Beneath, sequester’d to the nymphs, is seen

A mossy altar, deep embower’d in green;

Where constant vows by travellers are paid,

And holy horrors solemnize the shade.


Here with his goats (not vow’d to sacred fame,

But pamper’d luxury) Melanthius came:

Two grooms attend him. With an envious look

He eyed the stranger, and imperious spoke:


“The good old proverb how this pair fulfil!

One rogue is usher to another still.

Heaven with a secret principle endued

Mankind, to seek their own similitude.

Where goes the swineherd with that ill-look’d guest?

That giant-glutton, dreadful at a feast!

Full many a post have those broad shoulders worn,

From every great man’s gate repulsed with scorn:

To no brave prize aspired the worthless swain,

’Twas but for scraps he ask’d, and ask’d in vain.

To beg, than work, he better understands,

Or we perhaps might take him off thy hands.

For any office could the slave be good,

To cleanse the fold, or help the kids to food.

If any labour those big joints could learn,

Some whey, to wash his bowels, he might earn.

To cringe, to whine, his idle hands to spread,

Is all, by which that graceless maw is fed.

Yet hear me! if thy impudence but dare

Approach yon wall, I prophesy thy fare:

Dearly, full dearly, shalt thou buy thy bread

With many a footstool thundering at thy head.”


He thus: nor insolent of word alone,

Spurn’d with his rustic heel his king unknown;

Spurn’d, but not moved: he like a pillar stood,

Nor stirr’d an inch, contemptuous, from the road:

Doubtful, or with his staff to strike him dead,

Or greet the pavement with his worthless head.

Short was that doubt; to quell his rage inured,

The hero stood self-conquer’d, and endured.

But hateful of the wretch, Eumaeus heaved

His hands obtesting, and this prayer conceived:

“Daughters of Jove! who from the ethereal bowers

Descend to swell the springs, and feed the flowers!