The queen she sought, the queen her hours bestowed

In curious works; the whirling spindle glow’d

With crimson threads, while busy damsels call

The snowy fleece, or twist the purpled wool.

Meanwhile Phæacia’s peers in council sate;

From his high dome the king descends in state;

Then with a filial awe the royal maid

Approach’d him passing, and submissive said:


“Will my dread sire his ear regardful deign,

And may his child the royal car obtain?

Say, with my garments shall I bend my way?

Where through the vales the mazy waters stray?

A dignity of dress adorns the great,

And kings draw lustre from the robe of state.

Five sons thou hast; three wait the bridal day.

And spotless robes become the young and gay;

So when with praise amid the dance they shine,

By these my cares adorn’d that praise is mine.”


Thus she: but blushes ill-restrain’d betray

Her thoughts intentive on the bridal day,

The conscious sire the dawning blush survey’d,

And, smiling, thus bespoke the blooming maid

“My child, my darling joy, the car receive;

That, and whate’er our daughter asks, we give.”

Swift at the royal nod the attending train

The car prepare, the mules incessant rein,

The blooming virgin with despatchful cares

Tunics, and stoles, and robes imperial, bears.

The queen, assiduous to her train assigns

The sumptuous viands, and the flavorous wines.

The train prepare a cruse of curious mould,

A cruse of fragrance, form’d of burnish’d gold;

Odour divine! whose soft refreshing streams

Sleek the smooth skin, and scent the snowy limbs.


Now mounting the gay seat, the silken reins

Shine in her hand; along the sounding plains

Swift fly the mules; nor rode the nymph alone;

Around, a bevy of bright damsels shone.

They seek the cisterns where Phæacian dames

Wash their fair garments in the limpid streams;

Where, gathering into depth from falling rills,

The lucid wave a spacious bason fills.