"Wretch that I am! what farther fates attend

  This life of toils, and what my destined end?

  Too well, alas! the island goddess knew

  On the black sea what perils should ensue.

  New horrors now this destined head inclose;

  Untill'd is yet the measure of my woes;

  With what a cloud the brows of heaven are crown'd;

  What raging winds! what roaring waters round!

  'Tis Jove himself the swelling tempest rears;

  Death, present death, on every side appears.

  Happy! thrice happy! who, in battle slain,

  Press'd in Atrides' cause the Trojan plain!

  Oh! had I died before that well-fought wall!

  Had some distinguish'd day renown'd my fall

  (Such as was that when showers of javelins fled

  From conquering Troy around Achilles dead),

  All Greece had paid me solemn funerals then,

  And spread my glory with the sons of men.

  A shameful fate now hides my hapless head,

  Unwept, unnoted, and for ever dead!"

  A mighty wave rush'd o'er him as he spoke,

  The raft is cover'd, and the mast is broke;

  Swept from the deck and from the rudder torn,

  Far on the swelling surge the chief was borne;

  While by the howling tempest rent in twain

  Flew sail and sail-yards rattling o'er the main.

  Long-press'd, he heaved beneath the weighty wave,

  Clogg'd by the cumbrous vest Calypso gave;

  At length, emerging, from his nostrils wide

  And gushing mouth effused the briny tide;

  E'en then not mindless of his last retreat,

  He seized the raft, and leap'd into his seat,

  Strong with the fear of death. In rolling flood,

  Now here, now there, impell'd the floating wood

  As when a heap of gather'd thorns is cast,

  Now to, now fro, before the autumnal blast;

  Together clung, it rolls around the field;

  So roll'd the float, and so its texture held:

  And now the south, and now the north, bear sway,

  And now the east the foamy floods obey,

  And now the west wind whirls it o'er the sea.

  The wandering chief with toils on toils oppress'd,

  Leucothea saw, and pity touch'd her breast.

  (Herself a mortal once, of Cadmus' strain,

  But now an azure sister of the main)

  Swift as a sea-mew springing from the flood,

  All radiant on the raft the goddess stood;

  Then thus address'd him: "Thou whom heaven decrees

  To Neptune's wrath, stern tyrant of the seas!

  (Unequal contest!) not his rage and power,

  Great as he is, such virtue shall devour.

  What I suggest, thy wisdom will perform:

  Forsake thy float, and leave it to the storm;

  Strip off thy garments; Neptune's fury brave

  With naked strength, and plunge into the wave.

  To reach Phaeacia all thy nerves extend,

  There Fate decrees thy miseries shall end.

  This heavenly scarf beneath thy bosom bind,

  And live; give all thy terrors to the wind.

  Soon as thy arms the happy shore shall gain,

  Return the gift, and cast it in the main:

  Observe my orders, and with heed obey,

  Cast it far off, and turn thy eyes away."

  With that, her hand the sacred veil bestows,

  Then down the deeps she dived from whence she rose;

  A moment snatch'd the shining form away,

  And all was covered with the curling sea.

  Struck with amaze, yet still to doubt inclined,

  He stands suspended, and explores his mind:

  "What shall I do? unhappy me! who knows

  But other gods intend me other woes?

  Whoe'er thou art, I shall not blindly join

  Thy pleaded reason, but consult with mine:

  For scarce in ken appears that distant isle

  Thy voice foretells me shall conclude my toil.

  Thus then I judge: while yet the planks sustain

  The wild waves' fury, here I fix'd remain:

  But, when their texture to the tempest yields,

  I launch adventurous on the liquid fields,

  Join to the help of gods the strength of man,

  And take this method, since the best I can."

  While thus his thoughts an anxious council hold,

  The raging god a watery mountain roll'd;

  Like a black sheet the whelming billows spread,

  Burst o'er the float, and thunder'd on his head.

  Planks, beams, disparted fly; the scatter'd wood

  Rolls diverse, and in fragments strews the flood.

  So the rude Boreas, o'er the field new-shorn,

  Tosses and drives the scatter'd heaps of corn.

  And now a single beam the chief bestrides:

  There poised a while above the bounding tides,

  His limbs discumbers of the clinging vest,

  And binds the sacred cincture round his breast:

  Then prone an ocean in a moment flung,

  Stretch'd wide his eager arms, and shot the seas along.

  All naked now, on heaving billows laid,

  Stern Neptune eyed him, and contemptuous said:

  "Go, learn'd in woes, and other foes essay!

  Go, wander helpless on the watery way;

  Thus, thus find out the destined shore, and then

  (If Jove ordains it) mix with happier men.

  Whate'er thy fate, the ills our wrath could raise

  Shall last remember'd in thy best of days."

  This said, his sea-green steeds divide the foam,

  And reach high Aegae and the towery dome.

  Now, scarce withdrawn the fierce earth-shaking power,

  Jove's daughter Pallas watch'd the favouring hour.

  Back to their caves she bade the winds to fly;

  And hush'd the blustering brethren of the sky.

