He sail’d ill-fated from Calypso’s bower);

Where, happy as the gods that range the sky,

He feasted every sense with every joy.

He bathes; the damsels with officious toil,

Shed sweets, shed unguents, in a shower of oil;

Then o’er his limbs a gorgeous robe he spreads,

And to the feast magnificently treads.

Full where the dome its shining valves expands,

Nausicaa blooming as a goddess stands;

With wondering eyes the hero she survey’d,

And graceful thus began the royal maid:


“Hail, godlike stranger! and when heaven restores

To thy fond wish thy long-expected shores,

This ever grateful in remembrance bear:

To me thou owest, to me, the vital air.”


“O royal maid! (Ulysses straight returns)

Whose worth the splendours of thy race adorns,

So may dread Jove (whose arm in vengeance forms

The writhen bolt, and blackens heaven with storms),

Restore me safe, through weary wanderings toss’d,

To my dear country’s ever-pleasing coast,

As while the spirit in this bosom glows,

To thee, my goddess, I address my vows;

My life, thy gift I boast!” He said, and sate

Fast by Alcinous on a throne of state.


Now each partakes the feast, the wine prepares,

Portions the food, and each his portion shares.

The bard a herald guides; the gazing throng

Pay low obeisance as he moves along:

Beneath a sculptur’d arch he sits enthroned,

The peers encircling form an awful round.

Then, from the chine, Ulysses carves with art

Delicious food, an honorary part:

“This, let the master of the lyre receive,

A pledge of love! ’tis all a wretch can give.

Lives there a man beneath the spacious skies

Who sacred honours to the bard denies?

The Muse the bard inspires, exalts his mind;

The muse indulgent loves the harmonious kind.”


The herald to his hand the charge conveys,

Not fond of flattery, nor unpleased with praise.


When now the rage of hunger was allay’d,

Thus to the lyrist wise Ulysses said: