She said: the sandals of celestial mould,

Fledged with ambrosial plumes, and rich with gold,

Surround her feet: with these sublime she sails

The aërial space, and mounts the winged gales;

O’er earth and ocean wide prepared to soar,

Her dreaded arm a beamy javelin bore,

Ponderous and vast: which, when her fury burns,

Proud tyrants humbles, and whole hosts o’erturns.

From high Olympus prone her flight she bends,

And in the realms of Ithaca descends,

Her lineaments divine, the grave disguise

Of Mentes’ form conceal’d from human eyes

(Mentes, the monarch of the Taphian land);

A glittering spear waved awful in her hand.

There in the portal placed, the heaven-born maid

Enormous riot and misrule survey’d.

On hides of beeves, before the palace gate

(Sad spoils of luxury), the suitors sate.

With rival art, and ardour in their mien,

At chess they vie, to captivate the queen;

Divining of their loves. Attending nigh,

A menial train the flowing bowl supply.

Others, apart, the spacious hall prepare,

And form the costly feast with busy care.

There young Telemachus, his bloomy face

Glowing celestial sweet, with godlike grace

Amid the circle shines: but hope and fear

(Painful vicissitude!) his bosom tear.

Now, imaged in his mind, he sees restored

In peace and joy the people’s rightful lord;

The proud oppressors fly the vengeful sword.

While his fond soul these fancied triumphs swell’d,

The stranger guest the royal youth beheld;

Grieved that a visitant so long should wait

Unmark’d, unhonour’d, at a monarch’s gate;

Instant he flew with hospitable haste,

And the new friend with courteous air embraced.

“Stranger, whoe’er thou art, securely rest,

Affianced in my faith, a ready guest;

Approach the dome, the social banquet share,

And then the purpose of thy soul declare.”


Thus affable and mild, the prince precedes,

And to the dome the unknown celestial leads.

The spear receiving from the hand, he placed