Whofe fate enquiring through the world we rove;
The last, the wretched, proof of filial love.

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The stranger then: Nor fhall I aught conceal, But the dire fecret of my fate reveal. Of my own tribe an Argive wretch I flew; Whose powerful friends the lucklefs deed pursue With unrelenting rage, and force from home The blood-ftain'd exile, ever doom'd to roam. But bear, O bear me o'er yon azure flood; Receive the fuppliant! spare my deftin'd blood! Stranger (replied. the prince) fecurely rest Affianc'd in our faith; henceforth our guest. Thus affable, Ulyffes' god-like heir Takes from the stranger's hand the glittering fpear: He climbs the fhip, afcends the stern with haste, And by his fide the gueft accepted plac'd.. The chief his orders gives: th' obedient band With due obfervance wait the chief 's command ; With speed the maft they rear, with speed unbind The fpacious fheet, and ftretch it to the wind. Minerva calls; the ready gales obey

With rapid fpeed to whirl them o'er the fea.
Crunus they pafs'd, next Chalchis roll'd away,

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When thickening darkness clos'd the doubtful day; The filver Phaa's glittering rills they loft,

And skimm'd along by Elis' facred coaft.

Then cautious through the rocky reaches wind, 320 And, turning fudden, fhun the death design'd.

Meantime the king, Eumæus, and the rest,.

Sate in the cottage, at their rural feast:

The

The banquet past, and fatiate every man,

To try his hoft, Ulyffes thus began :

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Yet one night more, my friends, indulge your gueft; The last I purpose in your walls to refts To-morrow for myself I must provide, And only ask your counsel, and a guide: Batient to roam the ftreet, by hunger led,

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And bless the friendly hand that gives me bread.
There in Ulyffes' roof I may relate

Ulyffes' wanderings to his royal mate ;

Or, mingling with the fuitors' haughty train;
Not undeserving some support obtain.
Hermes to me his various gifts imparts,
Patron of industry and manual arts:

Few can with me in dextrous works contend,
The pyre to build, the stubborn oak to rend;
To turn the tasteful viand o'er te flame; ;

Or foam the goblet with a purple stream.

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Such are the tasks of men of mean eftate,
Whoin fortune dooms to ferve the rich and great.
Alas! (Eumeus with a sigh rejoin'd)
How fprung a thought so monstrous in thy mind!
If on that god-less race thou would'st attend,
Fate owes thee fure a miferable end!

Their wrongs and blafphemies afcend the sky,
And pull defcending vengeance from on high.

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Not fuch, my friend, the fervants of their feaft; 350
A blooming train in rich embroidery dreft,

With earth's whole tribute the bright table bends,
And fmiling round celestial youth attends.

Sta

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Stay then no eye askance beholds thee here:
Sweet is thy converse to each social ear;
Well pleas'd, and pleasing, in our cottage reft,
Till good Telemachus accepts his guest
With genial gifts, and change of fair attires,
And safe conveys thee where thy foul desires,

To him the man of woes: O gracious Jove!
Reward this stranger's hofpitable love!
Who knows the son of forrow to relieve,
Chears the fad heart, nor lets affliction grieve.
Of all the ills unhappy mortals know,

A life of wanderings is the greatest woe :
On all their weary ways wait care and pain,
And pine and penury, a meagre train.
To fuch a man fince harbour you afford,
Relate the farther fortunes of your
lord;
What cares his mother's tender breast engage,
And fire forfaken on the verge of age;
Beneath the fun prolong they yet their breath,
Or range the house of darkness and of death?
To whom the fwain: Attend what you enquire ;
Laertes lives, the miferable fire

Lives, but implores of every Power to lay
The burden down, and wishes for the day...
Torn from his offspring in the eve of life,

Torn from the embraces of his tender wife,

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Sole, and all comfortless, he wastes away.

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Old age, untimely pofting ere his day..
She too, fad mother! for Ulyffes loft

Pin'd out her bloom, and vanish'd to a ghost.

(So dire a fate, ye righteous Gods! avert, From every friendly, every feeling heart!)

While yet fhe was, though clouded o'er with grief,
Her pleafing converse minister'd relief :

With Ctimene, her youngest daughter, bred,
One roof contain'd us, and one table fed.
But when the foftly-stealing pace of time
Crept on from childhood into youthful prime,
To Samos' ifle fhe fent the wedded fair;
Me to the fields, to tend the rural care;
Array'd in garments her own hands had wove,
Nor lefs the darling object of her love.
Her hapless death my brighter days o'ercaft,
Yet Providence deferts me not at last ;
My prefent labours food and drink procure,
And more, the pleasure to relieve the poor.
Small is the comfort from the queen to hear
Unwelcome news, or vex the royal ear;
Blank and difcountenanc'd the fervants ftand,
Nor dare to question where the proud command:
No profit fprings beneath ufurping powers;
Want feeds not there, where luxury devours,
Nor harbours charity where riot reigns:
Proud are the lords, and wretched are the fwains.
The fuffering chief at this began to melt;

And, O Eumeus! thou (he cries) haft felt
The fpite of fortune too! her cruel hand
Snatch'd thee an infant from thy native land!
Snatch'd from thy parents' arms, thy parents' eyes,
To early wants! a man of miferies!

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Thy

Thy whole fad ftory, from its first, declare:

Sunk the fair city by the rage of war,

Where once thy parents dwelt? or did they keep,
In humbler life, the lowing herds and sheep?

So left perhaps to tend the fleecy train,

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Rude pirates feiz'd, and fhipp'd thee o'er the main ? Doom'd a fair prize to grace fome prince's board, 420 The worthy purchase of a foreign lord.

If then my fortunes can delight my friend, A story fruitful of events attend:

Another's forrow may thy ear enjoy,

And wine the lengthen'd intervals employ.

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Long nights the now declining year bestows;

A part we confecrate to foft repose,

A part in pleafing talk we entertain;
For too much reft itself becomes a pain.
Let thofe, whom fleep invites, the call obey,
Their cares refuming with the dawning day:
Here let us feast, and to the feast be join'd
Difcourse, the sweeter banquet of the mind;
Review the feries of our lives, and tafte
The melancholy joy of evils paft:

For he who much has fuffer'd, much will know;
And pleas'd remembrance builds delight on woe.
Above Ortygia lies an ifle of fame,

Far hence remote, and Syria is the name
(There curious eyes infcrib'd with wonder trace
The fun's diurnal, and his annual race);
Not large, but fruitful; ftor'd with grafs, to keep
The bellowing oxen, and the bleating sheep;

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Her