And I put out to him his vital flame. Whose slaughter having author’d with my sword, I instant flight made, and straight fell aboard A ship of the renown’d Phœnician state; When pray’r, and pay at a sufficient rate, Obtain’d my pass of men in her command; Whom I enjoin’d to set me on the land Of Pylos, or of Elis the divine, Where the Epeïans in great empire shine. But force of weather check’d that course to them, Though (loth to fail me) to their most extreme They spent their willing pow’rs. But, forc’d from thence, We err’d, and put in here, with much expence Of care and labour; and in dead of night, When no man there serv’d any appetite So much as with the memory of food, Though our estates exceeding needy stood. But, going ashore, we lay; when gentle sleep My weary pow’rs invaded, and from ship They fetching these my riches, with just hand About me laid them, while upon the sand Sleep bound my senses; and for Sidon they (Put off from hence) made sail, while here I lay, Left sad alone.” The Goddess laugh’d, and took His hand in hers, and with another look (Assuming then the likeness of a dame, Lovely and goodly, expert in the frame Of virtuous housewif’ries) she answer’d thus: “He should be passing-sly, and covetous Of stealth, in men’s deceits, that coted thee[8] In any craft, though any God should be Ambitious to exceed in subtilty. Thou still-wit-varying wretch! Insatiate[9] In over-reaches! Not secure thy state Without these wiles, though on thy native shore Thou sett’st safe footing, but upon thy store Of false words still spend, that ev’n from thy birth Have been thy best friends? Come, our either worth Is known to either. Thou of men art far, For words and counsels, the most singular, But I above the Gods in both may boast My still-tried faculties. Yet thou hast lost The knowledge ev’n of me, the Seed of Jove, Pallas Athenia, that have still out-strove In all thy labours their extremes, and stood Thy sure guard ever, making all thy good Known to the good Phæacians, and receiv’d. And now again I greet thee, to see weav’d Fresh counsels for thee, and will take on me The close reserving of these goods for thee, Which the renown’d Phæacian states bestow’d At thy deduction homewards, only mov’d With my both spirit and counsel. All which grace I now will amplify, and tell what case Thy household stands in, utt’ring all those pains That of mere need yet still must wrack thy veins. Do thou then freely bear, nor one word give To man nor dame to show thou yet dost live, But silent suffer over all again Thy sorrows past, and bear the wrongs of men.” “Goddess,” said he, “unjust men, and unwise, That author injuries and vanities, By vanities and wrongs should rather be Bound to this ill-abearing destiny, Than just and wise men. What delight hath heav’n, That lives unhurt itself, to suffer giv’n Up to all domage those poor few that strive To imitate it, and like the Deities live? But where you wonder that I know you not