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POEMS.
"Son of Laertes, man of many wiles,
High-born Ulysses! Thus wilt thou depart
Home to thy native country? Then farewell;
Bunt, couldst thou know the sufferings Fate ordains
For thee ere yet thou landest on its shore,
Thou wouldst remain to keep this home with me,
And be immortal, strong as is thy wish
To see thy wife—a wish that, day by day,
Possesses thee. I cannot deem myself
In form or face less beautiful than she.
For never with immortals can the race
Of mortal dames in form or face compare."
Ulysses, the sagacious, answered her,
"Bear with me, gracious goddess; well I know
All thou couldst say. The sage Penelope
In feature and in stature comes not nigh
To thee; for she is mortal, deathless thou
And ever young; yet, day by day, I long
To be at home once more, and pine to see
High-born Ulysses! Thus wilt thou depart
Home to thy native country? Then farewell;
Bunt, couldst thou know the sufferings Fate ordains
For thee ere yet thou landest on its shore,
Thou wouldst remain to keep this home with me,
And be immortal, strong as is thy wish
To see thy wife—a wish that, day by day,
Possesses thee. I cannot deem myself
In form or face less beautiful than she.
For never with immortals can the race
Of mortal dames in form or face compare."
Ulysses, the sagacious, answered her,
"Bear with me, gracious goddess; well I know
All thou couldst say. The sage Penelope
In feature and in stature comes not nigh
To thee; for she is mortal, deathless thou
And ever young; yet, day by day, I long
To be at home once more, and pine to see