An urn shall recompense your prudent choice;

By Vulcan’s art, the verge with gold enchased.

A pledge the sceptred power of Sidon gave,

When to his realm I plough’d the orient wave.”


Thus they alternate; while, with artful care,

The menial train the regal feast prepare.

The firstlings of the flock are doom’d to die:

Rich fragrant wines the cheering bowl supply;

A female band the gift of Ceres bring;

And the gilt roofs with genial triumph ring.


Meanwhile, in Ithaca, the suitor powers

In active games divide their jovial hours;

In areas varied with mosaic art,

Some whirl the disk, and some the javelin dart,

Aside, sequester’d from the vast resort,

Antinous sole spectator of the sport;

With great Eurymachus, of worth confess’d,

And high descent, superior to the rest;

Whom young Noëmon lowly thus address’d:—


“My ship, equipp’d within the neighboring port,

The prince, departing for the Pylian court,

Requested for his speed; but, courteous, say

When steers he home, or why this long delay?

For Elis I should sail with utmost speed,

To import twelve mares which there luxurious feed,

And twelve young mules, a strong laborious race,

New to the plow, unpractised in the trace.”


Unknowing of the course to Pyle design’d,

A sudden horror seized on either mind;

The prince in rural bower they fondly thought,

Numbering his flocks and herds, not far remote.

“Relate (Antinous cries), devoid of guile,

When spread the prince his sale for distant Pyle?

Did chosen chiefs across the gulfy main

Attend his voyage, or domestic train?

Spontaneous did you speed his secret course,

Or was the vessel seized by fraud or force?”


“With willing duty, not reluctant mind

(Noëmon cried), the vessel was resign’d,

Who, in the balance, with the great affairs

Of courts presume to weigh their private cares?

With him, the peerage next in power to you;

And Mentor, captain of the lordly crew,