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POEMS.
And the clear north rolled up his mighty waves.Ulysses trembled in his knees and heart,And thus to his great soul, lamenting, said: "What will become of me? unhappy man!I fear that all the goddess said was true,Foretelling what disasters should o'ertakeMy voyage, ere I reach my native land.Now are her words fulfilled. How JupiterWraps the great heaven in clouds and stirs the deepTo tumult! Wilder grow the hurricanesOf all the winds, and now my fate is sure.Thrice happy, four times happy they, who fellOn Troy's wide field, warring for Atreus' sons.Oh, had I met my fate and perished there,That very day on which the Trojan host,Around the dead Achilles, hurled at meTheir brazen javelins; I had then receivedDue burial and great glory with the Greeks;Now must I die a miserable death." As thus he spoke, upon him, from on high,
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