Beneath our humble cottage let us haste,
And here, unenvied, rural dainties taste.'

Thus communed these; while to their lowly dome

The full-fed swine return'd with evening home;
Compell'd, reluctant, to their several styes,
With din obstreperous, and ungrateful cries.
Then to the slaves- Now from the herd the best
Select, in honour of our foreign guest:

With him, let us the genial banquet share,
For great and many are the griefs we bear;
While those who from our labours heap their
board,

Blaspheme their feeder, and forget their lord.'
Thus speaking, with dispatchful hand he took
A weighty axe, and cleft the solid oak;
This on the earth he piled; a boar full fed,
Of five years age, before the pile was led:
The swain, whom acts of piety delight,
Observant of the gods, begins the rite;
First shears the forehead of the bristly boar,
And suppliant stands, invoking every power
To speed Ulysses to his native shore.
A knotty stake then aiming at his head,
Down dropp'd he groaning, and the spirit fled.
The scorching flames climb round on every side:
Then the singed members they with skill divide;
On these, in rolls of fat involved with art,
The choicest morsels lay from every part.
Some in the flames, bestrow'd with flour, they
threw;

Some cut in fragments, from the forks they drew:
These while on several tables they dispose,
As priest himself the blameless rustic rose;

78.

Ꭰ Ꭰ

Expert the destined victim to dispart

In seven just portions, pure of hand and heart.
One sacred to the nymphs apart they lay;
Another to the winged son of May:

The rural tribe in common share the rest,
The king the chine, the honour of the feast,
Who sat delighted at his servant's board:
The faithful servant joy'd his unknown lord.
O be thou dear (Ulysses cried) to Jove,
As well thou claim'st a grateful stranger's love!'
'Be then thy thanks (the bounteous swain re-
Enjoyment of the good the gods provide. [plied)
From God's own hand descend our joys and woes;
These he decrees, and he but suffers those:
All power is his, and whatsoe'er he wills,
The will itself, omnipotent, fulfils.'

This said, the first fruits to the gods he gave;
Then pour'd of offer'd wine the sable wave:
In great Ulysses' hand he placed the bowl,
He sat, and sweet refection cheer'd his soul.
The bread from canisters Mesaulius gave
(Eumæus' proper treasure bought this slave,
And led from Taphos, to attend his board,
A servant added to his absent lord);
His task it was the wheaten loaves to lay,
And from the banquet take the bowls away.
And now the rage of hunger was repress'd,
And each betakes him to his couch to rest.

Now came the night, and darkness cover'd o'er The face of things; the winds began to roar; The driving storm the watery west wind pours, And Jove descends in deluges of showers. Studious of rest and warmth, Ulysses lies, Foreseeing from the first the storm would rise;

In mere necessity of coat and cloak,

With artful preface to his host he spoke—

Hear me, my friends! who this good ban-
quet grace;

'Tis sweet to play the fool in time and place,
And wine can of their wits the wise beguile,
Make the sage frolic, and the serious smile,
The grave in merry measures frisk about,
And many a long repented word bring out.
Since to be talkative I now commence,
Let wit cast off the sullen yoke of sense. [days),
Once I was strong (would Heaven restore those
And with my betters claim'd a share of praise.
Ulysses, Menelaüs, led forth a band,

And join'd me with them ('twas their own com-
A deathful ambush for the foe to lay; [mand),
Beneath Troy walls by night we took our way:
There, clad in arms, along the marshes spread,
We made the osier fringed bank our bed.
Full soon the' inclemency of heaven I feel,
Nor had these shoulders covering, but of steel.
Sharp blew the north: snow whitening all the fields
Froze with the blast, and gathering glazed our

shields.

There all but I, well fenced with cloak and vest,
Lay cover'd by their ample shields at rest.

Fool that I was! I left behind my own;
The skill of weather and of winds unknown,
And trusted to my coat and shield alone!
When now was wasted more than half the night,
And the stars faded at approaching light;
Sudden I jogg'd Ulysses, who was laid
Fast by my side, and, shivering, thus I said-

"Here longer in this field I cannot lie, The winter pinches, and with cold I die, And die ashamed (O wisest of mankind), The only fool who left his cloak behind." 'He thought, and answer'd (hardly waking yet, Sprung in his mind the momentary wit; That wit, which or in council, or in fight, Still met the' emergence, and determined right): "Hush thee, he cried (soft whispering in my ear), Speak not a word, lest any Greek may hear " And then (supporting on his arm his head) "Hear me, companions (thus aloud he said)! Methinks too distant from the fleet we lie: E'en now a vision stood before my eye, And sure the warning vision was from high: Let from among us some swift courier rise, Haste to the general, and demand supplies."

Upstarted Thoas straight, Andræmon's son, Nimbly he rose, and cast his garment down; Instant, the racer vanish'd off the ground; That instant in his cloak I wrapp'd me round: And safe I slept, till brightly dawning shone The morn, conspicuous on her golden throne.

'O were my strength as then, as then my age,
Some friend would fence me from the winter's rage,
Yet tatter'd as I look, I challenged then
The honours, and the offices of men:

Some master or some servant would allow
A cloak and vest-but I am nothing now!'

'Well hast thou spoke (rejoin'd the' attentive Thy lips let fall no idle words or vain! [swain), Nor garment shalt thou want, nor aught beside Meet for the wandering suppliant to provide.

But in the morning take thy clothes again,
For here one vest suffices every swain;
No change of garments to our hinds is known:
But when return'd, the good Ulysses' son
With better hand shall grace with fit attires
His guest, and send thee where thy soul desires.'
The honest herdsman rose, as this he said,
And drew before the hearth the stranger's bed:
The fleecy spoils of sheep, a goat's rough hide,
He spreads: and adds a mantle thick and wide:
With store to heap above him, and below,
And guard each quarter as the tempests blow.
There lay the king, and all the rest supine;
All, but the careful master of the swine:
Forth hasted he to tend his bristly care:
Well arm'd, and fenced against nocturnal air;
His weighty falchion o'er his shoulder tied:
His shaggy cloak a mountain goat supplied:
With his broad spear, the dread of dogs and men,
He seeks his lodging in the rocky den.
There to the tusky herd he bends his way,
Where, screen'd from Boreas, high o'erarch'd
they lay.