Book VII

** Neptune immediately fwellcd the waves into mountains that reached the skies; and Venus, fmiUng upon the storm, believed our lliipwrreck to be inevitable. Our pilot cried out, in confusion and despair, that he could no longer withfland the fury of the winds, which drove us upon the rocks with irrefiftible violence; our maft was broken by a sudden guft; and, the moment after, wc heard the points of the rocks that were under water, tear open the bottom of our vessel: the water flowed in on every fide, the veKel funk, and 'the mariners sent up a cry of distress to heaven. I rail' to Mentor; and, throwing my arms round him, " Death, said T, is now indeed upon us; let us meet him with intrepidity. The Gods have. delivered us from fo many dangers, only that we may perish in this: let us die, then, my dear Mentor; it is some consolation to me, that I die with you; and it would be hopelefs labour,, to difputc life with the florm." Mentor answered: "True courage never fits down inaftive in despair: it is not enough to exped death with tranquillity; we ought, without dreading, the. event, to continue our utmost eflbrts againfl it.< Let us lay hold on some fragment of the vessel; and while this affrighted and con-. fufed multitude deplore the loss of life, without attempting to pre-_ serve it, let us try at least to prefcrve our own.'.' While he was yet speaking, he fnatched up an axe, and divided the fplinter that still held the broken mall together, which, falling cross the vcfTel, had laid it on one fide: the top of the mail already lay in the water; and Mentor, now pufhing off the other end, leaped upon it himself in themidfl: q^ the waves; and calling me by my name, encouraged me to follow him. As a mighty oak, when the winds combine againfl: it, stands firm on its root, and its leaves only are fliaken by the tempeft; fo Mentor, who. was not only fearlefs but ferenc^ appeared superior to the power of the winds and waves. I followed his example; and the force of his example, who could have refifled? we fleered ourselves upon the floating maft, which was more than fufiicicnt to sustain us bothj and, therefore, rendered us a mofl:

. P important important service; for if we had been obliged to fwim merely by our own'efTorr, our flrength must have been soon exhausted. The maft, however, on which we fate, was often overturned by the tempeft, hotwithftanding its bulk; fo that we were as often plunged under the water, which rufhed in at our mouths, ears, and noftrils; and it was not, without the utmost labour and difficulty, that we recovered our seat: sometimes a wave, that was fwelled into a mountain, rolled over us; and we then kept our hold with all our might, left the maft, which was our only hope, should be driven from under us in the fhock. ■•

" While we were in this dreadful situation, Mentor, who poffeflcd the fame tranquillity on the fragment of a wreck, that he docs now on that bank of turf, addrefted me in these words: " Canst thou believe, Telemachus, that the winds and waves are the arbiters of life and death? Can they cause thee to perish, otherwise than as they fulfil the command of heaven? Every event is determined by the Gods; let the Gods, therefore, and not the sea, l)e the objecSl of thy fear. Wert thou already at the bottom of this abyss, the hand of Jove could draw thee forth; or shouldst thou be exalted to the fummit of Olympus, and behold the stars rolling •under thy feet, the hand of Jove could again plunge thee to the center, or cast thee headlong into hell." I heard and admired this discourse; but, though it gave me some comfort, my mind was too much deprefTed and confused to reply, lie saw me not, nor could I see him: we pafTed the whole night, fliivering with cold, in a state between life and death; driving before the ftorHi, and not knowing on what lliore we Ihould be cast. At length, however, the impetuofity of the wind began to abate: and the sea refembled a person, whose anger, after having been long indulged in tumult and outrage, is exhausted by its own vehemence, and fubfides in murmurs of difcontent. The noise of the furge gradually died away; and the waves were not higher than the ridges that are left by the plough.

" And

VI.

" And now, Aurora threw open the gates of heaven to the sun, and chcarcd us with the promise of a better day; the East glowed, as if on fire; and the flars, which had been fo long hidden, just appeared, and fled at the approach of Phoebus. We now defcried land at a distance; the breeze wafted us towards it; and hope revived in my bosom: but we looked round, in vain, for our companions, who probably resigned themselves to the tempefl in despair, and funk with the veiTel: as we approached nearer to the shore, the sea drove us upon the rocks; againil which we jQiould have been daflied in pieces, but that we received the fhock against the end of the mall, which Mentor rendered as ferviceable upon this occasion, as the best rudder could have been in the hands of the most fkilful pilot. Thus, having pafled the rocks in safety, we found the rest of the coast rise from the sea, with a fmooth and easy afcent; and floating at ease upon a gentle tide, we soon reached the fands with our feet. There we were discovered by the Goddefs, who inhabits this. happy island j and there she vouchfafed to take us into her protection."

The XN.i;) of the SIXTH BOOK.

atf/f

S- J\a^ in4'S

C. Orikf^i^m, Mu^

VII.

WHEN Telemachus had concluded the relation of his adventures, the nymphs, whose eyes had till then been immoveably fixed upon him, looked at each other with a mixture of allonifhment and delight. " What men, said they, are these! In the fortunes of whom else, would the Gods have taken part? and,of whom else could such wonders have been related? Ulysses is already furpafTed in eloquence, in wililom, and in courage, by his son. What an afpeft! what manly beauty! , ^.yhat a mixture of dignity and complacence, of firmness and modesty! If he was not known to be born of a mortal, he might easily be mistaken for a God, for Bacchus, for Mercury, or, perhaps,: even for Apollo himself! But who is this Mektor? his iirft appearance is that of a man obfcurely born, and of a mean condition; but when he is.examined with attention, something inexprefliblc is discovered, .Ibmething that is more than mortal!

Calypso

Calypso heard these eKcIamations with a confusion which she £Ould not hide; and her eyes were incefTantly glancing from Mentor to Telemachus, and from Telemachus to Mentor: she Avas often about to request a repetition of the flory to which she had hftened with fo much delight, and as often fupprefled her dcfire. At length she rose haftily from her seat; and, taking Telemachus with her, retired to a neighbouring grove of myrtle, where she laboured, with all her art, to learn from him, whether Mentor was. not a Deity, concealed under human form: it was not, however, in the power of Telemachus to satisfy her curiosity; for Minerva, who accompanied him in the likeness of Mentor, thought him too young to be trulled with the fccret, and made the confidant of her designs: she was, besides, desirous to prove him in the greatell dangers; and no fortitude would have been ncceffary to sustain him against any evil, however dreadful and however near, if he had known himself to be under the immediate protection of Minerva. As Telemachus, therefore, miftook his divine companion for Mentor, all the artifices of Calypso to difcovei* what she wished to know, were ineffectual-.

' >

In the mean time, the nymphs who had been left with Mentor, gathered round him, and amufed themselves by asking him questions: one enquired the particulars of his journey into Ethiopia, another desired to know what he had seen at Damascus, and a third asked him whether he had known Ulysses before the siege of Troy. Mentor answered them all with complacence and affability; and, though he used no fludied ornaments of speech, yet his exprefTion was not only significant but graceful. The return of Calypso soon put an end to this conversation: her nymphs then began to gather flowers, and to fmg for the amufement of Telemachus; and she took Mentor aside, that flic might, if pofTible, discover who he was, fi'om his own discourse.

The

The words of Calypso were wont to ileal upon the heart, as sleep fteals upon the eyes of the weary, with a sweet and gentle, though irrefiftible influence: but, in Mentor, there was something which defeated her eloquence, and eluded her beauty; something as much superior to the power of Calypso, as the rock, that hides its foundation in the centre, and its fummit in the clouds, is superior to the wind that beats againll it. He flood immoveable in the purposes of his own wisdom; and suffered the Goddefs to exert all her arts against him, with the utmost indifference and security: sometimes he would let her deceive herself, with the hope of having embarrafTed him by her queilions, and betrayed him into the involuntary discovery of himself j but jujl: as Ihe thought her curiosity was on the point of being gratified, her expectations were suddenly difappointed, all her conjedures were overthrown, and, by some Ihortand unexpe<5led answer, she was again overwhelmed in perplexity and doubt.

In this manner Calypso pafTed one day after another; sometimes endeavouring to gain the heart of Telemachus by flattery, and sometimes labouring to alienate him from Mentor, of whom she no longer hoped to obtain the intelligence she desired. She employed the mofl beautiful of her nymphs to inflame the breall of the young hero with desire; and she was afTifted in her designs against him, by a Deity, whose power was superior to her own.

Venus burned with refentment againftMENTOR and Telemachus,. for having treated the worship which she received at Cyprus with difdain; and their escape from the tempeft, which had been raised againll them by Neptune, filled her breafl: with, indignation and grief; she, therefore, complained of her difappointment and her wrongs to Jupiter, and from his superior power she hoped moreeffedual.

elTedual redrefs. But the Father of the Gods only frailed at her complaint; and, without acquainting her that Telemachus had been preserved by Minerva in the likencfsof Mentor, he left her at liberty to gratify her refentment as she could. The Goddefs immediately quitted Olympus; and thoughtlefs of all the rich perfumes that were riling from her altars at Cythera, Idalia, and Paphos, mounted her chariot, and called her son: the grief which was difFufed over her countenance, rather increased than diminished her beauty, and she addressed the God of Love in these terms: " Who, my son, shall henceforth burn incense upon our altars, if those, who despise our power, escape unpunillied? The wretches, who have thus offended with impunity, are before thee; make hafte, therefore, to secure our honour, and let thy arrows pierce them to the heart: go down with me to that island, and I will speak to Calypso." The Goddefs fliook the reins as she spoke; and, gliding through the air, surrounded by a cloud which the sun had tinged with a golden hue, she presented herfclf before Galypso, who was fitting penlive and alone by the fide of a fountain, at some distance from her grott.

" Unhappy Goddefs! said she j thou hast already been defpifcd and deferted by Ulysses, whom the ties, not only of love, but of gratitude, should have bound to thee; and the son, yet more obdurate than the father, is now preparing to repeat the infult. But Love is come, in person, to avenge thee: I will leave him with thee; and he shall remain among the nymphs of this island, as Bacchus did once among those of the island of Naxos, who cherished him in hfs infancy. Telemachus will regard him, not as a Deity, but as a child; and not being upon his guard against him, will be soon fenfiblc of his power." The Queen of Beauty then turning from Calypso, rcafcended to Olympus, in the golden cloud from which she had alighted upon the earth j and left behind her a train

5 of iia BOOK VII.

of ccleftial fragrance, which, expanding by degrees, filled all the groves of Calypso with perfume.

Cupid remained in the arms of Calypso; and, though she was herself a Deity, yet she felt his fires difTufed in her breafl. It happened that a nymph, whose name was Eucharis, was now near her; and Calypso put the boy into her arms. This was a present y relief; but alas! it was purchased too dear. The boy fecmed at firll to be harmlefs, gentle, lovely, and engaging: his playful, carefifes, and perpetual fmiles, might well ha;ve persuaded all about' him, that he was born only to delight; but the moment the heart, is opened to his endearments, it feels that they have a malignant' power. He is, beyond conception, deceitful and malicious; his carefi^es have no view, but to betray; and his fmiles havenocaufe,. but the mifchiefs that he has perpetrated,, or that he meditates. But, with all his power, and all his fubtilty, he did not dare to.^ approach Mentor: in Mentor, there was a severity of virtue, that intimidated and kept him at a distance; he knew also, by a. secret. fenfation, that this infcrutable firanger could not be wounded by. his arrows. The nymphs, indeed, were soon fenfibleof his power; but the wound which they could not cure, they were. very careful: to conceal.

In the mean time, Telfmachus, who saw the boy playing sometimes with one of these nymphs and fometiiTies with another, was surprised at his fwcetnefs and beauty: he sometimes prefixed hiiTi to his bosom, sometimes set him on his knee, and frequently took, him in his arms. It was not long, before he became sensible of a. certain difquietude, of which he could not discover the cause; and. the more he endeavoured to remove it by innocent amufements, the more refilefs and enervated he grev/. He observed to Mentor, that the nymphs of Calypso, were very different from the women.

