Where the bold youth, the numerous fleets to store,
Shape the broad sail, or smooth the taper oar: 
For not the bow they bend, nor boast the skill
To give the feather’d arrow wings to kill;
But the tall mast above the vessel rear,
Or teach the fluttering sail to float in air. 
They rush into the deep with eager joy,
Climb the steep surge, and through the tempest fly;
A proud, unpolish’d race—­To me belongs
The care to shun the blast of slanderous tongues;
Lest malice, prone the virtuous to defame,
Thus with wild censure taint my spotless name: 
’What stranger this whom thus Nausicaa leads! 
Heavens, with what graceful majesty he treads! 
Perhaps a native of some distant shore,
The future consort of her bridal hour: 
Or rather some descendant of the skies;
Won by her prayer, the aerial bridegroom flies,
Heaven on that hour its choicest influence shed,
That gave a foreign spouse to crown her bed! 
All, all the godlike worthies that adorn
This realm, she flies:  Phaeacia is her scorn.’ 
And just the blame:  for female innocence
Not only flies the guilt, but shuns the offence: 
The unguarded virgin, as unchaste, I blame;
And the least freedom with the sex is shame,
Till our consenting sires a spouse provide,
And public nuptials justify the bride,
But would’st thou soon review thy native plain? 
Attend, and speedy thou shalt pass the main: 
Nigh where a grove with verdant poplars crown’d,
To Pallas sacred, shades the holy ground,
We bend our way; a bubbling fount distills
A lucid lake, and thence descends in rills;
Around the grove, a mead with lively green
Falls by degrees, and forms a beauteous scene;
Here a rich juice the royal vineyard pours;
And there the garden yields a waste of flowers. 
Hence lies the town, as far as to the ear
Floats a strong shout along the waves of air. 
There wait embower’d, while I ascend alone
To great Alcinous on his royal throne. 
Arrived, advance, impatient of delay,
And to the lofty palace bend thy way: 
The lofty palace overlooks the town,
From every dome by pomp superior known;
A child may point the way.  With earnest gait
Seek thou the queen along the rooms of state;
Her royal hand a wondrous work designs,
Around a circle of bright damsels shines;
Part twist the threads, and part the wool dispose,
While with the purple orb the spindle glows. 
High on a throne, amid the Scherian powers,
My royal father shares the genial hours: 
But to the queen thy mournful tale disclose,
With the prevailing eloquence of woes: 
So shalt thou view with joy thy natal shore,
Though mountains rise between and oceans roar.”

She added not, but waving, as she wheel’d,
The silver scourge, it glitter’d o’er the field;
With skill the virgin guides the embroider’d rein,
Slow rolls the car before the attending train,
Now whirling down the heavens, the golden day
Shot through the western clouds a dewy ray;
The grove they reach, where, from the sacred shade,
To Pallas thus the pensive hero pray’d: