And food, and bath’d me in the flood, and gave The weeds to me which now ye see me have. This through my griefs I tell you, and ’tis true.” Alcinous answer’d: “Guest! my daughter knew Least of what most you give her; nor became The course she took, to let with ev’ry dame Your person lackey; nor hath with them brought Yourself home too; which first you had besought.” “O blame her not,” said he, “heroical lord, Nor let me hear against her worth a word. She faultless is, and wish’d I would have gone With all her women home, but I alone Would venture my receipt here, having fear And rev’rend awe of accidents that were Of likely issue; both your wrath to move, And to inflame the common people’s love Of speaking ill, to which they soon give place. _We men are all a most suspicious race.”_ “My guest,” said he, “I use not to be stirr’d To wrath too rashly; and where are preferr’d To men’s conceits things that may both ways fail, The noblest ever should the most prevail. Would Jove our Father, Pallas, and the Sun, That, were you still as now, and could but run One fate with me, you would my daughter wed, And be my son-in-law, still vow’d to lead Your rest of life here! I a house would give, And household goods, so freely you would live, Confin’d with us. But ’gainst your will shall none Contain you here, since that were violence done To Jove our Father. For your passage home, That you may well know we can overcome So great a voyage, thus it shall succeed: To-morrow shall our men take all their heed, While you securely sleep, to see the seas In calmest temper, and, if that will please, Show you your country and your house ere night, Though far beyond Eubœa be that sight. And this Eubœa, as our subjects say That have been there and seen, is far away, Farthest from us of all the parts they know; And made the trial when they help’d to row The gold-lock’d Rhadamanth, to give him view Of earth-born Tityus; whom their speeds did show In that far-off Eubœa, the same day They set from hence; and home made good their way With ease again, and him they did convey. Which I report to you, to let you see How swift my ships are, and how matchlessly My young Phæacians with their oars prevail, To beat the sea through, and assist a sail.” This cheer’d Ulysses, who in private pray’d: “I would to Jove our Father, what he said, He could perform at all parts; he should then Be glorified for ever, and I gain My natural country.” This discourse they had; When fair-arm’d Arete her handmaids bad A bed make in the portico, and ply With clothes, the cov’ring tapestry, The blankets purple; well-napp’d waistcoats too, To wear for more warmth. What these had to do, They torches took and did. The bed purvey’d, They mov’d Ulysses for his rest, and said: “Come guest, your bed is fit, now frame to rest.” Motion of sleep was gracious to their guest; Which now he took profoundly, being laid Within a loop-hole tow’r, where was convey’d The sounding portico. The King took rest