To honour me, though from myself derived.
It was my purpose, that by many an ill
Harass'd, Ulysses should have reach'd his home, 150
Although to intercept him, whose return
Thyself had promis'd, ne'er was my intent.
But him fast-sleeping swiftly o'er the waves
They have conducted, and have set him down
In Ithaca, with countless gifts enrich'd, 155
With brass, and tissued raiment, and with gold;
Much treasure! more than he had home convey'd
Even had he arrived with all his share
Allotted to him of the spoils of Troy.
To whom the cloud-assembler God replied. 160
What hast thou spoken, Shaker of the shores,
Wide-ruling Neptune? Fear not; thee the Gods
Will ne'er despise; dangerous were the deed
To cast dishonour on a God by birth
More ancient, and more potent far than they. 165
But if, profanely rash, a mortal man
Should dare to slight thee, to avenge the wrong
Some future day is ever in thy pow'r.
Accomplish all thy pleasure, thou art free.
Him answer'd, then, the Shaker of the shores. 170
Jove cloud-enthroned! that pleasure I would soon
Perform, as thou hast said, but that I watch
Thy mind continual, fearful to offend.
My purpose is, now to destroy amid
The dreary Deep yon fair Phæacian bark, 175
Return'd
