Econlib

The Library

Other Sites

Front Page arrow Titles (by Subject) arrow BOOK V: THE DEPARTURE OF ULYSSES FROM CALYPSO - The Complete Poetical Works of Alexander Pope

Return to Title Page for The Complete Poetical Works of Alexander Pope

Search this Title:

Also in the Library:

Subject Area: Literature

BOOK V: THE DEPARTURE OF ULYSSES FROM CALYPSO - Alexander Pope, The Complete Poetical Works of Alexander Pope [1903]

Edition used:

The Complete Poetical Works of Alexander Pope. Cambridge Edition, ed. Henry W. Boynton (Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin and Co., 1903).

About Liberty Fund:

Liberty Fund, Inc. is a private, educational foundation established to encourage the study of the ideal of a society of free and responsible individuals.


BOOK V

THE DEPARTURE OF ULYSSES FROM CALYPSO

THE ARGUMENT

Pallas in a council of the Gods complains of the detention of Ulysses in the island of Calypso; whereupon Mercury is sent to command his removal. The seat of Calypso described. She consents with much difficulty; and Ulysses builds a vessel with his own hands, on which he embarks. Neptune overtakes him with a terrible tempest, in which he is shipwrecked, and in the last danger of death; till Leucothea, a sea-goddess, assists him, and, after innumerable perils, he gets ashore on Phæacia.