3 they

Ji3 they had seen in the island of Cyprus, whose indecent behaviour rendered them difgufting in fpight of their charms: " In these immortal beauties, says he, there is an innocence, a modefly, a fimpHcity, which it is impofliblc not to admire and love." The youth bluflied as he spoke, though he knew not why; he could neither forbear speaking, nor go on with his discourse, which was interrupted and incoherent, always obscure, and sometimes quite unintelligible. " O Telemachus, said Mentor, the dangers to which you was exposed in the ille of Cyprus, were nothing^ in comparison of those which you do not now fufpe6t. As vice, when it is undifguifed, never fails to excite horror; we are alarmed at the wanton, who has thrown off all restraint: but our danger is much greater, when the appearance of modefly remains; we then persuade ourselves, that virtue only has excited our love, and give ourselves up to a deceitful pallion, of which beauty is, indeed, the objed; and which we seldom learn to diftruft, till it is too strong to be fubdued. Fly, therefore, my dear Telemachus, from these fatal beauties, who appear to be virtuous, only that they may deceive the confidence they raise; fly from the dangers to which you are here exposed by your youth: but, above all, ily from this boy, whom you do not dread, only because you do not know him. This boy is Cupid, whom his mother has brought into this island, to punish us for treating her worship at Cyprus with contempt; he has already pierced the heart of Calypso, who is enamoured of you; he has inflamed all the beauties of her train; and his fires have reached even thy breast, O unhappy youth! although thou knowest it notl" Telemachus often interrupted Mentor, during this admonition: " Why, said he, should we not continue in this iiland? Ulysses is no longer a fojourner upon the earth; he has, without doubt, been long buried in the deep: and Penelope, after waiting in vain, not only for his return, but for mine, must have

Q^ yielded

B O O K VII.

yielded to the importunities of some fortunate fuitor, among the number that furrounds her; especially as it can fcarce be supposed, but that her father Icarus mull have exerted his parental authority, to obhge her to accept another husband. For what, then, can I return to Ithaca, but to see her difgraced by a new aUiance; and be witness to the violation of that truth, which Ihe plighted to my father? and if Penelope has thus forgotten Ulysses, it cannot be thought that he is remembered by the people: neither, indeed, can we hope to get alive into the island; for her fuitors will certainly have placed, at every port, a band of ruffians, sufficient to cut us off at our return." " All that you have said, replied Mentor, is only another proof, that you are under the influence of a foolish and fatal passion. You labour with great fubtilty to find every argument that can favour it, and to avoid all those by which it would be condemned; you are ingenious only to deceive yourself, and to secure forbidden pleasures from the intrufion of remorse. Have you forgot, that the Gods themselves have interpofed to favour your return? Was not your escape from Sicily supernatural? were not the misfortunes that you suffered in Egypt, converted into sudden and unexpedled profpcrity? and were not the dangers which threatened you at Tyre^ averted by an invisible hand? Is it possible, that, after fo many miracles, you should still doubt to what end you have been preserved? But v/hy do I remonllrate! Of the good fortune which was deligncd for thee, thou art unworthy! As for myself, I make no doubt but I Ihall find means to quit this island; and if here thou art determined to stay, here am I determined to leave thee. In this place, let the degenerate son of the great Ulysses^ hide himfclf, among women, in the fliameful obscurity of voluptuoufnefs and lloth; and floop, even in fpight of Heaven, to that which his father difdained."

This

This reproach, fo forcible and fo keen, pierced Telemachus to the heart; he was melted with tenderness and grief; but his grief was mingled with shame, and his shame with fear. He dreaded the refentment of Mentor; and the loss of that companion, to whofc fagacity and kindness he was fo much indebted: but, at the fame time, the paflion, which had just taken pofTefllon of his breast, and to which he was himself a stranger, made him still tenacious of his purpose. " What! said he to Mentor, with tears in his eyes, do you reckon as nothing, that immortality which I may now share with Calypso?" " I hold as nothing, replied Mentor, all that is contrary to the dictates of virtue, and to the commands of Heaven. Virtue now calls you back to your country, to Ulysses, and to Penelope j virtue forbids you to give up your heart to an unworthy paflion; and the Gods, who have delivered you from fo many dangers, that your name might not be less illustrious than that of Ulysses, command you to quit this island, where only the tyranny of Love could detain you; a tyranny, which, to refill, is to fubdue; and which, therefore, it is infamous to suffer. Immortality! alas, wh^t is immortality without liberty, without virtue, and without honour? is it not a state of misery, without hope; Hill more deplorable, as it can never end?"

