While thus pathetic to the prince he spoke,
From the brave youth the streaming passion broke;
Studious to veil the grief, in vain repress’d,
His face he shrouded with his purple vest. 
The conscious monarch pierced the coy disguise,
And view’d his filial love with vast surprise: 
Dubious to press the tender theme, or wait
To hear the youth inquire his father’s fate. 
In this suspense bright Helen graced the room;
Before her breathed a gale of rich perfume. 
So moves, adorn’d with each attractive grace,
The silver shafted goddess of the chase! 
The seat of majesty Adraste brings,
With art illustrious, for the pomp of kings;
To spread the pall (beneath the regal chair)
Of softest wool, is bright Alcippe’s care. 
A silver canister, divinely wrought,
In her soft hands the beauteous Phylo brought;
To Sparta’s queen of old the radiant vase
Alcandra gave, a pledge of royal grace;
For Polybus her lord (whose sovereign sway
The wealthy tribes of Pharian Thebes obey),
When to that court Atrides came, caress’d
With vast munificence the imperial guest: 
Two lavers from the richest ore refined,
With silver tripods, the kind host assign’d;
And bounteous from the royal treasure told
Ten equal talents of refulgent gold. 
Alcandra, consort of his high command,
A golden distaff gave to Helen’s hand;
And that rich vase, with living sculpture wrought,
Which heap’d with wool the beauteous Phylo brought
The silken fleece, impurpled for the loom,
Rivall’d the hyacinth in vernal bloom. 
The sovereign seat then Jove born Helen press’d,
And pleasing thus her sceptred lord address’d: 

“Who grace our palace now, that friendly pair,
Speak they their lineage, or their names declare? 
Uncertain of the truth, yet uncontroll’d,
Hear me the bodings of my breast unfold. 
With wonder wrapp’d on yonder check I trace
The feature of the Ulyssean race: 
Diffused o’er each resembling line appear,
In just similitude, the grace and air
Of young Telemachus! the lovely boy,
Who bless’d Ulysses with a father’s joy,
What time the Greeks combined their social arms,
To avenge the stain of my ill-fated charms!”

“Just is thy thought, (the king assenting cries,)
Methinks Ulysses strikes my wondering eyes;
Full shines the father in the filial frame,
His port, his features, and his shape the same;
Such quick regards his sparkling eyes bestow;
Such wavy ringlets o’er his shoulders flow
And when he heard the long disastrous store
Of cares, which in my cause Ulysses bore;
Dismay’d, heart-wounded with paternal woes,
Above restraint the tide of sorrow rose;
Cautious to let the gushing grief appear,
His purple garment veil’d the falling tear.”