |
| To Jove, who guides the wandrer on his way. | |
| He said. Pontonoüs heard the Kings command; | |
| The circling goblet moves from hand to hand; | |
| Each drinks the juice that glads the heart of man. | |
| Alcinoüs then, with aspect mild, began: | 245 |
| Princes and Peers, attend; while we impart | |
| To you the thoughts of no inhuman heart. | |
| Now pleasd and satiate from the social rite | |
| Repair we to the blessings of the night; | |
| But with the rising day, assembled here, | 250 |
| Let all the elders of the land appear, | |
| Pious observe our hospitable laws, | |
| And Heavn propitiate in the strangers cause; | |
| Then joind in council, proper means explore | |
| Safe to transport him to the wished-for shore | 255 |
| (How distant that, imports not us to know, | |
| Nor weigh the labour, but relieve the woe). | |
| Meantime, nor harm nor anguish let him bear: | |
| This interval, Heavn trusts him to our care; | |
| But to his native land our charge resignd, | 260 |
| Heavns 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 evn from the birth are Misery and Man! | |
| But if, descended from th Olympian bower, | 265 |
| Gracious approach us some immortal Power; | |
| If in that form thou comst a guest divine; | |
| Some high event the conscious Gods design. | |
| As yet, unbid they never graced our feast, | |
| The solemn sacrifice calld down the guest; | 270 |
| Then manifest of Heavn the vision stood, | |
| And to our eyes familiar was the God. | |
| Oft with some favourd traveller they stray, | |
| And shine before him all the desert way; | |
| With social intercourse, and face to face, | 275 |
| 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. | 280 |
| Let no such thought (with modest grace rejoind | |
| 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 heavnly kind! | 285 |
| How more inferior in the gifts of mind! | |
| Alas, a mortal! most oppressd of those | |
| Whom Fate has loaded with a weight of woes; | |
| By a sad train of miseries alone | |
| Distinguishd long, and second now to none! | 290 |
| By Heavns high will compelld from shore to shore, | |
| With Heavns 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, | 295 |
| My craving bowels still require repast. | |
| Howeer the noble, suffring mind may grieve | |
| Its load of anguish, and disdain to live, | |
| Necessity demands our daily bread; | |
| Hunger is insolent, and will be fed. | 300 |
| But finish, O ye Peers! what you propose, | |
| And let the morrows dawn conclude my woes. | |
| Pleasd will I suffer all the Gods ordain, | |
| To see my soil, my son, my friends again. | |
| That view vouchsafed, let instant death surprise | 305 |
| With ever-during shade these happy eyes! | |
| Th assembled Peers with genral praise approvd | |
| His pleaded reason, and the suit he movd. | |
| Each drinks a full oblivion of his cares, | |
| And to the gifts of balmy sleep repairs. | 310 |
| Ulysses in the regal walls alone | |
| Remaind: beside him, on a splendid throne | |
| Divine Aretè and Alcinoüs shone. | |
| The Queen, on nearer view, the guest surveyd, | |
| Robed in the garments her own hands had made, | 315 |
| Not without wonder seen. Then thus began, | |
| Her words addressing to the godlike man: | |
| Camest thou not hither, wondrous stranger! say, | |
| From lands remote, and oer a length of sea? | |
| Tell then whence art thou? whence that princely air? | 320 |
| And robes like these, so recent and so fair? | |
| 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 Heavn and Fate! | 325 |
| Yet what you ask, attend. An island lies | |
| Beyond these tracts, and under other skies, | |
| Ogygia named, in Oceans watry arms; | |
| Where dwells Calypso, dreadful in her charms! | |
| Remote from Gods or men she holds her reign, | 330 |
| Amid the terrors of the rolling main. | |
| Me, only me, the hand of Fortune bore, | |
| Unblest! to tread that interdicted shore: | |
| When Jove tremendous in the sable deeps | |
| Launchd his red lightning at our scatterd ships, | 335 |
| Then, all my fleet, and all my follwers lost, | |
| Sole on a plank, on boiling surges tossd, | |
| Heavn drove my wreck th Ogygian isle to find, | |
| Full nine days floating to the wave and wind. | |
