Instant to Scheria, maritime abode
Of the Phæacians, went. Arrived, he watch’d.
And now the flying bark full near approach’d,
When Neptune, meeting her, with out-spread palm
Depress’d her at a stroke, and she became
Deep-rooted stone. Then Neptune went his way.
Phæacia’s ship-ennobled sons meantime
Conferring stood, and thus, in accents wing’d,
Th’ amazed spectator to his fellow spake.
Homeward? this moment she was all in view.
Alcinoüs, instructing them, replied.
With force, my father’s. He was wont to say—
Neptune resents it, that we safe conduct
Natives of ev’ry region to their home.
He also spake, prophetic, of a day
When a Phæacian gallant bark, return’d
After conveyance of a stranger hence,
Should perish in the dreary Deep, and changed
To a huge mountain, cover all the town.
This day fulfill’d. Thus, therefore, act we all
Unanimous; henceforth no longer bear
The stranger home, when such shall here arrive;
And we will sacrifice, without delay,
Twelve chosen bulls to Neptune, if, perchance,
He will commiserate us, and forbear
To hide our town behind a mountain’s height.
Thus all Pæacia’s Senators and Chiefs
His altar compassing, in pray’r adored
The Ocean’s God. Meantime, Ulysses woke,
Unconscious where; stretch’d on his native soil
He lay, and knew it not, long-time exiled.
For Pallas, progeny of Jove, a cloud
Drew dense around him, that, ere yet agnized
By others, he might wisdom learn from her,
Neither to citizens, nor yet to friends
Reveal’d, nor even to his own espoused,
Till, first, he should avenge complete his wrongs
Domestic from those suitors proud sustained.
All objects, therefore, in the Hero’s eyes
Seem’d alien, foot-paths long, commodious ports,
Heav’n-climbing rocks, and trees of amplest growth.
Arising, fixt he stood, his native soil
Contemplating, till with expanded palms
Both thighs he smote, and, plaintive, thus began.
Rude are they, contumacious and unjust,
Or hospitable, and who fear the Gods?
Where now shall I secrete these num’rous stores?
Where wander I, myself? I would that still
Phæacians own’d them, and I had arrived
In the dominions of some other King
Magnanimous, who would have entertain’d
And sent me to my native home secure!
Now, neither know I where to place my wealth,
Nor can I leave it here, lest it become
Another’s prey. Alas! Phæacia’s Chiefs
Not altogether wise I deem or just,
Who have misplaced me in another land,
Promis’d to bear me to the pleasant shores
Of Ithaca, but have not so perform’d.
Jove, guardian of the suppliant’s rights, who all
Transgressors marks, and punishes all wrong,
Avenge me on the treach’rous race!—but hold—
I will revise my stores, so shall I know
If they have left me here of aught despoiled.
The vases, tripods bright, and tissued robes,
But nothing miss’d of all. Then he bewail’d
His native isle, with pensive steps and slow
Pacing the border of the billowy flood,
Forlorn; but while he wept, Pallas approach’d,
In form a shepherd stripling, girlish fair
In feature, such as are the sons of Kings;
A sumptuous mantle o’er his shoulders hung
Twice-folded, sandals his nice feet upbore,
And a smooth javelin glitter’d in his hand.
Ulysses, joyful at the sight, his steps
Turn’d brisk toward her, whom he thus address’d.
Encounter in this land unknown, all hail!
Come not with purposes of harm to me!
These save, and save me also. I prefer
To thee, as to some God, my pray’r, and clasp
Thy knees a suppliant. Say, and tell me true,
What land? what people? who inhabit here?
Is this some isle delightful, or a shore
Of fruitful main-land sloping to the sea?
Stranger! thou sure art simple, or hast dwelt
Far distant hence, if of this land thou ask.
It is not, trust me, of so little note,
But known to many, both to those who dwell
Toward the sun-rise, and to others placed
Behind it, distant in the dusky West.
Rugged it is, not yielding level course
To the swift steed, and yet no barren spot,
However small, but rich in wheat and wine;
Nor wants
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