(The sacred wine yet foaming on the ground)

Telemachus: whom, as to Heaven he press’d

His ardent vows, the stranger thus address’d:


“O thou! that dost thy happy course prepare

With pure libations and with solemn prayer:

By that dread power to whom thy vows are paid;

By all the lives of these; thy own dear head,

Declare sincerely to no foe’s demand

Thy name, thy lineage, and paternal land.”


“Prepare, then (said Telemachus), to know

A tale from falsehood free, not free from woe.

From Ithaca, of royal birth I came,

And great Ulysses (ever honour’d name!)

Once was my sire, though now, for ever lost,

In Stygian gloom he glides a pensive ghost!

Whose fate inquiring through the world we rove;

The last, the wretched proof of filial love.”


The stranger then: “Nor shall I aught conceal,

But the dire secret of my fate reveal.

Of my own tribe an Argive wretch I slew;

Whose powerful friends the luckless deed pursue

With unrelenting rage, and force from home

The blood-stain’d exile, ever doom’d to roam.

But bear, oh bear me o’er yon azure flood;

Receive the suppliant! spare my destined blood!”


“Stranger (replied the prince) securely rest

Affianced in our faith; henceforth our guest.”

Thus affable, Ulysses’ godlike heir

Takes from the stranger’s hand the glittering spear:

He climbs the ship, ascends the stern with haste

And by his side the guest accepted placed.

The chief his order gives: the obedient band,

With due observance wait the chief’s command:

With speed the mast they rear, with speed unbind

The spacious sheet, and stretch it to the wind.

Minerva calls; the ready gales obey

With rapid speed to whirl them o’er the sea.

Crunus they pass’d, next Chalcis roll’d away,

With thickening darkness closed the doubtful day;

The silver Phaea’s glittering rills they lost,

And skimm’d along by Elis’ sacred coast.

Then cautious through the rocky reaches wind,