Bear, with a soul resign’d, the will of Jove;

Who breathes, must mourn: thy woes are from above.

But since thou tread’st our hospitable shore,

’Tis mine to bid the wretched grieve no more,

To clothe the naked, and thy way to guide.

Know, the Phæacian tribes this land divide;

From great Alcinous’ royal loins I spring,

A happy nation, and a happy king.”


Then to her maids: “Why, why, ye coward train,

These fears, this flight? ye fear, and fly in vain.

Dread ye a foe? dismiss that idle dread,

’Tis death with hostile step these shores to tread;

Safe in the love of heaven, an ocean flows

Around our realm, a barrier from the foes;

’Tis ours this son of sorrow to relieve,

Cheer the sad heart, nor let affliction grieve.

By Jove the stranger and the poor are sent;

And what to those we give to Jove is lent.

Then food supply, and bathe his fainting limbs

Where waving shades obscure the mazy streams.”


Obedient to the call, the chief they guide

To the calm current of the secret tide;

Close by the stream a royal dress they lay,

A vest and robe, with rich embroidery gay;

Then unguents in a vase of gold supply,

That breathed a fragrance through the balmy sky.


To them the king: “No longer I detain

Your friendly care: retire, ye virgin train!

Retire, while from my wearied limbs I lave

The foul pollution of the briny wave.

Ye gods! since this worn frame refection knew,

What scenes have I surveyed of dreadful view!

But, nymphs, recede! sage chastity denies

To raise the blush, or pain the modest eyes.”


The nymphs withdrawn, at once into the tide

Active he bounds; the flashing waves divide

O’er all his limbs his hands the waves diffuse,

And from his locks compress the weedy ooze;

The balmy oil, a fragrant shower, be sheds;

Then, dressed, in pomp magnificently treads.

The warrior-goddess gives his frame to shine

With majesty enlarged, and air divine:

Back from his brows a length of hair unfurls,