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

‭ 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,

       ‭ He sat. The Nymph herself did then appose,

       ‭ For food and bev’rage, to him all best meat

       ‭ 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:

       ‭ “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 ev’ry way.

       ‭ Nor can it fit a mortal dame’s compare,

       ‭ T’ affect those terms with us that deathless are.”

       ‭ The great-in-counsels made her this reply:

       ‭ “Renown’d, and to be rev’renc’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,

       ‭ Adding the sight of my returning day,

       ‭ And natural home. If any God shall lay

       ‭ His hand upon me as I pass the seas,

       ‭ I’ll bear the worst of what his hand shall please,

       ‭ As having giv’n me such a mind as shall

       ‭ The more still rise the more his hand lets fall.

       ‭ In wars and waves my suff’rings were not small.

       ‭ I now have suffer’d much, as much before,

       ‭ Hereafter let as much result, and more.”

       ‭ This said, the sun set, and earth shadows gave;

       ‭ When these two (in an in-room of the cave,

       ‭ Left to themselves) left love no rites undone.

       ‭ The early Morn up, up he rose, put on

       ‭ His in and out weed. She herself enchaces

       ‭ Amidst a white robe, full of all the Graces,

       ‭ Ample, and pleated thick like fishy scales;

       ‭ A golden girdle then her waist impales;

       ‭ Her head a veil decks; and abroad they come.

       ‭ And now began Ulysses to go home.

       ‭ A great axe first she gave, that two ways cut,

       ‭ In which a fair well-polish’d helm was put,

       ‭ That from an olive bough receiv’d his frame.

       ‭ A plainer then. Then led she, till they came

       ‭ To lofty woods that did the isle confine.

       ‭ The fir-tree, poplar, and heav’n-scaling pine,

       ‭ Had there their offspring. Of which, those that were

       ‭ Of driest matter, and grew longest there,

       ‭ He choos’d for lighter sail. This place thus shown,

       ‭ The Nymph turn’d home. He fell to felling down,

       ‭ And twenty trees he stoop’d in little space,

       ‭ Plain’d, used his plumb, did all with artful grace.

       ‭ In mean time did Calypso wimbles bring.

       ‭ He bor’d, clos’d, nail’d, and order’d ev’ry thing,

       ‭ And look how much a ship-wright will allow

       ‭ A ship of burden (one that best doth know

       ‭ What fits his art) so large a keel he cast,

       ‭ Wrought up her decks, and hatches, side-boards, mast,

       ‭ With willow watlings arm’d her to resist

       ‭ The billows’ outrage, added all she miss’d,

       ‭ Sail-yards, and stern for guide. The Nymph then brought

       ‭ Linen for sails, which with dispatch he wrought,

       ‭ Gables, and halsters, tacklings. All the frame

       ‭ In four days’ space to full perfection came. [3]

       ‭ The fifth day, they dismiss’d him from the shore,

       ‭ Weeds neat, and odorous, gave him, victuals store,

       ‭ Wine, strong waters, and a prosp’rous wind,

       ‭ To which, Ulysses, fit-to-be-divin’d,

       ‭ His sails expos’d, and hoiséd. Off he gat;

       ‭ And cheerful was he. At the stern he sat,

       ‭ And steer’d right artfully. Nor sleep could seize

       ‭ His eye-lids. He beheld the Pleiades;

       ‭ The Bear, surnam’d the Wain, that round doth move

       ‭ About Orion, and keeps still above

       ‭ The billowy ocean; the slow-setting star

       ‭ Bootes call’d, by some the Waggoner.

       ‭ Calypso warn’d him he his course should steer

       ‭ Still to his left hand. Seventeen days did clear

       ‭ The cloudy night’s command in his moist way,

       ‭ And by the eighteenth light he might display

       ‭ The shady hills of the Phæacian shore,

       ‭ For which, as to his next abode, he bore.

       ‭ The country did a pretty figure yield,

       ‭ And look’d from off the dark seas like a shield.

       ‭ Imperious Neptune, making his retreat

       ‭ From th’ Æthiopian earth, and taking seat

       ‭ Upon the mountains of the Solymi,

       ‭ From thence, far off discov’ring, did descry

       ‭ Ulysses his fields ploughing. All on fire

       ‭ The sight straight set his heart, and made desire

       ‭ Of wreak run over, it did