    • The saffron Morn, with early blushes spread,
    • Now rose refulgent from Tithonus’ bed;
    • With new-born Day to gladden mortal sight,
    • And gild the courts of Heav’n with sacred light.
    • Then met th’ eternal Synod of the Sky, }
    • Before the God, who thunders from on high, }
    • Supreme in might, sublime in majesty. }
    • Pallas, to these, deplores th’ unequal Fates
    • Of wise Ulysses, and his toils relates:
    • Her hero’s danger touch’d the pitying Power,10
    • The nymph’s seducements, and the magic bower.
    • Thus she began her plaint. ‘Immortal Jove!
    • And you who fill the blissful seats above!
    • Let Kings no more with gentle mercy sway,
    • Or bless a people willing to obey,
    • But crush the nations with an iron rod,
    • And ev’ry Monarch be the scourge of God;
    • If from your thoughts Ulysses you remove,
    • Who ruled his subjects with a father’s love.
    • Sole in an isle, encircled by the main,20
    • Abandon’d, banish’d from his native reign,
    • Unbless’d he sighs, detain’d by lawless charms,
    • And press’d unwilling in Calypso’s arms.
    • Nor friends are there, nor vessels to convey,
    • Nor oars to cut th’ immeasurable way.
    • And now fierce traitors, studious to destroy
    • His only son, their ambush’d fraud employ;
    • Who, pious, foll’wing his great father’s fame,
    • To sacred Pylos and to Sparta came.’
    • ‘What words are these?’ (replied the Power who forms30
    • The clouds of night, and darkens Heav’n with storms);
    • ‘Is not already in thy soul decreed,
    • The Chief’s return shall make the guilty bleed?
    • What cannot Wisdom do? Thou may’st restore
    • The son in safety to his native shore;
    • While the fell foes, who late in ambush lay,
    • With fraud defeated measure back their way.’
    • Then thus to Hermes the command was giv’n.
    • ‘Hermes, thou chosen messenger of Heav’n!
    • Go, to the Nymph be these our orders borne:40
    • ’T is Jove’s decree, Ulysses shall return:
    • The patient man shall view his old abodes,
    • Nor help’d by mortal hand, nor guiding Gods:
    • In twice ten days shall fertile Scheria find,
    • Alone, and floating to the wave and wind.
    • The bold Phæacians there, whose haughty line
    • Is mix’d with Gods, half human, half divine,
    • The Chief shall honour as some heav’nly guest,
    • And swift transport him to his place of rest.49
    • His vessels loaded with a plenteous store
    • Of brass, of vestures, and resplendent ore
    • (A richer prize than if his joyful isle
    • Receiv’d him charged with Ilion’s noble spoil),
    • His friends, his country, he shall see, tho’ late;
    • Such is our sov’reign will, and such is Fate.’
    • He spoke. The God who mounts the winged winds
    • Fast to his feet the golden pinions binds,
    • That high thro’ fields of air his flight sustain
    • O’er the wide earth, and o’er the boundless main.
    • He grasps the wand that causes sleep to fly,60
    • Or in soft slumber seals the wakeful eye:
    • Then shoots from Heav’n to high Pieria’s steep,
    • And stoops incumbent on the rolling deep.
    • So wat’ry fowl, that seek their fishy food,
    • With wings expanded o’er the foaming flood,
    • Now sailing smooth the level surface sweep,
    • Now dip their pinious in the briny deep.
    • Thus o’er the world of waters Hermes flew,
    • Till now the distant island rose in view:
    • Then, swift ascending from the azure wave,70
    • He took the path that winded to the cave.
    • Large was the grot, in which the Nymph he found
    • (The fair-hair’d Nymph with ev’ry beauty crown’d);
    • She sate and sung; the rocks resound her lays;
    • The cave was brighten’d with a rising blaze;
    • Cedar and frankincense, an od’rous pile,
    • Flamed on the hearth and wide perfumed the isle;
    • While she with work and song the time divides,
    • And thro’ the loom the golden shuttle guides.
    • Without the grot a various sylvan scene80
    • Appear’d around, and groves of living green;
    • Poplars and alders ever quiv’ring play’d,
    • And nodding cypress form’d a fragrant shade;
    • On whose high branches, waving with the storm,
    • The birds of broadest wing their mansions form,
    • The chough, the sea-mew, the loquacious crow,
    • And scream aloft, and skim the deeps below.
    • Depending vines the shelving cavern screen,
    • With purple clusters blushing thro’ the green.
    • Four limpid fountains from the clefts distil;90 }
    • And ev’ry fountain pours a sev’ral rill, }
