Shame touch’d Eurylochus’ alter’d breast:

He fear’d my threats, and follow’d with the rest.


“Meanwhile the goddess, with indulgent cares

And social joys, the late transform’d repairs;

The bath, the feast, their fainting soul renews:

Rich in refulgent robes, and dropping balmy dews:

Brightening with joy, their eager eyes behold,

Each other’s face, and each his story told;

Then gushing tears the narrative confound,

And with their sobs the vaulted roof resound.

When hush’d their passion, thus the goddess cries:

‘Ulysses, taught by labours to be wise,

Let this short memory of grief suffice.

To me are known the various woes ye bore.

In storms by sea, in perils on the shore;

Forget whatever was in Fortune’s power,

And share the pleasures of this genial hour.

Such be your mind as ere ye left your coast,

Or learn’d to sorrow for a country lost.

Exiles and wanderers now, where’er ye go,

Too faithful memory renews your woe:

The cause removed, habitual griefs remain,

And the soul saddens by the use of pain.’


“Her kind entreaty moved the general breast;

Tired with long toil, we willing sunk to rest.

We plied the banquet, and the bowl we crown’d,

Till the full circle of the year came round.

But when the seasons following in their train,

Brought back the months, the days, and hours again;

As from a lethargy at once they rise,

And urge their chief with animating cries:


“‘Is this, Ulysses, our inglorious lot?

And is the name of Ithaca forgot?

Shall never the dear land in prospect rise,

Or the loved palace glitter in our eyes?’

“Melting I heard; yet till the sun’s decline

Prolong’d the feast, and quaff’d the rosy wine

But when the shades came on at evening hour,

And all lay slumbering in the dusky bower,

I came a suppliant to fair Circe’s bed,

The tender moment seized, and thus I said:

‘Be mindful, goddess! of thy promise made;

Must sad Ulysses ever be delay’d?