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Scorn'd e'en by man, and (oh severe disgrace!)
By soft Phaeacians, my degenerate race!
Against yon destined head in vain I swore,
And menaced vengeance, ere he reach'd his shore;
To reach his natal shore was thy decree;
Mild I obey'd, for who shall war with thee?
Behold him landed, careless and asleep,
From all the eluded dangers of the deep;
Lo where he lies, amidst a shining store
Of brass, rich garments, and refulgent ore;
And bears triumphant to his native isle
A prize more worth than Ilion's noble spoil."
To whom the Father of the immortal powers,
Who swells the clouds, and gladdens earth with showers,
"Can mighty Neptune thus of man complain?
Neptune, tremendous o'er the boundless main!
Revered and awful e'en in heaven's abodes,
Ancient and great! a god above the gods!
If that low race offend thy power divine
(Weak, daring creatures!) is not vengeance thine?
Go, then, the guilty at thy will chastise."
He said. The shaker of the earth replies:
"
This then, I doom: to fix the gallant ship,
A mark of vengeance on the sable deep;
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