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No longer now from shore to shore to roam,
Smooth seas and gentle winds invite him home.
But hear me, princes! whom these walls enclose,
For whom my chaunter sings, and goblet flows
With wine 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 god-like 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 ad-
dress'd

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 the 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 sat, 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 address'd.

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. 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 approv'd

Benign, and instant his dismission mov'd.
The monarch to Pontonous gave the sign,
To fill the goblet high with rosy wine:
Great Jove the father, first (he cried) implore;
Then send the stranger to his native shore.

The luscious wine the obedient herald brought; Around the mansion flow'd the purple draught: Each from his seat to each immortal pours, Whom glory circles in the Olympian bowers. Ulysses sole with air majestic stands,

The bowl presenting to Arete's hands;

Then thus: O queen, farewell! be still possess'd Of dear remembrance, blessing still and bless'd!

'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 press'd
The swelling couch, and lay compos'd to rest.
Now plac'd in order, the Phæacian train
Their cables loose, and launch 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 Phorcys' 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;
Where bowls and urns were form'd of living stone,
And massy beams in native marble shone:

On which the labours of the nymphs 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 launch'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 e'en by man, and (O 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? Behold 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 e'en 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.
E'en when with transport blackening all the strand,
The swarming people hail their ship to land,
Fix her forever, 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!

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