His back was bunch’d, his visage swarthy, curl’d
His poll, and he was named Eurybates;
A man whom most of all his followers far
Ulysses honour’d, for their minds were one.
Distinctly by Ulysses named, was moved
Still more to weep, till with o’erflowing grief
Satiate, at length she answer’d him again.
My pity, shalt my rev’rence share and love,
I folded for him (with these hands the cloak
Which thou describ’st, produced it when he went,
And gave it to him; I that splendid clasp
Attach’d to it myself, more to adorn
My honour’d Lord, whom to his native land
Return’d secure I shall receive no more.
In such an evil hour Ulysses went
To that bad city never to be named.
Consort revered of Laertiades!
No longer let anxiety impair
Thy beauteous form, nor any grief consume
Thy spirits more for thy Ulysses’ sake.
And yet I blame thee not; a wife deprived
Of her first mate to whom she had produced
Fair fruit of mutual love, would mourn his loss,
Although he were inferior far to thine,
Whom fame affirms the semblance of the Gods.
But cease to mourn. Hear me. I will relate
A faithful tale, nor will from thee withhold
Such tidings of Ulysses living still,
And of his safe return, as I have heard
Lately, in yon neighb’ring opulent land
Of the Thesprotians. He returns enrich’d
With many precious stores from those obtain’d
Whom he hath visited; but he hath lost,
Departing from Thrinacia’s isle, his bark
And all his lov’d companions in the Deep,
For Jove was adverse to him, and the Sun,
Whose beeves his followers slew. They perish’d all
Amid the billowy flood; but Him, the keel
Bestriding of his bark, the waves at length
Cast forth on the Phæacian’s land, a race
Allied to heav’n, who rev’renced like a God
Thy husband, honour’d him with num’rous gifts,
And willing were to have convey’d him home.
Ulysses, therefore, had attained long since
His native shore, but that he deem’d it best
To travel far, that he might still amass
More wealth; so much Ulysses all mankind
Excels in policy, and hath no peer.
This information from Thesprotia’s King
I gain’d, from Phidon; to myself he swore,
Libation off’ring under his own roof,
That both the bark was launch’d, and the stout crew
Prepared, that should conduct him to his home.
But me he first dismiss’d; for, as it chanced,
A ship lay there of the Thesprotians, bound
To corn-enrich’d Dulichium. All the wealth
He shew’d me by the Chief amass’d, a store
To feed the house of yet another Prince
To the tenth generation; so immense
His treasures were within that palace lodg’d.
Himself he said was to Dodona gone,
Counsel to ask from the oracular oaks
Sublime of Jove, how safest he might seek,
After long exile thence, his native land,
If openly were best, or in disguise.
Thus, therefore, he is safe, and at his home
Well-nigh arrived, nor shall his country long
Want him. I swear it with a solemn oath.
First Jove be witness, King and Lord of all!
Next these domestic Gods of the renown’d
Ulysses, in whose royal house I sit,
That thou shalt see my saying all fulfill’d.
Ulysses shall this self-same year return,
This self-same month, ere yet the next begin.
Grant heav’n, my guest, that this good word of thine
Fail not! then, soon shalt thou such bounty share
And friendship at my hands, that, at first sight,
Whoe’er shall meet thee shall pronounce thee blest.
But ah! my soul forebodes how it will prove;
Neither Ulysses will return, nor thou
Receive safe conduct hence; for we have here
None, such as once Ulysses was, to rule
His household with authority, and to send
With honourable convoy to his home
The worthy guest, or to regale him here.
Give him the bath, my maidens; spread his couch
With linen soft, with fleecy gaberdines
And rugs of splendid hue, that he may lie
Waiting, well-warm’d, the golden morn’s return.
Attend him also at the peep of day
With bath and unction, that, his seat resumed
Here in the palace, he may be prepared
For breakfast with Telemachus; and woe
To him who shall presume to incommode
Or cause him pain; that man shall be cashier’d
Hence instant, burn his anger as it may.
For how, my honour’d inmate! shalt thou learn
That I in wisdom œconomic aught
Pass other women, if unbathed, unoiled,
Ill-clad, thou sojourn here? man’s life is short,
Whose is cruel, and to cruel arts
Addict, on him all men, while yet he lives,
Call plagues and curses down, and after death
Scorn and proverbial mock’ries hunt his name.
But men, humane themselves, and giv’n by choice
To offices humane, from land to land
Are rumour’d honourably by their guests,
And ev’ry tongue is busy in their praise.
Consort revered of Laertiades!
Warm gaberdines and rugs of splendid hue
To me have odious been, since first the sight
Of Crete’s snow-mantled mountain-tops I lost,
Sweeping the billows with extended oars.
No; I will pass, as I am wont to pass
The sleepless night; for on a sordid
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