She said, they heard and did. He drunk and eat Like to a harpy, having touch’d no meat A long before time. But Nausicaa now Thought of the more grace she did lately vow, Had horse to chariot join’d, and up she rose, Up cheer’d her guest, and said: “Guest, now dispose Yourself for town, that I may let you see My father’s court, where all the peers will be Of our Phæacian state. At all parts, then, Observe to whom and what place y’ are t’ attain; Though I need usher you with no advice, Since I suppose you absolutely wise. While we the fields pass, and men’s labours there, So long, in these maids’ guides, directly bear Upon my chariot (I must go before For cause that after comes, to which this more Be my induction) you shall then soon end Your way to town, whose tow’rs you see ascend[9] To such a steepness. On whose either side A fair port stands, to which is nothing wide An ent’rer’s passage; on whose both hands ride Ships in fair harbours; which once past, you win The goodly market-place (that circles in A fane to Neptune, built of curious stone, And passing ample) where munitión, Gables, and masts, men make, and polish’d oars; For the Phæacians are not conquerors By bows nor quivers; oars, masts, ships they are With which they plough the sea, and wage their war. And now the cause comes why I lead the way, Not taking you to coach: The men, that sway In work of those tools that so fit our state, Are rude mechanicals, that rare and late Work in the market-place; and those are they Whose bitter tongues I shun, who straight would say (For these vile vulgars are extremely proud, And foully-languag’d) ‘What is he, allow’d To coach it with Nausicaa, so large set, And fairly fashion’d? Where were these two met? He shall be sure her husband. She hath been Gadding in some place, and, of foreign men Fitting her fancy, kindly brought him home In her own ship. He must, of force, be come From some far region; we have no such man. It may be, praying hard, when her heart ran On some wish’d husband, out of heav’n some God Dropp’d in her lap; and there lies she at road Her cómplete life time. But, in sooth, if she, Ranging abroad, a husband, such as he Whom now we saw, laid hand on, she was wise, For none of all our nobles are of prize Enough for her; he must beyond sea come, That wins her high mind, and will have her home. Of our peers many have importun’d her, Yet she will none.’ Thus these folks will confer Behind my back; or, meeting, to my face The foul-mouth rout dare put home this disgrace; And this would be reproaches to my fame, For, ev’n myself just anger would inflame, If any other virgin I should see, Her parents living, keep the company Of any man to any end of love, Till open nuptials should her act approve. And therefore hear me, guest, and take such way, That you yourself may compass, in your stay, Your quick deduction by my father’s grace, And means to reach the root of all your race. We shall, not far out of our way to town,