    • In mazy windings wand’ring down the hill; }
    • Where bloomy meads with vivid greens were crown’d,
    • And glowing violets threw odours round.
    • A scene, where if a God should cast his sight,
    • A God might gaze, and wander with delight!
    • Joy touch’d the Messenger of Heav’n: he stay’d
    • Entranc’d, and all the blissful haunts survey’d.
    • Him, ent’ring in the cave, Calypso knew;
    • For Powers celestial to each other’s view100
    • Stand still confess’d, tho’ distant far they lie
    • To habitants of earth, or sea, or sky.
    • But sad Ulysses, by himself apart,
    • Pour’d the big sorrows of his swelling heart;
    • All on the lonely shore he sate to weep,
    • And roll’d his eyes around the restless deep;
    • Toward his lov’d coast he roll’d his eyes in vain,
    • Till, dimm’d with rising grief, they stream’d again.
    • Now graceful seated on her shining throne,
    • To Hermes thus the Nymph divine begun:110
    • ‘God of the Golden Wand! on what behest
    • Arrivest thou here, an unexpected guest?
    • Lov’d as thou art, thy free injunctions lay:
    • ’T is mine with joy and duty to obey.
    • Till now a stranger, in a happy hour
    • Approach, and taste the dainties of my bower.’
    • Thus having spoke, the Nymph the table spread
    • (Ambrosial cates, with nectar rosy-red);
    • Hermes the hospitable rite partook,119
    • Divine refection! then, recruited, spoke:
    • ‘What mov’d this journey from my native sky,
    • A Goddess asks, nor can a God deny:
    • Hear then the truth. By mighty Jove’s command
    • Unwilling have I trod this pleasing land;
    • For who, self-mov’d, with weary wing would sweep
    • Such length of ocean and unmeasured deep:
    • A world of waters! far from all the ways
    • Where men frequent, or sacred altars blaze?
    • But to Jove’s will submission we must pay;129
    • What Power so great to dare to disobey?
    • A man, he says, a man resides with thee,
    • Of all his kind most worn with misery;
    • The Greeks (whose arms for nine long years employ’d
    • Their force on Ilion, in the tenth destroy’d),
    • At length embarking in a luckless hour,
    • With conquest proud, incens’d Minerva’s power:
    • Hence on the guilty race her vengeance hurl’d
    • With storms pursued them thro’ the liquid world.
    • There all his vessels sunk beneath the wave!
    • There all his dear companions found their grave!140
    • Saved from the jaws of death by Heav’n’s decree,
    • The tempest drove him to these shores and thee.
    • Him, Jove now orders to his native lands
    • Straight to dismiss: so destiny commands:
    • Impatient Fate his near return attends,
    • And calls him to his country, and his friends.’
    • Ev’n to her inmost soul the Goddess shook;
    • Then thus her anguish and her passion broke:
    • ‘Ungracious Gods! with spite and envy curs’d!149
    • Still to your own ethereal race the worst!
    • Ye envy mortal and immortal joy,
    • And love, the only sweet of life, destroy.
    • Did ever Goddess by her charms engage
    • A favour’d mortal, and not feel your rage?
    • So when Aurora sought Orion’s love,
    • Her joys disturb’d your blissful hours above,
    • Till, in Ortygia, Dian’s winged dart
    • Had pierc’d the hapless hunter to the heart.
    • So when the covert of the thrice-ear’d field
    • Saw stately Ceres to her passion yield,160
    • Scarce could Iasion taste her heav’nly charms,
    • But Jove’s swift lightning scorch’d him in her arms.
    • ‘And is it now my turn, ye mighty Powers!
    • Am I the envy of your blissful bowers?
    • A man, an outcast to the storm and wave,
    • It was my crime to pity and to save;
    • When he who thunders rent his bark in twain,
    • And sunk his brave companions in the main.
    • Alone, abandon’d, in mid-ocean toss’d,
    • The sport of winds, and driv’n from ev’ry coast,170
    • Hither this man of miseries I led,
    • Receiv’d the friendless, and the hungry fed;
    • Nay, promis’d (vainly promis’d!) to bestow
    • Immortal life, exempt from age and woe.
    • ’T is past—and Jove decrees he shall remove:
    • Gods as we are, we are but slaves to Jove.
    • Go then he may (he must, if he ordain,
    • Try all those dangers, all those deeps, again);
    • But never, never shall Calypso send
    • To toils like these her husband and her friend.180
    • What ships have I, what sailors to convey,
    • What oars to cut the long laborious way?
    • Yet I ’ll direct the safest means to go;
    • That last advice is all I can bestow.’
