I see not how I can

      Follow the counsel of my faithful friend.

      But willingly the duty I perform

      Of giving thanks for benefits receiv'd,

      And much I wish that to the king my lips

      With truth could utter what would please his ear.

      Her royal gifts the goddess shower on thee!

      Imparting conquest, wealth, and high renown,

      Dominion, and the welfare of thy house,

      With the fulfilment of each pious wish,

      That thou, who over numbers rul'st supreme,

      Thyself may'st be supreme in happiness!

      Contented were I with my people's praise;

      My conquests others more than I enjoy.

      Oh! be he king or subject, he's most blest,

      Who in his home finds happiness and peace.

      Thou shar'dst my sorrow, when a hostile sword

      Tore from my side my last, my dearest son;

      Long as fierce vengeance occupied my heart,

      I did not feel my dwelling's dreary void;

      But now, returning home, my rage appeas'd,

      My foes defeated, and my son aveng'd,

      I find there nothing left to comfort me.

      The glad obedience, which I used to see

      Kindling in every eye, is smother'd now

      In discontent and gloom; each, pond'ring, weighs

      The changes which a future day may bring,

      And serves the childless king, because compell'd.

      To-day I come within this sacred fane,

      Which I have often enter'd to implore

      And thank the gods for conquest. In my breast

      I bear an old and fondly-cherish'd wish.

      To which methinks thou canst not be a stranger;

      Thee, maid, a blessing to myself and realm,

      I hope, as bride, to carry to my home.

      Too great thine offer, king, to one unknown;

      Abash'd the fugitive before thee stands,

      Who on this shore sought only what thou gav'st,

      Safety and peace.

      Thus still to shroud thyself

      From me, as from the lowest, in the veil

      Of mystery which wrapp'd thy coming here,

      Would in no country be deem'd just or right.

      Strangers this shore appall'd; 'twas so ordain'd

      Alike by law and stern necessity.

      From thee alone – a kindly welcom'd guest,

      Who hast enjoy'd each hallow'd privilege,

      And spent thy days in freedom unrestrain'd —

      From thee I hop'd that confidence to gain

      Which every faithful host may justly claim.

      If I conceal'd, O king, my name, my race,

      'Twas fear that prompted me, and not mistrust.

      For didst thou know who stands before thee now,

      And what accursed head thy arm protects,

      A shudd'ring horror would possess thy heart;

      And, far from wishing me to share thy throne,

      Thou, ere the time appointed, from thy realm

      Wouldst banish me perchance, and thrust me forth,

      Before a glad reunion with my friends

      And period to my wand'rings is ordain'd,

      To meet that sorrow, which in every clime,

      With cold, inhospitable, fearful hand,

      Awaits the outcast, exil'd from his home.

      Whate'er respecting thee the gods decree,

      Whate'er their doom for thee and for thy house,

      Since thou hast dwelt amongst us, and enjoy'd

      The privilege the pious stranger claims,

      To me hath fail'd no blessing sent from Heaven;

      And to persuade me, that protecting thee

      I shield a guilty head, were hard indeed.

      Thy bounty, not the guest, draws blessings down.

      The kindness shown the wicked is not blest.

      End then thy silence, priestess; not unjust

      Is he who doth demand it. In my hands

      The goddess plac'd thee; thou hast been to me

      As sacred as to her, and her behest

      Shall for the future also be my law.

      If thou canst hope in safety to return

      Back to thy kindred, I renounce my claims:

      But is thy homeward path for ever clos'd —

      Or doth thy race in hopeless exile rove,

      Or lie extinguish'd by some mighty woe —

      Then may I claim thee by more laws than one.

      Speak openly, thou know'st I keep my word.

      Its ancient bands reluctantly my tongue

      Doth loose, a long-hid secret to divulge;

      For once imparted, it resumes no more

      The safe asylum of the inmost heart,

      But thenceforth, as the powers above decree,

      Doth work its ministry of weal or woe.

      Attend! I issue from the Titan's race.

      A word momentous calmly hast thou spoken.

      Him nam'st thou ancestor whom all the world

      Knows as a sometime favourite of the gods?

      Is it that Tantalus, whom Jove himself

      Drew to his council and his social board?

      On whose experienc'd words, with wisdom fraught,

      As on the language of an oracle,

      E'en gods delighted hung?

      'Tis even he;

      But gods should not hold intercourse with men

      As with themselves. Too weak the human race,

      Not to grow dizzy on unwonted heights.

      Ignoble was he not, and no betrayer;

      To be the Thunderer's slave, he was too great:

      To be his friend and comrade, – but a man.

      His crime was human, and their doom severe;

      For