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‭ Do thou direct it, in as curious sort

       ‭ As thy wit serves thee; it obeys thy pow’rs;

       ‭ And in their ship return the speedless Wooers.”

       ‭ Then turn’d he to his issue Mercury,

       ‭ And said: “Thou hast made good our ambassy

       ‭ To th’ other Statists, to the Nymph then now,

       ‭ On whose fair head a tuft of gold doth grow,

       ‭ Bear our true-spoken counsel, for retreat

       ‭ Of patient Ulysses; who shall get

       ‭ No aid from us, nor any mortal man,

       ‭ But in a patch’d-up skiff (built as he can, [1]

       ‭ And suff’ring woes enough) the twentieth day

       ‭ At fruitful Scheria let him breathe his way,

       ‭ With the Phæacians, that half Deities live,

       ‭ Who like a God will honour him, and give

       ‭ His wisdom clothes, and ship, and brass, and gold,

       ‭ More than for gain of Troy he ever told;

       ‭ Where, at the whole division of the prey,

       ‭ If he a saver were, or got away

       ‭ Without a wound, if he should grudge, ’twas well.

       ‭ But th’ end shall crown all; therefore Fate will deal

       ‭ So well with him, to let him land, and see

       ‭ His native earth, friends, house, and family.”

       ‭ Thus charg’d he; nor Argicides denied,

       ‭ But to his feet his fair wing’d shoes he tied,

       ‭ Ambrosian, golden, that in his command

       ‭ Put either sea, or the unmeasur’d land,

       ‭ With pace as speedy as a puft of wind.

       ‭ Then up his rod went, with which he declin’d

       ‭ The eyes of any waker, when he pleas’d,

       ‭ And any sleeper, when he wish’d, diseas’d.

       ‭ This took; he stoop’d Pieria, and thence

       ‭ Glid through the air, and Neptune’s confluence

       ‭ Kiss’d as he flew, and check’d the waves as light

       ‭ As any sea-mew in her fishing flight,

       ‭ Her thick wings sousing in the savory seas.

       ‭ Like her, he pass’d a world of wilderness;

       ‭ But when the far-off isle he touch’d, he went

       ‭ Up from the blue sea to the continent,

       ‭ And reach’d the ample cavern of the Queen,

       ‭ Whom he within found, without seldom seen.

       ‭ A sun-like fire upon the hearth did flame,

       ‭ The matter precious, and divine the frame,

       ‭ Of cedar cleft and incense was the pile,

       ‭ That breath’d an odour round about the isle.

       ‭ Herself was seated in an inner room,

       ‭ Whom sweetly sing he heard, and at her loom,

       ‭ About a curious web, whose yarn she threw

       ‭ In with a golden shittle. A grove grew

       ‭ In endless spring about her cavern round,

       ‭ With odorous cypress, pines, and poplars, crown’d,

       ‭ Where hawks, sea-owls, and long-tongued bittours bred,

       ‭ And other birds their shady pinions spread;

       ‭ All fowls maritimal; none roosted there,

       ‭ But those whose labours in the waters were.

       ‭ A vine did all the hollow cave embrace,

       ‭ Still green, yet still ripe bunches gave it grace.

       ‭ Four fountains, one against another, pour’d

       ‭ Their silver streams; and meadows all enflower’d

       ‭ With sweet balm-gentle, and blue-violets hid,

       ‭ That deck’d the soft breasts of each fragrant mead.

       ‭ Should anyone, though he immortal were,

       ‭ Arrive and see the sacred objects there,

       ‭ He would admire them, and be over-joy’d;

       ‭ And so stood Hermes’ ravish’d pow’rs employ’d,

       ‭ But having all admir’d, he enter’d on

       ‭ The ample cave, nor could be seen unknown

       ‭ Of great Calypso (for all Deities are

       ‭ Prompt in each other’s knowledge, though so far

       ‭ Sever’d in dwellings) but he could not see

       ‭ Ulysses there within; without was he,

       ‭ Set sad ashore, where ’twas his use to view

       ‭ Th’ unquiet sea, sigh’d, wept, and empty drew

       ‭ His heart of comfort. Plac’d here in her throne,

       ‭ That beams cast up to admiratión,

       ‭ Divine Calypso question’d Hermes thus:

       ‭ “For what cause, dear, and much-esteem’d by us,

       ‭ Thou golden-rod-adorned Mercury,

       ‭ Arriv’st thou here? Thou hast not us’d t’ apply

       ‭ Thy passage this way. Say, whatever be

       ‭ Thy heart’s desire, my mind commands it thee,

       ‭ If in my means it lie, or pow’r of fact.

       ‭ But first, what hospitable rites exact,

       ‭ Come yet more near, and take.” This said, she set

       ‭ A table forth, and furnish’d it with meat,

       ‭ Such as the Gods taste; and serv’d in with it

       ‭ Vermilion nectar. When with banquet fit

       ‭ He had confirm’d his spirits, he thus exprest

       ‭ His cause of coming: “Thou hast made request,

       ‭ Goddess of Goddesses, to understand

       ‭ My cause of touch here; which thou shalt command,

       ‭ And know with truth: Jove caus’d my course to thee

       ‭ Against my will, for who would willingly

       ‭ Lackey along so vast a lake of brine,

       ‭ Near to no city that the Pow’rs divine

       ‭ Receives with solemn rites and hecatombs?

       ‭ But Jove’s will ever all law overcomes,

       ‭ No other God can cross or make it void;

       ‭ And he affirms, that one the most annoy’d

       ‭ With woes and toils of all those men that fought

       ‭ For Priam’s city, and to end hath brought

       ‭ Nine years in the contention, is with thee.

       ‭ For in the tenth year, when roy victory

       ‭ Was won to give the Greeks the spoil of Troy,

       ‭ Return they did profess, but not enjoy,

       ‭ Since Pallas they incens’d, and she the waves

      

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