“’Heavens! would a soft, inglorious, dastard train
An absent hero’s nuptial joys profane
So with her young, amid the woodland shades,
A timorous hind the lion’s court invades,
Leaves in that fatal lair her tender fawns,
And climbs the cliffs, or feeds along the lawns;
Meantime returning, with remorseless sway
The monarch savage rends the panting prey: 
With equal fury, and with equal fame,
Shall great Ulysses reassert his claim. 
O Jove! supreme! whom men and gods revere;
And thou whose lustre gilds the rolling sphere! 
With power congenial join’d, propitious aid
The chief adopted by the martial maid! 
Such to our wish the warrior soon restore,
As when, contending on the Lesbian shore,
His prowess Philomelides confess’d,
And loud acclaiming Greeks the victor bless’d: 
Then soon the invaders of his bed, and throne,
Their love presumptuous shall by death atone. 
Now what you question of my ancient friend,
With truth I answer; thou the truth attend. 
Learn what I heard the sea-born seer relate,
Whose eye can pierce the dark recess of fate
Sole in an isle, imprison’d by the main,
The sad survivor of his numerous train,
Ulysses lies; detain’d by magic charms,
And press’d unwilling in Calypso’s arms. 
No sailors there, no vessels to convey,
No oars to cut the immeasurable way.’ 
This told Atrides, and he told no more. 
Then safe I voyaged to my native shore.”

He ceased; nor made the pensive queen reply,
But droop’d her head, and drew a secret sigh. 
When Theoclymenus the seer began: 
“O suffering consort of the suffering man! 
What human knowledge could, those kings might tell,
But I the secrets of high heaven reveal. 
Before the first of gods be this declared,
Before the board whose blessings we have shared;
Witness the genial rites, and witness all
This house holds sacred in her ample wall! 
E’en now, this instant, great Ulysses, laid
At rest, or wandering in his country’s shade,
Their guilty deeds, in hearing, and in view,
Secret revolves; and plans the vengeance due. 
Of this sure auguries the gods bestow’d,
When first our vessel anchor’d in your road.” 
“Succeed those omens, Heaven! (the queen rejoin’d)
So shall our bounties speak a grateful mind;
And every envied happiness attend
The man who calls Penelope his friend.” 
Thus communed they:  while in the marble court
(Scene of their insolence) the lords resort: 
Athwart the spacious square each tries his art,
To whirl the disk, or aim the missile dart. 
Now did the hour of sweet repast arrive,
And from the field the victim flocks they drive: 
Medon the herald (one who pleased them best,
And honour’d with a portion of their feast),
To bid the banquet, interrupts their play: 
Swift to the hall they haste; aside they lay
Their garments, and succinct the victims slay.