 | Alexander Pope: Minor poems |  |
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ARGUS.
When wise Ulysses, from his native coastLong kept by wars, and long by tempests tost,
Arriv'd at last, poor, old, disguis'd, alone,
To all his friends, and ev'n his Queen, unknown,
Chang'd as he was, with age, and toils, and cares,
Furrow'd his rev'rend face, and white his hairs,
In his own Palace forc'd to ask his bread,
Scorn'd by those slaves his former bounty fed
Forgot of all his own domestic crew;
The faithful Dog alone his rightful Master knew!
Unfed, unhous'd, neglected, on the clay,
Like an old servant now cashier'd, he lay;
Touch'd with resentment of ungrateful Man,
And longing to behold his ancient Lord again.
Him when he saw—he rose, and crawl'd to meet,
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Seiz'd with dumb joy—then falling by his side,
Own'd his returning Lord, look'd up, and dy'd!
| Alexander Pope: Minor poems | |