'Doubtless, O Guest! great laud and praise were mine'

(Replied the swain), 'for spotless faith divine,

If, after social rites and gifts bestow'd,
I stain'd my hospitable hearth with blood.
How would the Gods my righteous toils
succeed,

And bless the hand that made a stranger bleed ?

No more- th' approaching hours of silent night

First claim refection, then to rest invite; 450 Beneath our humble cottage let us haste, And here, unenvied, rural dainties taste.'

Thus communed these; while to their lowly dome

The full-fed swine return'd with ev'ning

home:

Compell'd, reluctant, to their sev'ral sties, With din obstrep'rous, and ungrateful cries. Then to the slaves: Now from the herd

the best

Select, in honour of our foreign guest: With him let us the genial banquet share, For great and many are the griefs we bear; While those who from our labours heap their board

461 Blaspheme their feeder, and forget their lord.'

Thus speaking, with despatchful hand he took

A weighty axe, and cleft the solid oak; This on the earth he piled; a boar full fed, Of five years' age, before the pile was led: The swain, whom acts of piety delight, Observant of the Gods, begins the rite; First shears the forehead of the bristly boar,

And suppliant stands, invoking ev'ry Power

470

These, while on sev'ral tables they dispose,
A priest himself, the blameless rustic rose;
Expert the destin'd victim to dispart
In sev'n just portions, pure of hand and
heart.

One sacred to the Nymphs apart they lay;
Another to the winged son of May:
The rural tribe in common share the rest,
The King, the chine, the honour of the
feast;

Who sate delighted at his servant's board; The faithful servant joy'd his unknown lord.

'O be thou dear' (Ulysses cried) 'to Jove, As well thou claim'st a grateful stranger's love!'

Be then thy thanks' (the bounteous swain replied)

Enjoyment of the good the Gods provide. From God's own hand descend our joys and

woes;

These he decrees, and he but suffers those: All power is his, and whatsoe'er he wills, The will itself, omnipotent, fulfils.'

This said, the first-fruits to the Gods he gave;

Then pour'd of offer'd wine the sable wave: In great Ulysses' hand he placed the bowl; He sate, and sweet refection cheer'd his soul.

The bread from canisters Mesanlius gave
(Eumæus' proper treasure bought this slave,
And led from Taphos, to attend his board,
A servant added to his absent lord);
His task it was the wheaten loaves to lay,
And from the banquet take the bowls
away.

And now the rage of hunger was repress'd,
And each betakes him to his couch to rest.
Now came the night, and darkness
cover'd o'er
The face of things; the winds began to

roar;

530

The driving storm the wat'ry west-wind pours,

And Jove descends in deluges of showers. Studious of rest and warmth, Ulysses lies, Foreseeing from the first the storm would rise;

In mere necessity of coat and cloak, With artful preface to his host he spoke: 'Hear me, my friends, who this good banquet grace;

drew:

spread,

We made the ozier-fringed bank our bed. Full soon th' inclemency of Heav'n I feel, Nor had these shoulders cov'ring, but of steel.

Sharp blew the north; snow whitening all the fields

Froze with the blast, and, gathʼring, glazed our shields.

There all but I, well-fenc'd with cloak and vest, 538

Lay cover'd by their ample shields at rest. Fool that I was! I left behind my own, The skill of weather and of winds unknown,

And trusted to my coat and shield alone! When now was wasted more than half the night,

And the stars faded at approaching light, Sudden I jogg'd Ulysses, who was laid Fast by my side, and shiv'ring thus I said: "Here longer in this field I cannot lie; The winter pinches, and with cold I die; And die ashamed (O wisest of mankind !), The only fool who left his cloak behind." 550 'He thought and answer'd; hardly waking yet,

Sprung in his mind the momentary wit (That wit which, or in council or in fight, Still met th' emergence, and determin'd right).

"Hush thee" (he cried, soft whisp'ring in my ear),

"Speak not a word, lest any Greek may

hear

And then (supporting on his arm his head),

Then with each gift they hasten'd to their

guest,

And thus the King Ulysses' heir address'd: 'Since fix'd are thy resolves, may thund'ring Jove

With happiest omens thy desires approve! This silver bowl, whose costly margins

shine

Enchased with gold, this valued gift be thine;

To me this present, of Vulcanian frame, 130 From Sidon's hospitable Monarch came; To thee we now consign the precious load, The pride of Kings, and labour of a God.' Then gave the cup, while Megapenthe brought The silver vase with living sculpture with living sculpture wrought. The beauteous Queen, advancing next, display'd

The shining veil, and thus endearing said: Accept, dear youth, this monument of love,

Long since, in better days, by Helen wove: Safe in thy mother's care the vesture lay,

140