University of Virginia Library



THE EIGHTH BOOK OF THE ODYSSEY.



The ARGUMENT.

Alcinous calls a Council, in which it is resolved to transport Ulysses into his country. After which splendid entertainments are made, where the celebrated Musician and Poet Demodocus, plays and sings to the guests. They next proceed to the games, the race, the wrestling, Discus, &c. where Ulysses casts a prodigious length, to the admiration of all the spectators. They return again to the banquet, and Demodocus sings the loves of Mars and Venus. Ulysses, after a compliment to the Poet, desires him to sing the introduction of the wooden horse into Troy; which subject provoking his tears, Alcinous enquires of his guest, his name, parentage and fortunes.


131

Now fair Aurora lifts her golden ray,
And all the ruddy Orient flames with day:

132

Alcinous, and the chief with dawning light,
Rose instant from the slumbers of the night;

133

Then to the Council seat they bend their way,
And fill the shining thrones along the bay.
Mean-while Minerva in her guardian care
Shoots from the starry vault thro' fields of air;
In form a herald of the King she flies
From Peer to Peer, and thus incessant cries.
Nobles and Chiefs who rule Phæacia's states,
The King in council your attendance waits:
A Prince of grace divine your aid implores,
O'er unknown seas arriv'd from unknown shores.

134

She spoke, and sudden with tumultuous sounds
Of thronging multitudes the shore rebounds;
At once the seats they fill: and every eye
Gaz'd, as before some brother of the sky.
Pallas with grace divine his form improves,
More high he treads, and more enlarg'd he moves:
She sheds celestial bloom, regard to draw,
And gives a dignity of mien, to awe,
With strength the future prize of fame to play,
And gather all the honours of the day.

135

Then from his glitt'ring throne Alcinous rose;
Attend, he cry'd, while we our will disclose,
Your present aid this godlike stranger craves,
Tost by rude tempest thro' a war of waves:
Perhaps from realms that view the rising day,
Or nations subject to the western ray.
Then grant, what here all sons of woe obtain,
(For here affliction never pleads in vain:)
Be chosen youths prepar'd, expert to try
The vast profound, and bid the vessel fly:

136

Launch the tall bark, and order ev'ry oar,
Then in our court indulge the genial hour:
Instant you sailors to this task attend,
Swift to the palace, all ye Peers ascend:
Let none to strangers honours due disclaim;
Be there Demodocus, the Bard of fame,
Taught by the Gods to please, when high he sings
The vocal lay responsive to the strings.
Thus spoke the Prince: th'attending Peers obey,
In state they move; Alcinous leads the way:
Swift to Demodocus the herald flies,
At once the sailors to their charge arise:
They launch the vessel, and unfurl the sails,
And stretch the swelling canvas to the gales;

137

Then to the palace move: A gath'ring throng,
Youth, and white age, tumultuous pour along:
Now all accesses to the dome are fill'd;
Eight boars, the choicest of the herd, are kill'd:
Two beeves, twelve fatlings from the flock they bring
To crown the feast, so wills the bounteous King.
The herald now arrives, and guides along
The sacred master of celestial song:
Dear to the Muse! who gave his days to flow
With mighty blessings, mix'd with mighty woe:

138

With clouds of darkness quench'd his visual ray,
But gave him skill to raise the lofty lay.
High on a radiant throne sublime in state,
Encircled by huge multitudes, he sate:
With silver shone the throne; his Lyre well strung
To rapturous sounds, at hand Pontonus hung:
Before his seat a polish'd table shines,
And a full goblet foams with gen'rous wines:
His food a herald bore: And now they fed;
And now the rage of craving hunger fled.
Then fir'd by all the Muse, aloud he sings
The mighty deeds of Demigods and Kings:
From that fierce wrath the noble song arose,
That made Ulysses and Achilles foes:

139

How o'er the feast they doom the fall of Troy;
The stern debate Atrides hears with joy:
For heav'n foretold the contest, when he trod
The marble threshold of the Delphic God,
Curious to learn the counsels of the sky,
Ere yet he loos'd the rage of war on Troy.
Touch'd at the song, Ulysses strait resign'd
To soft affliction all his manly mind:

140

Before his eyes the purple vest he drew,
Industrious to conceal the falling dew:
But when the music paus'd, he ceas'd to shed
The flowing tear, and rais'd his drooping head:
And lifting to the Gods a goblet crown'd,
He pour'd a pure libation to the ground.
Transported with the song, the list'ning train
Again with loud applause demand the strain:
Again Ulysses veil'd his pensive head,
Again unmann'd a show'r of sorrow shed:

141

Conceal'd he wept: the King observ'd alone
The silent tear, and heard the secret groan:
Then to the Bard aloud: O cease to sing,
Dumb be thy voice, and mute th'harmonious string;
Enough the feast has pleas'd, enough the pow'r
Of heav'nly song has crown'd the genial hour!
Incessant in the games your strength display,
Contest, ye brave, the honours of the day!
That pleas'd th'admiring stranger may proclaim
In distant regions the Phæacian fame:
None wield the gauntlet with so dire a sway,
Or swifter in the race devour the way:
None in the leap spring with so strong a bound,
Or firmer, in the wrestling, press the ground,
Thus spoke the King; th'attending Peers obey:
In state they move, Alcinous leads the way:
His golden lyre Demodocus unstrung,
High on a column in the palace hung:

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And guided by a herald's guardian cares,
Majestic to the lists of Fame repairs.
Now swarms the populace; a countless throng,
Youth and hoar age; and man drives man along:
The games begin: Ambitious of the prize,
Acroneus, Thoon, and Eretmeus rise;
The prize Ocyalus and Prymneus claim,
Anchialus and Ponteus, chiefs of fame:
There Proreus, Nautes, Eratreus appear,
And fam'd Amphialus, Polyneus' heir:
Euryalus, like Mars terrific, rose,
When clad in wrath he withers hosts of foes:

143

Naubolides with grace unequall'd shone,
Or equal'd by Laodamas alone.
With these came forth Ambasineus the strong;
And three brave sons, from great Alcinous sprung.
Rang'd in a line the ready racers stand,
Start from the goal, and vanish o'er the strand:
Swift as on wings of winds upborn they fly,
And drifts of rising dust involve the sky:
Before the rest, what space the hinds allow
Between the mule and ox, from plow to plow;

144

Clytonius sprung: he wing'd the rapid way,
And bore th'unrival'd honours of the day.
With fierce embrace the brawny wrestlers joyn;
The conquest, great Euryalus, is thine.
Amphialus sprung forward with a bound,
Superior in the leap, a length of ground:
From Elatreus' strong arm the Discus flies,
And sings with unmatch'd force along the skies.
And Laodame whirls high, with dreadful sway,
The gloves of death, victorious in the fray.
While thus the Peerage in the games contends,
In act to speak, Laodamas ascends:
O friends, he cries, the stranger seems well skill'd
To try th'illustrious labours of the field:

145

I deem him brave; then grant the brave man's claim,
Invite the Hero to his share of fame.
What nervous arms he boasts! how firm his tread!
His limbs how turn'd! how broad his shoulders spread!
By age unbroke!—but all-consuming care
Destroys perhaps the strength that time wou'd spare:
Dire is the Ocean, dread in all its forms!
Man must decay, when man contends with storms.
Well hast thou spoke, (Euryalus replies)
Thine is the guest, invite him thou to rise.
Swift at the word advancing from the croud
He made obeysance, and thus spoke aloud.
Vouchsafes the rev'rend stranger to display
His manly worth, and share the glorious day?

146

Father, arise! for thee thy port proclaims
Expert to conquer in the solemn games.
To fame arise! for what more fame can yield
Than the swift race, or conflict of the field?
Steal from corroding care one transient day,
To glory give the space thou hast to stay;
Short is the time, and lo! ev'n now the gales
Call thee aboard, and stretch the swelling sails.
To whom with sighs Ulysses gave reply:
Ah why th'ill-suiting pastime must I try?
To gloomy care my thoughts alone are free;
Ill the gay sports with troubled hearts agree:
Sad from my natal hour my days have ran,
A much-afflicted, much-enduring man!
Who suppliant to the King and Peers, implores
A speedy voyage to his native shores.
Wide wanders, Laodame, thy erring tongue,
The sports of glory to the brave belong,

147

(Retorts Euryalus:) He boasts no claim
Among the great, unlike the sons of Fame.
A wand'ring merchant he frequents the main,
Some mean sea-farer in pursuit of gain;
Studious of freight, in naval trade well skill'd,
But dreads th'athletic labours of the field.
Incens'd Ulysses with a frown replies,
O forward to proclaim thy soul unwise!
With partial hands the Gods their gifts dispense;
Some greatly think, some speak with manly sense;
Here heav'n an elegance of form denies,
But wisdom the defect of form supplies:
This man with energy of thought controuls,
And steals with modest violence our souls,

148

He speaks reserv'dly, but he speaks with force,
Nor can one word be chang'd but for a worse;
In public more than mortal he appears,
And as he moves the gazing croud reveres.
While others beauteous as th'æthereal kind,
The nobler portion want, a knowing mind.
In outward show heav'n gives thee to excell,
But heav'n denies the praise of thinking well.
Ill bear the brave a rude ungovern'd tongue,
And, youth, my gen'rous soul resents the wrong:
Skill'd in heroic exercise, I claim
A post of honour with the sons of Fame:

149

Such was my boast, while vigour crown'd my days,
Now care surrounds me, and my force decays;
Inur'd a melancholy part to bear,
In scenes of death, by tempest and by war.
Yet thus by woes impair'd, no more I wave
To prove the heroe.—Slander stings the brave,
Then striding forward with a furious bound,
He wrench'd a rocky fragment from the ground:
By far more pond'rous and more huge by far,
Than what Phæacia's sons discharg'd in air.
Fierce from his arm th'enormous load he flings;
Sonorous thro' the shaded air it sings;
Couch'd to the earth, tempestuous as it flies,
The crowd gaze upward while it cleaves the skies.

