So sang the bard illustrious, at whose song Ulysses melted, and tear after tear Fell on his cheeks. As when a woman weeps, Her husband, who hath fallen in defence Of his own city and his babes before The gates; she, sinking, folds him in her arms And, gazing on him as he pants and dies, Shrieks at the sight; meantime, the enemy Smiting her shoulders with the spear to toil Command her and to bondage far away, 650 And her cheek fades with horror at the sound; Ulysses, so, from his moist lids let fall, The frequent tear. Unnoticed by the rest Those drops, but not by King Alcinoüs, fell Who, seated at his side, his heavy sighs Remark'd, and the Phæacians thus bespake. Phæacian Chiefs and Senators attend! Now let Demodocus enjoin his harp Silence, for not alike grateful to all His music sounds; during our feast, and since 660 The bard divine began, continual flow The stranger's sorrows, by remembrance caused Of some great woe which wraps his soul around. Then, let the bard suspend his song, that all (As most befits th' occasion) may rejoice, Both guest and hosts together; since we make This voyage, and these gifts confer, in proof Of hospitality and unfeign'd love, Judging, with all wise men, the stranger-guest And suppliant worthy of a brother's place. 670 And thou conceal not, artfully reserv'd, What I shall ask, far better plain declared Than smother'd close; who art thou? speak thy name, The name by which thy father, mother, friends And fellow-citizens, with all who dwell Around thy native city, in times past Have known thee; for of all things human none Lives altogether nameless, whether good Or whether bad, but ev'ry man receives Ev'n in the moment of his birth, a name. 680 Thy country, people, city, tell; the mark At which my ships, intelligent, shall aim, That they may bear thee thither; for our ships No pilot need or helm, as ships are wont, But know, themselves, our purpose; know beside All cities, and all fruitful regions well Of all the earth, and with dark clouds involv'd Plough rapid the rough Deep, fearless of harm, (Whate'er betide) and of disast'rous wreck. Yet thus, long since, my father I have heard 690 Nausithoüs speaking; Neptune, he would say, Is angry with us, for that safe we bear Strangers of ev'ry nation to their home; And he foretold a time when he would smite In vengeance some Phæacian gallant bark Returning after convoy of her charge, And fix her in the sable flood, transform'd Into a mountain, right before the town. So spake my hoary Sire, which let the God At his own pleasure do, or leave undone. 700 But tell me truth, and plainly.