‘In Circe’s house, the spite some spirit did bear, And the unspeakable good liquor there, Hath been my bane; for, being to descend A ladder much in height, I did not tend My way well down, but forwards made a proof To tread the rounds, and from the very roof Fell on my neck, and brake it; and this made My soul thus visit this infernal shade. And here, by them that next thyself are dear, Thy wife, and father, that a little one Gave food to thee, and by thy only son At home behind thee left, Telemachus, Do not depart by stealth, and leave me thus, Unmourn’d, unburied, lest neglected I Bring on thyself th’ incenséd Deity. I know that, sail’d from hence, thy ship must touch On th’ isle Ææa; where vouchsafe thus much, Good king, that, landed, thou wilt instantly Bestow on me thy royal memory To this grace, that my body, arms and all, May rest consum’d in fiery funeral; And on the foamy shore a sepulchre Erect to me, that after-times may hear Of one so hapless. Let me these implore And fix upon my sepulchre the oar[2] With which alive I shook the aged seas, And had of friends the dear societies.’ I told the wretched soul I would fulfill And execute to th’ utmost point his will; And, all the time we sadly talk’d, I still My sword above the blood held, when aside The idol of my friend still amplified His plaint, as up and down the shades he err’d. Then my deceaséd mother’s soul appear’d, Fair daughter of Autolycus the great, Grave Anticlea, whom, when forth I set For sacred Ilion, I had left alive. Her sight much mov’d me, and to tears did drive My note of her decease; and yet not she (Though in my ruth she held the high’st degree) Would I admit to touch the sacred blood, Till from Tiresias I had understood What Circe told me. At the length did land Theban Tiresias’ soul, and in his hand Sustain’d a golden sceptre, knew me well, And said: ‘O man unhappy, why to hell Admitt’st thou dark arrival, and the light The sun gives leav’st, to have the horrid sight Of this black region, and the shadows here? Now sheathe thy sharp sword, and the pit forbear, That I the blood may taste, and then relate The truth of those acts that affect thy fate.’ I sheath’d my sword, and left the pit, till he, The black blood tasting, thus instructed me: ‘Renown’d Ulysses! All unask’d I know That all the cause of thy arrival now Is to enquire thy wish’d retreat for home; Which hardly God will let thee overcome, Since Neptune still will his opposure try, With all his laid-up anger, for the eye His lov’d son lost to thee. And yet through all Thy suff’ring course (which must be capital) If both thine own affections, and thy friends, Thou wilt contain, when thy access ascends The three-fork’d island, having ‘scap’d the seas, Where ye shall find fed on the flow’ry leas Fat flocks, and oxen, which the Sun doth own, To whom are all things as well heard as shown, And never dare one head of those to slay, But hold unharmful on your wishéd way, Though through enough affliction, yet secure