150

Beyond all marks, with many a giddy round
Down rushing, it up-turns a hill of ground.
That instant Pallas, bursting from a cloud,
Fix'd a distinguish'd mark, and cry'd aloud.
Ev'n he who sightless wants his visual ray,
May by his touch alone award the day:
Thy signal throw transcends the utmost bound
Of ev'ry champion, by a length of ground:
Securely bid the strongest of the train
Arise to throw: the strongest throws in vain.

151

She spoke: and momentary mounts the sky:
The friendly voice Ulysses hears with joy;
Then thus aloud, (elate with decent pride)
Rise ye Phæacians, try your force, he cry'd;
If with this throw the strongest Caster vye,
Still, further still, I bid the Discus fly.
Stand forth, ye champions, who the gauntlet wield,
Or you, the swiftest racers of the field!
Stand forth, ye wrestlers, who these pastimes grace!
I wield the gauntlet, and I run the race.
In such heroic games I yield to none,
Or yield to brave Laodamas alone:
Shall I with brave Laodamas contend?
A friend is sacred, and I stile him friend.

152

Ungen'rous were the man, and base of heart,
Who takes the kind, and pays th'ungrateful part;
Chiefly the man, in foreign realms confin'd,
Base to his friend, to his own interest blind:
All, all your heroes I this day defy,
Give me a man that we our might may try!
Expert in ev'ry art I boast the skill
To give the feather'd arrow wings to kill;
Should a whole host at once discharge the bow,
My well-aim'd shaft with death prevents the foe:
Alone superior in the field of Troy,
Great Philoctetes taught the shaft to fly.

153

From all the sons of earth unrival'd praise
I justly claim; but yield to better days,
To those fam'd days when great Alcides rose,
And Eurytus, who bade the Gods be foes:
(Vain Eurytus, whose art became his crime,
Swept from the earth he perish'd in his prime;
Sudden th'irremeable way he trod,
Who boldly durst defy the Bowyer God.)
In fighting fields as far the spear I throw,
As flies an arrow from the well-drawn bow.
Sole in the race the contest I decline,
Stiff are my weary joints; and I resign

154

By storms and hunger worn: Age well may fail,
When storms and hunger both at once assail.
Abash'd, the numbers hear the god-like man,
'Till great Alcinous mildly thus began.

155

Well hast thou spoke, and well thy gen'rous tongue
With decent pride refutes a public wrong:
Warm are thy words, but warm without offence;
Fear only fools, secure in men of sense:
Thy worth is known. Then hear our country's claim,
And bear to heroes our heroic fame;
In distant realms our glorious deeds display,
Repeat them frequent in the genial day;
When blest with ease thy woes and wand'rings end,
Teach them thy consort, bid thy sons attend;
How lov'd of Jove he crown'd our sires with praise,
How we their offspring dignify our race.
Let other realms the deathful gauntlet wield,
Or boast the glories of th'athletic field;

156

We in the course unrival'd speed display,
Or thro' cærulean billows plow the way,
To dress, to dance, to sing our sole delight,
The feast or bath by day, and love by night:
Rise then ye skill'd in measures: let him bear
Your fame to men that breathe a distant air:
And faithful say, to you the pow'rs belong
To race, to sail, to dance, to chaunt the song.
But, herald, to the palace swift repair,
And the soft Lyre to grace our pastimes bear.
Swift at the word, obedient to the King
The herald flies the tuneful lyre to bring.
Up rose nine Seniors, chosen to survey
The future games, the judges of the day:
With instant care they mark a spacious round,
And level for the dance th'allotted ground;
The herald bears the Lyre: Intent to play,
The Bard advancing meditates the lay,
Skill'd in the dance, tall youths, a blooming band,
Graceful before the heav'nly minstrel stand;

157

Light-bounding from the earth, at once they rise,
Their feet half-viewless quiver in the skies:
Ulysses gaz'd, astonish'd to survey
The glancing splendors as their sandals play.
Mean-time the Bard alternate to the strings
The loves of Mars and Cytherea sings;

158

How the stern God enamour'd with her charms
Clasp'd the gay panting Goddess in his arms,
By bribes seduc'd: and how the Sun, whose eye
Views the broad heav'ns disclos'd the lawless joy.

159

Stung to the soul, indignant thro' the skies
To his black forge vindictive Vulcan flies:
Arriv'd, his sinewy arms incessant place
Th'eternal anvil on the massy base.
A wond'rous Net he labours, to betray
The wanton lovers, as entwin'd they lay,
Indissolubly strong! then instant bears
To his immortal dome the finish'd snares.
Above, below, around, with art dispread,
The sure enclosure folds the genial bed;
Whose texture ev'n the search of Gods deceives,
Thin, as the filmy threads the spider weaves.
Then as withdrawing from the starry bow'rs,
He feigns a journey to the Lemnian shores:
His fav'rite Isle! Observant Mars descries
His wish'd recess, and to the Goddess flies;

160

He glows, he burns: The fair-hair'd Queen of love
Descends smooth-gliding from the Courts of Jove,
Gay blooming in full charms: her hand he prest
With eager joy, and with a sigh addrest.
Come, my belov'd! and taste the soft delights:
Come, to repose the genial bed invites:
Thy absent spouse neglectful of thy charms
Prefers his barb'rous Sintians to thy arms!
Then, nothing loth, th'enamour'd fair he led,
And sunk transported on the conscious bed.
Down rush'd the toils, enwrapping as they lay
The careless lovers in their wanton play:
In vain they strive, th'entangling snares deny
(Inextricably firm) the pow'r to fly:
Warn'd by the God who sheds the golden day,
Stern Vulcan homeward treads the starry way:
Arriv'd, he sees, he grieves, with rage he burns;
Full horribly he roars, his voice all heav'n returns.

161

O Jove, he cry'd, oh all ye pow'rs above,
See the lewd dalliance of the Queen of Love!
Me, aukward me she scorns, and yields her charms
To that fair Lecher, the strong God of arms.
If I am lame, that stain my natal hour
By fate impos'd; such me my parent bore:
Why was I born? see how the wanton lies
O sight tormenting to an husband's eyes!
But yet I trust, this once ev'n Mars would fly
His fair ones arms—he thinks her, once, too nigh.
But there remain, ye guilty, in my pow'r,
'Till Jove refunds his shameless daughter's dow'r.

162

Too dear I priz'd a fair enchanting face:
Beauty unchaste is beauty in disgrace.
Mean-while the Gods the dome of Vulcan throng
Apollo comes, and Neptune comes along,
With these gay Hermes trod the starry plain;
But modesty with-held the Goddess-train.
All heav'n beholds, imprison'd as they lye,
And unextinguish'd laughter shakes the sky.

163

Then mutual, thus they spoke: Behold on wrong
Swift vengeance waits: and Art subdues the strong!
Dwells there a God on all th'Olympian brow
More swift than Mars, and more than Vulcan slow?
Yet Vulcan conquers, and the God of arms
Must pay the penalty for lawless charms.
Thus serious they: but he who gilds the skies,
The gay Apollo thus to Hermes cries.
Wou'dst thou enchain'd like Mars, oh Hermes, lye
And bear the shame like Mars, to share the joy?
O envy'd shame! (the smiling Youth rejoin'd,)
Add thrice the chains, and thrice more firmly bind;
Gaze all ye Gods, and ev'ry Goddess gaze,
Yet eager would I bless the sweet disgrace.
Loud laugh the rest, ev'n Neptune laughs aloud,
Yet sues importunate to loose the God:

164

And free, he cries, oh Vulcan! free from shame
Thy captives; I ensure the penal claim.
Will Neptune (Vulcan then) the faithless trust?
He suffers who gives surety for th'unjust:
But say, if that lewd scandal of the sky
To liberty restor'd, perfidious fly,

165

Say wilt thou bear the Mulct? He instant cries,
The mulct I bear, if Mars perfidious flies.
To whom appeas'd: No more I urge delay;
When Neptune sues, my part is to obey.
Then to the snares his force the God applies;
They burst; and Mars to Thrace indignant flies:
To the soft Cyprian shores the Goddess moves,
To visit Paphos and her blooming groves,
Where to the pow'r an hundred altars rise,
And breathing odours scent the balmy skies,
Conceal'd she bathes in consecrated bow'rs,
The Graces unguents shed, ambrosial show'rs,
Unguents that charm the Gods! she last assumes
Her wond'rous robes; and full the Goddess blooms.
Thus sung the Bard: Ulysses hears with joy,
And loud applauses rend the vaulted sky.
Then to the sports his sons the King commands,
Each blooming youth before the monarch stands:

166

In dance unmatch'd! a wond'rous ball is brought,
(The work of Polybus, divinely wrought)
This youth with strength enormous bids it fly,
And bending backward whirls it to the sky;
His brother springing with an active bound
At distance intercepts it from the ground:
The ball dismiss'd, in dance they skim the strand,
Turn and return, and scarce imprint the sand.
Th'assembly gazes with astonish'd eyes,
And sends in shouts applauses to the skies.
Then thus Ulysses; Happy King, whose name
The brightest shines in all the rolls of fame:
In subjects happy! with surprize I gaze:
Thy praise was just; their skill transcends thy praise.

