The willing Goddess and th’ unwilling Guest; But he all day in rocks, and on the shore, The vex’d sea view’d, and did his fate deplore. Him, now, the Goddess coming near bespake: “Unhappy man, no more discomfort take For my constraint of thee, nor waste thine age, I now will passing freely disengage Thy irksome stay here. Come then, fell thee wood, And build a ship, to save thee from the flood. I’ll furnish thee with fresh wave, bread, and wine Ruddy and sweet, that will the piner pine,[2] Put garments on thee, give the winds foreright, That ev’ry way thy home-bent appetite May safe attain to it; if so it please At all parts all the heav’n-hous’d Deities, That more in pow’r are, more in skill, than I, And more can judge what fits humanity.” He stood amaz’d at this strange change in her, And said: “O Goddess! Thy intents prefer Some other project than my parting hence, Commanding things of too high consequence For my performance, that myself should build A ship of pow’r, my home-assays to shield Against the great sea of such dread to pass; Which not the best-built ship that ever was Will pass exulting, when such winds, as Jove Can thunder up, their trims and tacklings prove. But could I build one, I would ne’er aboard, Thy will oppos’d, nor, won, without thy word, Giv’n in the great oath of the Gods to me, Not to beguile me in the least degree.” The Goddess smil’d, held hard his hand, and said: “O y’ are a shrewd one, and so habited In taking heed thou know’st not what it is To be unwary, nor use words amiss. How hast thou charm’d me, were I ne’er so sly! Let earth know then, and heav’n, so broad, so high, And th’ under-sunk waves of th’ infernal stream, (Which is an oath, as terribly supreme, As any God swears) that I had no thought But stood with what I spake, nor would have wrought, Nor counsell’d, any act against thy good; But ever diligently weigh’d, and stood On those points in persuading thee, that I Would use myself in such extremity. For my mind simple is, and innocent, Not giv’n by cruel sleights to circumvent, Nor bear I in my breast a heart of steel, But with the suff’rer willing suff’rance feel.” This said, the Grace of Goddesses led home, He trac’d her steps; and, to the cavern come, In that rich throne, whence Mercury arose, He sat. The Nymph herself did then appose, For food and bev’rage, to him all best meat And drink, that mortals use to taste and eat. Then sat she opposite, and for her feast Was nectar and ambrosia addrest By handmaids to her. Both, what was prepar’d, Did freely fall to. Having fitly far’d, The Nymph Calypso this discourse began: “Jove-bred Ulysses! Many-witted man! Still is thy home so wish’d? So soon, away? Be still of cheer, for all the worst I say. But, if thy soul knew what a sum of woes, For thee to cast up, thy stern Fates impose, Ere to thy country earth thy hopes attain, Undoubtedly thy choice would here remain, Keep house with me, and be a liver ever.