    • To her the Power who bears the Charming Rod:
    • ‘Dismiss the man, nor irritate the God;
    • Prevent the rage of him who reigns above,
    • For what so dreadful as the wrath of Jove?’
    • Thus having said, he cut the cleaving sky,
    • And in a moment vanish’d from her eye.190
    • The Nymph, obedient to divine command,
    • To seek Ulysses paced along the sand,
    • Him pensive on the lonely beach she found,
    • With streaming eyes in briny torrents drown’d,
    • And inly pining for his native shore;
    • For now the soft enchantress pleas’d no more:
    • For now, reluctant, and constrain’d by charms,
    • Absent he lay in her desiring arms:
    • In slumber wore the heavy night away,
    • On rocks and shores consumed the tedious day;200
    • There sate all desolate, and sigh’d alone,
    • With echoing sorrows made the mountains groan,
    • And roll’d his eyes o’er all the restless main,
    • Till, dimm’d with rising grief, they stream’d again.
    • Here, on his musing mood the Goddess press’d
    • Approaching soft; and thus the Chief address’d:
    • ‘Unhappy man! to wasting woes a prey,
    • No more in sorrows languish life away:
    • Free as the winds I give thee now to rove—
    • Go, fell the timber of yon lofty grove,210
    • And form a raft, and build the rising ship,
    • Sublime to bear thee o’er the gloomy deep.
    • To store the vessel let the care be mine,
    • With water from the rock, and rosy wine,
    • And life-sustaining bread, and fair array,
    • And prosp’rous gales to waft thee on the way.
    • These, if the Gods with my desire comply
    • (The Gods, alas, more mighty far than I,
    • And better skill’d in dark events to come),
    • In peace shall land thee at thy native home.’220
    • With sighs Ulysses heard the words she spoke,
    • Then thus his melancholy silence broke:
    • ‘Some other motive, Goddess! sways thy mind
    • (Some close design, or turn of womankind),
    • Nor my return the end, nor this the way,
    • On a slight raft to pass the swelling sea,
    • Huge, horrid, vast! where scarce in safety sails
    • The best-built ship, tho’ Jove inspire the gales.
    • The bold proposal how shall I fulfil,
    • Dark as I am, unconscious of thy will?230
    • Swear, then, thou mean’st not what my soul forebodes;
    • Swear by the solemn oath that binds the Gods.’
    • Him, while he spoke, with smiles Calypso eyed,
    • And gently grasp’d his hand, and thus replied:
    • ‘This shows thee, friend, by old experience taught,
    • And learn’d in all the wiles of human thought,
    • How prone to doubt, how cautious are the wise!
    • But hear, O earth, and hear, ye sacred skies!
    • And thou, O Styx! whose formidable floods
    • Glide thro’ the shades, and bind th’ attesting Gods!240
    • No form’d design, no meditated end,
    • Lurks in the council of thy faithful friend;
    • Kind the persuasion, and sincere my aim;
    • The same my practice, were my fate the same.
    • Heav’n has not curs’d me with a heart of steel,
    • But given the sense to pity and to feel.’
    • Thus having said, the Goddess march’d before:
    • He trod her footsteps in the sandy shore.
    • At the cool cave arrived, they took their state;
    • He fill’d the throne where Mercury had sate.250
    • For him the Nymph a rich repast ordains,
    • Such as the mortal life of man sustains;
    • Before herself were placed the cates divine,
    • Ambrosial banquet, and celestial wine.
    • Their hunger satiate, and their thirst repress’d,
    • Thus spoke Calypso to her godlike guest:
    • ‘Ulysses!’ (with a sigh she thus began)
    • ‘O sprung from Gods! in wisdom more than man!
    • Is then thy home the passion of thy heart?
    • Thus wilt thou leave me, are we thus to part?260
    • Farewell! and ever joyful may’st thou be,
    • Nor break the transport with one thought of me.
    • But, ah, Ulysses! wert thou giv’n to know
    • What Fate yet dooms thee, yet, to undergo;
    • Thy heart might settle in this scene of ease,
    • And ev’n these slighted charms might learn to please.
    • A willing Goddess, and immortal life,
    • Might banish from thy mind an absent wife.
    • Am I inferior to a mortal dame?
    • Less soft my feature, lest august my frame?270
    • Or shall the daughters of mankind compare
    • Their earth-born beauties with the heav’nly fair?’
    • ‘Alas! for this’ (the prudent man replies)
    • ‘Against Ulysses shall thy anger rise?
    • Lov’d and ador’d, O Goddess, as thou art,
