BOOK XVI.

Soon as the morning blush'd along the plains, Ulysses and the monarch of the swains

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Awake the sleeping fires, their meal prepare,
And forth to pasture send the bristly care.
The prince's near approach the dogs descry,
And, fawning round his feet, confess their joy.
Their gentle blandishment the king survey'd,
Heard his resounding step, and instant said:
Some well-known friend, Eumæus! bends this

way;

His steps I hear; the dogs familiar play.

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While yet he spoke, the prince advancing drew Nigh to the lodge, and now appear'd in view. Transported from his seat Eumæus sprung, Dropt the full bowl, and round his bosom hung; Kissing his cheek, his hand, while from his eye 15 The tears rain'd copious in a show'r of joy. As some fond sire who ten long winters grieves, From foreign climes an only son receives,

(Child of his age) with strong paternal joy

Forward he springs, and clasps the fav'rite boy: 20

So round the youth his arms Eumæus spread,
As if the grave had giv'n him from the dead.

And is it thou, my ever-dear delight!

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Oh art thou come to bless my longing sight?
Never, I never hop'd to view this day,
When o'er the waves you plough'd the desp'rate

way.

Enter, my child! beyond my hopes restor❜d,
O give these eyes to feast upon their lord.
Enter, oh seldom seen! for lawless pow'rs

Too much detain thee from these silvan bow'rs.
The prince replied: Eumæus, I obey.

To seek thee, friend, I hither took my way.

But

say,

if in the court the queen reside

Severely chaste, or if commenc'd a bride?

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Thus he; and thus the monarch of the swains:

Severely chaste Penelope remains,

But lost to ev'ry joy, she wastes the day

In tedious cares, and weeps the night away.

He ended, and (receiving as they pass The jav❜lin, pointed with a star of brass)

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They reach'd the dome; the dome with marble

shin'd:

His seat Ulysses to the prince resign'd.

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Not so:-(exclaims the prince with decent grace)
For me, this house shall find an humbler place:
T'usurp the honours due to silver hairs
And rev'rend strangers, modest youth forbears.
Instant the swain the spoils of beasts supplies,
And bids the rural throne with osiers rise.
There sat the prince: the feast Eumæus spread,
And heap'd the shining canisters with bread. 50
Thick o'er the board the plenteous viands lay,
The frugal remnants of the former day.

Then in a bowl he tempers gen'rous wines,
Around whose verge a mimic ivy twines.

And now the rage of thirst and hunger fled, 55
Thus young Ulysses to Eumæus said:

Whence, father, from what shore this stranger, say?

What vessel bore him o'er the wat❜ry way?

To human step our land impervious lies,

And round the coast circumfluent oceans rise. 60 The swain returns:-A tale of sorrows hear.

In spacious Crete he drew his natal air:

Long doom'd to wander o'er the land and main; For heav'n has wove his thread of life with pain. Half-breathless 'scaping to the land he flew

From Thesprot mariners, a murd'rous crew.

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To thee my son the suppliant I resign:

I gave him my protection;-grant him thine. Hard task, he cries, thy virtue gives thy friend, Willing to aid, unable to defend.

Can strangers safely in the court reside,

Midst the swill'd insolence of lust and pride?
E'en I unsafe.-The queen, in doubt to wed,
Or pay due honours to the nuptial bed!
Perhaps she weds; regardless of her fame,
Deaf to the mighty Ulyssean name.
However, stranger! from our grace receive
Such honours as befit a prince to give:
Sandals, a sword, and robes, respect to prove;
And safe to sail with ornaments of love.
Till then, thy guest amid the rural train

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Far from the court, from danger far, detain,
'Tis mine with food the hungry to supply,
And clothe the naked from th' inclement sky.
Here dwell in safety from the suitors' wrongs, 85
And the rude insults of ungovern'd tongues.
For should'st thou suffer, pow'rless to relieve
I must behold it, and can only grieve.
The brave encompass'd by an hostile train,
O'erpow'r'd by numbers, is but brave in vain. 90

To whom, while anger in his bosom glows, With warmth replies the man of mighty woes: Since audience mild is deign'd, permit my tongue At once to pity and resent thy wrong.

My heart weeps blood, to see a soul so brave 95 Live to base insolence of pow'r a slave.

But tell me, dost thou, prince, dost thou behold, And hear, their midnight revels uncontroll❜d? Say, do thy subjects in bold faction rise;

Or priests in fabled oracles advise?

Or are thy brothers, who should aid thy pow'r,
Turn'd mean deserters in the needful hour?
O that I were from great Ulysses sprung,

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Or that these wither'd nerves like thine were strung; Or, heav'ns! might he return! (and soon appear He shall, I trust; a hero scorns despair)

Might he return, I yield my life a prey

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To my worst foe, if that avenging day
Be not their last.-But should I lose my life,
Oppress'd by numbers in the glorious strife, 110
I choose the noble part; and yield my breath,
Rather than bear dishonour, worse than death;
Than see the hand of violence invade

The rev'rend stranger, and the spotless maid;