Till all the coward thoughts of death gave way.


“Meanwhile our vessels plough the liquid plain,

And soon the known AEolian coast regain;

Our groan the rocks remurmur’d to the main.

We leap’d on shore, and with a scanty feast

Our thirst and hunger hastily repress’d;

That done, two chosen heralds straight attend

Our second progress to my royal friend;

And him amidst his jovial sons we found;

The banquet steaming, and the goblets crown’d;

There humbly stoop’d with conscious shame and awe,

Nor nearer than the gate presumed to draw.

But soon his sons their well-known guest descried,

And starting from their couches loudly cried:

‘Ulysses here! what demon could’st thou meet

To thwart thy passage, and repel thy fleet?

Wast thou not furnish’d by our choicest care

For Greece, for home and all thy soul held dear?’

Thus they, In silence long my fate I mourn’d;

At length these words with accents low return’d:

`Me, lock’d in sleep, my faithless crew bereft

Of all the blessing of your godlike gift!

But grant, oh grant, our loss we may retrieve;

A favour you, and you alone can give.’


“Thus I with art to move their pity tried,

And touch’d the youths; but their stern sire replied:

‘Vile wretch, begone! this instant I command

Thy fleet accursed to leave our hallow’d land.

His baneful suit pollutes these bless’d abodes,

Whose fate proclaims him hateful to the gods.’


“Thus fierce he said: we sighing went our way,

And with desponding hearts put off to sea.

The sailors spent with toils their folly mourn,

But mourn in vain; no prospect of return

Six days and nights a doubtful course we steer,

The next proud Lamos’ stately towers appear,

And Laestrygonia’s gates arise distinct in air.

The shepherd, quitting here at night the plain,

Calls, to succeed his cares, the watchful swain;

But he that scorns the chains of sleep to wear,

And adds the herdsman’s to the shepherd’s care,