167

Pleas'd with his people's fame the Monarch hears,
And thus benevolent accosts the Peers.
Since Wisdom's sacred guidance he pursues,
Give to the stranger-guest a stranger's dues:
Twelve Princes in our realm dominion share,
O'er whom supreme, imperial pow'r I bear:
Bring gold, a pledge of love, a talent bring,
A vest, a robe, and imitate your King:
Be swift to give; that he this night may share
The social feast of joy, with joy sincere.
And thou, Euryalus, redeem thy wrong:
A gen'rous heart repairs a sland'rous tongue.
Th'assenting Peers, obedient to the King,
In haste their heralds send the gifts to bring.
Then thus Euryalus: O Prince, whose sway
Rules this blest realm, repentant I obey!
Be his this sword, whose blade of brass displays
A ruddy gleam; whose hilt, a silver blaze;

168

Whose ivory sheath inwrought with curious pride,
Adds graceful terror to the wearer's side.
He said, and to his hand the sword consign'd;
And if, he cry'd, my words affect thy mind,
Far from thy mind those words, ye whirlwinds bear,
And scatter them, ye storms, in empty air!
Crown, oh ye heav'ns, with joy his peaceful hours,
And grant him to his spouse and native shores!
And blest be thou, my friend, Ulysses cries,
Crown him with ev'ry joy, ye fav'ring skies;
To thy calm hours continu'd peace afford,
And never, never may'st thou want this sword!
He said, and o'er his shoulder flung the blade.
Now o'er the earth ascends the evening shade:
The precious gifts th'illustrious heralds bear,
And to the court th'embody'd Peers repair.

169

Before the Queen Alcinous' sons unfold
The vests, the robes, and heaps of shining gold;
Then to the radiant thrones they move in state:
Aloft, the King in pomp Imperial sate.
Thence to the Queen. O partner of our reign,
O sole belov'd! command thy menial train
A polish'd chest and stately robes to bear,
And healing waters for the bath prepare:
That bath'd, our guest may bid his sorrows cease,
Hear the sweet song, and taste the feast in peace.
A bowl that flames with gold, of wond'rous frame,
Our self we give, memorial of our name:
To raise in off'rings to almighty Jove,
And every God that treads the courts above.
Instant the Queen, observant of the King,
Commands her train a spacious vase to bring,
The spacious vase with ample streams suffice,
Heap high the wood, and bid the flames arise.
The flames climb round it with a fierce embrace,
The fuming waters bubble o'er the blaze.
Her self the chest prepares: in order roll'd
The robes, the vests are rang'd, and heaps of gold:
And adding a rich dress inwrought with art,
A gift expressive of her bounteous heart,

170

Thus spoke to Ithacus: To guard with bands
Insolvable these gifts, thy care demands:
Lest, in thy slumbers on the watry main,
The hand of Rapine make our bounty vain.
Then bending with full force, around he roll'd
A labyrinth of bands in fold on fold,
Clos'd with Circæan art. A train attends
Around the bath: the bath the King ascends:
(Untasted joy, since that disastrous hour,
He sail'd ill-fated from Calypso's bow'r)
Where, happy as the Gods that range the sky,
He feasted ev'ry sense, with ev'ry joy.

171

He bathes: the damsels with officious toil,
Shed sweets, shed unguents, in a show'r of oil:
Then o'er his limbs a gorgeous robe he spreads,
And to the feast magnificently treads.
Full where the dome its shining valves expands,
Nausicaa blooming as a Goddess stands,
With wond'ring eyes the heroe she survey'd,
And graceful thus began the royal maid.
Hail god-like stranger! and when heav'n restores
To thy fond wish thy long-expected shores,
This ever grateful in remembrance bear,
To me thou ow'st, to me, the vital air.
O royal maid, Ulysses strait returns,
Whose worth the splendors of thy race adorns,
So may dread Jove (whose arm in vengeance forms
The writhen bolt, and blackens heav'n with storms,)
Restore me safe, thro' weary wand'rings tost,
To my dear country's ever-pleasing coast,
As while the spirit in this bosom glows,
To thee, my Goddess, I address my vows;

172

My life, thy gift I boast! He said, and sate
Fast by Alcinous on a throne of state.
Now each partakes the feast, the wine prepares,
Portions the food, and each his portion shares.
The Bard an herald guides: the gazing throng
Pay low obeysance as he moves along:
Beneath a sculptur'd arch he sits enthron'd,
The Peers encircling from an awful round.
Then from the chine, Ulysses carves with art
Delicious food, an honorary part;
This, let the Master of the Lyre receive,
A pledge of love! 'tis all a wretch can give.

173

Lives there a man beneath the spacious skies,
Who sacred honours to the Bard denies?
The Muse the Bard inspires, exalts his mind;
The Muse indulgent loves th'harmonious kind:
The herald to his hand the charge conveys,
Not fond of flattery, nor unpleas'd with praise.
When now the rage of hunger was allay'd,
Thus to the Lyrist wise Ulysses said.
O more than man! thy soul the Muse inspires,
Or Phœbus animates with all his fires:
For who by Phœbus uninform'd, could know
The woe of Greece, and sing so well the woe?

174

Just to the tale, as present at the fray,
Or taught the labours of the dreadful day:
The song recals past horrours to my eyes,
And bids proud Ilion from her ashes rise.
Once more harmonious strike the sounding string,
Th'Epæan fabric, fram'd by Pallas, sing:
How stern Ulysses, furious to destroy,
With latent heroes sack'd imperial Troy.
If faithful thou record the tale of fame,
The God himself inspires thy breast with flame.
And mine shall be the task, henceforth to raise
In ev'ry land, thy monument of praise.
Full of the God he rais'd his lofty strain,
How the Greeks rush'd tumultuous to the main:
How blazing tents illumin'd half the skies,
While from the shores the winged navy flies:
How ev'n in Ilion's walls, in deathful bands,
Came the stern Greeks by Troy's assisting hands:
All Troy up-heav'd the steed; of diff'ring mind,
Various the Trojans counsell'd; part consign'd

175

The monster to the sword, part sentence gave
To plunge it headlong in the whelming wave;
Th'unwise award to lodge it in the tow'rs,
An off'ring sacred to th'immortal pow'rs:
Th'unwise prevail, they lodge it in the walls,
And by the Gods decree proud Ilion falls;
Destruction enters in the treach'rous wood,
And vengeful slaughter, fierce for human blood.

176

He sung the Greeks stern-issuing from the steed,
How Ilion burns, how all her fathers bleed:
How to thy dome, Deiphobus! ascends
The Spartan King; how Ithacus attends,
(Horrid as Mars) and how with dire alarms
He fights, subdues: for Pallas strings his arms.
Thus while he sung, Ulysses' griefs renew,
Tears bathe his cheeks, and tears the ground bedew:
As some fond matron views in mortal fight
Her husband falling in his country's right:
Frantic thro' clashing swords she runs, she flies,
As ghastly pale he groans, and faints, and dies;

177

Close to his breast she grovels on the ground,
And bathes with floods of tears the gaping wound;
She cries, she shrieks: the fierce insulting foe
Relentless mocks her violence of woe,
To chains condemn'd as wildly she deplores,
A widow, and a slave, on foreign shores!
So from the sluices of Ulysses' eyes
Fast fell the tears, and sighs succeeded sighs:
Conceal'd he griev'd: the King observ'd alone
The silent tear, and heard the secret groan;
Then to the Bard aloud: O cease to sing,
Dumb be thy voice, and mute the tuneful string:
To ev'ry note his tears responsive flow,
And his great heart heaves with tumultuous woe;
Thy lay too deeply moves: then cease the lay,
And o'er the banquet every heart be gay:
This social right demands: for him the sails
Floating in air, invite th'impelling gales:
His are the gifts of love: The wise and good
Receive the stranger as a brother's blood.
But, friend, discover faithful what I crave,
Artful concealment ill becomes the brave:
Say what thy birth, and what the name you bore,
Impos'd by parents in the natal hour?

178

For from the natal hour distinctive names,
(One common right, the great and lowly claims:)
Say from what city, from what regions tost,
And what inhabitants those regions boast?
So shalt thou instant reach the realm assign'd,
In wond'rous ships self-mov'd, instinct with mind;
No helm secures their course, no pilot guides,
Like man intelligent, they plow the tides,
Conscious of every coast, and every bay,
That lies beneath the sun's all-seeing ray;

179

Tho' clouds and darkness veil th'encumber'd sky,
Fearless thro' darkness and thro' clouds they fly:
Tho' tempests rage, tho' rolls the swelling main,
The seas may roll, the tempests rage in vain,
Ev'n the stern God that o'er the waves presides,
Safe as they pass, and safe repass the tides,
With fury burns; while careless they convey
Promiscuous every guest to every bay.
These ears have heard my royal sire disclose
A dreadful story big with future woes,
How Neptune rag'd, and how by his command
Firm rooted in the surge a ship should stand

180

A monument of wrath: how mound on mound
Should bury these proud tow'rs beneath the ground.

181

But this the Gods may frustrate or fulfill,
As suits the purpose of th'eternal will.
But say thro' what waste regions hast thou stray'd,
What customs noted, and what coasts survey'd?
Possest by wild barbarians fierce in arms,
Or men, whose bosom tender pity warms?
Say why the fate of Troy awak'd thy cares,
Why heav'd thy bosom, and why flow'd thy tears?
Just are the ways of heav'n: From heav'n proceed
The woes of man; heav'n doom'd the Greeks to bleed,
A theme of future song! Say then if slain
Some dear-lov'd brother press'd the Phrygian plain?
Or bled some friend? who bore a brother's part,
And claim'd by merit, not by blood, the heart.
 