    • Forgive the weakness of a human heart.
    • Tho’ well I see thy graces far above
    • The dear, tho’ mortal, object of my love,
    • Of youth eternal well the diff’rence know,
    • And the short date of fading charms below;280
    • Yet ev’ry day, while absent thus I roam,
    • I languish to return and die at home.
    • Whate’er the Gods shall destine me to bear
    • In the black ocean, or the wat’ry war,
    • ’T is mine to master with a constant mind;
    • Inured to perils, to the worst resign’d.
    • By seas, by wars, so many dangers run;
    • Still I can suffer: their high will be done!’
    • Thus while he spoke, the beamy sun descends,
    • And rising night her friendly shade extends.290
    • To the close grot the lonely pair remove,
    • And slept delighted with the gifts of love.
    • When rosy morning call’d them from their rest,
    • Ulysses robed him in the cloak and vest.
    • The Nymph’s fair head a veil transparent graced,
    • Her swelling loins a radiant zone embraced
    • With flowers of gold: an under robe, unbound,
    • In snowy waves flow’d glitt’ring on the ground.
    • Forth issuing thus, she gave him first to wield
    • A weighty axe, with truest temper steel’d,
    • And double-edg’d; the handle smooth and plain,301
    • Wrought of the clouded olive’s easy grain;
    • And next, a wedge to drive with sweepy sway:
    • Then to the neighb’ring forest led the way.
    • On the lone island’s utmost verge there stood
    • Of poplars, pines, and firs, a lofty wood,
    • Whose leafless summits to the skies aspire,
    • Scorch’d by the sun, or sear’d by heav’nly fire
    • (Already dried). These pointing out to view,
    • The Nymph just show’d him, and with tears withdrew.310
    • Now toils the hero: trees on trees o’erthrown
    • Fall crackling round him, and the forests groan:
    • Sudden, full twenty on the plain are strow’d,
    • And lopp’d and lighten’d of their branchy load.
    • At equal angles these disposed to join,
    • He smoothed and squared them by the rule and line
    • (The wimbles for the work Calypso found).
    • With those he pierc’d them, and with clinchers bound.
    • Long and capacious as a shipwright forms
    • Some bark’s broad bottom to out-ride the storms,320
    • So large he built the raft; then ribb’d it strong
    • From space to space, and nail’d the planks along;
    • These form’d the sides: the deck he fashion’d last;
    • Then o’er the vessel rais’d the taper mast,
    • With crossing sail-yards dancing in the wind;
    • And to the helm the guiding rudder join’d
    • (With yielding osiers fenc’d, to break the force
    • Of surging waves, and steer the steady course).
    • Thy loom, Calypso! for the future sails329
    • Supplied the cloth, capacious of the gales.
    • With stays and cordage last he rigg’d the ship,
    • And, roll’d on levers, launch’d her in the deep.
    • Four days were past, and now, the work complete,
    • Shone the fifth morn, when from her sacred seat
    • The Nymph dismiss’d him (od’rous garments giv’n,
    • And bathed in fragrant oils that breathed of Heav’n):
    • Then fill’d two goat-skins with her hands divine,
    • With water one, and one with sable wine:
    • Of ev’ry kind provisions heav’d aboard;
    • And the full decks with copious viands stor’d.340
    • The Goddess, last, a gentle breeze supplies,
    • To curl old Ocean, and to warm the skies.
    • And now, rejoicing in the prosp’rous gales,
    • With beating heart Ulysses spreads his sails:
    • Placed at the helm he sate, and mark’d the skies,
    • Nor closed in sleep his ever-watchful eyes.
    • There view’d the Pleiads, and the Northern Team,
    • And great Orion’s more refulgent beam,
    • To which, around the axle of the sky,349
    • The Bear, revolving, points his golden eye:
    • Who shines exalted on th’ ethereal plain,
    • Nor bathes his blazing forehead in the main.
    • Far on the left those radiant fires to keep
    • The Nymph directed, as he sail’d the deep.
    • Full sev’nteen nights he cut the foamy way;
    • The distant land appear’d the foll’wing day:
    • Then swell’d to sight Phæacia’s dusky coast,
    • And woody mountains, half in vapours lost;
    • That lay before him indistinct and vast,359
    • Like a broad shield amid the wat’ry waste.
    • But him, thus voyaging the deeps below,
    • From far, on Solyme’s aërial brow,
    • The King of Ocean saw, and seeing burn’d
    • (From Æthiopia’s happy climes return’d);
    • The raging Monarch shook his azure head,
