The Odysseys of Homer, together with the shorter poems. Homer

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 tow’rs.”

       ‭ This struck a love-check’d horror through her pow’rs,

       ‭ 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 pow’rs 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,

       ‭ 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,

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

       ‭ When rich-hair’d Ceres pleas’d to give the reins

       ‭ To her affections, and the grace did yield

       ‭ Of love and bed, amidst a three-cropp’d 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 lib’ral safety, when his ship Jove strook,

       ‭ With red-hot flashes, piece-meal in the seas,

       ‭ And all his friends and soldiers succourless

       ‭ Perish’d but he. Him, cast upon this coast

       ‭ With blasts and billows, I, in life giv’n lost,

       ‭ Preserv’d alone, lov’d, nourish’d, and did vow

       ‭ 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 pow’rs 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 heav’n’s ambassador,

       ‭ “And deign it quickly. By all means abhor

       ‭ T’ incense Jove’s wrath against thee, that with grace

       ‭ He may hereafter all thy wish embrace.”

       ‭ Thus took the Argus-killing God his wings.

       ‭ And since the rev’rend 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 wish’d 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 vex’d sea view’d, and did his fate deplore.

       ‭ Him, now, the Goddess coming near bespake:

       ‭ “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, [2]

       ‭ Put garments on thee, give the winds foreright,

       ‭ That ev’ry way thy home-bent appetite

       ‭ May safe attain to it; if so it please

       ‭ At all parts all the heav’n-hous’d Deities,

       ‭ That more in pow’r are, more in skill, than I,

       ‭ And more can judge what fits humanity.”

       ‭ 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

       ‭ For my performance, that myself should build

       ‭ A ship of pow’r, my home-assays to shield

       ‭ Against the great sea of such dread to pass;

       ‭ 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,

       ‭ Giv’n in the great oath 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

       ‭ To be unwary, nor use words amiss.

       ‭ How hast thou charm’d me, were I ne’er so sly!

       ‭ Let earth know then, and heav’n, 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,

       ‭ 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.