  The drier blasts alone of Boreas away,

  And bear him soft on broken waves away;

  With gentle force impelling to that shore,

  Where fate has destined he shall toil no more.

  And now, two nights, and now two days were pass'd,

  Since wide he wander'd on the watery waste;

  Heaved on the surge with intermitting breath,

  And hourly panting in the arms of death.

  The third fair morn now blazed upon the main;

  Then glassy smooth lay all the liquid plain;

  The winds were hush'd, the billows scarcely curl'd,

  And a dead silence still'd the watery world;

  When lifted on a ridgy wave he spies

  The land at distance, and with sharpen'd eyes.

  As pious children joy with vast delight

  When a loved sire revives before their sight

  (Who, lingering along, has call'd on death in vain,

  Fix'd by some demon to his bed of pain,

  Till heaven by miracle his life restore);

  So joys Ulysses at the appearing shore;

  And sees (and labours onward as he sees)

  The rising forests, and the tufted trees.

  And now, as near approaching as the sound

  Of human voice the listening ear may wound,

  Amidst the rocks he heard a hollow roar

  Of murmuring surges breaking on the shore;

  Nor peaceful port was there, nor winding bay,

  To shield the vessel from the rolling sea,

  But cliffs and shaggy shores, a dreadful sight!

  All rough with rocks, with foamy billows white.

  Fear seized his slacken'd limbs and beating heart,

  As thus he communed with his soul apart;

  "Ah me! when, o'er a length of waters toss'd,

  These eyes at last behold the unhoped-for coast,

  No port receives me from the angry main,

  But the loud deeps demand me back again.

  Above, sharp rocks forbid access; around

  Roar the wild waves; beneath, is sea profound!

  No footing sure affords the faithless sand,

  To stem too rapid, and too deep to stand.

  If here I enter, my efforts are vain,

  Dash'd on the cliffs, or heaved into the main;

  Or round the island if my course I bend,

  Where the ports open, or the shores descend,

  Back to the seas the rolling surge may sweep,

  And bury all my hopes beneath the deep.

  Or some enormous whale the god may send

  (For many such an Amphitrite attend);

  Too well the turns of mortal chance I know,

  And hate relentless of my heavenly foe."

  While thus he thought, a monstrous wave upbore

  The chief, and dash'd him on the craggy shore;

  Torn was his skin, nor had the ribs been whole,

  But Instant Pallas enter'd in his soul.

  Close to the cliff with both his hands he clung,

  And stuck adherent, and suspended hung;

  Till the huge surge roll'd off; then backward sweep

  The refluent tides, and plunge him in the deep.

  As when the polypus, from forth his cave

  Torn with full force, reluctant beats the wave,

  His ragged claws are stuck with stones and sands;

  So the rough rock had shagg'd Ulysses hands,

  And now had perish'd, whelm'd beneath the main,

  The unhappy man; e'en fate had been in vain;

  But all-subduing Pallas lent her power,

  And prudence saved him in the needful hour.

  Beyond the beating surge his course he bore,

  (A wider circle, but in sight of shore),

  With longing eyes, observing, to survey

  Some smooth ascent, or safe sequester'd bay.

  Between the parting rocks at length he spied

  A failing stream with gentler waters glide;

  Where to the seas the shelving shore declined,

  And form'd a bay impervious to the wind.

  To this calm port the glad Ulysses press'd,

  And hail'd the river, and its god address'd:

  "Whoe'er thou art, before whose stream unknown

  I bend, a suppliant at thy watery throne,

  Hear, azure king! nor let me fly in vain

  To thee from Neptune and the raging main

  Heaven hears and pities hapless men like me,

  For sacred even to gods is misery:

  Let then thy waters give the weary rest,

  And save a suppliant, and a man distress'd."

  He pray'd, and straight the gentle stream subsides,

  Detains the rushing current of his tides,

  Before the wanderer smooths the watery way,

  And soft receives him from the rolling sea.

  That moment, fainting as he touch'd the shore,

  He dropp'd his sinewy arms: his knees no more

  Perform'd their office, or his weight upheld:

  His swoln heart heaved; his bloated body swell'd:

  From mouth and nose the briny torrent ran;

  And lost in lassitude lay all the man,

  Deprived of voice, of motion, and of breath;

  The soul scarce waking in the arms of death.

  Soon as warm life its wonted office found,

  The mindful chief Leucothea's scarf unbound;

  Observant of her word, he turn'd aside

  HIs head, and cast it on the rolling tide.

  Behind him far, upon the purple waves,

  The waters waft it, and the nymph receives.

  Now parting from the stream, Ulysses found

  A mossy bank with pliant rushes crown'd;

  The bank he press'd, and gently kiss'd the ground;

  Where on the flowery herb as soft he lay,

  Thus to his soul the sage began to say:

  "What will ye next ordain, ye powers on high!

  And yet, ah yet, what fates are we to try?

  Here by the stream, if I the night out-wear,

  Thus spent already, how shall nature bear

  The dews descending, and nocturnal air;

  Or chilly vapours breathing from the flood

  When morning rises? — If I take the wood,

  And in thick shelter of innumerous boughs

  Enjoy the comfort gentle sleep allows;

  Though fenced from cold, and though my toil be pass'd,

  What savage beasts may wander in the waste?