This book has been more severely censur'd by the Critics than any in the whole Odyssey: It may therefore be thought necessary to lay before the Reader what may be offer'd in the Poet's vindication.

Scaliger in his Poetics is very warm against it. Demodocus, observes that Critic, sings the lust of the Gods (fœditates) at the feast of Alcinous. And Bossu, tho' he vindicates the Poet, remarks that we meet with some offensive passages in Homer, and instances in the adultery of Mars and Venus.

To know (says Aristotle in his Art of Poetry) whether a thing be well or ill spoken, we must not only examine the thing whether it be good or ill, but we must also have regard to him that speaks or acts, and to the person to whom the Poet addresses: for the character of the person who speaks, and of him to whom he speaks, makes that to be good, which would not come well from the mouth of any other person. 'Tis on this account we vindicate Homer with respect to the Immorality that is found in the fable of the Adultery of Mars and Venus; We must consider that it is neither the Poet, nor his Heroe, that recites that story: but a Phæacian sings it to Phæacians, a soft effeminate people, at a festival. Besides, it is allowable even in grave and moral writings to introduce vicious persons, who despise the Gods; and is not the Poet oblig'd to adapt his Poetry to the characters of such persons? And had it not been an absurdity in him to have given us a Philosophical or Moral song before a people who would be pleas'd with nothing but gaiety and effeminacy? The Moral that we are to draw from this story is, that an idle and soft course of life is the source of all criminal pleasures; and that those persons who lead such lives, are generally pleas'd to hear such stories, as make their betters partakers in the same vices. This relation of Homer is a useful lesson to them who desire to live virtuously; and it teaches, that if we would not be guilty of such vices, we must avoid such a method of life as inevitably leads to the practice of them.

Rapine attacks this book on another side, and blames it not for its Immorality, but Lowness. Homer, says he, puts off that air of grandeur and majesty which so properly belongs to his character, he debases himself into a Droll, and sinks into a familiar way of talking: he turns things into ridicule, by endeavouring to entertain his Reader with something pleasant and diverting: For instance, in the eighth book of the Odyssey, he entertains the Gods with a Comedy, some of whom he makes buffoons: Mars and Venus are introduced upon the stage, taken in a net laid by Vulcan, contrary to the gravity which is so essential to Epic Poetry.

It must be granted, that the Gods are here painted in colours unworthy of Deities, yet still with propriety, if we respect the spectators, who are ignorant, debauch'd Phæacians. Homer was oblig'd to draw them not according to his own idea of the Gods, but according to the wild fancies of the Phæacians. The Poet is not at liberty to ascribe the wisdom of a Socrates to Alcinous: He must follow Nature, and like a painter he may draw Deities or monsters, and introduce as he pleases either vicious or virtuous characters, provided he always makes them of a piece, consistent with their first representation.

This rule of Aristotle in general vindicates Homer, and 'tis necessary to carry it in our minds, because it ought to be apply'd to all incidents that relate to the Phæacians, in the sequel of the Odyssey.

This place of Council was between the two ports, where the Temple of Neptune stood; probably, like that in the second book, open to the air.

It may be ask'd what occasion there is to introduce a Goddess, to perform an action that might have been as well executed by a real Herald? Eustathius observes, that this Minerva is either Fame, which informs the Phæacians that a stranger of uncommon figure is arriv'd, and upon this report they assemble; or it implies, that this assembly was made by the wisdom of the Peers, and consequently a Poet may ascribe it to the Goddess of Wisdom, it being the effect of her inspiration.

The Poet by the introduction of a Deity warns us, that something of importance is to succeed; this is to be usher'd in with solemnity, and consequently the appearance of Minerva in this place is not unnecessary: The action of importance to be describ'd is no less than the change of the fortunes of Ulysses; it is from this assembly that his affairs take a new turn, and hasten to a happy re-establishment.

Minerva speaks thus in favour of Ulysses, to excite the curiosity of the Phæacians: and indeed the short speech is excellently adapted to this purpose. They were fond of strangers: The Goddess therefore tells them, that a stranger is arriv'd of a God-like appearance. They admir'd outward show, he is therefore describ'd as a man of extraordinary beauty, and Minerva for this reason immediately improves it. Eustathius.

This circumstance has been repeated several times almost in the same words, since the beginning of the Odyssey. I cannot be of opinion that such repetitions are beauties. In any other Poet, they might have been thought to proceed from a poverty of invention, tho' certainly not in Homer, in whom there is rather a superfluity than barrenness. Perhaps having once said a thing well, he despair'd of improving it, and so repeated it; or perhaps he intended to inculcate this truth, that all our accomplishments, as beauty, strength, &c. are the gifts of the Gods; and being willing to fix it upon the mind, he dwells upon it, and inserts it in many places. Here indeed it has a particular propriety, as it is a circumstance that first engages the Phæacians in the favour of Ulysses: his beauty was his first recommendation, and consequently the Poet with great judgment sets his Heroe off to the best advantage, it being an incident from which he dates all his future happiness; and therefore to be insisted upon with a particular solemnity. Plato in his Theætetus applies the latter part of this description to Parmenides. Αιδοιος τε μοι φαινεται ειναι αμα δεινος τε.

It might be expected that Ulysses, upon whose account alone Alcinous calls this assembly, should have made his condition known, and spoken himself to the Phæacians; whereas he appears upon the stage as a mute person, and the multitude departs entirely ignorant of his name and fortunes. It may be answer'd, that this was not a proper time for a fuller discovery, the Poet defers it till Ulysses had distinguish'd himself in the games, and fully rais'd their curiosity. It is for the same reason that Ulysses is silent; if he had spoken he could not have avoided to let them into the knowledge of his condition, but the contrary method is greatly for his advantage, and assures him of success from the recommendation of a King.

But there is another, and perhaps a better reason, to be given for this silence of Ulysses: The Poet reserves the whole story of his sufferings for an entire and uninterrupted narration; if he had now made any discovery, he must afterwards either have fall'n into tautology, or broken the thread of the relation, so that it would not have been of a piece, but wanted continuity. Besides, it comes with more weight at once, than if it had been made at several times, and consequently makes a deeper impression upon the memory and passion of the auditors. Virgil has taken a different method in the discovery of Æneas; there was a necessity for it; his companions, to engage Dido in their protection, tell her they belong to no less a Heroe than Æneas, so that he is in a manner known before he appears; but Virgil after the example of Homer reserves his story for an entire narration.

The word in the original is προτοπλοος; which signifies not only a ship that makes its first voyage, but a ship that out-sails other ships, as Eustathius observes. It is not possible for a translator to retain such singularities with any beauty; it would seem pedantry and affectation, and not Poetry.

Homer here insinuates, that all good and great qualities are the gifts of God. He shews us likewise, that Music was constantly made use of in the Courts of all the Oriental Princes; we have seen Phemius in Ithaca, a second in Lacedæmon with Menelaus, and Demodocus here with Alcinous. The Hebrews were likewise of remarkable skill in Music; every one knows what effect the harp of David had upon the spirit of Saul. Solomon tells us, that he sought out singing men and singing women to entertain him, like these in Homer, at the time of feasting: Thus another oriental Writer compares Music at feasts to an emerald enclos'd in gold: as a signet of an emerald set in a work of gold, so is the melody of music with pleasant wine. Eccl. xxxii. 6. Dacier.

It has been generally thought that Homer represents himself in the person of Demodocus: and Dacier imagines that this passage gave occasion to the Ancients to believe that Homer was blind. But that he really was blind is testify'd by himself in his Hymn to Apollo, which Thucydides asserts to be the genuine production of Homer, and quotes it as such in his history.

Ω κουραι τις δ' υμμιν ανηρ ηδιστος αοιδων
Ενθαδε πωλειται και τω τερπεσθε μαλιστα;
Υμεις δ' ευ μαλα πασαι υποκρινασθε αφ' υμεων
Τυφλος ανηρ ------

That is, “O Virgins, if any person asks you who is he, the most pleasing of all Poets, who frequents this place, and who is he who most delights you? reply, he is a blind man, &c.” 'Tis true, as Eustathius observes, that there are many features in the two Poets that bear a great resemblance; Demodocus sings divinely, the same is true of Homer; Demodocus sings the adventures of the Greeks before Troy, so does Homer in his Iliads.

If this be true, it must be allow'd that Homer has found out a way of commending himself very artfully: Had he spoken plainly, he had been extravagantly vain; but by this indirect wayof praise, the Reader is at liberty to apply it either solely to Demodocus, or obliquely to Homer.

It is remarkable, that Homer takes a very extraordinary care of Demodocus his brother Poet; and introduces him as a person of great distinction. He calls him in this book the Heroe Demodocus: He places him on a throne studded with silver, and gives him an herald for his attendant, nor is he less careful to provide for his entertainment, he has a particular table, and a capacious bowl set before him to drink as often as he had a mind, as the original expresses it. Some merry wits have turn'd the last circumstance into raillery, and insinuate that Homer in this place as well as in the former means himself in the person of Demodocus, an intimation that he would not be displeas'd to meet with the like hospitality.

