streams, As once a storm, descending, swept away The daughters born to Pandarus. The gods Had slain their parents, and they dwelt alone As orphans in their palace, nourished there By blessed Venus with the curds of milk, And honey, and sweet wine, while Juno gave Beauty and wit beyond all womankind, And chaste Diana dignity of form, And Pallas every art that graces life. Then, as the blessed Venus went to ask For them, of Jove the Thunderer, on the heights Of his Olympian mount, the crowning gift Of happy marriage—for to Jove is known Whatever comes to pass, and what shall be The fortune, good or ill, of mortal men— The Harpies came meantime, bore off the maids, And gave them to the hateful sisterhood Of Furies as their servants. So may those Who dwell upon Olympus make an end Of me, or fair-haired Dian strike me down, That, with the image of Ulysses still Before my mind, I may not seek to please One of less worth. This evil might be borne By one who weeps all day, and feels at heart A settled sorrow, yet can sleep at night. For sleep, when once it weighs the eyelids down, Makes men unmindful both of good and ill, And all things else. But me some deity Visits with fearful dreams. There lay by me, This very night, one like him, as he was When with his armed men he sailed for Troy; And I was glad, for certainly I deemed It was a real presence, and no dream.”
She spake. Just then, upon her car of gold, Appeared the Morn. The great Ulysses heard That voice of lamentation; anxiously He mused; it seemed to him as if the queen Stood over him and knew him. Gathering up In haste the cloak and skins on which he slept, He laid them in the palace on a seat, But bore the bull’s hide forth in open air, And lifted up his hands and prayed to Jove:—
“O Father Jove, and all the gods! if ye Have led me graciously, o’er land and deep, Across the earth, and, after suffering much, To mine own isle, let one of those who watch Within the palace speak some ominous word, And grant a sign from thee without these walls.”