The Daily Odyssey: April 28
Thus while he sung, Ulysses’ griefs renew,
Tears bathe his cheeks, and tears the ground bedew
As some fond matron views in mortal fight
Her husband falling in his country’s right;
Frantic through clashing swords she runs, she flies,
As ghastly pale he groans, and faints and dies;
Close to his breast she grovels on the ground,
And bathes with floods of tears the gaping wound;
She cries, she shrieks: the fierce insulting foe
Relentless mocks her violence of woe:
To chains condemn’d, as wildly she deplores;
A widow, and a slave on foreign shores.
So from the sluices of Ulysses’ eyes
Fast fell the tears, and sighs succeeded sighs:
Conceal’d he grieved: the king observed alone
The silent tear, and heard the secret groan;
Then to the bard aloud: “O cease to sing,
Dumb be thy voice, and mute the tuneful string;
To every note his tears responsive flow,
And his great heart heaves with tumultuous woe;
Thy lay too deeply moves: then cease the lay,
And o’er the banquet every heart be gay:
This social right demands: for him the sails,
Floating in air, invite the impelling gales:
His are the gifts of love: the wise and good
Receive the stranger as a brother’s blood.