Ah wretched me! by fates averse decreed To bring thee forth with pain, with care to breed! Did envious heaven not otherwise ordain, } Safe in thy hollow ships thou should'st remain, } Nor ever tempt the fatal field again; } But now thy planet sheds his poisonous rays, And short and full of sorrow are thy days. For what remains, to heaven I will ascend, And at the Thunderer's throne thy suit commend. Till then, secure in ships, abstain from fight; Indulge thy grief in tears, and vent thy spite. For yesterday the court of heaven with Jove Removed; 'tis dead vacation now above. Twelve days the Gods their solemn revels keep, And quaff with blameless Ethiops in the deep. Returned from thence, to heaven my flight I take, Knock at the brazen gates, and Providence awake; Embrace his knees, and suppliant to the sire, Doubt not I will obtain the grant of thy desire.-- She said, and, parting, left him on the place, Swoln with disdain, resenting his disgrace: Revengeful thoughts revolving in his mind, He wept for anger, and for love he pined. Meantime, with prosperous gales Ulysses brought The slave, and ship, with sacrifices fraught, To Chrysa's port; where, entering with the tide, He dropped his anchors, and his oars he plyed, Furled every sail, and, drawing down the mast, His vessel moored, and made with haulsers fast. Descending on the plain, ashore they bring The hecatomb to please the shooter king. The dame before an altar's holy fire Ulysses led, and thus bespoke her sire: Reverenced be thou, and be thy God adored! The king of men thy daughter has restored, And sent by me with presents and with prayer. He recommends him to thy pious care, That Phœbus at thy suit his wrath may cease, And give the penitent offenders peace.-- He said; and gave her to her father's hands, Who glad received her, free from servile bands. This done, in order they, with sober grace, Their gifts around the well-built altar place. Then washed, and took the cakes, while Chryses stood With hands upheld, and thus invoked his God. God of the silver bow, whose eyes survey } The sacred Cilla! thou, whose awful sway } Chrysa the blessed, and Tenedos obey! } Now hear, as thou before my prayer hast heard, Against the Grecians, and their prince, preferred. Once thou hast honoured, honour once again Thy priest, nor let his second vows be vain; But from the afflicted host and humbled prince Avert thy wrath, and cease thy pestilence!-- Apollo heard, and, conquering his disdain, Unbent his bow, and Greece respired again. Now when the solemn rites of prayer were past, Their salted cakes on crackling flames they cast;