The ocean to its utmost depths, and holds Upright the lofty columns which divide The earth from heaven. The daughter there detains The unhappy chieftain, and with flattering words Would win him to forget his Ithaca. Meanwhile, impatient to behold the smokes That rise from hearths in his own land, he pines And willingly would die. Is not thy heart, Olympics, touched by this? And did he not Pay grateful sacrifice to thee beside The Argive fleet in the broad realm of Troy? Why then, O Jove, art thou so wroth with him?”
Then answered cloud-compelling Jove:
“My child, What words have passed thy lips? Can I forget Godlike Ulysses, who in gifts of mind Excels all other men, and who has brought Large offerings to the gods that dwell in heaven? Yet he who holds the earth in his embrace, Neptune, pursues him with perpetual hate Because of Polypheme, the Cyclops, strong Beyond all others of his giant race, Whose eye Ulysses had put out. The nymph Thoosa brought him forth—a daughter she Of Phorcys, ruling in the barren deep— And in the covert of o’erhanging rocks She met with Neptune. For this cause the god Who shakes the shores, although he slay him not, Sends forth Ulysses wandering far away From his own country. Let us now consult Together and provide for his return, And Neptune will lay by his wrath, for vain It were for one like him to strive alone Against the might of all the immortal gods.”
And then the blue-eyed Pallas spake again:— “O father! son of Saturn, king of kings! If such the pleasure of the blessed gods That now the wise Ulysses shall return To his own land, let us at once despatch Hermes, the