“She spake, and easily my generous mind Was moved by what she said. Forthwith I went To my good ship beside the sea, and found My friends in tears, lamenting bitterly.
As in some grange the calves come leaping round A herd of kine returning to the stall From grassy fields where they have grazed their fill, Nor can the stall contain the young which spring Around their mothers with continual bleat;
So when my comrades saw me through their tears, They sprang to meet me, and their joy was such As if they were in their own native land And their own city, on the rugged coast Of Ithaca, where they were born and reared; And as they wept they spake these winged words:—
“ ‘O foster-child of Jove! we welcome thee On thy return with a delight as great As if we all had reached again the land That gave us birth, our Ithaca. And now Tell by what death our other friends have died.’
“They spake; I answered with consoling