“My birth I boast (the blue-eyed virgin cries)
From great Anchialus, renown’d and wise;
Mentes my name; I rule the Taphian race,
Whose bounds the deep circumfluent waves embrace;
A duteous people, and industrious isle,
To naval arts inured, and stormy toil. 
Freighted with iron from my native land,
I steer my voyage to the Brutian strand
To gain by commerce, for the labour’d mass,
A just proportion of refulgent brass. 
Far from your capital my ship resides
At Reitorus, and secure at anchor rides;
Where waving groves on airy Neign grow,
Supremely tall and shade the deeps below. 
Thence to revisit your imperial dome,
An old hereditary guest I come;
Your father’s friend.  Laertes can relate
Our faith unspotted, and its early date;
Who, press’d with heart-corroding grief and years,
To the gay court a rural shed pretors,
Where, sole of all his train, a matron sage
Supports with homely fond his drooping age,
With feeble steps from marshalling his vines
Returning sad, when toilsome day declines.

“With friendly speed, induced by erring fame,
To hail Ulysses’ safe return I came;
But still the frown of some celestial power
With envious joy retards the blissful hour. 
Let not your soul be sunk in sad despair;
He lives, he breathes this heavenly vital air,
Among a savage race, whose shelfy bounds
With ceaseless roar the foaming deep surrounds. 
The thoughts which roll within my ravish’d breast,
To me, no seer, the inspiring gods suggest;
Nor skill’d nor studious, with prophetic eye
To judge the winged omens of the sky. 
Yet hear this certain speech, nor deem it vain;
Though adamantine bonds the chief restrain,
The dire restraint his wisdom will defeat,
And soon restore him to his regal seat. 
But generous youth! sincere and free declare,
Are you, of manly growth, his royal heir? 
For sure Ulysses in your look appears,
The same his features, if the same his years. 
Such was that face, on which I dwelt with joy
Ere Greece assembled stemm’d the tides to Troy;
But, parting then for that detested shore,
Our eyes, unhappy? never greeted more.”

“To prove a genuine birth (the prince replies)
On female truth assenting faith relies. 
Thus manifest of right, I build my claim
Sure-founded on a fair maternal fame,
Ulysses’ son:  but happier he, whom fate
Hath placed beneath the storms which toss the great! 
Happier the son, whose hoary sire is bless’d
With humble affluence, and domestic rest! 
Happier than I, to future empire born,
But doom’d a father’s wretch’d fate to mourn!”

To whom, with aspect mild, the guest divine: 
“Oh true descendant of a sceptred line! 
The gods a glorious fate from anguish free
To chaste Penelope’s increase decree. 
But say, yon jovial troops so gaily dress’d,
Is this a bridal or a friendly feast? 
Or from their deed I rightlier may divine,
Unseemly flown with insolence and wine? 
Unwelcome revellers, whose lawless joy
Pains the sage ear, and hurts the sober eye.”