    • And thus in secret to his soul he said:
    • ‘Heav’ns! how uncertain are the Powers on high!
    • Is then revers’d the sentence of the sky,
    • In one man’s favour: while a distant guest
    • I shared secure the Æthiopian feast?370
    • Behold how near Phæacia’s land he draws!
    • The land affix’d by Fate’s eternal laws
    • To end his toils. Is then our anger vain?
    • No; if this sceptre yet commands the main.’
    • He spoke, and high the forky trident hurl’d,
    • Rolls clouds on clouds, and stirs the wat’ry world,
    • At once the face of earth and sea deforms,
    • Swells all the winds, and rouses all the storms.
    • Down rush’d the night: east, west, together roar;
    • And south and north roll mountains to the shore:380
    • Then shook the hero, to despair resign’d,
    • And question’d thus his yet unconquer’d mind:
    • ‘Wretch that I am! what farther Fates attend
    • This life of toils, and what my destin’d end?
    • Too well, alas! the island Goddess knew
    • On the black sea what perils should ensue.
    • New horrors now this destin’d head enclose;
    • Unfill’d as yet the measure of my woes:
    • With what a cloud the brows of Heav’n are crown’d!
    • What raging winds! what roaring waters round!390
    • ’T is Jove himself the swelling tempest rears;
    • Death, present death, on ev’ry side appears.
    • Happy! thrice happy! who, in battle slain,
    • Press’d, in Atrides’ cause, the Trojan plain!
    • Oh! had I died before that well-fought wall;
    • Had some distinguish’d day renown’d my fall
    • (Such as was that when showers of jav’lins fled
    • From conquering Troy around Achilles dead);
    • All Greece had paid me solemn funerals then,399
    • And spread my glory with the sons of men.
    • A shameful fate now hides my hapless head,
    • Unwept, unnoted, and for ever dead!’
    • A mighty wave rush’d o’er him as he spoke,
    • The raft it cover’d, and the mast it broke:
    • Swept from the deck, and from the rudder torn,
    • Far on the swelling surge the Chief was borne;
    • While by the howling tempest rent in twain
    • Flew sail and sail-yards rattling o’er the main.
    • Long-press’d, he heav’d beneath the weighty wave,
    • Clogg’d by the cumb’rous vest Calypso gave:410
    • At length emerging, from his nostrils wide
    • And gushing mouth effused the briny tide;
    • Ev’n then, not mindless of his last retreat,
    • He seiz’d the raft, and leap’d into his seat,
    • Strong with the fear of death. The rolling flood
    • Now here, now there, impell’d the floating wood.
    • As when a heap of gather’d thorns is cast
    • Now to, now fro, before th’ autumnal blast;
    • Together clung, it rolls around the field;
    • So roll’d the float, and so its texture held:
    • And now the south, and now the north, bear sway,421 }
    • And now the east the foamy floods obey, }
    • And now the west wind whirls it o’er the sea. }
    • The wand’ring Chief, with toils on toils oppress’d,
    • Leucothea saw, and pity touch’d her breast
    • (Herself a mortal once, of Cadmus’ strain,
    • But now an azure sister of the main).
    • Swift as a sea-mew springing from the flood,
    • All radiant on the raft the Goddess stood:
    • Then thus address’d him: ‘Thou whom Heav’n decrees430
    • To Neptune’s wrath, stern Tyrant of the Seas
    • (Unequal contest)! not his rage and power,
    • Great as he is, such virtue shall devour.
    • What I suggest, thy wisdom will perform:
    • Forsake thy float, and leave it to the storm:
    • Strip off thy garments; Neptune’s fury brave
    • With naked strength, and plunge into the wave.
    • To reach Phæacia all thy nerves extend,
    • There Fate decrees thy miseries shall end.
    • This heav’nly scarf beneath thy bosom bind,440
    • And live; give all thy terrors to the wind.
    • Soon as thy arms the happy shore shall gain,
    • Return the gift, and cast it in the main;
    • Observe my orders, and with heed obey,
    • Cast it far off, and turn thy eyes away.’
    • With that, her hand the sacred veil bestows,
    • Then down the deeps she dived from whence she rose;
    • A moment snatch’d the shining form away,
    • And all was cover’d with the curling sea.
    • Struck with amaze, yet still to doubt ininclin’d,450
    • He stands suspended, and explores his mind.
    • ‘What shall I do? unhappy me! who knows
    • But other Gods intend me other woes?
    • Whoe’er thou art, I shall not blindly join
    • Thy pleaded reason, but consult with mine:
    • For scarce in ken appears that distant isle
