UT he, deep-mufing, o'er the mountains stray'd
Through mazy thickets of the woodland shade,
And cavern'd ways, the fhaggy coast along,
With cliffs and nodding forests over-hung.
Eumæus at his fylvan lodge he fought,
A faithful fervant, and without a fault.
Ulyffes found him bufied, as he fate
Before the threshold of his ruftic gate;
Around the manfion in a circle fhone
A rural portico of rugged stone
(In abfence of his Lord, with honest toil
His own induftrious hands had rais'd the pile).
The wall was stone from neighbouring quarries borne,
Encircled with a fence of native thorn,
And strong with pales, by many a weary stroke
Of stubborn labour hewn from heart of oak;
Frequent and thick. Within the space were rear'd
Twelve ample cells, the lodgement of his herd.
Full fifty pregnant females each contain'd;
The males without (a smaller race) remain;
Doom'd to fupply the fuitors' wasteful feast,
A ftock by daily luxury decreas'd;
Now scarce four hundred left. These to defend,
Four favage dogs, a watchful guard, attend.
Here fate Eumæus, and his cares apply'd
To form ftrong bufkins of well-feafon'd hide.
Of four affiftants who his labour fhare,
Three now were abfent on the rural care;
The fourth drove victims to the fuitor train:
But he, of antient faith, a simple swain,
Sigh'd, while he furnish'd the luxurious board,
And weary'd Heaven with wishes for his lord.
Soon as Ulyffes near th' enclosure drew,
With open mouths the furious maftives flew :
Down fate the fage, and cautious to withstand,
Let fall th' offenfive truncheon from his hand.
Sudden, the mafter runs; aloud he calls;
And from his hafty hand the leather falls;
With fhowers of stones he drives them far away;
The scattering dogs around at distance bay.
Unhappy ftranger! (thus the faithful fwain
Began with accent gracious and humane)
What forrow had been mine, if at my gate
Thy reverend age had met a fhameful fate!
Enough of woes already have I known;
Enough my master's forrows and my own.
While here (ungrateful task!) his herds I feed,
Ordain'd for lawless rioters to bleed;
Perhaps, fupported at another's board,
Far from his country roams my hapless lord!
Or figh'd in exile forta his latest breath,
Now cover'd with th' eternal fhade of death!
But enter this my homely roof, and fee
Our woods not void of hofpitality.
Then tell me whence thou art ? and what the share
Of woes and wanderings thou wert born to bear?
He said, and, feconding the kind request,
With friendly step precedes his unknown guest.
A fhaggy goat's soft hide beneath him spread,
And with fresh rushes heap'd an ample bed:
Joy touch'd the hero's tender foul, to find
So just reception from a heart fo kind:
And oh, ye Gods! with all your bleffings grace
(He thus broke forth) this friend of human race!
The fwain reply'd: It never was our guise
To flight the poor, or aught humane despise;
For Jove unfolds our hofpitable door,
'Tis Jove that fends the stranger and the poor.
Little, alas is all the good I can ;
A man opprefs'd, dependant, yet a man:
Accept fuch treatment as a fwain affords,
Slave to the infolence of youthful lords !
Far hence is by unequal Gods remov'd
That man of bounties, loving and belov'd!
To whom whate'er his flave enjoys is ow'd,
And more, had Fate allow'd, had been beftow'd:
But Fate condemn'd him to a foreign shore;
Much have I forrow'd, but my master more.
Now cold he lies, to death's embrace refign'd:
Ah, perish Helen! perish all her kind!
For whofe curs'd caufe, in Agamemnon's name,
He trod fo fatally the paths of Fame、
His veft fuccinct then girding round his waift,
Forth rush'd the swain with hospitable haste,
Straight to the lodgements of his herd he run,
Where the fat porkers slept beneath the fun;
Of two, his cutlaee lanch'd the spouting blood;
These quarter'd, fing'd, and fix'd on forks of wood,
All hafty on the hiffing coals he threw ;
And smoking back the tasteful viands drew,
Broachers and all; then on the board display'd
The ready meal, before Ulyffes laid
With flour imbrown'd; next mingled wine yet new,
And lufcious as the bees nectareous dew:
Then fate companion of the friendly feaft,
With open look; and thus bespoke his guest :
Take with free welcome what our hands prepare,
Such food as falls to fimple fervants fhare;
The beft our Lords confume; thofe thoughtless peers,
Rich without bounty, guilty without fears!
Yet fure the Gods their impious acts detest,
And honour juftice and the righteous breast.
Pirates and conquerors, of harden'd mind,
The foes of peace, and scourges of mankind,
To whom offending men are made a prey
When Jove in vengeance gives a land away;
Ev'n thefe, when of their ill-got fpoils poffefs'd,
Find fure tormentors in the guilty breaft:
Some voice of God clofe whispering from within,
"Wretch! this is villainy, and this is fin."
But thefe, no doubt, fome oracle explore,
That tells, the great Ulyffes is no more.
Hence fprings their confidence, and from our fighs
Their rapine ftrengthens, and their riots rife :
Conftant as Jove the night and day bestows,
Bleeds a whole hecatomb, a vintage flows.
None match'd this hero's wealth, of all who reign
O'er the fair islands of the neighbouring main.
Nor all the monarchs whofe far-dreaded sway
The wide-extended continents obey:
First, on the main land, of Ulyffes' breed
Twelve herds, twelve flocks, on ocean's margin feed;
As many stalls for shaggy goats are rear'd;
As many lodgements for the tusky herd;
Those foreign keepers guard: and here are seen
Twelve herds of goats that graze our utmost green;
To native paftors is their charge affign'd;
And mine the care to feed the briftly kind :
Each day the fattest bleeds of either herd,
All to the fuitors wafteful board preferr'd.
Thus he, benevolent: his unknown guest
With hunger keen devours the favoury feast;
While schemes of vengeance ripen in his breaft.
Silent and thoughtful while the board he ey`d,
Eumæus pours on high the purple tide;
The king with fmiling looks his joy exprefs'd,
And thus the kind inviting host address'd :
Say now, what man is he, the man deplor'd,
So rich, fo potent, whom you ftyle your lord;
Lat with fuch affluence and poffeffions bleft,
And now in honour's glorious bedat rest ?
Whoever was the warrior, he must be
To Fame no ftranger, nor perhaps to me;
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