“Father and king adored!” Minerva cried,
“Since all who in the Olympian bower reside
Now make the wandering Greek their public care,
Let Hermes to the Atlantic isle repair;
Bid him, arrived in bright Calypso’s court,
The sanction of the assembled powers report: 
That wise Ulysses to his native land
Must speed, obedient to their high command. 
Meantime Telemachus, the blooming heir
Of sea-girt Ithaca, demands my care;
’Tis mine to form his green, unpractised years
In sage debates; surrounded with his peers,
To save the state, and timely to restrain
The bold intrusion of the suitor-train;
Who crowd his palace, and with lawless power
His herds and flocks in feastful rites devour. 
To distant Sparta, and the spacious waste
Of Sandy Pyle, the royal youth shall haste. 
There, warm with filial love, the cause inquire
That from his realm retards his god-like sire;
Delivering early to the voice of fame
The promise of a green immortal name.”

She said:  the sandals of celestial mould,
Fledged with ambrosial plumes, and rich with gold,
Surround her feet:  with these sublime she sails
The aerial space, and mounts the winged gales;
O’er earth and ocean wide prepared to soar,
Her dreaded arm a beamy javelin bore,
Ponderous and vast:  which, when her fury burns,
Proud tyrants humbles, and whole hosts o’erturns. 
From high Olympus prone her flight she bends,
And in the realms of Ithaca descends,
Her lineaments divine, the grave disguise
Of Mentes’ form conceal’d from human eyes
(Mentes, the monarch of the Taphian land);
A glittering spear waved awful in her hand. 
There in the portal placed, the heaven-born maid
Enormous riot and misrule survey’d. 
On hides of beeves, before the palace gate
(Sad spoils of luxury), the suitors sate. 
With rival art, and ardour in their mien,
At chess they vie, to captivate the queen;
Divining of their loves.  Attending nigh,
A menial train the flowing bowl supply. 
Others, apart, the spacious hall prepare,
And form the costly feast with busy care. 
There young Telemachus, his bloomy face
Glowing celestial sweet, with godlike grace
Amid the circle shines:  but hope and fear
(Painful vicissitude!) his bosom tear. 
Now, imaged in his mind, he sees restored
In peace and joy the people’s rightful lord;
The proud oppressors fly the vengeful sword. 
While his fond soul these fancied triumphs swell’d,
The stranger guest the royal youth beheld;
Grieved that a visitant so long should wait
Unmark’d, unhonour’d, at a monarch’s gate;
Instant he flew with hospitable haste,
And the new friend with courteous air embraced. 
“Stranger, whoe’er thou art, securely rest,
Affianced in my faith, a ready guest;
Approach the dome, the social banquet share,
And then the purpose of thy soul declare.”