Hermes Lackey along so vast a lake of brine, bids Near to no city that the Powers divine

her let

Ulysses

go

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 Troy victory
Was won, to give the Greeks the spoil of Troy,
Return they did profess, but not enjoy,
Since Pallas they incenst, and she the waves
By all the winds' power, that blew ope their

graves.

140

And there they rested. Only this poor one
This coast both winds and waves have cast upon;
Whom now forthwith he wills thee to dismiss,
Affirming that th' unalter'd destinies
Not only have decreed he shall not die
Apart his friends, but of necessity
Enjoy their sights before those fatal hours,
His country earth reach, and erected towers.'
This strook a love-checkt horror through
her powers,

150

When, naming him, she this reply did give:
Insatiate are ye Gods, past all that live,
In all things you affect; which still converts
Your powers to envies. It afflicts your hearts,
That any Goddess should, as you obtain
The use of earthly dames, enjoy the men,
And most in open marriage. So ye far'd, 160
When the delicious-finger'd Morning shar'd
Orion's bed; you easy-living States

Could never satisfy your emulous hates,
Till in Ortygia the precise-liv'd Dame,
Gold-thron'd Diana, on him rudely came,

Calypso protests

And with her swift shafts slew him. And such pains,

170

When rich-haired Ceres pleas'd to give the reins
To her affections, and the grace did yield
Of love and bed, amidst a three-cropt field,
To her Iasion, he paid angry Jove,
Who lost no long time notice of their love,
But with a glowing lightning was his death.
And now your envies labour underneath
A mortal's choice of mine; whose life I took
To liberal safety, when his ship Jove strook,
With red-hot flashes, piece-meal in the seas,
And all his friends and soldiers succourless
Perisht but he. Him, cast upon this coast
With blasts and billows, I, in life given lost,
Preserv'd alone, lov'd, nourished, and did vow 180
To make him deathless, and yet never grow
Crooked, or worn with age, his whole life long.
But since no reason may be made so strong
To strive with Jove's will, or to make it vain,
No not if all the other Gods should strain
Their powers against it, let his will be law,
So he afford him fit means to withdraw,
As he commands him, to the raging main.
But means from me he never shall obtain,
For my means yield nor men, nor ship, nor oars,
To set him off from my so envied shores.
But if my counsel and good will can aid
His safe pass home, my best shall be assay'd,'
'Vouchsafe it so,' said heaven's ambassador,
And deign it quickly. By all means abhor

191

Ulysses is T'incense Jove's wrath against thee, that with released

grace

He may hereafter all thy wish embrace.'

200

Thus took the Argus-killing God his wings.
And since the reverend Nymph these awful things
Receiv'd from Jove, she to Ulysses went ;
Whom she ashore found, drown'd in discontent;
His eyes kept never dry, he did so mourn,
And waste his dear age for his wisht return;
Which still without the cave he us'd to do,
Because he could not please the Goddess so.
At night yet, forc'd, together, took their rest,
The willing Goddess and th' unwilling Guest;
But he all day in rocks, and on the shore,
The vext sea view'd, and did his fate deplore.
Him, now, the Goddess coming near bespake: 210
Unhappy man, no more discomfort take

For my constraint of thee, nor waste thine age;
I now will passing freely disengage

Thy irksome stay here. Come, then, fell thee
wood,

And build a ship, to save thee from the flood.
I'll furnish thee with fresh wave, bread, and wine
Ruddy and sweet, that will the piner pine,
Put garments on thee, give thee winds foreright,
That every way thy home-bent appetite
May safe attain to it; if it so please
At all parts all the heaven-hous'd Deities,
That more in power are, more in skill, than I,
And more can judge what fits humanity.'

220

He stood amaz'd at this strange change in her, And said: 'O Goddess! Thy intents prefer Some other project than my parting hence, Commanding things of too high consequence

swears an oath

For my performance, that myself should build Calypso
A ship of power, my home-assays to shield
Against the great sea of such dread to pass; 230
Which not the best-built ship that ever was
Will pass exulting, when such winds, as Jove
Can thunder up, their trims and tacklings prove.
But could I build one, I would ne'er aboard,
Thy will oppos'd, nor, won, without thy word,
Given in the great oaths of the Gods to me,
Not to beguile me in the least degree.'

The Goddess smil'd, held hard his hand, and
said:

"O y' are a shrewd one, and so habited

In taking heed, thou know'st not what it is 240
To be unwary, nor use words amiss.

How hast thou charm'd me, were I ne'er so sly!
Let earth know then, and heaven, so broad, so
high,

And th under-sunk waves of th' infernal stream,
(Which is an oath, as terribly supreme,
As any God swears) that I had no thought
But stood with what I spake, nor would have
wrought,

250

Nor counsell'd, any act against thy good;
But ever diligently weigh'd, and stood
On those points in persuading thee, that I
Would use myself in such extremity.
For my mind simple is, and innocent,
Not given by cruel sleights to circumvent,
Nor bear I in my breast a heart of steel,
But with the sufferer willing sufferance feel.'
This said, the grace of Goddesses led home,
He trac'd her steps; and, to the cavern come,
In that rich throne, whence Mercury arose,

The He sat.

The Nymph her self did then appose,
heart of For food and beverage, to him all best meat 260
Ulysses And drink, that mortals use to taste and eat.
Then sat she opposite, and for her feast
Was nectar and ambrosia addrest

By handmaids to her. Both, what was prepar'd,
Did freely fall to. Having fitly far'd,
The Nymph Calypso this discourse began:

270

Jove-bred Ulysses! Many-witted man!
Still is thy home so wish'd? So soon, away?
Be still of cheer, for all the worst I say.
But, if thy soul knew what a sum of woes,
For thee to cast up, thy stern Fates impose,
Ere to thy country earth thy hopes attain,
Undoubtedly thy choice would here remain,
Keep house with me, and be a liver ever.
Which, methinks, should thy house and thee
dissever,

Though for thy wife there thou art set on fire,
And all thy days are spent in her desire;
And though it be no boast in me to say
In form and mind I match her every way.
Nor can it fit a mortal dame's compare,
T'affect those terms with us that deathless are.'

280

The great-in-counsels made her this reply:
Renowm'd, and to be reverenc'd, Deity!
Let it not move thee, that so much I vow
My comforts to my wife; though well I know
All cause myself, why wise Penelope

In wit is far inferior to thee,

In feature, stature, all the parts of show,
She being a mortal, an immortal thou,
Old ever growing, and yet never old.
Yet her desire shall all my days see told,

290