This passage is not without obscurity, but Eustathius thus explains it from Athenæ; In the Iliads the Generals sup with Agamemnon with sobriety and moderation; and if in the Odyssey we see Achilles and Ulysses in contention to the great satisfaction of Agamemnon, it is because these contentions are of use to his affairs; they contend whether force or stratagem is to be employed to take Troy; Achilles after the death of Hector, persuaded to assault it by storm, Ulysses by stratagem. There is a further reason given for the satisfaction which Agamemnon expresses at the contest of these two Heroes: Before the opening of the war of Troy he consulted the oracle concerning the issue of it; Apollo answer'd, that Troy should be taken when two Princes most renown'd for wisdom and valour should contend at a sacrifice of the Gods; Agamemnon rejoices to see the prediction fulfill'd, knowing that the destruction of Troy was at hand, the Oracle being accomplish'd by the contest of Ulysses and Achilles.

Many objections may be made against this relation; it may seem to offend against probability, and appears somewhat incredible, that Demodocus should thus luckily pitch upon the war of Troy for the subject of his song, and still more happily upon the deeds of Ulysses; for instance, a man may die of an Apoplexy, this is probable; but that this should happen just when the Poet has occasion for it, is in some degree incredible. But this objection will cease, if we consider not only that the war of Troy was the greatest event of those ages, and consequently might be the common subject of entertainment; but also that it is not Homer or Demodocus who relates the story, but the Muse who inspires it: Homer several times in this book ascribes the song to immediate inspiration; and this supernatural assistance reconciles it to human probability, and the story becomes credible when it is suppos'd to be related by a Deity. Aristotle in his Poetics commends this conduct as artful and judicious; Alcinous, says he, invites Ulysses to an entertainment to divert him, where Demodocus sings his actions, at which he cannot refrain from tears, which Alcinous perceives, and this brings about the discovery of Ulysses.

It may further be objected, that a sufficient cause for this violence of tears is not apparent; for why should Ulysses weep to hear his own brave atchievements, especially when nothing calamitous is recited? This indeed would be improbable, if that were the whole of what the Poet sung: But Homer only gives us the heads of the song, a few sketches of a larger draught, and leaves something to be fill'd up by the imagination of the reader. Thus for instance the words of Demodocus recall'd to the mind of Ulysses all the hardships he had undergone during a ten years war, all the scenes of horror he had beheld, and the loss and sufferings of all his friends. And no doubt he might weep even for the calamities he brought upon Troy, an ingenuous nature cannot be insensible when any of its own species suffers; the Trojans were his enemies, but still they were men, and compassion is due even to unfortunate enemies. I doubt not but it will be allow'd, that there is here sufficient cause to draw tears from a heroe, unless a heroe must be supposed to be divested of humanity.

Eustathius asks how Alcinous could make such an assertion, and give the preference to his people before all nations, when he neither knew, nor was known to, any heroes out of his own Island? He answers that he speaks like a Phæacian, with ostentation and vanity; besides it is natural for all people to form, not illaudably, too favourable a judgment of their own country; And this agrees with the character of the Phæcians in a more particular manner, who call'd themselves αγχιθεοι, and the favourites of the Gods.

Eustathius remarks, that Homer very judiciously passes over these games in a few lines, having in the Iliad exhausted that subject; he there enlarg'd upon them, because they were essential ornaments, it being necessary that Patroclus should be honour'd by his friend with the utmost solemnity. Here they are only introduc'd occasionally, and therefore the Poet hastens to things more requisite, and carries on the thread of his story. But then it may be ask'd why are they mention'd at all, and what do they contribute to the re-establishment of Ulysses? It is evident that they are not without an happy effect, they give Ulysses an opportunity to signalize his character, to engage the King and the Peers in his favour, and induces them to convey him to his own country, which is one of the most material incidents in the whole Odyssey.

I was at a loss for a reason why this figure of terror was introduc'd amongst an unwarlike nation, upon an occasion contrary to the general description in the midst of games and diversions. Eustathius takes notice, that the Poet distinguishes the character of Euryalus, to force it upon our observation; he being the person who uses Ulysses with roughness and inhumanity, and is the only Peer that is describ'd with a sword, which he gives to Ulysses to repair his injury.

He further remarks, that almost all the names of the persons who are mention'd as candidates in these games are borrow'd from the sea, Phæacia being an Island, and the people greatly addicted to navigation. I have taken the liberty to vary from the order observ'd by Homer in the catalogue of the names, to avoid the affinity of sound in many of them, as Euryalus, Ocyalus, &c. and too many names being tedious at least in English Poetry, I pass'd over the three sons of Alcinous, Laodamas, Halius, and Æroneus, and only mention'd them in general as the sons of Alcinous.

I was surpriz'd to see Dacier render

------ υιος Πολυνηου Τεκτονιδαο

The son of Polyneus the carpenter: it looks like Burlesque: it ought to be render'd, The son of Polyneus Textonides, a Patronymic, and it is so understood by all Commentators.

This image drawn from rural affairs is now become obsolete, and gives us no distinct Idea of the distance between Clytoneus and the other racers: but this obscurity arises not from Homer's want of perspicuity, but from the change which has happen'd in the method of tillage, and from a length of time which has effaced the distinct image which was originally stamp'd upon it; so that what was understood universally in the days of Homer is grown almost unintelligible to posterity. Eustathius only observes, that the teams of Mules were placed at some distance from the teams of Oxen; the Mule being more swift in his labour than the Ox, and consequently more ground was allow'd to the Mule than the Ox by the Husbandman. This gives us an Idea that Clyteneus was the foremost of the racers, but how much is not to be discover'd with any certainty. Aristarchus, as Didymus informs us, thus interprets Homer. “As much as a yoke of mules set to work at the same time with a yoke of oxen, outgoes the oxen, (for mules are swifter than oxen) so much Clyteneus outwent his competitors.” The same description occurs in the tenth book of the Iliads, verse 419, to which passage I refer the Reader for a more large and different explication.

It is in the original literally, he wants not youth; this is spoken according to appearance only, for Ulysses must be suppos'd to be above forty, having spent twenty years in the wars of Troy, and in his return to his country. 'Tis true Hesiod calls a person a youth, αιζηον, who was forty years of age, but this must be understood with some allowance, unless we suppose that the life of man was longer in the times of Hesiod, than in these later ages; the contrary of which appears from many places in Homer, where the shortness of man's life is compar'd to the leaves of trees, &c. But what the Poet here relates is very justifiable, for the Youth which Ulysses appears to have, proceeds from Minerva; it is not a natural quality, but conferr'd by the immediate operation of a Goddess.

This speech concludes with an address of great beauty; Laodamas invites Ulysses to act in the games, yet at the same time furnishes him with a decent excuse, to decline the invitation if it be against his inclinations; should he refuse, he imputes the refusal to his calamities, not to any want of skill, or personal inability.

These are the first words spoken by Ulysses before the Phæacians; and we cannot but be curious to know how he makes his address to engage a people, in whom he has no personal interest, in his favour. His speech is excellently adapted to this purpose; he represents himself as a suppliant to the King and all the assembly; and all suppliants being esteem'd sacred, he at once makes it a duty in all the assembly to protect him; if they refuse to assist him, they become guilty of no less a crime, than a violation of the laws of hospitality.

There is a difficulty in the Greek expression, ασφαλεως αγορευει αιδοι μειλιχιη; that is, “he speaks securely with a winning modesty.” Dionysius Halicarnassus interprets it, in his Examination of Oratory, to signify that the Orator argues per concessa, and so proceeds with certainty, or ασφαλεως; without danger of refutation. The word properly signifies without stumbling, απροσκοπως, as in the proverb cited by Eustathius, φορητοτερον ποσιν ηπερ γλωττη προσκοπτειν; that is, “it is better to stumble with the feet than with the tongue.” The words are concise, but of a very extensive comprehension, and take in every thing, both in sentiments and diction, that enters into the character of a compleat orator. Dacier concurs in the same interpretation; He speaks reservedly, or with caution; he hazards nothing that he would afterwards wish (repentir) to alter. And all his words are full of sweetness and modesty. These two lines are found almost literally in Hesiod's Theogony, ver. 92.

Ερχομενον δ' ανα αστυ, θεον ως ιλασκονται
Αιδοι μειλιχιη. Μετα δε πρεπει αγρομενουσιν.

Whether Homer borrow'd these verses from Hesiod, or Hesiod from Homer, is not evident. Tully in his book de Senectute is of opininion, that Homer preceded Hesiod many ages, and consequently in his judgment the verses are Homer's. I question not but he had this very passage in view in his third book of his Orator. Quem stupefacti dicentem intuetur, quem Deum, ut ita dicam, inter homines putant; which is almost a translation of Homer.

It may be thought that Ulysses, both here and in his subsequent speech, is too ostentatious, and that he dwells more than modesty allows upon his own accomplishments: But self-praise is sometimes no fault. Plutarch has wrote a dissertation, how a man may praise himself without envy: What Ulysses here speaks is not a boast but a justification. Persons in distress, says Plutarch, may speak of themselves with dignity: It shews a greatness of soul, and that they bear up against the storms of fortune with bravery; they have too much courage to fly to pity and commiseration, which betray despair and an hopeless condition: Such a man struggling with ill fortune shews himself a champion, and if by a bravery of speech he transforms himself from miserable and abject, into bold and noble, he is not to be censur'd as vain or obstinate, but great and invincible.

This is a full justification of Ulysses, he opposes virtue to calumny; and what Horace applies to himself we apply to this Heroe.

Quæsitam meritis, sume superbiam.

Besides, it was necessary to shew himself a person of figure and distinction, to recommend his condition to the Phæacians. He was a stranger to the whole nation, and he therefore takes a probable method to engage their assistance by acquainting them with his worth; he describes himself as unfortunate, but yet as a heroe in adversity.

