Instant the queen, observant of the king, Commands her train a spacious vase to bring, The spacious vase with ample streams suffice, Heap the high wood, and bid the flames arise. The flames climb round it with a fierce embrace, The fuming waters bubble o’er the blaze. Herself the chest prepares; in order roll’d The robes, the vests are ranged, and heaps of gold And adding a rich dress inwrought with art, A gift expressive of her bounteous heart. Thus spoke to Ithacus: “To guard with bands Insolvable these gifts, thy care demands; Lest, in thy slumbers on the watery main, The hand of rapine make our bounty vain.” Then bending with full force around he roll’d A labyrinth of bands in fold on fold, Closed with Circaean art. A train attends Around the bath: the bath the king ascends (Untasted joy, since that disastrous hour, He sail’d ill-fated from Calypso’s bower); Where, happy as the gods that range the sky, He feasted every sense with every joy. He bathes; the damsels with officious toil, Shed sweets, shed unguents, in a shower of oil; Then o’er his limbs a gorgeous robe he spreads, And to the feast magnificently treads. Full where the dome its shining valves expands, Nausicaa blooming as a goddess stands; With wondering eyes the hero she survey’d, And graceful thus began the royal maid: “Hail, godlike stranger! and when heaven restores To thy fond wish thy long-expected shores, This ever grateful in remembrance bear: To me thou owest, to me, the vital air.” “O royal maid! (Ulysses straight returns) Whose worth the splendours of thy race adorns, So may dread Jove (whose arm in vengeance forms The writhen bolt, and blackens heaven with storms), Restore me safe, through weary wanderings toss’d, To my dear country’s ever-pleasing coast, As while the spirit in this bosom glows, To thee, my goddess, I address my vows; My life, thy gift I boast!” He said, and sate Fast by Alcinous on a throne of state. Now each partakes the feast, the wine prepares, Portions the food, and each his portion shares. The bard a herald guides; the gazing throng Pay low obeisance as he moves along: Beneath a sculptur’d arch he sits enthroned, The peers encircling form an awful round. Then, from the chine, Ulysses carves with art Delicious food, an honorary part: “This, let the master of the lyre receive, A pledge of love! ’tis all a wretch can give. Lives there a man beneath the spacious skies Who sacred honours to the bard denies? The Muse the bard inspires, exalts his mind; The muse indulgent loves the harmonious kind.” The herald to his hand the charge conveys, Not fond of flattery, nor unpleased with praise.