To whom the hospitable swain rejoins: 
“Thy passion, prince, belies thy knowing mind. 
Who calls, from distant nations to his own,
The poor, distinguish’d by their wants alone? 
Round the wide world are sought those men divine
Who public structures raise, or who design;
Those to whose eyes the gods their ways reveal,
Or bless with salutary arts to heal;
But chief to poets such respect belongs,
By rival nations courted for their songs;
These states invite, and mighty kings admire,
Wide as the sun displays his vital fire. 
It is not so with want! how few that feed
A wretch unhappy, merely for his need! 
Unjust to me, and all that serve the state,
To love Ulysses is to raise thy hate. 
For me, suffice the approbation won
Of my great mistress, and her godlike son.”

To him Telemachus:  “No more incense
The man by nature prone to insolence: 
Injurious minds just answers but provoke”—­
Then turning to Antinous, thus he spoke: 
“Thanks to thy care! whose absolute command
Thus drives the stranger from our court and land. 
Heaven bless its owner with a better mind! 
From envy free, to charity inclined. 
This both Penelope and I afford: 
Then, prince! be bounteous of Ulysses’ board. 
To give another’s is thy hand so slow? 
So much more sweet to spoil than to bestow?”

“Whence, great Telemachus! this lofty strain? 
(Antinous cries with insolent disdain): 
Portions like mine if every suitor gave,
Our walls this twelvemonth should not see the slave.”

He spoke, and lifting high above the board
His ponderous footstool, shook it at his lord. 
The rest with equal hand conferr’d the bread: 
He fill’d his scrip, and to the threshold sped;
But first before Antinous stopp’d, and said: 
“Bestow, my friend! thou dost not seem the worst
Of all the Greeks, but prince-like and the first;
Then, as in dignity, be first in worth,
And I shall praise thee through the boundless earth. 
Once I enjoy’d in luxury of state
Whate’er gives man the envied name of great;
Wealth, servants, friends, were mine in better days
And hospitality was then my praise;
In every sorrowing soul I pour’d delight,
And poverty stood smiling in my sight. 
But Jove, all-governing, whose only will
Determines fate, and mingles good with ill,
Sent me (to punish my pursuit of gain)
With roving pirates o’er the Egyptian main
By Egypt’s silver flood our ships we moor;
Our spies commission’d straight the coast explore;
But impotent of mind, the lawless will
The country ravage, and the natives kill. 
The spreading clamour to their city flies,
And horse and foot in mingled tumults rise: 
The reddening dawn reveals the hostile fields,
Horrid with bristly spears, and gleaming shields: 
Jove thunder’d on their side:  our guilty head
We turn’d to flight; the gathering vengeance spread
On all parts round, and heaps on heaps lay dead. 
Some few the foe in servitude detain;
Death ill exchanged for bondage and for pain! 
Unhappy me a Cyprian took aboard,
And gave to Dmetor, Cyprus’ haughty lord: 
Hither, to ’scape his chains, my course I steer,
Still cursed by Fortune, and insulted here!”