Touch’d to the soul, the king with rapture hears, Hangs round her neck, and speaks his joy in tears. As to the shipwreck’d mariner, the shores Delightful rise, when angry Neptune roars: Then, when the surge in thunder mounts the sky, And gulf’d in crowds at once the sailors die; If one, more happy, while the tempest raves, Outlives the tumult of conflicting waves, All pale, with ooze deform’d, he views the strand, And plunging forth with transport grasps the land: The ravish’d queen with equal rapture glows, Clasps her loved lord, and to his bosom grows. Nor had they ended till the morning ray, But Pallas backward held the rising day, The wheels of night retarding, to detain The gay Aurora in the wavy main; Whose flaming steeds, emerging through the night, Beam o’er the eastern hills with streaming light. At length Ulysses with a sigh replies: “Yet Fate, yet cruel Fate repose denies; A labour long, and hard, remains behind; By heaven above, by hell beneath enjoin’d: For to Tiresias through the eternal gates Of hell I trode, to learn my future fates. But end we here—the night demands repose, Be deck’d the couch! and peace awhile, my woes!” To whom the queen: “Thy word we shall obey, And deck the couch; far hence be woes away: Since the just gods, who tread the starry plains, Restore thee safe, since my Ulysses reigns. But what those perils heaven decrees, impart; Knowledge may grieve, but fear distracts the heart.” To this the king: “Ah, why must I disclose A dreadful story of approaching woes? Why in this hour of transport wound thy ears, When thou must learn what I must speak with tears? Heaven, by the Theban ghost, thy spouse decrees, Torn from thy arms, to sail a length of seas; From realm to realm, a nation to explore Who ne’er knew salt, or heard the billows roar, Nor saw gay vessel storm the surgy plain, A painted wonder, flying on the main: An oar my hand must bear; a shepherd eyes The unknown instrument with strange surprise, And calls a corn-van; this upon the plain I fix, and hail the monarch of the main; Then bathe his altars with the mingled gore Of victims vow’d, a ram, a bull, a boar; Thence swift re-sailing to my native shores, Due victims slay to all the ethereal powers. Then Heaven decrees, in peace to end my days And steal myself from life by slow decays! Unknown to pain, in age resign my breath, When late stern Neptune points the shaft of death; To the dark grave retiring as to rest; My people blessing, by my people bless’d. Such future scenes the all-righteous powers display By their dread seer, and such my future day.” To whom thus firm of soul: “If ripe for death, And full of days, thou gently yield thy breath; While Heaven a kind release from ills foreshows, Triumph, thou happy victor of thy woes?”