The stranger then: “Nor shall I aught conceal, But the dire secret of my fate reveal. Of my own tribe an Argive wretch I slew; Whose powerful friends the luckless deed pursue With unrelenting rage, and force from home The blood-stain’d exile, ever doom’d to roam. But bear, oh bear me o’er yon azure flood; Receive the suppliant! spare my destined blood!” “Stranger (replied the prince) securely rest Affianced in our faith; henceforth our guest.” Thus affable, Ulysses’ godlike heir Takes from the stranger’s hand the glittering spear: He climbs the ship, ascends the stern with haste And by his side the guest accepted placed. The chief his order gives: the obedient band, With due observance wait the chief’s command: With speed the mast they rear, with speed unbind The spacious sheet, and stretch it to the wind. Minerva calls; the ready gales obey With rapid speed to whirl them o’er the sea. Crunus they pass’d, next Chalcis roll’d away, With thickening darkness closed the doubtful day; The silver Phaea’s glittering rills they lost, And skimm’d along by Elis’ sacred coast. Then cautious through the rocky reaches wind, And turning sudden, shun the death design’d. Meantime, the king, Eumaeus, and the rest, Sate in the cottage, at their rural feast: The banquet pass’d, and satiate every man, To try his host, Ulysses thus began: “Yet one night more, my friends, indulge your guest; The last I purpose in your walls to rest: To-morrow for myself I must provide, And only ask your counsel, and a guide; Patient to roam the street, by hunger led, And bless the friendly hand that gives me bread. There in Ulysses’ roof I may relate Ulysses’ wanderings to his royal mate; Or, mingling with the suitors’ haughty train, Not undeserving some support obtain. Hermes to me his various gifts imparts. Patron of industry and manual arts: Few can with me in dexterous works contend, The pyre to build, the stubborn oak to rend; To turn the tasteful viand o’er the flame; Or foam the goblet with a purple stream. Such are the tasks of men of mean estate, Whom fortune dooms to serve the rich and great.” “Alas! (Eumaeus with a sigh rejoin’d). How sprung a thought so monstrous in thy mind? If on that godless race thou would’st attend, Fate owes thee sure a miserable end! Their wrongs and blasphemies ascend the sky, And pull descending vengeance from on high. Not such, my friend, the servants of their feast: A blooming train in rich embroidery dress’d, With earth’s whole tribute the bright table bends, And smiling round celestial youth attends. Stay, then: no eye askance beholds thee here; Sweet is thy converse to each social ear; Well pleased, and pleasing, in our cottage rest, Till good Telemachus accepts his guest With genial gifts, and change of fair attires, And safe conveys thee where thy soul desires.”