| Met by the Goddess there with open arms, | 340 |
| She bribed my stay with more than human charms; | |
| Nay, promisd, vainly promisd, to bestow | |
| Immortal life, exempt from age and woe; | |
| But all her blandishments successless prove, | |
| To banish from my breast my countrys love. | 345 |
| I stay reluctant sevn 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 formd to cross the surging sea; | 350 |
| Herself supplied the stores and rich array, | |
| And gave the gales to waft me on the way. | |
| In sevnteen days appeard your pleasing coast, | |
| And woody mountains half in vapours lost. | |
| Joy touchd my soul: my soul was joyd in vain, | 355 |
| For angry Neptune rousd 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 | 360 |
| With naked force, and shoot along the wave, | |
| To reach this isle; but there my hopes were lost; | |
| The surge impelld me on a craggy coast. | |
| I chose the safer sea, and chanced to find | |
| A rivers mouth impervious to the wind, | 365 |
| And clear of rocks. I fainted by the flood; | |
| Then took the shelter of the neighbring wood. | |
| T was night, and coverd in the foliage deep, | |
| Jove plunged my senses in the death of sleep. | |
| All night I slept, oblivious of my pain: | 370 |
| Aurora dawnd, and Phbus shined in vain, | |
| Nor, till oblique he sloped his evning ray, | |
| Had Somnus dried the balmy dews away. | |
| Then female voices from the shore I heard: | |
| A maid amidst them, goddess-like, appeard; | 375 |
| To her I sued, she pitied my distress; | |
| Like thee in beauty, nor in virtue less. | |
| Who from such youth could hope considrate care? | |
| In youth and beauty wisdom is but rare! | |
| She gave me life, relievd with just supplies | 380 |
| 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. | |
| To this the King: Our daughter but expressd | |
| Her cares imperfect to her godlike guest. | 385 |
| Suppliant to her since first he chose to pray, | |
| Why not herself did she conduct the way, | |
| And with her handmaids to our court convey? | |
| Hero and King (Ulysses thus replied), | |
| Nor blame her faultless, nor suspect of pride: | 390 |
| She bade me follow in th attendant train; | |
| But fear and revrence did my steps detain, | |
| Lest rash suspicion might alarm thy mind: | |
| Man s of a jealous and mistaking kind. | |
| Far from my soul (he cried) the Gods efface | 395 |
| All wrath ill-grounded, and suspicion base! | |
| Whateer is honest, stranger, I approve, | |
| And would to Phbus, Pallas, and to Jove, | |
| Such as thou art, thy thought and mine were one, | |
| Nor thou unwilling to be calld my son. | 400 |
| In such alliance couldst thou wish to join, | |
| A palace stord 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. | 405 |
| 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. | 410 |
| Far as Euba tho thy country lay, | |
| Our ships with ease transport thee in a day. | |
| Thither of old, earths giant son to view, | |
| On wings of winds with Rhadamanth they flew; | |
| This land, from whence their morning course begun, | 415 |
| Saw them returning with the setting sun. | |
| Your eyes shall witness and confirm my tale, | |
| Our youth how dextrous and how fleet our sail, | |
| When justly timed with equal sweep they row, | |
| And ocean whitens in long tracks below. | 420 |
| Thus he. No word the experiencd man replies, | |
| But thus to Heavn (and Heavnward lifts his eyes): | |
| O Jove! O Father! what the King accords | |
| Do thou make perfect! sacred be his words! | |
| Wide oer the world Alcinoüs glory shine! | 425 |
| Let fame be his, and ah! my country mine! | |
| Meantime Aretè, for the hour of rest, | |
| Ordains the fleecy couch, and covring vest; | |
| Bids her fair train the purple quilts prepare, | |
| And the thick carpets spread with busy care. | 430 |
| With torches blazing in their hands they passd, | |
| And finishd all their Queens command with haste: | |
| Then gave the signal to the willing guest: | |
| He rose with pleasure, and retired to rest. | |
| There soft-extended, to the murmring sound | 435 |
| Of the high porch, Ulysses sleeps profound! | |
| Within, releasd from cares Alcinoüs lies; | |
| And fast beside were closed Aretès eyes. | |
| |