There is not a passage in the whole Odyssey, where a Deity is introduced with less apparent necessity: The Goddess of Wisdom is brought down from heaven to act what might have been done as well by any of the spectators, namely to proclaim what was self-evident, the victory of Ulysses. When a Deity appears, our expectations are awaken'd for the introduction of something important, but what action of importance succeeds? 'Tis true, her appearance encourages Ulysses, and immediately upon it he challenges the whole Phæacian assembly. But he was already victor, and no further action is perform'd. If indeed she had appear'd openly in favour of Ulysses, this would have been greatly advantageous to him, and the Phæacians must have highly reverenc'd a person who was so remarkably honour'd by a Goddess: but it is not evident that the Phæacians, or even Ulysses knew the Deity, but took her for a man as she appear'd to be; and Ulysses himself immediately rejoices that he had found a friend in the assembly. If this be true, the descent of Pallas will prove very unnecessary; for if she was esteem'd to be meerly human, she acts nothing in the character of a Deity, and performs no more than might have been performed by a man, and consequently gave no greater courage to Ulysses than a friend actually gave, for such only he believ'd her to be. Eustathius appears to be of the same opinion, for he says the place is to be understood allegorically, and what is thus spoken by a Phæacian with Wisdom, is by the Poet apply'd to the Goddess of it.

Nothing can be more artful than this address of Ulysses; he finds a way, in the middle of a bold challenge, to secure himself of a powerful advocate, by paying an ingenious and laudable deference to his friend. But it may be ask'd if decency be observ'd, and ought Ulysses to challenge the father Alcinous, (for he speaks universally) and yet except his son Laodamas, especially when Alcinous was more properly his friend than Laodamas? and why should he be excepted rather than the other brothers? Spondanus answers, that the two brothers are included in the person of Laodamas, they all have the same relation to Ulysses, as being equally a suppliant to them all, and consequently claim the same exemption from this challenge as Laodamas; and Alcinous is not concern'd in it: he is the judge and arbitrator of the games, not a candidate, like Achilles in the Iliad. But why is Laodamas nam'd in particular? He was the elder brother, and Ulysses might therefore be consign'd to his care in particular, by the right due to his seniority; besides, he might be the noblest personage, having conquer'd his antagonist at the gauntlet, which was the most dangerous, and consequently the most honourable exercise, and therefore Ulysses might pay him peculiar honours. Spondanus.

There is an ambiguity in the original, and it may imply either, that if Ulysses and his friends were at the same time to aim their arrows against an enemy, his arrow would fly with more certainty and expedition than that of his companions: Or that if his enemies had bent all their bows at once against him, yet his shaft would reach his adversary before they could discharge their arrows. Eustathius follows the former, Dacier the latter interpretation. And certainly the latter argues the greater intrepidity and presence of mind: It shews Ulysses in the extremity of danger capable of acting with calmness and serenity, and shooting with the same certainty and steddiness, tho' multitudes of enemies endanger his life. I have follow'd this explication, as it is nobler, and shews Ulysses to be a consummate Heroe.

This Eurytus was King of O Echalia, famous for his skill in Archery; he propos'd his daughter Iöle in marriage to any person that could conquer him at the exercise of the bow. Later writers differ from Homer, as Eustathius observes, concerning Eurytus. They write that Hercules overcame him, and he denying his daughter, was slain, and his daughter made captive by Hercules: Whereas Homer writes that he was kill'd by Apollo, that is, died a sudden death, according to the import of that expression. The Ancients differ much about O Echalia; some place it in Eubæa, and some in Messenia, of which opinion is Pausanias. But Homer in the Iliad places it in Thessaly: For he mentions with it Tricca and Ithomè, which as Dacier observes were Cities of Thessaly.

This is directly contrary to his challenge in the beginning of the speech, where he mentions the race amongst the other games. How then is this difference to be reconcil'd? Very naturally. Ulysses speaks with a generous warmth, and is transported with anger in the beginning of his oration: Here the heat of it is cool'd, and consequently reason takes place, and he has time to reflect, that a man so disabled by calamities is not an equal match for a younger and less fatigued antagonist. This is an exact representation of human nature; when our passions remit, the vehemence of our speech remits; at first he speaks like a man in anger, here like the wise Ulysses.

It is observable that Ulysses all along maintains a decency and reverence towards the Gods, even while his anger seems to be master over his reason; he gives Eurytus as an example of the just vengeance of Heaven, and shews himself in a very opposite light: He is so far from contending with the Gods, that he allows himself to be inferior to some other Heroes: an instance of modesty.

This passage appears to me to refer to the late storms and shipwreck, and the long abstinence Ulysses suffer'd in sailing from Calypso to the Phæacian Island; for when Nausicaa found him, he was almost dead with hunger, as appears from the sixth of the Odyssey. Dacier is of a different opinion, and thinks it relates to his abstinence and shipwreck upon his leaving Circe, before he came to Calypso. This seems very improbable; for Ulysses had liv'd seven years with that Goddess in great affluence, and consequently must be suppos'd to have recruited his loss of strength in so long a time, and with the particular care of a Goddess: Besides, Alcinous was acquainted with his late shipwreck, and his daughter Nausicaa was in some degree witness to it: Is it not therefore more probable that he should refer to this latter incident, than speak of a calamity that happened seven years past, to which they were entirely strangers?

Dacier likewise asserts that Eustathius is guilty of a mistake, in making κομιδη or provision, to signify the ship it self; but in reality he makes an evident distinction: Ου γαρ δια το μη κομιδην εν βρωμασιν εχειν εδαμασθη οδυσσευς τοις κυμασιν, αλλ' οτι εθραυσθη κυμασιν η κομιδην εχουσα ναυς; “Ulysses suffer'd not in the storm because he had no provisions to eat, but because the ship that bore the provision was broken by the storm;” which shews a wide difference between the vessel and the provisions: So that the expression really implies that the vessel was broken, but Eustathius is far from affirming that κομιδη and ναυς (except in such an improper sense) have the same signification.

From this extravagant preface, it might be imagin'd that Alcinous was King of a nation of Heroes: Whereas when he comes to explain the excellence of his subjects, he has scarce any thing to boast of that is manly; they spend an idle life in singing, dancing, and feasting. Thus the Poet all along writes consistently: We may know the Phæacians by their character, which is always to be voluptuous, or as Horace expresses it,

------ Alcinoique
In cute curandâ plus æquo operata juventus.

And Eustathius rightly observes that the Poet does not teach that we ought to live such lives, but only relates historically what lives were led by the Phæacians; he describes them as a contemptible people, and consequently proposes them as objects of our scorn not imitation.

I beg leave to translate Dacier's Annotation upon this passage, and to offer a remark upon it. This description, says that lady, is remarkable, not because the dancers mov'd to the sound of the harp and the song; for in this there is nothing extraordinary; but in that they danc'd, if I may so express it, an History; that is by their gestures and movements they express'd what the music of the harp and voice describ'd, and the dance was a representation of what was the subject of the Poet's song. Homer only says they danc'd divinely, according to the obvious meaning of the words. I fancy Madam Dacier would have forborn her observation, if she had reflected upon the nature of the song to which the Phæacians danc'd: It was an intrigue between Mars and Venus; and they being taken in some very odd postures, she must allow that these dancers represented some very odd gestures, (or movements as she expresses it) if they were now dancing an History, that is acting in their motions what was the subject of the song. But I submit to the judgment of Ladies, and shall only add, that this is an instance how a critical eye can see some things in an author, that were never intended by him; tho' to do her justice, she borrowed the general remark from Eustathius.

The words μαρμαρυγας θειτο ποδων are very expressive, they represent the quick glancings of their feet in the dance, Motus pedum coruscans; or

The glancing splendors as their sandals play.

The Reader may be pleas'd to look back to the beginning of the book for a general vindication of this story. Scaliger in his Poetics prefers the song of Iöpas in Virgil, to this of Demodocus in Homer; Demodocus Deorum canit fœditates, noster Iöpas res rege dignas. Monsieur Dacier in his Annotations upon Aristotle's Poetics refutes the objection. The song of Demodocus, says he, is as well adapted to the inclinations and relish of the Phæacians, as the song of Iöpas is to Queen Dido. It may indeed be question'd whether the subject of Virgil's song be well chosen, and whether the deepest points of Philosophy were entirely proper to be sung to a Queen and her female attendants.

The various labours of the wandring Moon,
And whence proceed th'eclipses of the Sun,
Th'original of men and beasts, and whence
The rains arise, and fires their warmth dispence, &c.
Dryden.

Nor is Virgil more reserv'd than Homer: In the fourth Georgic he introduces a Nymph, who in the Court of the Goddess Cyrenè with her Nymphs about her, sings this very song of Demodocus.

To these Clymene the sweet theft declares
Of Mars; and Vulcan's unavailing cares;
And all the rapes of Gods, and every love
From antient Chaos down to youthful Jove.
Dryden.

So that if either of the Poets are to be blamed, 'tis certainly Virgil: but neither of them, adds that Critic, are culpable: Virgil understood what a chaste Queen ought to hear before strangers, and what women might say when alone amongst themselves; thus to the Queen he sings a philosophical song, the intrigues of Mars and Venus amongst nymphs when they were alone.

