New frauds were plotted by the faithless train,

And misery demands me once again.

Soon as remote from shore they plough the wave,

With ready hands they rush to seize their slave;

Then with these tatter’d rags they wrapp’d me round

(Stripp’d of my own), and to the vessel bound.

At eve, at Ithaca’s delightful land

The ship arriv’d: forth issuing on the sand,

They sought repast; while to the unhappy kind,

The pitying gods themselves my chains unbind.

Soft I descended, to the sea applied

My naked breast, and shot along the tide.

Soon pass’d beyond their sight, I left the flood,

And took the spreading shelter of the wood.

Their prize escaped the faithless pirates mourn’d;

But deem’d inquiry vain, and to their ships return’d.

Screen’d by protecting gods from hostile eyes,

They led me to a good man and a wise,

To live beneath thy hospitable care,

And wait the woes Heaven dooms me yet to bear.”


“Unhappy guest! whose sorrows touch my mind!

(Thus good Eumaeus with a sigh rejoin’d,)

For real sufferings since I grieve sincere,

Check not with fallacies the springing tear:

Nor turn the passion into groundless joy

For him whom Heaven has destined to destroy.

Oh! had he perish’d on some well-fought day,

Or in his friend’s embraces died away!

That grateful Greece with streaming eyes might raise

Historic marbles to record his praise;

His praise, eternal on the faithful stone,

Had with transmissive honours graced his son.

Now, snatch’d by harpies to the dreary coast,

Sunk is the hero, and his glory lost!

While pensive in this solitary den,

Far from gay cities and the ways of men,

I linger life; nor to the court repair,

But when my constant queen commands my care;

Or when, to taste her hospitable board,

Some guest arrives, with rumours of her lord;

And these indulge their want, and those their woe,

And here the tears and there the goblets flow.

By many such have I been warn’d; but chief