    • Thy voice foretells me shall conclude my toil.
    • Thus then I judge: while yet the planks sustain
    • The wild waves’ fury, here I fix’d remain:
    • But when their texture to the tempest yields,460
    • I launch adventurous on the liquid fields,
    • Join to the help of Gods the strength of man,
    • And take this method, since the best I can.’
    • While thus his thoughts an anxious council hold,
    • The raging God a wat’ry mountain roll’d;
    • Like a black sheet the whelming billows spread,
    • Burst o’er the float, and thunder’d on his head.
    • Planks, beams, disparted fly; the scatter’d wood
    • Rolls diverse, and in fragments strews the flood.
    • So the rude Boreas, o’er the field newshorn,470
    • Tosses and drives the scatter’d heaps of corn.
    • And now a single beam the chief bestrides:
    • There, pois’d awhile above the bounding tides,
    • His limbs discumbers of the clinging vest,
    • And binds the sacred cincture round his breast;
    • Then, prone on ocean in a moment flung,
    • Stretch’d wide his eager arms, and shot the seas along.
    • All naked now, on heaving billows laid,
    • Stern Neptune eyed him, and contemptuous said:
    • ‘Go, learn’d in woes, and other foes essay!480
    • Go, wander helpless on the wat’ry way:
    • Thus, thus find out the destin’d shore, and then
    • (If Jove ordains it) mix with happier men:
    • Whate’er thy fate, the ills our wrath could raise
    • Shall last remember’d in thy best of days.’
    • This said, his sea-green steeds divide the foam,
    • And reach high Ægæ and the tow’ry dome.
    • Now, scarce withdrawn the fierce earthshaking Power,
    • Jove’s daughter Pallas watch’d the fav’ring hour;
    • Back to their caves she bade the winds to fly,490
    • And hush’d the blust’ring Brethren of the Sky.
    • The drier blasts alone of Boreas sway,
    • And bear him soft on broken waves away;
    • With gentle force impelling to that shore,
    • Where Fate has destin’d he shall toil no more.
    • And now two nights and now two days were past,
    • Since wide he wander’d on the wat’ry waste;
    • Heav’d on the surge with intermitting breath,
    • And hourly painting in the arms of Death.
    • The third fair morn now blazed upon the main;500
    • Then glassy smooth lay all the liquid plain;
    • The winds were hush’d, the billows scarcely curl’d,
    • And a dead silence still’d the wat’ry world,
    • When, lifted on a ridgy wave, he spies
    • The land at distance, and with sharpen’d eyes.
    • As pious children joy with vast delight
    • When a lov’d sire revives before their sight
    • (Who, ling’ring long, has call’d on death in vain,508
    • Fix’d by some demon to his bed of pain,
    • Till Heav’n by miracle his life restore);
    • So joys Ulysses at th’ appearing shore;
    • And sees (and labours onward as he sees)
    • The rising forests, and the tufted trees.
    • And now, as near approaching as the sound
    • Of human voice the list’ning ear may wound,
    • Amidst the rocks he hears a hollow roar
    • Of murm’ring surges breaking on the shore:
    • Nor peaceful port was there, nor winding bay,
    • To shield the vessel from the rolling sea,
    • But cliffs, and shaggy shores, a dreadful sight!520
    • All rough with rocks, with foamy billows white.
    • Fear seiz’d his slacken’d limbs and beating heart,
    • And thus he communed with his soul apart:
    • ‘Ah me! when o’er a length of waters toss’d,
    • These eyes at last behold th’ unhoped-for coast,
    • No port receives me from the angry main,
    • But the loud deeps demand me back again.
    • Above sharp rocks forbid access; around
    • Roar the wild waves; beneath is sea profound!529
    • No footing sure affords the faithless sand,
    • To stem too rapid, and too deep to stand.
    • If here I enter, my efforts are vain,
    • Dash’d on the cliffs or heav’d into the main:
    • Or round the island if my course I bend,
    • Where the ports open, or the shores descend,
    • Back to the seas the rolling surge may sweep,
    • And bury all my hopes beneath the deep.
    • Or some enormous whale the God may send
    • (For many such on Amphitrite attend);
    • Too well the turns of mortal chance I know,540
    • And hate relentless of my heav’nly foe.’
    • While thus he thought, a monstrous wave upbore
    • The Chief, and dash’d him on the craggy shore;
    • Torn was his skin, nor had the ribs been whole,
    • But instant Pallas enter’d in his soul.
    • Close to the cliff with both his hands he clung,
