With bright Nausicaa, and who had gain’d Grace in her love, yet on her thus complain’d:
“Nausicaa! Why bred thy mother one
So negligent in rites so stood upon
By other virgins? Thy fair garments lie
Neglected by thee, yet thy nuptials nigh;
When rich in all attire both thou shouldst be,
And garments give to others honouring thee,
That lead thee to the temple. Thy good name
Grows amongst men for these things; they inflame
Father and rev’rend mother with delight.
Come, when the Day takes any wink from Night,
Let’s to the river, and repurify
Thy wedding garments. My society
Shall freely serve thee for thy speedier aid,
Because thou shalt no mote stand on the maid.
The best of all Phæacia woo thy grace,
Where thou wert bred, and ow’st thyself a race.
Up, and stir up to thee thy honour’d sire,
To give thee mules and coach, thee and thy tire,
Veils, girdles, mantles, early to the flood
To bear in state. It suits thy high-born blood,
And far more fits thee, than to foot so far,
For far from town thou know’st the bath-founts are.”
This said, away blue-eyed Minerva went
Up to Olympus, the firm continent
That bears in endless being the Deified kind,
That’s neither sous’d with show’rs, nor shook with wind,
Nor chill’d with snow, but where Serenity flies
Exempt from clouds, and ever-beamy skies
Circle the glitt’ring hill, and all their days
Give the delights of blesséd Deity praise.
And hither Pallas flew, and left the maid,
When she had all that might excite her said.
Straight rose the lovely Morn, that up did raise
Fair-veil’d Nausicaa, whose dream her praise
To admiration took; who no time spent
To give the rapture of her vision vent
To her lov’d parents, whom she found within.
Her mother set at fire, who had to spin
A rock, whose tincture with sea-purple shin’d;
Her maids about her. But she chanc’d to find
Her father going abroad, to council call’d
By his grave Senate. And to him exhal’d
Her smother’d bosom was: “Lov’d sire,” said she, [3]
“Will you not now command a coach for me,
Stately and cómplete, fit for me to bear
To wash at flood the weeds I cannot wear
Before repurified? Yourself it fits
To wear fair weeds, as ev’ry man that sits
In place of council. And five sons you have,
Two wed, three bachelors, that must be brave
In ev’ry day’s shift, that they may go dance;
For these three last with these things must advance
Their states in marriage, and who else but I,
Their sister, should their dancing rites supply?”
This gen’ral cause she show’d, and would not name
Her mind of nuptials to her sire, for shame.
He understood her yet, and thus replied:
“Daughter! nor these, nor any grace beside,
I either will deny thee, or defer,
Mules, nor a coach, of state and circular,
Fitting at all parts. Go, my servants shall
Serves thy desires, and thy command in all.”
The servants then commanded soon obey’d,
Fetch’d coach, and mules join’d in it. Then the Maid
Brought from the chamber her rich weeds, and laid
All up in coach; in which her mother plac’d
A maund of victuals, varied well in taste,
And other junkets. Wine she likewise fill’d
Within a goat-skin bottle, and distill’d
Sweet and moist oil into a golden cruse,
Both for her daughter’s, and her handmaid’s, use,
To soften their bright bodies, when they rose
Cleans’d from their cold baths. Up to coach then goes
Th’ observéd Maid, takes both the scourge and reins,
And to her side her handmaid straight attains.
Nor these alone, but other virgins, grac’d
The nuptial chariot. The whole bevy plac’d,
Nausicaa scourg’d to make the coach-mules run,
That neigh’d, and pac’d their usual speed, and soon
Both maids and weeds brought to the river-side,
Where baths for all the year their use supplied,
Whose waters were so pure they