To this expollulation, Telemachus replied only by fighs. Sometimes he almofl wished, that Mentor would force him from the island, in fpight of himself; sometimes he was impatient to be left behind, that he might be at liberty to gratify his willifs, without ^ fearing to be reproached for his Vv^eaknefs: a thousand different willies and desires maintained a perpetual confli(5l in his breast, and were predominant by turns; his mind, therefore, was in a state of tumult and fludtuation, like the sea, when it is at once urged by different winds of equal force. Sometimes he threw himself on the ground neat the sea, and remained, a long time, extended

0^2 motionmotionlcfs on the beach: sometimes he hid himself in the gloomy recelTes of a wood, where he wept in fccret, and uttered loud and pallionate complaints: his body was emaciated, and his eyes were grown hollow and eager; he was pale and dejeded, and in every rcfpedt fo much altered, as scarcely to be known: his beauty, fprightlincfs and vigour had forsaken him; all the grace and dignity of his deportment were lost; and life itself suffered by a fwift but silent decay. As a flower that blows in the morning, fills the air with fragrance, and then gradually fades at the approach of night, loses the vivid brightness of its colours, droops, withers^ and at length falls with its own weight; fo, the son of Ulysses was finking infenfibly into the grave.

Mentor, perceiving that all his virtue and resolution was irrefiftibly born down by the violence of his pallion, had recourse to an artifice, which he hoped might preserve him from its most pernicious efi^edls. He had remarked, that Calypso was enamoured of Telemachus, and Telemachus of Eucharis; for as Cupid is always bufy to give pain under the appearance of pleasure, it seldom happens, that, by those whom we love, we are beloved again: he, therefore, resolved to make Calypso jealous; and it havingbeen agreed between Eucharis and Telemachus, that they would go out together a hunting. Mentor took that opportunity to alarm her. *' I have observed, said he, that Telemachus has of late been more fond of the chace, than I ever knew him before; he seems now to take pleasure in nothing else 5 and is in love only with mountains and forests. Is the chace also thy favourite pleasure, O Goddefs? and has he caught this ardour from thee i"" Calypso was fo ftung by this qucftion, that she could neither dilTemble her emotion, nor hide the cause. " This Telemachus, said she, whose heroic virtue despised the pleasures that were offered hiin in the isle of Cyprus, has not been able to withstand the charms of one of

II' of my nymphs, who is not remarkable for beauty. How did he dare to boaft of having atchieved fo many wonders! a wretch, whom luxury has rendered fordid and effeminate, and wha seems to have been intended by nature for a life of indolence and obscurity among women!" Mentor observed, with pleasure, that Calypso fullered great anguish from her jealousy; and, therefore, said nothing more to inflame it at that time, left she should fufpedt his design: but he afliimed a look that exprefled dejedtion and concern. The Goddefs discovered, without reserve, her uneafinefs at all that she saw, and incelTantly entertained him with new complaints: the hunting match, to which Mentor had called her attention, exafperated her beyond all bounds; for she knew that Telemachus had nothing in view, but to draw Eucharis from thie rest of the nymphs, that he might speak to her in private. A second hunting match was proposed soon afterwards, and Calypso knew that it was intended for the fame purpose as the first; which being determined to difappoint, she declared that she would be of the party, but her emotion being too violent to be concealed, Hit suddenly broke out into this reproachful expoftulation: " Is it thus then, prefumptuous boy! that thou hast made my dominions an asylum from the refentment of Neptune, and the righteous vengeance of the Gods? Hast thou entered this island,, which mortals are forbidden to approach, only to defy my power, and despise my love? Hear me, ye Gods of the celestial and infernal world! let the sufferings of an injured Deity awaken your vengeance! overtake this perfidious, this ungrateful, this impious mortal with fwift detlru6lion! Since thy obduracy and injustice are greater than thy father's, may thy sufferings also be longer and more severe; may thy country be for ever hidden from thy eyes, that wretched, that defpicable country, which, in the folly of thy presumption, thou hast, without a blufli, preferred to immortality with me! or rather, mayst thou perish, when in the diftaut horizon, it first rises before before thee; may ft thou then, plunged in the deep, be driven back, the fportof the waves, andcaft, Ufelels, uponthefefands, whichfhall deny thee burial! May my eyes see the vultures devour thee! they shall see them; and she whom thou loveft, shall see them also; she Ihall see them with despair and anguish, and her misery shall be my delight!"

