Hung round his neck, while tears his cheek bedew;

Nor less the father pour’d a social flood;

They wept abundant, and they wept aloud.

As the bold eagle with fierce sorrow stung,

Or parent vulture, mourns her ravish’d young;

They cry, they scream, their unfledged brood a prey

To some rude churl, and borne by stealth away:

So they aloud: and tears in tides had run,

Their grief unfinish’d with the setting sun;

But checking the full torrent in its flow,

The prince thus interrupts the solemn woe.

“What ship transported thee, O father, say;

And what bless’d hands have oar’d thee on the way?”


“All, all (Ulysses instant made reply),

I tell thee all, my child, my only joy!

Phæacians bore me to the port assign’d,

A nation ever to the stranger kind;

Wrapp’d in the embrace of sleep, the faithful train

O’er seas convey’d me to my native reign:

Embroider’d vestures, gold, and brass, are laid

Conceal’d in caverns in the sylvan shade.

Hither, intent the rival rout to slay,

And plan the scene of death, I bend my way;

So Pallas wills—but thou, my son, explain

The names and numbers of the audacious train;

’Tis mine to judge if better to employ

Assistant force, or singly to destroy.”


“O’er earth (returns the prince) resounds thy name,

Thy well-tried wisdom, and thy martial fame,

Yet at thy words I start, in wonder lost;

Can we engage, not decades but an host?

Can we alone in furious battle stand,

Against that numerous and determined band?

Hear then their numbers; from Dulichium came

Twice twenty-six, all peers of mighty name.

Six are their menial train: twice twelve the boast

Of Samos; twenty from Zacynthus’ coast:

And twelve our country’s pride; to these belong

Medon and Phemius, skill’d in heavenly song.

Two sewers from day to day the revels wait,

Exact of taste, and serve the feast in state.

With such a foe the unequal fight to try,

Were by false courage unrevenged to die.