Father and brother are out on the sea, And all all alone is staying Within the hut the fisherman’s daughter, The wondrously lovely fisherman’s daughter. By the hearth she’s sitting, And lists to the water-kettle’s Homely, sweet foreboding humming, And shakes in the fire the crackling brushwood And on it blows, So that the lights, all ruddy and flickering, Magic-sweetly are reflected On her fair blooming features, On her tender, snowy shoulder, Which, moving gently, peeps From out her coarse grey smock, And on her little, anxious hand, Which fastens firmer her under-garment, Over her graceful hip. But sudden, the door bursts open, The nightly stranger entereth in; Love-secure, his eye reposes On the snowy, slender maiden, Who, trembling, near him stands, Like to a startled lily; And he throws his mantle to earth, And laughs and speaks: “See now, my child, I’ve kept my word, “And I come, and with me hath come “The olden time, when the gods from the heavens “Came down to earth, to the daughters of mortals, “And the daughters of mortals embraced they, “And from them there issued “Sceptre-bearing races of monarchs, “And heroes, wonders of earth. “But start not, my child, any longer “Because of my godhead, “And I pray thee give me some tea mix’d with rum “For ’tis cold out of doors, “And amid such night breezes “Freeze even we, we godheads immortal, “And easily catch the divinest of colds, “And a cough that proves quite eternal.” 4. POSEIDON. The sun’s bright rays were playing Over the wide-rolling breadth of the sea; Far in the roadstead glitter’d the ship Destined to home to convey me. But a propitious wind was yet wanting, And I sat on the white downs all calmly Hard by the lonely strand, And I read the song of Odysseus, The olden, ever-youthful song, From out whose sea-beflutter’d leaves Joyfully rose to meet me The breath of the deities, And the shining spring-time of mortals, And the blooming heaven of Hellas. My generous heart accompanied truly The son of Laërtes in wanderings and troubles, Placed itself with him, spirit-tormented, At guestly hearths, Where beauteous queens were spinning their purple, And help’d him to lie, and succeed in escaping From giants’ caverns and nymphs’ embraces, Follow’d him down to Cimmerian night, And in tempest and shipwreck, And with him endured unspeakable torments. Sighing spake I: “Thou wicked Poseidon, “Thine anger is fearful; “I myself am anxious “As to my own return.” Scarce breath’d I these words, When the sea foam’d on high, And out of the snowy billows arose The sedge-becrowned head of the seagod, And scornfully cried he: