I

ARGUMENT

Ulysses, having finished his narrative, and received additional presents
from the Phaeacians, embarks; he is conveyed in his sleep to Ithaca, and
in his sleep is landed on that island. The ship that carried him is in
her return transformed by Neptune to a rock.

Minerva meets him on the shore, enables him to recollect his country,
which, till enlightened by her, he believed to be a country strange to
him, and they concert together the means of destroying the suitors. The
Goddess then repairs to Sparta to call thence Telemachus, and Ulysses, by
her aid disguised like a beggar, proceeds towards the cottage of Eumaeus.

He ceas'd; the whole assembly silent sat,
Charm'd into ecstacy with his discourse
Throughout the twilight hall. Then, thus the King.
Ulysses, since beneath my brazen dome
Sublime thou hast arrived, like woes, I trust,
Thou shalt not in thy voyage hence sustain
By tempests tost, though much to woe inured.
To you, who daily in my presence quaff
Your princely meed of gen'rous wine and hear
The sacred bard, my pleasure, thus I speak. 10
The robes, wrought gold, and all the other gifts
To this our guest, by the Phaeacian Chiefs
Brought hither in the sumptuous coffer lie.
But come--present ye to the stranger, each,
An ample tripod also, with a vase
Of smaller size, for which we will be paid
By public impost; for the charge of all
Excessive were by one alone defray'd.
So spake Alcinoues, and his counsel pleased;
Then, all retiring, sought repose at home. 20
But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
Look'd rosy forth, each hasted to the bark
With his illustrious present, which the might
Of King Alcinoues, who himself her sides
Ascended, safe beneath the seats bestowed,
Lest it should harm or hinder, while he toil'd
In rowing, some Phaeacian of the crew.
The palace of Alcinoues seeking next,
Together, they prepared a new regale.
For them, in sacrifice, the sacred might[59] 30
Of King Alcinoues slew an ox to Jove
Saturnian, cloud-girt governor of all.
The thighs with fire prepared, all glad partook
The noble feast; meantime, the bard divine
Sang, sweet Demodocus, the people's joy.
But oft Ulysses to the radiant sun
Turn'd wistful eyes, anxious for his decline,
Nor longer,