By whom I also was cajoled, and lured
T’ attend him to Phœnicia, where his house
And his possessions lay; there I abode
A year complete his inmate; but (the days
And months accomplish’d of the rolling year,
And the new seasons ent’ring on their course)
To Lybia then, on board his bark, by wiles
He won me with him, partner of the freight
Profess’d, but destin’d secretly to sale,
That he might profit largely by my price.
Not unsuspicious, yet constrain’d to go,
With this man I embark’d. A cloudless gale
Propitious blowing from the North, our ship
Ran right before it through the middle sea,
In the offing over Crete; but adverse Jove
Destruction plann’d for them and death the while.
For, Crete now left afar, and other land
Appearing none, but sky alone and sea,
Right o’er the hollow bark Saturnian Jove
A cloud cærulean hung, dark’ning the Deep.
Then, thund’ring oft, he hurl’d into the bark
His bolts; she smitten by the fires of Jove,
Quaked all her length; with sulphur fill’d she reek’d,
And, o’er her sides precipitated, plunged
Like gulls the crew, forbidden by that stroke
Of wrath divine to hope their country more.
But Jove himself, when I had cast away
All hope of life, conducted to my arms
The strong tall mast, that I might yet escape.
Around that beam I clung, driving before
The stormy blast. Nine days complete I drove,
And, on the tenth dark night, the rolling flood
Immense convey’d me to Thesprotia’s shore.
There me the Hero Phidon, gen’rous King
Of the Thesprotians, freely entertained;
For his own son discov’ring me with toil
Exhausted and with cold, raised me, and thence
Led me humanely to his father’s house,
Who cherish’d me, and gave me fresh attire.
There heard I of Ulysses, whom himself
Had entertain’d, he said, on his return
To his own land; he shew’d me also gold,
Brass, and bright steel elab’rate, whatsoe’er
Ulysses had amass’d, a store to feed
A less illustrious family than his
To the tenth generation, so immense
His treasures in the royal palace lay.
Himself, he said, was to Dodona gone,
There, from the tow’ring oaks of Jove to ask
Counsel divine, if openly to land
(After long absence) in his opulent realm
Of Ithaca, be best, or in disguise.
To me the monarch swore, in his own hall
Pouring libation, that the ship was launch’d,
And the crew ready for his conduct home.
But me he first dismiss’d, for, as it chanced,
A ship lay there of the Thesprotians, bound
To green Dulichium’s isle. He bade the crew
Bear me to King Acastus with all speed;
But them far other thoughts pleased more, and thoughts
Of harm to me, that I might yet be plunged
In deeper gulphs of woe than I had known.
For, when the billow-cleaving bark had left
The land remote, framing, combined, a plot
Against my liberty, they stripp’d my vest
And mantle, and this tatter’d raiment foul
Gave me instead, which thy own eyes behold.
At even-tide reaching the cultur’d coast
Of Ithaca, they left me bound on board
With tackle of the bark, and quitting ship
Themselves, made hasty supper on the shore.
But me, meantime, the Gods easily loos’d
By their own pow’r, when, with wrapper vile
Around my brows, sliding into the sea
At the ship’s stern, I lay’d me on the flood.
With both hands oaring thence my course, I swam
Till past all ken of theirs; then landing where
Thick covert of luxuriant trees I mark’d,
Close couchant down I lay; they mutt’ring loud,
Paced to and fro, but deeming farther search
Unprofitable, soon embark’d again.
Thus baffling all their search with ease, the Gods
Conceal’d and led me thence to the abode
Of a wise man, dooming me still to live.
Alas! my most compassionable guest!
Thou hast much moved me by this tale minute
Of thy sad wand’rings and thy num’rous woes.
But, speaking of Ulysses, thou hast pass’d
All credence; I at least can give thee none.
Why, noble as thou art, should’st thou invent
Palpable falsehoods? as for the return
Of my regretted Lord, myself I know
That had he not been hated by the Gods
Unanimous, he had in battle died
At Troy, or (that long doubtful war, at last,
Concluded,) in his people’s arms at home.
Then universal Greece had raised his tomb,
And he had even for his son atchiev’d
Immortal glory; but alas! by beaks
Of harpies torn, unseemly sight, he lies.
Here is my home the while; I never seek
The city, unless summon’d by discrete
Penelope to listen to the news
Brought by some stranger, whencesoe’er arrived.
Then, all, alike inquisitive, attend,
Both who regret the absence of our King,
And who rejoice gratuitous to gorge
His property; but as for me, no joy
Find I in list’ning after such reports,
Since an Ætolian cozen’d me, who found
(After long wand’ring over various lands
A fugitive for blood) my lone retreat.
Him warm I welcom’d, and with open arms
Receiv’d, who bold affirm’d that he had seen
My master with Idomeneus at Crete
His ships refitting shatter’d by a storm,
And that in summer with his godlike band
He would return, bringing great riches home,
Or else in autumn. And thou ancient guest
Forlorn! since thee the Gods have hither led,
Seek not to gratify me with untruths
And to deceive me, since for no such cause
I shall respect or love thee, but alone
By pity influenced, and the fear of Jove.
Thou hast, in truth, a most incredulous mind,
Whom even with an oath I have not moved,
Or aught persuaded. Come then—let us make
In terms express a cov’nant, and
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