Was she, and trod the earth,[1] but nymph become
Of Ocean since, in honours shares divine.
She mark'd his anguish, and, while toss'd he roam'd,
Pitied Ulysses; from the flood, in form 405
A cormorant, she flew, and on the raft
Close-corded perching, thus the Chief address'd.
Alas! unhappy! how hast thou incensed
So terribly the Shaker of the shores,
That he pursues thee with such num'rous ills? 410
Sink thee he cannot, wish it as he may.
Thus do (for I account thee not unwise)
Thy garments putting off, let drive thy raft
As the winds will, then, swimming, strive to reach
Phæacia, where thy doom is to escape. 415
Take this. This ribbon bind beneath thy breast,
Celestial texture. Thenceforth ev'ry fear
Of death dismiss, and, laying once thy hands
On the firm continent, unbind the zone,
Which thou shalt cast far distant from the shore 420
Into the Deep, turning thy face away.
So saying, the Goddess gave into his hand
The wond'rous zone, and, cormorant in form,
Plunging herself into the waves again
Headlong, was hidden by the closing flood. 425
But still Ulysses sat perplex'd, and thus
The toil-enduring Hero reason'd sad.
- ↑ The Translator finding himself free to chuse between ἀυδηέσσα and ἠδηέσσα, has preferred the latter.
Alas!
