Then did Ulysses mount on rib, perforce, Like to a rider of a running horse,
To stay himself a time, while he might shift
His drenched weeds, that were Calypso’s gift.
When putting straight Leucothea’s amulet
About his neck, he all his forces set
To swim, and cast him prostrate to the seas.
When pow’rful Neptune saw the ruthless prease
Of perils siege him thus, he mov’d his head,
And this betwixt him and his heart he said:
“So, now feel ills enow, and struggle so,
Till to your Jove-lov’d islanders you row.
But my mind says, you will not so avoid
This last task too, but be with suff’rance cloy’d.”
This said, his rich-man’d horse he mov’d, and reach’d
His house at Ægas. But Minerva fetch’d
The winds from sea, and all their ways but one
Barr’d to their passage; the bleak North alone
She set to blow, the rest she charg’d to keep
Their rages in, and bind themselves in sleep.
But Boreas still flew high to break the seas,
Till Jove-bred Ithacus the more with ease
The navigation-skill’d Phæacian states
Might make his refuge, Death and angry Fates
At length escaping. Two nights, yet, and days
He spent in wrastling with the sable seas;
In which space, often did his heart propose
Death to his eyes. But when Aurora rose,
And threw the third light from her orient hair,
The winds grew calm, and clear was all the air,
Not one breath stirring. Then he might descry,
Rais’d by the high seas, clear, and land was nigh.
And then, look how to good sons that esteem
Their father’s life dear, (after pains extreme,
Felt in some sickness, that hath held him long
Down to his bed, and with affections strong
Wasted his body, made his life his load,
As being inflicted by some angry God)
When on their pray’rs they see descend at length
Health from the heav’ns, clad all in spirit and strength,
The sight is precious; so, since here should end
Ulysses’ toils, which therein should extend
Health to his country, held to him his sire
And on which long for him disease did tire,
And then, besides, for his own sake to see
The shores, the woods so near, such joy had he,
As those good sons for their recover’d sire.
Then labour’d feet and all parts to aspire
To that wish’d continent; which when as near
He came, as Clamour might inform an ear,
He heard a sound beat from the sea-bred rocks,
Against which gave a huge sea horrid shocks,
That belch’d upon the firm land weeds and foam,
With which were all things hid there, where no room
Of fit capacity was for any port,
Nor from the sea for any man’s resort,
The shores, the rocks, the cliff’s, so prominent were.
“O,” said Ulysses then, “now Jupiter
Hath giv’n me sight of an unhop’d for shore,
Though I have wrought these seas so long, so sore.
Of rest yet no place shows the slend’rest prints,
The rugged shore so bristled is with flints,
Against which ev’ry way the waves so flock,
And all the shore shows as one eminent rock,
So near which ’tis so deep, that not a sand
Is there for any tired foot to stand,
Nor fly his death-fast-following miseries,
Lest, if he land, upon him foreright flies
A churlish wave, to crush him ’gainst a cliff,
Worse than vain rend’ring all his landing strife.
And should I swim to seek a hav’n elsewhere,
Or land less way-beat, I may justly fear
I shall be taken with a gale again,
And cast a huge way off into the main;
And there the great Earth-shaker (having seen
My so near landing, and again his spleen
Forcing me to him) will some whale send out,
(Of which a horrid number here about
His Amphitrite breeds) to swallow me.
I well have prov’d, with what malignity
He treads my steps.” While this discourse he held,
A curs’d surge ’gainst a cutting rock impell’d
His naked body, which it gash’d and tore,
And