While Calypso was thus speaking, her whole countenance w a fulTufed with rage; there was a gloomy fiercenefs in her looks, which continually hurried from one obje6b to another; her lips trembled, a livid circle surrounded them, and her colour, which was sometimes pale as death, changed every moment: her tears, which she had been used to fled in great plenty, now ceased to flow, as if despair and rage had dried up their source; and her voice was hoarfe, tremulous and interrupted. Mentor remarked all the changes of her emotion, but said nothing more to Tele ma ch us: he treated him as a man infedled with an incurable disease, to whom it was in vain to adminifter remedies; but he frequently regarded him with a look, that strongly exprefled his compaflion.

Telemachus was sensible of his weakness, and conscious that he was unworthy of the friendship of Mentor: he kept his eyes fixed upon the ground, not daring to look up, left he should meet those of his monitor, by whose very fdence he was condemned: he was often ready to throw himself upon his neck, and at once to confess and renounce his folly; but he was sometimes restrained by a fulfe Ihame, and sometimes by a consciousness that his profeflion would not be fmcere; and a secret fondnefs for a situation, which, though he knew to be dangerous, was yet fo pleasing, that he could not resolve to quit it.

In the mean time, the Deities, alTembled upon Olympus, kept their eyes fixed, in silent fufpenfe, upon the island of Calypso, to to see the iflue of this contell between Venus and Minerva. Cupid, who, like a playful child, had been carefTed by all the nymphs in their turns, had set every bread on fire; Minerva, under the form of Mentor, had availed hcrfelf of that jealousy which is infeparablc from love, to preclude its effects; and Jupiter resolved to fit neuter between them.

Eucharis, who feared that Telemachus might escape from her chains, pracflifed a thousand arts to detain him: she was now ready to go out with him to the second chace, as had been agreed upon between them, and had drefied herself like Diana; and the Deities of love and beauty had, by a mutual effort, improved her charms, which were now superior even to those of Calypso. Calypso beheld her at a distance; and seeing her own reflection also in a fountain near which Ihe flood, the comparison filled her with grief and shame; she hid herself in the innermoft recefs of her grotto, and gave herself up to these reflcdlions: " I have then vainly endeavoured to interrupt the pleasure of these lovers, by declaring that I would go with them to the chace: ftiall I still go? alas! shall I be a soil to her beauties? shall I encreafe her triumph and his pafllon? Wretch that I am, what have I done! I will not go; nor shall they: I know well how to prevent them. If I intrcat Mentor to quit the island with his friend, he will immediately conduct him to Ithaca. But what do I say! when Telemachus is departed, what will become of Calypso! Where am I! what shall I do! O cruel Venus! O Venus, thou hast deceived me y thou hast betrayed me with a fatal gift! Pernicious boy! I opened my heart to thee, feduced by the pleafmg hope, that thou wouldst introduce felicity;■ but thou hast perfidioully filled it witlv anguilli and defpalr. My nymphs have combined against me; and my divinity serves only to perpetuate my sufferings. O that I could put an end to my being and my sufferings together! But I cannot die; and, there- 2 fore.

