The goddess answer’d:  “Father, I obey,
And point the wandering traveller his way: 
Well known to me the palace you inquire,
For fast beside it dwells my honour’d sire: 
But silent march, nor greet the common train
With question needless, or inquiry vain;
A race of ragged mariners are these,
Unpolish’d men, and boisterous as their seas
The native islanders alone their care,
And hateful he who breathes a foreign air. 
These did the ruler of the deep ordain
To build proud navies, and command the main;
On canvas wings to cut the watery way;
No bird so light, no thought so swift as they.”

Thus having spoke, the unknown celestial leads: 
The footsteps of the duty he treads,
And secret moves along the crowded space,
Unseen of all the rude Phaeacian race. 
(So Pallas order’d, Pallas to their eyes
The mist objected, and condensed the skies.)
The chief with wonder sees the extended streets,
The spreading harbours, and the riding fleets;
He next their princes’ lofty domes admires,
In separate islands, crown’d with rising spires;
And deep entrenchments, and high walls of stone. 
That gird the city like a marble zone. 
At length the kingly palace-gates he view’d;
There stopp’d the goddess, and her speech renew’d;

“My task is done:  the mansion you inquire
Appears before you:  enter, and admire. 
High-throned, and feasting, there thou shalt behold
The sceptred rulers.  Fear not, but be bold: 
A decent boldness ever meets with friends,
Succeeds, and even a stranger recommends
First to the queen prefer a suppliant’s claim,
Alcinous’ queen, Arete is her name. 
The same her parents, and her power the same. 
For know, from ocean’s god Nausithous sprung,
And Peribaea, beautiful and young
(Eurymedon’s last hope, who ruled of old
The race of giants, impious, proud, and bold: 
Perish’d the nation in unrighteous war,
Perish’d the prince, and left this only heir),
Who now, by Neptune’s amorous power compress’d,
Produced a monarch that his people bless’d,
Father and prince of the Phaeacian name;
From him Rhexenor and Alcinous came. 
The first by Phoebus’ hurtling arrows fired,
New from his nuptials, hapless youth! expired. 
No son survived; Arete heir’d his state,
And her, Alcinous chose his royal mate. 
With honours yet to womankind unknown. 
This queen he graces, and divides the throne;
In equal tenderness her sons conspire,
And all the children emulate their sire. 
When through the streets she gracious deigns to move
(The public wonder and the public love),
The tongues of all with transport sound her praise,
The eyes of all, as on a goddess, gaze. 
She feels the triumph of a generous breast;
To heal divisions, to relieve the oppress’d;
In virtue rich; in blessing others, bless’d.
(to then secure, thy humble suit prefer
And owe thy country and thy friends to her.”