princes, standing round the altar-fires.
Now woke the great Ulysses from his sleep In his own land, and yet he knew it not. Long had he been away, and Pallas now, The goddess-child of Jove, had cast a mist Around him, that he might not yet be known To others, and that she might tell him first What he should learn; nor even might his wife, Nor friends, nor people, know of his return, Ere he avenged upon the suitor crew His wrongs, and therefore all things wore to him Another look—the footways stretching far, The bights where ships were moored, the towering rocks, And spreading trees. He rose and stood upright, And gazed upon his native coast and wept, And smote his thigh, and said in bitter grief:—
“Ah me! what region am I in, among What people? lawless, cruel, and unjust? Or are they hospitable men, who fear The gods? And where shall I bestow these goods, And whither go myself? Would that they all Were still with the Phaeacians, and that I Had found some other great and mighty king Kindly to welcome me, and send me back To my own land. I know not where to place These treasures, and I must not leave them here, Lest others come and seize them as a spoil.
Nay, these Phaeacian chiefs and counsellors Were not, in all things, either wise or just. They gave their word to land me on the coast Of pleasant Ithaca, and have not kept Their promise. O, may Jove avenge this wrong! He who protects the suppliant, who beholds All men with equal eye, and punishes The guilty.
Now will I review my stores And number them again, that I may see If those who left me here have taken aught.”
Thus having said, he numbered all his gifts— Beautiful tripods, cauldrons, works of gold, And gorgeous woven raiment; none of these Were wanting.