Such dogs and men there are; mere things of state, And always cherish'd by their friends, the great.' 'Not Argus so (Eumæus thus rejoin'd),

But served a master of a nobler kind:

Who never, never shall behold him more!
Long, long since perish'd on a distant shore!
O had you seen him, vigorous, bold, and young,
Swift as a stag, and as a lion strong!

Him no fell savage on the plain withstood,
None scaped him, bosom'd in the gloomy wood;
His eye how piercing, and his scent how true,
To wind the vapour in the tainted dew!
Such, when Ulysses left his natal coast;
Now years unnerve him, and his lord is lost!
The women keep the generous creature bare;
A sleek and idle race is all their care:
The master gone, the servants what restrains?
Or dwells humanity where riot reigns?
Jove fix'd it certain, that whatever day

Makes man a slave, takes half his worth away.'
This said, the honest herdsman strode before :
The musing monarch pauses at the door;
The dog, whom Fate had granted to behold
His lord, when twenty tedious years had roll'd,
Takes a last look, and, having seen him, dies;
So closed for ever faithful Argus' eyes!

HOMER.

POPE.

THE REVEALING OF ULYSSES.

AND now his well known bow the master bore,
Turn'd on all sides, and view'd it o'er and o'er;
Lest time or worms had done the weapon wrong
Its owner absent, and untried so long.

While some deriding-' How he turns the bow!
Some other like it sure the man must know,
Or else would copy; or in bows he deals:
Perhaps he makes them; or perhaps he steals.'
'Heaven to this wretch (another cried) be kind!
And bless, in all to which he stands inclined,
With such good fortune as he now shall find.'

Heedless he heard them :-but disdain'd reply; The bow perusing with exactest eye.

Then, as some heavenly minstrel, taught to sing
High notes, responsive to the trembling string,
To some new strain when he adapts the lyre,
Or the dumb lute refits with vocal wire,
Relaxes, strains, and draws them to and fro;
So the great master drew the mighty bow:
And drew with ease. One hand aloft display'd
The bending horns, and one the string essay'd.
From his essaying hand the string let fly [cry.
Twang'd short and sharp, like the shrill swallow's
A general horror ran through all the race;
Sunk was each heart, and pale was every face.
Signs from above ensued :—the' unfolding sky
In lightning burst; Jove thunder'd from on high.
Fired at the call of heaven's almighty lord,
He snatch'd the shaft that glitter'd on the board
Fast by (the rest lay sleeping in the sheath,
But soon to fly, the messengers of death).

VOL. VI.

G

Now, sitting as he was, the cord he drew, Through every ringlet leveling his view; Then notch'd the shaft, released, and gave it wing; The whizzing arrow vanish'd from the string, Sung on direct, and threaded every ring. The solid gate its fury scarcely bounds;

Pierced through and through the solid gate resounds.

[shame: Then to the prince— Nor have I wrought thee Nor err'd this hand unfaithful to its aim; Nor proved the toil too hard; nor have I lost That ancient vigour, once my pride and boast. Ill I deserve these haughty peers' disdain :Now let them comfort their dejected train: In sweet repast the present hour employ, Nor wait till evening for the genial joy : Then to the lute's soft voice prolong the night;Music, the banquet's most refined delight.'

He said, then gave a nod ;—and at the word Telemachus girds on his shining sword. Fast by his father's side he takes his stand; The beamy javelin lightens in his hand.

Then fierce the hero o'er the threshold strode; Stripp'd of his rags, he blazed out like a god. Full in their face the lifted bow he bore, And quiver'd deaths, a formidable store; Before his feet the rattling shower he threw, And thus terrific, to the suitor crew

'One venturous game this hand has won to-day; Another, princes! yet remains to play: Another mark our arrow must attain. Phoebus, assist! nor be the labour vain.'

Swift as the word the parting arrow sings; And bears thy fate, Antinoüs, on its wings.

Wretch that he was, of unprophetic soul!
High in his hands he rear'd the golden bowl;
E'en then to drain it lengthen'd out his breath;
Changed to the deep the bitter draught of death!
For fate who fear'd amidst a feastful band?
And fate to numbers, by a single hand?
Full through his throat Ulysses' weapon pass'd,
And pierced the neck. He falls, and breathes
his last.

The tumbling goblet the wide floor o'erflows,
A stream of gore burst spouting from his nose;
Grim in convulsive agonies he sprawls:

Before him spurn'd, the loaded table falls,
And spreads the pavement with a mingled flood
Of floating meats and wine and human blood.
Amazed, confounded, as they saw him fall,
Uprose the throngs tumultuous round the hall :
O'er all the dome they cast a haggard eye:
Each look'd for arms: in vain; no arms were nigh:
'Aim'st thou at princes? (all amazed they said)
Thy last of games unhappy hast thou play'd;
Thy erring shaft has made our bravest bleed,
And death, unlucky guest, attends thy deed.
Vultures shall tear thee.'-Thus incensed they
spoke :
[stroke:
While each to chance ascribed the wondrous
Blind as they were; for death e'en now invades
His destined prey, and wraps them all in shades!
Then grimly frowning with a dreadful look,
That wither'd all their hearts, Ulysses spoke-

'Dogs, ye have had your day :-ye fear'd no Ulysses vengeful from the Trojan shore; [more While to your lust and spoil a guardless prey, Our house,our wealth,our helpless handmaids lay:

Not so content, with bolder frenzy fired,
E'en to our bed, presumptuous, you aspired:
Laws or divine or human fail'd. to move,
Or shame of men, or dread of gods above:
Heedless alike of infamy or praise,

Or Fame's eternal voice in future days:
The hour of vengeance, wretches! now is come;
Impending fate is yours, and instant doom.'

Thus dreadful he. Confused the suitors stood; From their pale cheeks recedes the flying blood: Trembling they sought their guilty heads to hide; Alone the bold Eurymachus replied

'If, as thy words import (he thus began), Ulysses lives, and thou the mighty man, Great are thy wrongs, and much hast thou sustain'd In thy spoil'd palace, and exhausted land. The cause and author of those guilty deeds, Lo! at thy feet unjust Antinous bleeds. Not love, but wild ambition, was his guide: To slay thy son, thy kingdoms to divide, These were his aims;-but juster Jove denied. Since cold in death the' offender lies, O spare Thy suppliant people, and receive their prayer! Brass, gold, and treasures shall the spoil defray : Two hundred oxen every prince shall pay ; The waste of years refunded in a day. Till then thy wrath is just.'Ulysses burn'd With high disdain, and sternly thus return'd— 'All, all the treasures that enrich'd our throne Before your rapines, join'd with all your own, If offer'd, vainly should for mercy call: "Tis you that offer, and I scorn them all. Your blood is my demand! your lives the prize, Till pale as yonder wretch each suitor lies.