LITMIR.BIZ

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long shall pay — their forfeit lives the price.

      But against you, ye Greeks! ye coward train!

      Gods! how my soul is moved with just disdain!

      Dumb ye all stand, and not one tongue affords

      His injured prince the little aid of words.”

      While yet he spoke, Leocritus rejoined:

      “O pride of words, and arrogance of mind!

      Would’st thou to rise in arms the Greeks advise?

      Join all your powers? in arms, ye Greeks, arise!

      Yet would your powers in vain our strength oppose.

      The valiant few o’ermatch a host of foes.

      Should great Ulysses stern appear in arms,

      While the bowl circles and the banquet warms;

      Though to his breast his spouse with transport flies,

      Torn from her breast, that hour, Ulysses dies.

      But hence retreating to your domes repair.

      To arm the vessel, Mentor! be thy care,

      And Halitherses! thine: be each his friend;

      Ye loved the father: go, the son attend.

      But yet, I trust, the boaster means to stay

      Safe in the court, nor tempt the watery way.”

      Then, with a rushing sound the assembly bend

      Diverse their steps: the rival rout ascend

      The royal dome; while sad the prince explores

      The neighbouring main, and sorrowing treads the shores.

      There, as the waters o’er his hands he shed,

      The royal suppliant to Minerva pray’d:

      “O goddess! who descending from the skies

      Vouchsafed thy presence to my wondering eyes,

      By whose commands the raging deeps I trace,

      And seek my sire through storms and rolling seas!

      Hear from thy heavens above, O warrior maid!

      Descend once more, propitious to my aid.

      Without thy presence, vain is thy command:

      Greece, and the rival train, thy voice withstand.”

      Indulgent to his prayer, the goddess took

      Sage Mentor’s form, and thus like Mentor spoke:

      “O prince, in early youth divinely wise,

      Born, the Ulysses of thy age to rise

      If to the son the father’s worth descends,

      O’er the wide wave success thy ways attends

      To tread the walks of death he stood prepared;

      And what he greatly thought, he nobly dared.

      Were not wise sons descendant of the wise,

      And did not heroes from brave heroes rise,

      Vain were my hopes: few sons attain the praise

      Of their great sires, and most their sires disgrace.

      But since thy veins paternal virtue fires,

      And all Penelope thy soul inspires,

      Go, and succeed: the rivals’ aims despise;

      For never, never wicked man was wise.

      Blind they rejoice, though now, ev’n now they fall;

      Death hastes amain: one hour o’erwhelms them all!

      And lo, with speed we plough the watery way;

      My power shall guard thee, and my hand convey:

      The winged vessel studious I prepare,

      Through seas and realms companion of thy care.

      Thou to the court ascend: and to the shores

      (When night advances) bear the naval stores;

      Bread, that decaying man with strength supplies,

      And generous wine, which thoughtful sorrow flies.

      Meanwhile the mariners, by my command,

      Shall speed aboard, a valiant chosen band.

      Wide o’er the bay, by vessel vessel rides;

      The best I choose to waft then o’er the tides.”

      She spoke: to his high dome the prince returns,

      And, as he moves, with royal anguish mourns.

      ’Twas riot all, among the lawless train;

      Boar bled by boar, and goat by goat lay slain.

      Arrived, his hand the gay Antinous press’d,

      And thus deriding, with a smile address’d:

      “Grieve not, O daring prince! that noble heart;

      Ill suits gay youth the stern heroic part.

      Indulge the genial hour, unbend thy soul,

      Leave thought to age, and drain the flowing bowl.

      Studious to ease thy grief, our care provides

      The bark, to waft thee o’er the swelling tides.”

      “Is this (returns the prince) for mirth a time?

      When lawless gluttons riot, mirth’s a crime;

      The luscious wines, dishonour’d, lose their taste;

      The song is noise, and impious is the feast.

      Suffice it to have spent with swift decay

      The wealth of kings, and made my youth a prey.

      But now the wise instructions of the sage,

      And manly thoughts inspired by manly age,

      Teach me to seek redress for all my woe,

      Here, or in Pyle — in Pyle, or here, your foe.

      Deny your vessels, ye deny in vain:

      A private voyager I pass the main.

      Free breathe the winds, and free the billows flow;

      And where on earth I live, I live your foe.”

      He spoke and frown’d, nor longer deign’d to stay,

      Sternly his hand withdrew, and strode away.

      Meantime, o’er all the dome, they quaff, they feast,

      Derisive taunts were spread from guest to guest,

      And each in jovial mood his mate address’d:

      “Tremble ye not, O friends, and coward fly,

      Doom’d by the stern Telemachus to die?

      To Pyle or Sparta to demand supplies,

      Big with revenge, the mighty warrior flies;

      Or comes from Ephyre with poisons fraught,

      And kills us all in one tremendous draught!”

      “Or who can say (his gamesome mate replies)

      But, while the danger of the deeps he tries

      He, like his sire, may sink deprived of breath,

      And punish us unkindly by his death?

      What mighty labours would he then create,

      To

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