| 401 | 402 | 403 | 404 | 405 |
| 1 | 153 | 306 | 459 | 612 |
|
To human step our land impervious lies,
And round the coast circumfluent oceans rise."
The swain returns: "A tale of sorrows hear:
In spacious Crete he drew his natal air;
Long doom'd to wander o'er the land and main,
For Heaven has wove his thread of life with pain.
Half breathless 'scaping to the land he flew
From Thesprot mariners, a murderous crew.
To thee, my son, the suppliant I resign;
I gave him my protection, grant him thine."
"
Hard task (he cries) thy virtue gives thy friend,
Willing to aid, unable to defend.
Can strangers safely in the court reside,
'Midst the swell'd insolence of lust and pride?
E'en I unsafe: the queen in doubt to wed,
Or pay due honours to the nuptial bed.
Perhaps she weds regardless of her fame,
Deaf to the mighty Ulyssean name.
However, stranger! from our grace receive
Such honours as befit a prince to give;
Sandals, a sword and robes, respect to prove,
And safe to sail with ornaments of love.
Till then, thy guest amid the rural train,
Far from the court, from danger far, detain.
403
Page
Quick Jump
|