But my pleased bosom glow’d with secret joy:

For then, with dire remorse and conscious shame

I view’d the effects of that disastrous flame,

Which, kindled by the imperious queen of love,

Constrain’d me from my native realm to rove:

And oft in bitterness of soul deplored

My absent daughter and my dearer lord;

Admired among the first of human race,

For every gift of mind and manly grace.”


“Right well (replied the king) your speech displays

The matchless merit of the chief you praise:

Heroes in various climes myself have found,

For martial deeds and depth of thought renown’d;

But Ithacus, unrivall’d in his claim,

May boast a title to the loudest fame:

In battle calm he guides the rapid storm,

Wise to resolve, and patient to perform.

What wondrous conduct in the chief appear’d,

When the vast fabric of the steed we rear’d!

Some demon, anxious for the Trojan doom,

Urged you with great Deiphobus to come,

To explore the fraud; with guile opposed to guile.

Slow-pacing thrice around the insidious pile,

Each noted leader’s name you thrice invoke,

Your accent varying as their spouses spoke!

The pleasing sounds each latent warrior warm’d,

But most Tydides’ and my heart alarm’d:

To quit the steed we both impatient press

Threatening to answer from the dark recess.

Unmoved the mind of Ithacus remain’d;

And the vain ardours of our love restrain’d;

But Anticlus, unable to control,

Spoke loud the language of his yearning soul:

Ulysses straight, with indignation fired

(For so the common care of Greece required),

Firm to his lips his forceful hands applied,

Till on his tongue the fluttering murmurs died.

Meantime Minerva, from the fraudful horse,

Back to the court of Priam bent your course.”


“Inclement fate! (Telemachus replies,)

Frail is the boasted attribute of wise:

The leader mingling with the vulgar host,

Is in the common mass of matter lost!

But now let sleep the painful waste repair