His rich wrought garments too, and all his gold, And nothing lack’d; and yet this man did mourn The but suppos’d miss of his home-return, And creeping to the shore with much complaint; Minerva (like a shepherd, young, and quaint,[6] As king sons are, a double mantle cast Athwart his shoulders, his fair goers grac’d With fitted shoes, and in his hand a dart) Appear’d to him, whose sight rejoic’d his heart, To whom he came, and said: “O friend! Since first I meet your sight here, be all good the worst That can join our encounter. Fare you fair, Nor with adverse mind welcome my repair, But guard these goods of mine, and succour me. As to a God I offer pray’rs to thee, And low access make to thy lovéd knee. Say truth, that I may know, what country then, What common people live here, and what men? Some famous isle is this? Or gives it vent, Being near the sea, to some rich continent?” She answer’d: “Stranger, whatsoe’er you are, Y’are either foolish, or come passing far, That know not this isle, and make that doubt trouble, For ’tis not so exceedingly ignoble, But passing many know it; and so many, That of all nations there abides not any, From where the morning rises and the sun, To where the even and night their courses run, But know this country. Rocky ’tis, and rough, And so for use of horse unapt enough, Yet with sad barrenness not much infested,[7] Since clouds are here in frequent rains digested, And flow’ry dews. The compass is not great, The little yet well-fill’d with wine and wheat. It feeds a goat and ox well, being still Water’d with floods, that ever over-fill With heav’n’s continual show’rs; and wooded so, It makes a spring of all the kinds that grow. And therefore, Stranger, the extended name Of this dominion makes access by fame From this extreme part of Achaia As far as Ilion, and ’tis Ithaca.” This joy’d him much, that so unknown a land Turn’d to his country. Yet so wise a hand He carried, ev’n of this joy, flown so high, That other end he put to his reply Than straight to show that joy, and lay abroad His life to strangers. Therefore he bestow’d A veil on truth; for evermore did wind About his bosom a most crafty mind, Which thus his words show’d: “I have far at sea, In spacious Crete, heard speak of Ithaca, Of which myself, it seems, now reach the shore, With these my fortunes; whose whole value more I left in Crete amongst my children there, From whence I fly for being the slaughterer Of royal Idomen’s most-lovéd son, Swift-foot Orsilochus, that could out-run Profess’d men for the race. Yet him I slew, Because he would deprive me of my due In Trojan prise; for which I suffer’d so (The rude waves piercing) the redoubled woe Of mind and body in the wars of men. Nor did I gratify his father then With any service, but, as well as he Sway’d in command of other soldiery, So, with a friend withdrawn, we waylaid him, When gloomy night the cope of heav’n did dim, And no man knew; but, we lodg’d close, he came,