Three now were absent on the rural care;

The fourth drove victims to a suitor train:

But he, of ancient faith, a simple swain,

Sigh’d, while he furnish’d the luxurious board,

And wearied Heaven with wishes for his lord.


Soon as Ulysses near the inclosure drew,

With open mouths the furious mastiffs flew:

Down sat the sage, and cautious to withstand,

Let fall the offensive truncheon from his hand.

Sudden, the master runs; aloud he calls;

And from his hasty hand the leather falls:

With showers of stones he drives then far away:

The scattering dogs around at distance bay.


“Unhappy stranger! (thus the faithful swain

Began with accent gracious and humane),

What sorrow had been mine, if at my gate

Thy reverend age had met a shameful fate!

Enough of woes already have I known;

Enough my master’s sorrows and my own.

While here (ungrateful task!) his herds I feed,

Ordain’d for lawless rioters to bleed!

Perhaps, supported at another’s board!

Far from his country roams my hapless lord;

Or sigh’d in exile forth his latest breath,

Now cover’d with the eternal shade of death!


“But enter this my homely roof, and see

Our woods not void of hospitality.

Then tell me whence thou art, and what the share

Of woes and wanderings thou wert born to bear.”


He said, and, seconding the kind request,

With friendly step precedes his unknown guest.

A shaggy goat’s soft hide beneath him spread,

And with fresh rushes heap’d an ample bed;

Jove touch’d the hero’s tender soul, to find

So just reception from a heart so kind:

And “Oh, ye gods! with all your blessings grace

(He thus broke forth) this friend of human race!”


The swain replied: “It never was our guise

To slight the poor, or aught humane despise:

For Jove unfolds our hospitable door,

’Tis Jove that sends the stranger and the poor,

Little, alas! is all the good I can

A man oppress’d, dependent, yet a man:

Accept such treatment as a swain affords,