  Perhaps I yet may fall a bloody prey

  To prowling bears, or lions in the way."

  Thus long debating in himself he stood:

  At length he took the passage to the wood,

  Whose shady horrors on a rising brow

  Waved high, and frown'd upon the stream below.

  There grew two olives, closest of the grove,

  With roots entwined, the branches interwove;

  Alike their leaves, but not alike they smiled

  With sister-fruits; one fertile, one was wild.

  Nor here the sun's meridian rays had power,

  Nor wind sharp-piercing, nor the rushing shower;

  The verdant arch so close its texture kept:

  Beneath this covert great Ulysses crept.

  Of gather'd leaves an ample bed he made

  (Thick strewn by tempest through the bowery shade);

  Where three at least might winter's cold defy,

  Though Boreas raged along the inclement sky.

  This store with joy the patient hero found,

  And, sunk amidst them, heap'd the leaves around.

  As some poor peasant, fated to reside

  Remote from neighbours in a forest wide,

  Studious to save what human wants require,

  In embers heap'd, preserves the seeds of fire:

  Hid in dry foliage thus Ulysses lies,

  Till Pallas pour'd soft slumbers on his eyes;

  And golden dreams (the gift of sweet repose)

  Lull'd all his cares, and banish'd all his woes.

  BOOK VI.

  ARGUMENT.

  Pallas appearing in a dream in to Nausicaa (the daughter of Alcinous, king of Phaeacia, commands her to descend to the river, and wash the robes of state, in preparation for her nuptials. Nausicaa goes with her handmaidens to the river; where, while the garments are spread on the bank, they divert themselves in sports. Their voices awaken Ulysses, who, addressing himself to the princess, is by her relieved and clothed, and receives directions in what manner to apply to the king and queen of the island.

  While thus the weary wanderer sunk to rest,

  And peaceful slumbers calmed his anxious breast,

  The martial maid from heavens aerial height

  Swift to Phaeacia wing'd her rapid flight,

  In elder times the soft Phaeacian train

  In ease possess'd the wide Hyperian plain;

  Till the Cyclopean race in arms arose

  A lawless nation of gigantic foes;

  Then great Nausithous from Hyperia far,

  Through seas retreating from the sounds of war,

  The recreant nation to fair Scheria led,

  Where never science rear'd her laurell'd head;

  There round his tribes a strength of wall he raised;

  To heaven the glittering domes and temples blazed;

  Just to his realms, he parted grounds from grounds,

  And shared the lands, and gave the lands their bounds.

  Now in the silent grave the monarch lay,

  And wise Alcinous held the legal sway.

  To his high palace through the fields of air

  The goddess shot; Ulysses was her care.

  There, as the night in silence roll'd away,

  A heaven of charms divine Nausicaa lay:

  Through the thick gloom the shining portals blaze;

  Two nymphs the portals guard, each nymph a Grace,

  Light as the viewless air the warrior maid

  Glides through the valves, and hovers round her head;

  A favourite virgin's blooming form she took,

  From Dymas sprung, and thus the vision spoke:

  "Oh Indolent! to waste thy hours away!

  And sleep'st thou careless of the bridal day!

  Thy spousal ornament neglected lies;

  Arise, prepare the bridal train, arise!

  A just applause the cares of dress impart,

  And give soft transport to a parent's heart.

  Haste, to the limpid stream direct thy way,

  When the gay morn unveils her smiling ray;

  Haste to the stream! companion of thy care,

  Lo, I thy steps attend, thy labours share.

  Virgin, awake! the marriage hour is nigh,

  See from their thrones thy kindred monarchs sigh!

  The royal car at early dawn obtain,

  And order mules obedient to the rein;

  For rough the way, and distant rolls the wave,

  Where their fair vests Phaeacian virgins lave,

  In pomp ride forth; for pomp becomes the great

  And majesty derives a grace from state."

  Then to the palaces of heaven she sails,

  Incumbent on the wings of wafting gales;

  The seat of gods; the regions mild of peace,

  Full joy, and calm eternity of ease.

  There no rude winds presume to shake the skies,

  No rains descend, no snowy vapours rise;

  But on immortal thrones the blest repose;

  The firmament with living splendours glows.

  Hither the goddess winged the aerial way,

  Through heaven's eternal gates that blazed with day.

  Now from her rosy car Aurora shed

  The dawn, and all the orient flamed with red.

  Up rose the virgin with the morning light,

  Obedient to the vision of the night.

  The queen she sought, the queen her hours bestowed

  In curious works; the whirling spindle glow'd

  With crimson threads, while busy damsels call

  The snowy fleece, or twist the purpled wool.

  Meanwhile Phaeacia's peers in council sate;

  From his high dome the king descends in state;

  Then with a filial awe the royal maid

  Approach'd him passing, and submissive said:

  "Will my dread sire his ear regardful deign,

  And may his child the royal car obtain?

  Say, with my garments shall I bend my way?

  Where through the vales the mazy waters stray?