    • And stuck adherent, and suspended hung;
    • Till the huge surge roll’d off: then, backward sweep
    • The refluent tides, and plunge him in the deep.549
    • As when the polypus, from forth his cave
    • Torn with full force, reluctant beats the wave;
    • His ragged claws are stuck with stones and sands;
    • So the rough rock had shagg’d Ulysses’ hands.
    • And now had perish’d, whelm’d beneath the main,
    • Th’ unhappy man; ev’n Fate had been in vain;
    • But all-subduing Pallas lent her power,
    • And prudence saved him in the needful hour.
    • Beyond the beating surge his course he bore
    • (A wider circle, but in sight of shore),
    • With longing eyes, observing, to survey560
    • Some smooth ascent, or safe sequester’d bay.
    • Between the parting rocks at length he spied
    • A falling stream with gentler waters glide;
    • Where to the seas the shelving shore declin’d,
    • And form’d a bay impervious to the wind.
    • To this calm port the glad Ulysses press’d,
    • And hail’d the river, and its God address’d:
    • ‘Whoe’er thou art, before whose stream unknown
    • I bend, a suppliant at thy wat’ry throne,
    • Hear, azure King! nor let me fly in vain570
    • To thee from Neptune and the raging main.
    • Heav’n hears and pities hapless men like me,
    • For sacred ev’n to Gods is misery:
    • Let then thy waters give the weary rest,
    • And save a suppliant, and a man distress’d.’
    • He pray’d, and straight the gentle stream subsides,
    • Detains the rushing current of his tides,
    • Before the wand’rer smooths the wat’ry way,
    • And soft receives him from the rolling sea.
    • That moment, fainting as he touch’d the shore,580
    • He dropp’d his sinewy arms; his knees no more
    • Perform’d their office, or his weight upheld;
    • His swoln heart heav’d; his bloated body swell’d;
    • From mouth and nose the briny torrent ran;
    • And lost in lassitude lay all the man,
    • Deprived of voice, of motion, and of breath;
    • The soul scarce waking in the arms of death.
    • Soon as warm life its wonted office found,
    • The mindful chief Leucothea’s scarf unbound;
    • Observant of her word, he turn’d aside590
    • His head, and cast it on the rolling tide.
    • Behind him far, upon the purple waves
    • The waters waft it, and the nymph receives.
    • Now parting from the stream, Ulysses found }
    • A mossy bank with pliant rushes crown’d; }
    • The bank he press’d, and gently kiss’d the ground; }
    • Where on the flow’ry herb as soft he lay,
    • Thus to his soul the sage began to say:
    • ‘What will ye next ordain, ye Powers on high!
    • And yet, ah yet, what fates are we to try?600
    • Here by the stream, if I the night outwear, }
    • Thus spent already, how shall nature bear }
    • The dews descending, and nocturnal air? }
    • Or chilly vapours breathing from the flood
    • When morning rises?—If I take the wood,
    • And in thick shelter of innumerous boughs
    • Enjoy the comfort gentle sleep allows;
    • Tho’ fenc’d from cold, and tho’ my toil be past,
    • What savage beasts may wander in the waste!
    • Perhaps I yet may fall a bloody prey610
    • To prowling bears, or lions in the way.’
    • Thus long debating in himself he stood:
    • At length he took the passage to the wood,
    • Whose shady horrors on a rising brow
    • Waved high, and frown’d upon the stream below.
    • There grew two olives, closest of the grove,
    • With roots entwin’d, and branches interwove;
    • Alike their leaves, but not alike they smil’d
    • With sister-fruits; one fertile, one was wild.
    • Nor here the sun’s meridian rays had power,620
    • Nor wind sharp-piercing, nor the rushing shower;
    • The verdant arch so close its texture kept:
    • Beneath this covert great Ulysses crept.
    • Of gather’d leaves an ample bed he made
    • (Thick strewn by tempest thro’ the bow’ry shade);
    • Where three at least might winter’s cold defy,
    • Tho’ Boreas raged along th’ inclement sky.
    • This store with joy the patient hero found,
    • And, sunk amidst them, heap’d the leaves around.
    • As some poor peasant, fated to reside630
    • Remote from neighbours in a forest wide,
    • Studious to save what human wants require,
    • In embers heap’d, preserves the seeds of fire:
    • Hid in dry foliage thus Ulysses lies,
    • Till Pallas pour’d soft slumbers on his eyes:
    • And golden dreams (the gift of sweet repose)
    • Lull’d all his cares, and banish’d all his woes.