White-armed Nausicaä then had other cares. She placed the smoothly folded robes within The sumptuous chariot, yoked the firm-hoofed mules, And mounted to her place, and from the seat Spake kindly, counselling Ulysses thus:—
“Now, stranger, rise and follow to the town, And to my royal father’s palace I Will be thy guide, where, doubt not, thou wilt meet The noblest men of our Phaeacian race. But do as I advise—for not inapt I deem thee. While we traverse yet the fields Among the tilth, keep thou among my train Of maidens, following fast behind the mules And chariot. I will lead thee in the way.
But when our train goes upward toward the town, Fenced with its towery wall, and on each side Embraced by a fair haven, with a strait Of narrow entrance, where our well-oared barques Have each a mooring-place along the road, And there round Neptune’s glorious fane extends A marketplace, surrounded by huge stones, Dragged from the quarry hither, where is kept The rigging of the barques—sailcloth and ropes— And oars are polished there—for little reck Phaeacians of the quiver and the bow, And give most heed to masts and shrouds and ships Well poised, in which it is their pride to cross The foamy deep—when there I would not bring Rude taunts upon myself, for in the crowd Are brutal men. One of the baser sort Perchance might say, on meeting us: ‘What man, Handsome and lusty-limbed, is he who thus Follows Nausicaä? where was it her luck To find him? will he be her husband yet? Perhaps she brings some wanderer from his ship, A stranger from strange lands, for we have here No neighbors; or, perhaps, it is a god Called down by fervent prayer from heaven to dwell Henceforth with her. ’Tis well if she have found A husband elsewhere, since at home she meets Her many noble wooers with disdain; They are Phaeacians.’ Thus the crowd would say, And it would bring reproach upon my name. I too would blame another who should do The like, and, while her parents were alive, Without their knowledge should consort with men Before her marriage.