Themselves in sev’ral seats, and then set gone The ship, the gable from the hollow stone Dissolv’d and weigh’d-up, all, together, close Then beat the sea. His lids in sweet repose Sleep bound so fast, it scarce gave way to breath Inexcitable, most dear, next of all to death. And as amids a fair field four brave horse Before a chariot stung into their course With fervent lashes of the smarting scourge, That all their fire blows high, and makes them urge To utmost speed the measure of their ground; So bore the ship aloft her fiery bound; About whom rush’d the billows black and vast, In which the sea-roars burst. As firm as fast She ply’d her course yet; nor her wingéd speed The falcon-gentle could for pace exceed; So cut she through the waves, and bore a man Even with the Gods in counsels, that began And spent his former life in all misease, Battles of men, and rude waves of the seas, Yet now securely slept, forgetting all. And when heav’n’s brightest star, that first doth call The early morning out, advanc’d her head, Then near to Ithaca the billow-bred Phræcian ship approach’d. There is a port, That th’ aged sea-God Phorcys makes his fort, Whose earth the Ithacensian people own, In which two rocks inaccessible are grown Far forth into the sea, whose each strength binds The boist’rous waves in from the high-flown winds On both the out-parts so, that all within The well-built ships, that once their harbour win In his calm bosom, without anchor rest, Safe, and unstirr’d. From forth the haven’s high crest Branch the well-brawn’d arms of an olive-tree; Beneath which runs a cave from all sun free, Cool, and delightsome, sacred to th’ access Of Nymphs whose surnames are the Naiadés; In which flew humming bees, in which lay thrown Stone cups, stone vessels, shittles all of stone, With which the Nymphs their purple mantles wove, In whose contexture art and wonder strove; In which pure springs perpetually ran; To which two entries were; the one for man, On which the North breath’d; th’ other for the Gods, On which the South; and that bore no abodes For earthy men, but only deathless feet Had there free way. This port these men thought meet To land Ulysses, being the first they knew, Drew then their ship in, but no further drew Than half her bulk reach’d, by such cunning hand Her course was manag’d. Then her men took land, And first brought forth Ulysses, bed, and all That richly furnish’d it, he still in thrall Of all-subduing sleep. Upon the sand They set him softly down; and then the strand They strew’d with all the goods he had, bestow’d By the renown’d Phæacians, since he show’d So much Minerva. At the olive root They drew them then in heap, most far from foot Of any traveller, lest, ere his eyes Resum’d their charge, they might be others’ prise. These then turn’d home; nor was the sea’s Supreme Forgetful of his threats, for Polypheme Bent at divine Ulysses, yet would prove (Ere their performance) the decree of Jove.