Plutarch vindicates this story of Homer: There is a way of teaching by mute actions, and those very fables that have given most offence, furnish us with useful contemplations: Thus in the story of Mars and Venus, some have by an unnecessary violence endeavour'd to reduce it into allegory: When Venus is in conjunction with the Star call'd Mars, they have an adultrous influence, but time, or the sun, reveals it. But the Poet himself far better explains the meaning of his fable, for he teaches that light musick and wanton songs debauch the manners, and incline men to an unmanly way of living in luxury and wantonness.

In short, Virgil mentions this story, Ovid translates it, Plutarch commends it, and Scaliger censures it. I will add the judgment of a late Writer, Monsieur Boileau, concerning Scaliger, in his Notes upon Longinus. “That proud scholar, says he, intending to erect altars to Virgil, as he expresses it, speaks of Homer too prophanely; but it is a book which he calls in part Hypercritical, to shew that he transgressed the bounds of true Criticism: That piece was a dishonour to Scaliger, and he fell into such gross errors, that he drew upon him the ridicule of all men of letters, and even of his own son.

The Sintians were the inhabitants of Lemnos, by origin Thracians: Homer calls them barbarous of speech, because their language was a corruption of the Greek, Asiatic, and Thracian. But there is a concealed raillery in the expression, and Mars ridicules the ill taste of Vulcan for leaving so beautiful a Goddess to visit his rude and barbarous Sintians. The Poet calls Lemnos the favourite Isle of Vulcan; this alludes to the subterraneous fires frequent in that Island, and he is feigned to have his forge there, as the God of fire. This is likewise the reason why he is said to fall into the Island Lemnos when Jupiter threw him from Heaven. Dacier.

The original seems to be corrupted; were it to be translated according to the present editions, it must be, See the ridiculous deeds of Venus. I conceive, that few husbands who should take their spouses in such circumstances would have any great appetite to laugh; neither is such an interpretation consonant to the words immediately following, ουκ επιεικτα. It is therefore very probable that the verse was originally

Δευθ' ινα εργ' αγελαστα και ουκ επιειλτα ιδησθε.

Come ye Gods, behold the sad and unsufferable deeds of Venus; and this agrees with the tenor of Vulcan's behaviour in this comedy, who has not the least disposition to be merry with his brother Deities.

I doubt not but this was the usage of antiquity: It has been observed that the bridegroom made presents to the father of the bride, which were call'd ενδα; and if she was afterwards false to his bed, this dower was restor'd by the father to the husband. Besides this restitution, there seems a pecuniary mulct to have been paid, as appears evident from what follows.

------ The God of arms,
Must pay the penalty for lawless charms.

Homer in this as in many other places seems to allude to the laws of Athens, where death was the punishment of adultery. Pausanias relates that Draco the Athenian lawgiver granted impunity to any person that took revenge upon an adulterer. Such also was the institution of Solon; “If any one seize an adulterer, let him use him as he pleases, εαν τις μοιχον λαβη, οτι αν βουληται χρησθαι. And thus Eratosthenes answer'd a person who begg'd his life after he had injur'd his bed, ουκ εγω σε αποκτενω, αλλ' της πολεως νομος, “It is not I who slay thee, but the law of thy country.” But still it was in the power of the injur'd person to take a pecuniary mulct by way of atonement; for thus the same Eratosthenes speak in Lysias, ηντιβολει και ικετενε μη αυτον κτειναι, αλλ' αργυριον πραξασθαι, “he entreated me not to take his life, but exact a sum of money.” Nay, such penalties were allow'd by way of commutation for greater crimes than adultery, as in the case of murder: Iliad 9.

------ If a brother bleed,
On just atonement, we remit the deed:
A sire the slaughter of his son forgives;
The price of blood discharg'd, the murd'rer lives.

Plutarch in his dissertation upon reading the Poets, quotes this as an instance of Homer's judgment, in closing a ludicrous scene with decency and instruction. He artfully inserts a sentence by which he discovers his own judgment, and lets the reader into the moral of his fables; by this conduct he makes even the representation of evil actions useful, by shewing the shame and detriment they draw upon those who are guilty of them.

It may be ask'd why Neptune in particular interests himself in the deliverance of Mars, rather than the other Gods? Dacier confesses she can find no reason for it; but Eustathius is of opinion, that Homer ascribes it to that God out of decency, and deference to his superior Majesty and Eminence amongst the other Deities: It is suitable to the character of that most ancient, and consequently honourable God, to interrupt such an indecent scene of mirth, which is not so becoming his personage, as those more youthful Deities Apollo and Mercury. Besides, it agrees well with Neptune's gravity to be the first who is mindful of friendship; so that what is here said of Neptune is not accidental, but spoken judiciously by the Poet in honour of that Deity.

This verse is very obscure, and made still more obscure by the explanations of Criticks. Some think it implies, that it is wicked to be surety for a wicked person; and therefore Neptune should not give his promise for Mars thus taken in adultery. Some take it generally; suretyship is detrimental, and it is the lot of unhappy men to be sureties: the words then are to be constru'd in the following order, δειλαι τοι εγγυαι, και δειλων ανδρων εγγυαασθαι. Sponsiones sunt infelices, & hominum est infelicium sponsiores dare. Others understand it very differently, viz. to imply that the sureties of men of inferior condition, should be to men of inferior condition; then the sentence will bear this import: If Mars, says Vulcan, refuses to discharge the penalty, how shall I compel Neptune to pay it, who is so greatly my superior? And therefore adds by way of sentence, that the sponsor ought to be of the same station with the person to whom he becomes surety; or in Latin simplicium hominum, simplices esse debent sponsores. I have followed Plutarch, who in his banquet of the seven wise men, explains it to signify that it is dangerous to be surety for a wicked person, according to the ancient sentence, εγγυα παρα δ' ατα. Loss follows suretyship. Agreeably to the opinion of a much wiser person, He that is surety for a stranger shall smart for it; and he that hateth suretyship is sure. Prov. xi. 15.

There is a reason for this particularity: The Thracians were a warlike people: the Poet therefore sends the God of War thither: and the people of Cyprus being effeminate, and addicted to love and pleasures, he feigns the recess of the Goddess of Love to have been in that Island. It is further observable, that he barely mentions the retreat of Mars, but dwells more largely upon the story of Venus. The reason is, the Phæacians had no delight in the God of War, but the soft description of Venus better suited with their inclinations. Eustathius.

This is a literal translation of ιδνωθεις οπισω; and it gives us a lively image of a person in the act of throwing towards the skies. Eustathius is most learnedly trifling about this exercise of the ball, which was called ουρανια, or aereal; it was a kind of a dance, and while they sprung from the ground to catch the ball, they play'd with their feet in the air after the manner of dancers. He reckons up several other exercises at the ball, απορραξις, φαινινδα, επισκυρος, and θερμαυστρις; and explains them all largely. Homer seems to oppose this aëreal dance to the common one, ποτι χθονι, or on the ground, which appears to be added to make an evident distinction between the sports; otherwise it is unnecessary; and to dance upon the ground is imply'd in ωρχεισθον, for how should a dance be perform'd but upon the Ground?

The original says, You promis'd that your subjects were excellent dancers απειλησας; that is, threaten'd: Minans is used in the same sense by the Latins, as Dacier observes; thus Horace,

Multa & præclara minantem.

Eustathius remarks, that the address of Ulysses is very artful, he calls it a seasonable flattery: In reality to excel in dancing, is but to excel in trifles, but in the opinion of Alcinous it was a most noble qualification: Ulysses therefore pleases his vanity by adapting his praise to his notions; and that which would have been an affront in some nations, is esteem'd as the highest compliment by Alcinous.

It can scarce be imagin'd how greatly this beautiful passage is misrepresented by Eustathius. He would have it to imply, May I never want this sword, taking τοι adverbially: The presents of enemies were reckon'd fatal, Ulysses therefore to avert the omen, prays that he may never have occasion to have recourse to this sword of Euryalus, but keep it amongst his treasures as a testimony of this reconciliation. This appears to be a very forc'd interpretation, and disagreeable to the general import of the rest of the sentence; he addresses to Euryalus, to whom then can this compliment be naturally paid but to Euryalus? Thou hast given me a sword, says he, may thy days be so peaceable as never to want it! This is an instance of the polite address, and the forgiving temper, of Ulysses.

Such passages as these have more of nature than art, and are too narrative, and different from modern ways of speaking, to be capable of much ornament in Poetry. Eustathius observes that keys were not in use in these ages, but were afterwards invented by the Lacedæmonians; but they used to bind their carriages with intricate knots: Thus the Gordian knot was famous in antiquity. And this knot of Ulysses became a proverb, to express any insolvable difficulty, ο του οδυσσεως δεσμος: This is the reason why he is said to have learned it from Circe; it was of great esteem amongst the Ancients, and not being capable to be unty'd by human art, the invention of it is ascrib'd, not to a man, but to a Goddess.

A Poet would now appear ridiculous if he should introduce a Goddess only to teach his Heroe such an art, as to tye a knot with intricacy: but we must not judge of what has been, from what now is; customs and arts are never at a stay, and consequently the ideas of customs and arts are as changeable as those arts and customs: This knot in all probability was in as high estimation formerly, as the finest water-work or machines are at this day; and were a person fam'd for an uncommon skill in such works, it would be no absurdity in the language of poetry, to ascribe his knowledge in them to the assistance of a Deity.

