She spoke:  to his high dome the prince returns,
And, as he moves, with royal anguish mourns. 
’Twas riot all, among the lawless train;
Boar bled by boar, and goat by goat lay slain. 
Arrived, his hand the gay Antinous press’d,
And thus deriding, with a smile address’d: 

“Grieve not, O daring prince! that noble heart;
Ill suits gay youth the stern heroic part. 
Indulge the genial hour, unbend thy soul,
Leave thought to age, and drain the flowing bowl. 
Studious to ease thy grief, our care provides
The bark, to waft thee o’er the swelling tides.”

“Is this (returns the prince) for mirth a time? 
When lawless gluttons riot, mirth’s a crime;
The luscious wines, dishonour’d, lose their taste;
The song is noise, and impious is the feast. 
Suffice it to have spent with swift decay
The wealth of kings, and made my youth a prey. 
But now the wise instructions of the sage,
And manly thoughts inspired by manly age,
Teach me to seek redress for all my woe,
Here, or in Pyle—­in Pyle, or here, your foe. 
Deny your vessels, ye deny in vain: 
A private voyager I pass the main. 
Free breathe the winds, and free the billows flow;
And where on earth I live, I live your foe.”

He spoke and frown’d, nor longer deign’d to stay,
Sternly his hand withdrew, and strode away.

Meantime, o’er all the dome, they quaff, they feast,
Derisive taunts were spread from guest to guest,
And each in jovial mood his mate address’d: 

“Tremble ye not, O friends, and coward fly,
Doom’d by the stern Telemachus to die? 
To Pyle or Sparta to demand supplies,
Big with revenge, the mighty warrior flies;
Or comes from Ephyre with poisons fraught,
And kills us all in one tremendous draught!”

“Or who can say (his gamesome mate replies)
But, while the danger of the deeps he tries
He, like his sire, may sink deprived of breath,
And punish us unkindly by his death? 
What mighty labours would he then create,
To seize his treasures, and divide his state,
The royal palace to the queen convey,
Or him she blesses in the bridal day!”

Meantime the lofty rooms the prince surveys,
Where lay the treasures of the Ithacian race: 
Here ruddy brass and gold refulgent blazed;
There polished chests embroider’d vestures graced;
Here jars of oil breathed forth a rich perfume;
There casks of wine in rows adorn’d the dome
(Pure flavorous wine, by gods in bounty given
And worthy to exalt the feasts of heaven). 
Untouch’d they stood, till, his long labours o’er,
The great Ulysses reach’d his native shore. 
A double strength of bars secured the gates;
Fast by the door the wise Euryclea waits;
Euryclea, who great Ops! thy lineage shared,
And watch’d all night, all day, a faithful guard.