“Forbear (he cried,) for Heaven reserve that name;
Give to thy father but a father’s claim;
Other Ulysses shalt thou never see,
I am Ulysses, I, my son, am he. 
Twice ten sad years o’er earth and ocean toss’d,
’Tis given at length to view my native coast. 
Pallas, unconquer’d maid, my frame surrounds
With grace divine:  her power admits no bounds;
She o’er my limbs old age and wrinkles shed;
Now strong as youth, magnificent I tread. 
The gods with ease frail man depress or raise,
Exalt the lowly, or the proud debase.”

He spoke and sate.  The prince with transport flew,
Hung round his neck, while tears his cheek bedew;
Nor less the father pour’d a social flood;
They wept abundant, and they wept aloud. 
As the bold eagle with fierce sorrow stung,
Or parent vulture, mourns her ravish’d young;
They cry, they scream, their unfledged brood a prey
To some rude churl, and borne by stealth away: 
So they aloud:  and tears in tides had run,
Their grief unfinish’d with the setting sun;
But checking the full torrent in its flow,
The prince thus interrupts the solemn woe. 
“What ship transported thee, O father, say;
And what bless’d hands have oar’d thee on the way?”

“All, all (Ulysses instant made reply),
I tell thee all, my child, my only joy! 
Phaeacians bore me to the port assign’d,
A nation ever to the stranger kind;
Wrapp’d in the embrace of sleep, the faithful train
O’er seas convey’d me to my native reign: 
Embroider’d vestures, gold, and brass, are laid
Conceal’d in caverns in the sylvan shade. 
Hither, intent the rival rout to slay,
And plan the scene of death, I bend my way;
So Pallas wills—­but thou, my son, explain
The names and numbers of the audacious train;
’Tis mine to judge if better to employ
Assistant force, or singly to destroy.”

“O’er earth (returns the prince) resounds thy name,
Thy well-tried wisdom, and thy martial fame,
Yet at thy words I start, in wonder lost;
Can we engage, not decades but an host? 
Can we alone in furious battle stand,
Against that numerous and determined band? 
Hear then their numbers; from Dulichium came
Twice twenty-six, all peers of mighty name. 
Six are their menial train:  twice twelve the boast
Of Samos; twenty from Zacynthus’ coast: 
And twelve our country’s pride; to these belong
Medon and Phemius, skill’d in heavenly song. 
Two sewers from day to day the revels wait,
Exact of taste, and serve the feast in state. 
With such a foe the unequal fight to try,
Were by false courage unrevenged to die. 
Then what assistant powers you boast relate,
Ere yet we mingle in the stern debate.”

“Mark well my voice, (Ulysses straight replies:)
What need of aids, if favour’d by the skies? 
If shielded to the dreadful fight we move,
By mighty Pallas, and by thundering Jove?”