To this the king:  “Ah, why must I disclose
A dreadful story of approaching woes? 
Why in this hour of transport wound thy ears,
When thou must learn what I must speak with tears? 
Heaven, by the Theban ghost, thy spouse decrees,
Torn from thy arms, to sail a length of seas;
From realm to realm, a nation to explore
Who ne’er knew salt, or heard the billows roar,
Nor saw gay vessel storm the surgy plain,
A painted wonder, flying on the main: 
An oar my hand must bear; a shepherd eyes
The unknown instrument with strange surprise,
And calls a corn-van; this upon the plain
I fix, and hail the monarch of the main;
Then bathe his altars with the mingled gore
Of victims vow’d, a ram, a bull, a boar;
Thence swift re-sailing to my native shores,
Due victims slay to all the ethereal powers. 
Then Heaven decrees, in peace to end my days
And steal myself from life by slow decays! 
Unknown to pain, in age resign my breath,
When late stern Neptune points the shaft of death;
To the dark grave retiring as to rest;
My people blessing, by my people bless’d. 
Such future scenes the all-righteous powers display
By their dread seer, and such my future day.”

To whom thus firm of soul:  “If ripe for death,
And full of days, thou gently yield thy breath;
While Heaven a kind release from ills foreshows,
Triumph, thou happy victor of thy woes?”

But Euryclea, with dispatchful care,
And sage Eurynome, the couch prepare;
Instant they bid the blazing torch display
Around the dome and artificial day;
Then to repose her steps the matron bends,
And to the queen Eurynome descends;
A torch she bears, to light with guiding fires
The royal pair; she guides them, and retires
The instant his fair spouse Ulysses led
To the chaste love-rites of the nuptial bed.

And now the blooming youths and sprightly fair
Cease the gay dance, and to their rest repair;
But in discourse the king and consort lay,
While the soft hours stole unperceived away;
Intent he hears Penelope disclose
A mournful story of domestic woes,
His servants’ insults, his invaded bed,
How his whole flocks and herds exhausted bled,
His generous wines dishonour’d shed in vain,
And the wild riots of the suitor-train. 
The king alternate a dire tale relates,
Of wars, of triumphs, and disastrous fates;
All he unfolds; his listening spouse turns pale
With pleasing horror at the dreadful tale;
Sleepless devours each word; and hears how slain
Cicons on Cicons swell the ensanguined plain;
How to the land of Lote unbless’d he sails;
And images the rills and flowery vales! 
How dash’d like dogs, his friends the Cyclops tore
(Not unrevenged), and quaff’d the spouting gore;
How the loud storms in prison bound, he sails
From friendly Aeolus with prosperous gales: 
Yet fate withstands! a sudden tempest roars,