“If from the skies a goddess, or if earth (Imperial virgin) boast thy glorious birth, To thee I bend! If in that bright disguise Thou visit earth, a daughter of the skies, Hail, Dian, hail! the huntress of the groves So shines majestic, and so stately moves, So breathes an air divine! But if thy race Be mortal, and this earth thy native place, Blest is the father from whose loins you sprung, Blest is the mother at whose breast you hung. Blest are the brethren who thy blood divide, To such a miracle of charms allied: Joyful they see applauding princes gaze, When stately in the dance you swim the harmonious maze. But blest o’er all, the youth with heavenly charms, Who clasps the bright perfection in his arms! Never, I never view’d till this blest hour Such finish’d grace! I gaze, and I adore! Thus seems the palm with stately honours crown’d By Phœbus’ altars; thus o’erlooks the ground; The pride of Delos. (By the Delian coast, I voyaged, leader of a warrior-host, But ah, how changed! from thence my sorrow flows; O fatal voyage, source of all my woes;) Raptured I stood, and as this hour amazed, With reverence at the lofty wonder gazed: Raptured I stand! for earth ne’er knew to bear A plant so stately, or a nymph so fair. Awed from access, I lift my suppliant hands; For Misery, O queen! before thee stands. Twice ten tempestuous nights I roll’d, resign’d To roaring billows, and the warring wind; Heaven bade the deep to spare; but heaven, my foe, Spares only to inflict some mightier woe. Inured to cares, to death in all its forms; Outcast I rove, familiar with the storms. Once more I view the face of human kind: Oh let soft pity touch thy generous mind! Unconscious of what air I breathe, I stand Naked, defenceless on a narrow land. Propitious to my wants a vest supply To guard the wretched from the inclement sky: So may the gods, who heaven and earth control, Crown the chaste wishes of thy virtuous soul, On thy soft hours their choicest blessings shed; Blest with a husband be thy bridal bed; Blest be thy husband with a blooming race, And lasting union crown your blissful days. The gods, when they supremely bless, bestow Firm union on their favourites below; Then envy grieves, with inly-pining hate; The good exult, and heaven is in our state.” To whom the nymph: “O stranger, cease thy care; Wise is thy soul, but man is born to bear; Jove weighs affairs of earth in dubious scales, And the good suffers, while the bad prevails. Bear, with a soul resign’d, the will of Jove; Who breathes, must mourn: thy woes are from above. But since thou tread’st our hospitable shore, ’Tis mine to bid the wretched grieve no more, To clothe the naked, and thy way to guide. Know, the Phæacian tribes this land divide; From great Alcinous’ royal loins I spring, A happy nation, and a happy king.”