Low-couch’d on earth, the gift of sleep I scorn,

And catch the glances of the waking morn.

The delicacy of your courtly train

To wash a wretched wanderer would disdain;

But if, in tract of long experience tried,

And sad similitude of woes allied,

Some wretch reluctant views aërial light,

To her mean hand assign the friendly rite.”


Pleased with his wise reply, the queen rejoin’d:

“Such gentle manners, and so sage a mind,

In all who graced this hospitable bower

I ne’er discerned, before this social hour.

Such servant as your humble choice requires,

To light received the lord of my desires,

New from the birth; and with a mother’s hand

His tender bloom to manly growth sustain’d:

Of matchless prudence, and a duteous mind;

Though now to life’s extremest verge declined,

Of strength superior to the toil design’d—

Rise, Euryclea! with officious care

For the poor friend the cleansing bath prepare:

This debt his correspondent fortunes claim,

Too like Ulysses, and perhaps the same!

Thus old with woes my fancy paints him now!

For age untimely marks the careful brow.”


Instant, obsequious to the mild command,

Sad Euryclea rose: with trembling hand

She veils the torrent of her tearful eyes;

And thus impassion’d to herself replies:


“Son of my love, and monarch of my cares,

What pangs for thee this wretched bosom bears!

Are thus by Jove who constant beg his aid

With pious deed, and pure devotion, paid?

He never dared defraud the sacred fane

Of perfect hecatombs in order slain:

There oft implored his tutelary power,

Long to protract the sad sepulchral hour;

That, form’d for empire with paternal care,

His realm might recognize an equal heir.

O destined head! The pious vows are lost;

His God forgets him on a foreign coast!—

Perhaps, like thee, poor guest! in wanton pride

The rich insult him, and the young deride!

Conscious of worth reviled, thy generous mind

The friendly rite of purity declined;