This may seem an extravagant compliment, especially in the mouth of the wise Ulysses, and rather prophane than polite. Dacier commends it as the highest piece of address and gallantry; but perhaps it may want explication to reconcile it to decency. Ulysses only speaks comparatively, and with relation to that one action of her saving his life: “As therefore, says he, I owe my thanks to the Heavens for giving me life originally, so I ought to pay my thanks to thee for preserving it; thou hast been to me as a Deity. To preserve a life, is in one sense to give it.” If this appears not to soften the expression sufficiently, it may be ascrib'd to an overflow of gratitude in the generous disposition of Ulysses; he is so touch'd with the memory of her benevolence and protection, that his soul labours for an expression great enough to represent it, and no wonder if in this struggle of thought, his words fly out into an excessive but laudable boldness.

Were this literally to be translated, it would be, that Ulysses cut a piece from the chine of the white-tooth'd boar, round which there was much fat. This looks like Burlesque to a person unacquainted with the usages of Antiquity: But it was the highest honour that could be paid to Demodocus. The greatest Heroes in the Iliad are thus rewarded after victory, and it was esteem'd an equivalent for all dangers. So that what Ulysses here offers to the Poet, is offer'd out of a particular regard and honour to his Poetry.

Ulysses here ascribes the songs of Demodocus to immediate inspiration, and Apollo is made the patron of the Poets, as Eustathius observes, because he is the God of Prophecy. He adds, that Homer here again represents himself in the person of Demodocus: it is he who wrote the war of Troy with as much faithfulness, as if he had been present at it; it is he who had little or no assistance from former relations of that story, and consequently receives it from Apollo and the Muses. This is a secret but artful insinuation that we are not to look upon the Iliad as all fiction and fable, but in general as a real history, related with as much certainty as if the Poet had been present at those memorable actions.

Plutarch in his chapter of reading Poems admires the conduct of Homer, with relation to Ulysses: He diverts Demodocus from idle fables, and gives him a noble theme, the destruction of Troy. Such subjects suit well with the sage character of Ulysses. It is for the same reason that he here passes over in silence the amour of Mars and Venus, and commends the song at the beginning of this book, concerning the contention of the worthies before Troy: An instruction, what songs a wise man ought to hear, and that Poets should recite nothing but what may be heard by a wise man.

It is observable that the Poet gives us only the heads of this song, and though he had an opportunity to expatiate and introduce a variety of noble Images, by painting the fall of Troy, yet this being foreign to his story, he judiciously restrains his fancy, and passes on to the more immediate actions of the Odyssey. Virgil, lib. 2. of his Æneis, has translated these verses,

Scinditur incertum studia in contraria vulgus,
At Capys, & quorum melior sententia menti,
Aut Pelago Danaum insidias suspectaque dona
Præcipitare jubent, subjectisque urere flammis:
Aut terebrare cavas uteri & tentare latebras.

Scaliger prefers these before those of Homer, and says that Homer trifles in describing so particularly the divisions of the Trojan councils: That Virgil chuses to burn the horse, rather than describe it as thrown from the rocks: For how should the Trojans raise it thither? Such objections are scarce worthy of a serious answer, for it is no difficulty to imagine that the same men who heaved this machine into Troy, should be able to raise it upon a rock: And as for the former objection, Virgil recites almost the same divisions in council as Homer, nay borrows them, with little variation.

Aristotle observes the great art of Homer, in naturally bringing about the discovery of Ulysses to Alcinous by this song. He calls this a Remembrance, that is, when a present object stirs up a past image in the memory, as a picture recalls the figure of an absent friend: thus Ulysses hearing Demodocus sing to the harp his former hardships, breaks out into tears, and these tears bring about his discovery.

This is undoubtedly a very moving and beautiful comparison; but it may be ask'd if it be proper to compare so great a Heroe as Ulysses to a woman, the weakness of whose sex justifies her tears? Besides she appears to have a sufficient cause for her sorrows, as being under the greatest calamities, but why should Ulysses weep? Nothing but his valour and success is recorded, and why should this be an occasion of sorrow? Eustathius replies, that they who think that Ulysses is compared to the matron, mistake the point of the comparison: Whereas the tears alone of Ulysses are intended to be compared to the tears of the matron. It is the sorrow of the two persons, not the persons themselves, that is represented in the comparison. But there appears no sufficient cause for the tears of Ulysses; this objection would not have been made, if the subject of the song had been consider'd; it sets before his eyes all the calamities of a long war, all the scenes of slaughter of friends and enemies that he had beheld in it: It is also to be remember'd, that we have only the abridgment of the song, and yet we see spectacles of horror, blood, and commiseration. Tears discover a tender, not an abject spirit. Achilles is not less a Heroe for weeping over the ashes of Patroclus, nor Ulysses for lamenting the calamities and deaths of thousands of his friends.

There is not a passage that more outrages all the rules of credibility than the description of these ships of Alcinous. The Poet inserts these wonders only to shew the great dexterity of the Phæacians in navigation; and indeed it was necessary to be very full in the description of their skill, who were to convey Ulysses home in despight of the very God of the Ocean. It is for the same reason that they are describ'd as sailing almost invisibly, to escape the notice of that God. Antiquity animated every thing in Poetry; thus Argo is said to have had a mast made of Dodonæan oak, indued with the faculty of speech. But this is defending one absurdity, by instancing in a fable equally absurd; all that can be said in defence of it is, that such extravagant fables were believ'd, at least by the vulgar, in former ages; and consequently might be introduced without blame in Poetry; if so, by whom could a boast of this nature be better made, than by a vain Phæacian? Besides, these extravagancies let Ulysses into the humour of the Phæacians, and in the following books he adapts his story to it, and returns fable for fable. It must likewise certainly be a great encouragement to Ulysses to find himself in such hands as could so easily restore him to his country; for it was natural to conclude, that though Alcinous was guilty of great amplification, yet that his subjects were very expert navigators.

The Antients, as Eustathius observes, mark these verses with an Obelisk and Asterism. The Obelisk shew'd that they judg'd what relates to the oracle was mis-plac'd, the Asterism denoted that they thought the verses very beautiful. For they thought it not probable that Alcinous would have call'd to memory this prediction and the menace of Neptune, and yet persisted to conduct to his own country the enemy of that Deity: Whereas if this oracle be supposed to be forgotten by Alcinous, (as it will, if these verses be taken away) then there will be an appearance of truth, that he who was a friend to all strangers, should be persuaded to land so great and worthy a Heroe as Ulysses in his own dominions, and therefore they reject them to the 13th of the Odyssey. But as Eustathius observes, Alcinous immediately subjoins,

But this the Gods may frustrate or fulfill,
As suits the purpose of th'eternal will.

And therefore the verses may be very proper in this book, for Alcinous believes that the Gods might be prevailed upon not to fulfill this denunciation. It has been likewise remark'd that the conduct of Alcinous is very justifiable: The Phæacians had been warn'd by an oracle, that an evil threaten'd them for the care they should shew to a stranger: yet they forbear not to perform an act of piety to Ulysses, being persuaded that men ought to do their duty, and trust the issue to the goodness of the Gods. This will seem to be more probable, if we remember Alcinous is ignorant that Ulysses is the person intended by the prediction, so that he is not guilty of a voluntary opposition to the Gods, but really acts with piety in assisting his guest, and only complies with the common laws of hospitality.

It is but a conjecture, yet it is not without probability, that there was a rock which look'd like a vessel, in the entrance of the haven of the Phæacians: the fable may be built upon this foundation, and because it was environ'd by the ocean, the transformation might be ascrib'd to the God of it.

The Greek word is αμφικαλυψειν, which does not necessarily imply that the city should be buried actually, but that a mountain should surround it, or cover it round; and in the 13th book we find that when the ship was transform'd into a rock, the city continues out of danger. Eustathius is fully of opinion, that the city was threaten'd to be overwhelm'd by a mountain; the Poet, says he, invents this fiction to prevent posterity from searching after this Isle of the Phæacians, and to preserve his story from detection of falsification; after the same manner as he introduces Neptune and the rivers of Troy, bearing away the wall which the Greeks had rais'd as a fortification before their navy. But Dacier in the omissions which she inserts at the end of the second volume of her Odyssey, is of a contrary opinion, for the mountain is not said to cover the city, but to threaten to cover it: as appears from the 13th book of the Odyssey, where Alcinous commands a sacrifice to the Gods to avert the execution of this denunciation.

But the difference in reality is small, the city is equally threaten'd to be buried as the vessel to be transform'd; and therefore Alcinous might pronounce the same fate to both, since both were threaten'd equally by the prediction; it was indeed impossible for him to speak after any other manner, for he only repeats the words of the oracle, and cannot foresee that the sacrifice of the Phæacians would appease the anger of Neptune,

This excellent sentence of Homer at once guides us in the choice, and instructs us in the regard, that is to be paid to the person of a Friend. If it be lawful to judge of a man from his writings, Homer had a soul susceptible of real friendship, and was a lover of sincerity. It would be endless to take notice of every casual instruction inserted in the Odyssey; but such sentences shew Homer to have been a man of an amiable character, as well as excellent in Poetry: The great abhorrence he had of Lies cannot be more strongly exprest than in those two passages in the ninth Iliad, and in the 14th Odyssey: In the first of which he makes the man of the greatest soul, Achilles, bear testimony to his aversion of them; and in the latter declares, that “the poorest man, tho' compell'd by the utmost necessity, ought not to stoop to such a practice”. In this place he shews that worth creates a kind of relation, and that we are to look upon a worthy friend as a brother.

This book takes up the whole thirty third day, and part of the evening: for the council opens in the morning, and at sun setting the Phæacians return to the Palace from the games; after which Ulysses bathes and sups, and spends some time of the evening in discoursing, and hearing the songs of Demodocus. Then Alcinous requests him to relate his own story, which he begins in the next book, and continues it thro' the four subsequent books of the Odyssey.