Two sister goddesses possess the plain,

The constant guardian of the woolly train;

Lampetie fair, and Phaethusa young,

From Phœbus and the bright Neæra sprung;

Here, watchful o’er the flocks, in shady bowers

And flowery meads, they waste the joyous hours.

Rob not the gods! and so propitious gales

Attend thy voyage, and impel thy sails;

But if thy impious hands the flocks destroy,

The gods, the gods avenge it, and ye die!

’Tis thine alone (thy friends and navy lost)

Through tedious toils to view thy native coast.’


She ceased: and now arose the morning ray;

Swift to her dome the goddess held her way.

Then to my mates I measured back the plain,

Climb’d the tall bark, and rush’d into the main;

Then, bending to the stroke, their oars they drew

To their broad breasts, and swift the galley flew.

Up sprung a brisker breeze; with freshening gales

The friendly goddess stretch’d the swelling sails;

We drop our oars; at ease the pilot guides;

The vessel light along the level glides.

When, rising sad and slow, with pensive look,

Thus to the melancholy train I spoke:


“‘O friends, oh ever partners of my woes,

Attend while I what Heaven foredooms disclose.

Hear all! Fate hangs o’er all; on you it lies

To live or perish! to be safe, be wise!


“‘In flowery meads the sportive Sirens play,

Touch the soft lyre, and tune the vocal lay;

Me, me alone, with fetters firmly bound,

The gods allow to hear the dangerous sound.

Hear and obey; if freedom I demand,

Be every fetter strain’d, be added band to band.’


“While yet I speak the winged galley flies,

And lo! the Siren shores like mists arise.

Sunk were at once the winds; the air above,

And waves below, at once forgot to move;

Some demon calm’d the air and smooth’d the deep,

Hush’d the loud winds, and charm’d the waves to sleep.

Now every sail we furl, each oar we ply;

Lash’d by the stroke, the frothy waters fly.

The ductile wax with busy hands I mould,