But all her blandishments successless prove,
To banish from my breast my country’s love. 
I stay reluctant seven continued years,
And water her ambrosial couch with tears,
The eighth she voluntary moves to part,
Or urged by Jove, or her own changeful heart. 
A raft was formed to cross the surging sea;
Herself supplied the stores and rich array,
And gave the gales to waft me on my way,
In seventeen days appear’d your pleasing coast,
And woody mountains half in vapours lost. 
Joy touched my soul; my soul was joy’d in vain,
For angry Neptune roused the raging main;
The wild winds whistle, and the billows roar;
The splitting raft the furious tempest tore;
And storms vindictive intercept the shore. 
Soon as their rage subsides, the seas I brave
With naked force, and shoot along the wave,
To reach this isle; but there my hopes were lost,
The surge impell’d me on a craggy coast. 
I chose the safer sea, and chanced to find
A river’s mouth impervious to the wind,
And clear of rocks.  I fainted by the flood;
Then took the shelter of the neighbouring wood. 
’Twas night, and, covered in the foliage deep,
Jove plunged my senses in the death of sleep. 
All night I slept, oblivious of my pain: 
Aurora dawned and Phoebus shined in vain,
Nor, till oblique he sloped his evening ray,
Had Somnus dried the balmy dews away. 
Then female voices from the shore I heard: 
A maid amidst them, goddess-like appear’d;
To her I sued, she pitied my distress;
Like thee in beauty, nor in virtue less. 
Who from such youth could hope considerate care? 
In youth and beauty wisdom is but rare! 
She gave me life, relieved with just supplies
My wants, and lent these robes that strike your eyes. 
This is the truth:  and oh, ye powers on high! 
Forbid that want should sink me to a lie.”

To this the king:  “Our daughter but express’d
Her cares imperfect to our godlike guest. 
Suppliant to her, since first he chose to pray,
Why not herself did she conduct the way,
And with her handmaids to our court convey?”

“Hero and king (Ulysses thus replied)
Nor blame her faultless nor suspect of pride: 
She bade me follow in the attendant train;
But fear and reverence did my steps detain,
Lest rash suspicion might alarm thy mind: 
Man’s of a jealous and mistaken kind.”

“Far from my soul (he cried) the gods efface
All wrath ill-grounded, and suspicion base! 
Whate’er is honest, stranger, I approve,
And would to Phoebus, Pallas, and to Jove,
Such as thou art, thy thought and mine were one,
Nor thou unwilling to be called my son. 
In such alliance couldst thou wish to join,
A palace stored with treasures should be thine. 
But if reluctant, who shall force thy stay? 
Jove bids to set the stranger on his way,
And ships shall wait thee with the morning ray.