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