The out-part of it, billows circular The sea revolving round about our shore; Nor is there any man that enters more Than our own countrymen, with what is brought From other countries. This man, minding nought But his relief, a poor unhappy wretch, Wrack’d here, and hath no other land to fetch, Him now we must provide for. From Jove come[7] All strangers, and the needy of a home, Who any gift, though ne’er so small it be, Esteem as great, and take it gratefully. And therefore, virgins, give the stranger food, And wine; and see ye bathe him in the flood, Near to some shore to shelter most inclin’d. _To cold-bath-bathers hurtful is the wind,_ Not only rugged making th’ outward skin, But by his thin pow’rs pierceth parts within.’ This said, their flight in a return they set, And did Ulysses with all grace entreat, Show’d him a shore, wind-proof, and full of shade, By him a shirt and utter mantle laid, A golden jug of liquid oil did add, Bad wash, and all things as Nausicaa bad. Divine Ulysses would not use their aid; But thus bespake them: “Ev’ry lovely maid, Let me entreat to stand a little by,[8] That I, alone, the fresh flood may apply To cleanse my bosom of the sea-wrought brine, And then use oil, which long time did not shine On my poor shoulders. I’ll not wash in sight Of fair-hair’d maidens. I should blush outright, To bathe all-bare by such a virgin light.” They mov’d, and mus’d a man had so much grace, And told their mistress what a man he was. He cleans’d his broad soil’d shoulders, back, and head Yet never tam’d, but now had foam and weed Knit in the fair curls. Which dissolv’d, and he Slick’d all with sweet oil, the sweet charity The untouch’d virgin show’d in his attire He cloth’d him with. Then Pallas put a fire, More than before, into his sparkling eyes, His late soil set off with his soon fresh guise. His locks, cleans’d, curl’d the more, and match’d, in pow’r To please an eye, the hyacinthian flow’r. And as a workman, that can well combine Silver and gold, and make both strive to shine, As being by Vulcan, and Minerva too, Taught how far either may be urg’d to go In strife of eminence, when work sets forth A worthy soul to bodies of such worth, No thought reproving th’ act, in any place, Nor Art no debt to Nature’s liveliest grace; So Pallas wrought in him a grace as great From head to shoulders, and ashore did seat His goodly presence. To which such a guise He show’d in going, that it ravish’d eyes. All which continued, as he sat apart, Nausicaa’s eye struck wonder through her heart, Who thus bespake her consorts: “Hear me, you Fair-wristed virgins! This rare man, I know, Treads not our country-earth, against the will Of some God thronéd on th’ Olympian hill. He show’d to me, till now, not worth the note, But now he looks as he had godhead got. I would to heav’n my husband were no worse, And would be call’d no better, but the course Of other husbands pleas’d to dwell out here. Observe and serve him with our utmost cheer.”