The roomy bark, and fix the decks aloft,
That it may bear thee o'er the sable sea;
For I will stow therein the wheaten flour,
Fresh water, and the cheering ruddy wine,
That famine come not nigh thee. Garments warm
Shall wrap thee round; and I will send a breeze
Fair-blowing from this isle, that thou may'st reach
Thy country's shores in safety: so the Gods
But will it who inhabit yon broad heaven;
Whose knowledge all-discerning passes mine."
She said: the brave and much-enduring man
Shudder'd, and thus in rapid words replied:
"Some other purpose hast thou, nymph! in this
Than my dismissal; since thou bid'st me pass
In a small bark th' enormous breadth of sea,
Fearful and arduous, which adapted ships
Pass not, though swift and cheer'd with gales from
heaven.

Nor will I, though in thy despite, ascend
The bark, unless thou swear a mighty oath,
That no far different purpose in thy will
Be lurking, which may work me pain and woe."

He said the noble nymph, Calypso, smiled,

And smooth'd him with her hand, and soft ex

claim'd:

"Nay, thou art naught; thy cautious arts not few.

To utter? Hear me, Earth! and Heaven above! And nether-gliding Styx! that greatest oath, Most dreadful to the blessed Deities!

I hide no purpose that may work thee woe.

So thinking and so counselling I speak,
As I in pressing need should for myself
Both think and counsel. Upright is my soul;
Nor is the heart I bear within my breast
A heart of iron but compassionate.”

So spake the heavenly nymph, and trod the path
Nimbly before him: close upon her steps
He follow'd. To the inner cavern came
The Goddess and the man. There sate he down
On the same seat whence Hermes late had risen.
The nymph before him placed whatever food
Or beverage mortal man may drink or eat.
Then she herself sate down, full opposite
Noble Ulysses. Her the damsels serv'd

With nectar and ambrosia. So they stretch'd
Their hands and of the cates prepared partook;
Till both now satisfied with food and drink,
The Goddess nymph, Calypso, thus began:
"Noble Laërtes' son, of crafty wit,
Ulysses! wilt thou then indeed depart,
And instantly, to thy beloved home
And country? yet begone and fare thee well!
But if thou knew'st within thy secret mind
The measure of endurance, which thy fate
Decrees thee yet to fill, or ere thou reach
Thy native shore, thou surely would'st remain
With me, and keep this mansion, and be made
Immortal; howsoe'er thou languishest

To see thy wife again, for whom desire
Absorbs thee day by day. Yet may I boast,
I yield not to Penelope in form

Nor in complexion; since it ill beseems
A mortal fair-one to contend in shape
Or comely visage with immortal nymphs."
The wise Ulysses thus his answer framed:
"Majestic Goddess! let not thy disdain
Be kindled into anger. Well I know

That my Penelope must yield to thee
In comely visage and in presence tall.
She is a mortal, thou immortal art,

Nor age thy bloom shall wither. Not the less
I wish from day to day and languish still
To hail my home once more, and see the hour
Of my return. But if some God again
Should plunge me shipwreck'd in the sable sea,
I shall endure it, bearing in my breast
A spirit steel'd to suffering. In time past
Already I have suffer'd much, and much
Endured in battle and upon the waves:
If this must crown my hardships, let it be."
He said: the sun now set, and darkness fell.

ULYSSES

DISCOVERING HIMSELF TO HIS FATHER.

WITHIN the well-laid orchard all alone
He found his father digging with his spade
Around a plant. He was unseemly clad
In coarse patch'd tunic, and had stitch'd him boots
Of hides to fence his legs from tearing thorns;
And 'gainst the brambles he had sheath'd his hands
In gloves. Upon his head he wore a cap
Of goat's hair, and he fed some inward grief.
When brave Ulysses tried in sufferings saw
And recognis'd his father, worn with age,
While a great sorrow on his spirits weigh'd,
He stood beneath a pear-tree's lofty boughs
And dropp'd a tear. Then musing he revolv'd
Within his mind and heart if he should kiss
And clasp his father, and in order tell
By what events he reach'd his country's shores,
Or first with questions prove him. Till while thus
He turn'd it in his thoughts it better pleas'd
With cutting words to try the old man's heart;