“How prone to doubt, how cautious are the wise!

Who, versed in fortune, fear the flattering show,

And taste not half the bliss the gods bestow.

The more shall Pallas aid thy just desires,

And guard the wisdom which herself inspires.

Others long absent from their native place,

Straight seek their home, and fly with eager pace

To their wives’ arms, and children’s dear embrace.

Not thus Ulysses; he decrees to prove

His subjects’ faith, and queen’s suspected love;

Who mourn’d her lord twice ten revolving years,

And wastes the days in grief, the nights in tears.

But Pallas knew (thy friends and navy lost)

Once more ’twas given thee to behold thy coast;

Yet how could I with adverse Fate engage,

And mighty Neptune’s unrelenting rage?

Now lift thy longing eyes, while I restore

The pleasing prospect of thy native shore.

Bebold the port of Phorcys! fenced around

With rocky mountains, and with olives crown’d,

Behold the gloomy grot! whose cool recess

Delights the Nereids of the neighbouring seas;

Whose now-neglected altars in thy reign

Blush’d with the blood of sheep and oxen slain,

Behold! where Neritus the clouds divides,

And shakes the waving forests on his sides.”


So spake the goddess; and the prospect clear’d,

The mists dispersed, and all the coast appeared.

The king with joy confess’d his place of birth,

And on his knees salutes his mother earth;

Then, with his suppliant hands upheld in air,

Thus to the sea-green sisters sends his prayer;


“All hail! ye virgin daughters of the main!

Ye streams, beyond my hopes, beheld again!

To you once more your own Ulysses bows;

Attend his transports, and receive his vows!

If Jove prolong my days, and Pallas crown

The growing virtues of my youthful son,

To you shall rites divine be ever paid,

And grateful offerings on your altars laid.”


Thus then Minerva: “From that anxious breast

Dismiss those cares, and leave to heaven the rest.