While yet he spoke, Leocritus rejoined: 
“O pride of words, and arrogance of mind! 
Would’st thou to rise in arms the Greeks advise? 
Join all your powers? in arms, ye Greeks, arise! 
Yet would your powers in vain our strength oppose. 
The valiant few o’ermatch a host of foes. 
Should great Ulysses stern appear in arms,
While the bowl circles and the banquet warms;
Though to his breast his spouse with transport flies,
Torn from her breast, that hour, Ulysses dies. 
But hence retreating to your domes repair. 
To arm the vessel, Mentor! be thy care,
And Halitherses! thine:  be each his friend;
Ye loved the father:  go, the son attend. 
But yet, I trust, the boaster means to stay
Safe in the court, nor tempt the watery way.”

Then, with a rushing sound the assembly bend
Diverse their steps:  the rival rout ascend
The royal dome; while sad the prince explores
The neighbouring main, and sorrowing treads the shores. 
There, as the waters o’er his hands he shed,
The royal suppliant to Minerva pray’d: 

“O goddess! who descending from the skies
Vouchsafed thy presence to my wondering eyes,
By whose commands the raging deeps I trace,
And seek my sire through storms and rolling seas! 
Hear from thy heavens above, O warrior maid! 
Descend once more, propitious to my aid. 
Without thy presence, vain is thy command: 
Greece, and the rival train, thy voice withstand.”

Indulgent to his prayer, the goddess took
Sage Mentor’s form, and thus like Mentor spoke: 

“O prince, in early youth divinely wise,
Born, the Ulysses of thy age to rise
If to the son the father’s worth descends,
O’er the wide wave success thy ways attends
To tread the walks of death he stood prepared;
And what he greatly thought, he nobly dared. 
Were not wise sons descendant of the wise,
And did not heroes from brave heroes rise,
Vain were my hopes:  few sons attain the praise
Of their great sires, and most their sires disgrace. 
But since thy veins paternal virtue fires,
And all Penelope thy soul inspires,
Go, and succeed:  the rivals’ aims despise;
For never, never wicked man was wise. 
Blind they rejoice, though now, ev’n now they fall;
Death hastes amain:  one hour o’erwhelms them all! 
And lo, with speed we plough the watery way;
My power shall guard thee, and my hand convey: 
The winged vessel studious I prepare,
Through seas and realms companion of thy care. 
Thou to the court ascend:  and to the shores
(When night advances) bear the naval stores;
Bread, that decaying man with strength supplies,
And generous wine, which thoughtful sorrow flies. 
Meanwhile the mariners, by my command,
Shall speed aboard, a valiant chosen band. 
Wide o’er the bay, by vessel vessel rides;
The best I choose to waft then o’er the tides.”