Fair-hair’d Calypso lives; a Goddess grave, And with whom men nor Gods society have; Yet I, past man unhappy, liv’d alone, By Heav’n’s wrath forc’d, her house-companion. For Jove had with a fervent lightning cleft My ship in twain, and far at black sea left Me and my soldiers; all whose lives I lost. I in mine arms the keel took, and was tost Nine days together up from wave to wave. The tenth grim night, the angry Deities drave Me and my wrack on th’ isle, in which doth dwell Dreadful Calypso; who exactly well Receiv’d and nourish’d me, and promise made To make me deathless, nor should age invade My pow’rs with his deserts through all my days. All mov’d not me, and therefore, on her stays, Sev’n years she made me lie; and there spent I The long time, steeping in the misery Of ceaseless tears the garments I did wear, From her fair hand. The eighth revolvéd year (Or by her chang’d mind, or by charge of Jove) She gave provok’d way to my wish’d remove, And in a many-jointed ship, with wine Dainty in savour, bread, and weeds divine, Sign’d, with a harmless and sweet wind, my pass. Then sev’nteen days at sea I homeward was, And by the eighteenth the dark hills appear’d That your earth thrusts up. Much my heart was cheer’d, Unhappy man, for that was but a beam, To show I yet had agonies extreme To put in suff’rance, which th’ Earth-shaker sent, Crossing my way with tempests violent, Unmeasur’d seas up-lifting, nor would give The billows leave to let my vessel live The least time quiet, that ev’n sigh’d to bear Their bitter outrage, which, at last, did tear Her sides in pieces, set on by the winds. I yet through-swum the waves that your shore binds, Till wind and water threw me up to it; When, coming forth, a ruthless billow smit Against huge rocks, and an accessless shore, My mangl’d body. Back again I bore, And swum till I was fall’n upon a flood, Whose shores, methought, on good advantage stood For my receipt, rock-free, and fenc’d from wind; And this I put for, gath’ring up my mind. Then the divine night came, and treading earth, Close by the flood that had from Jove her birth, Within a thicket I repos’d; when round I ruffled up fall’n leaves in heap; and found, Let fall from heav’n, a sleep interminate. And here my heart, long time excruciate, Amongst the leaves I rested all that night, Ev’n till the morning and meridian light. The sun declining then, delightsome sleep No longer laid my temples in his steep, But forth I went, and on the shore might see Your daughter’s maids play. Like a Deity She shin’d above them; and I pray’d to her, And she in disposition did prefer Noblesse, and wisdom, no more low than might Become the goodness of a Goddess’ height. Nor would you therefore hope, suppos’d distrest As I was then, and old, to find the least Of any grace from her, being younger far. _With young folks Wisdom makes her commerce rare._ Yet she in all abundance did bestow Both wine, that makes the blood in humans grow,[9]