“Withdraw, ye maidens, hence, while I prepare To cleanse my shoulders from the bitter brine, And to anoint them; long have these my limbs Been unrefreshed by oil. I will not bathe Before you. I should be ashamed to stand Unclothed in presence of these bright-haired maids.”
He spake; they hearkened and withdrew, and told The damsel what he said. Ulysses then Washed the salt spray of ocean from his back And his broad shoulders in the flowing stream, And wiped away the sea-froth from his brows. And when the bath was over, and his limbs Had been anointed, and he had put on The garments sent him by the spotless maid, Jove’s daughter, Pallas, caused him to appear Of statelier size and more majestic mien, And bade the locks that crowned his head flow down, Curling like blossoms of the hyacinth. As when some skilful workman trained and taught By Vulcan and Minerva in his art Binds the bright silver with a verge of gold, And graceful is his handiwork, such grace Did Pallas shed upon