good galleys, save the band that sat Beside renowned Ulysses in the horse, Concealed from sight, amid the Trojan crowd, Who now had drawn it to the citadel. So there it stood, while, sitting round it, talked The men of Troy, and wist not what to do. By turns three counsels pleased them—to hew down The hollow trunk with the remorseless steel; Or drag it to a height, and cast it thence Headlong among the rocks; or, lastly, leave The enormous image standing and unharmed, An offering to appease the gods. And this At last was done; for so had fate decreed That they should be destroyed whene’er their town Should hold within its walls the horse of wood, In which the mightiest of the Argives came Among the sons of Troy to smite and slay. Then sang the bard how, issuing from the womb Of that deceitful horse, the sons of Greece Laid Ilium waste; how each in different ways Ravaged the town, while, terrible as Mars, Ulysses, joined with Menelaus, sought The palace of Deiphobus, and there Maintained a desperate battle, till the aid Of mighty Pallas made the victory his.
So sang renowned Demodocus; the strain Melted to tears Ulysses, from whose lids They dropped and wet his cheeks. As when a wife Weeps her beloved husband, slain before His town and people, fighting to defend Them and his own dear babes from deadly harm, She sees him gasp and die, and at the sight She falls with piercing cries upon his corpse, Meantime the victors beat her on the back And shoulders with their spears, and bear her off To toil and grieve in slavery, where her cheeks In that long bitter sorrow lose their bloom; So from the eyelids of Ulysses fell The tears, yet fell unnoticed by them all Save that Alcinoüs, sitting at his side, Saw them, and heard his heavy sighs, and thus Bespake his people, masters of the oar:—
“Princes and chiefs of the Phaeacian race, Give ear. Let now Demodocus lay by His clear-toned harp. The matter of his song Delights not all alike. Since first we sat At meat, and since our noble bard began His lay, our guest has never ceased to grieve; Some mighty sorrow weighs upon his heart. Now let the bard refrain, that we may all Enjoy the banquet, both our guest and we Who welcome him, for it is fitting thus.