fore, Telemachus, thou fliak not live! I will revenge myself of thy ingratitude; the nymph, who is the partner of thy crime, shall be the witness of thy puniftiment: and, in her pi-efence, will I flrike thee to the heart. But I rave: O unhappy Calypso! what wouldst thou do? wouldst thou destroy the guilrlefs youth, whom thou hast already made wretched? It is I that have kindled, in the chaste bosom of Telemachus, a guilty flame: how pure was his innocence, and how uniform his virtue; how noble his deteftation of vice, how heroic his difdain of inglorious pleasure! Why did L taint fo immaculate a breast? He would have left me, alas! and must he not leave me now? or, since he lives but for my rival, if he ftays, must he not stay only to despise me? But I have merited the misery that I fuiFer! Go then, Telemachus! again let the feas divide us; go, and leave Calypso without consolation, unable to sustain the burden of life, unable to lay it down in the grave! leave me, without consolation, overwhelmed with shame and defpoiled of hope J the vitftim of remorse, and the fcorn of Eucharis!"

Thus she fighed alone in the obscurity of her grotto: but, the next moment, starting suddenly from her seat, she ran out with a furious impetuofity. " Where art thou, Mentor? says she, is it thus that thy wisdom fuftains Telemachus, against the mischief that is even now ready to overwhelm him? thou fleepeft, while

Love is vigilant against thee. I can bear this flothful indifference no longer: wilt thou always see the son of the great Ulysses difhonour his birth, and forego the advantages of his fortune, with this negligent tranquillity? It is to thy care, and not mine, that his friends have committed him; wilt thou, then, fit idle, while I am bufy for his preservation? The remoteft part of this forest abounds in tall poplars, of which a commodious vefTel may easily be built: in that place, Ulysses himself built the vefTel, in which he set fail from this island j and, in that place, you will find a deep a deep cave, which contains all the implements that are neceiTary for the work." She had no sooner given Mentor this intelligence, than she repented of it; but he lost not a moment to improve it " he hafted immediately to the cave, fomid the implements, felled the trees, and in one day conilrud:ed a vefTel fit for the sea; for, to Minerva, a short time was sufficient for a great work.

Calypso, in the mean time, fuflcred the moll: tormenting anxiety and fufpenfc: she was at the fame time impatient to know, what Mentor would do in consequence of her information; and unable to bear the thought of leaving Telemachus and Eucharis at full liberty, by quitting the chace. Her jealousy would not permit her to lose fight of the lovers j and, therefore, she contrived to lead the hunters towards that part of the forest, where she supposed Mentor would be at work: she soon thought she heard the ftrokes of the axe and the mallet; she listened, and every blow that she heard made her tremble; yet she was diftra{51:ed, in the very moment of attention, by her fears, that some amorous intimation, some sign, or some glance, between Telemachus and Eucharis, might escape her notice.

Eucharis, at the fame time, thought fit to rally her lover: " Are not you afraid, says flae, that Mentor will chide you for going to the chace without him? what a pity it is, that you have fo severe a master! he has an aufterity, that nothing can foften; he afFedls to dcfpifc pleasure himself, and therefore interdicts it to you, not excepting even the most innocent amufements. It might, indeed, be proper for you to submit to his direction, before you was able to govern yourself; but after you have given such proofs of wisdom, you ought no longer to fufFcr yourself to be treated like a <:hild."

R This

,22 BO O K VII.

This fubtlc reproach Hung Tele mac h us to the heart; he felt a secret indignation against Mentor, and an impatient desire to throw off his yoke: yet he was Hill afraid to see him; and his mind was hi such agitation, that he made the nymph no reply. Tl;e hunt,, during which all parties had felt equal conftraint and uneafmefs, being now over, they returned home by that part of the forest where Mentor had been all day at work: Calypso saw the veilcl fmifhed at a distance, and a thick cloud, like the fhades of death, fell inllantly upon her eyes; her knees trembled, she was covered with a cold sweat, and obliged to support herself by leaning on the nymphs that surrounded her, among whom, Eucharis prelling to aflift her, she puflied her back with a frown of indignation and difdain.

Tf.lemachus, who saw the velTel, but not Mentor, who had finiihed his work and was retired, asked Calypso to whom it belonged, and for what purpose it was intended: Ihc could not answer him immediately; but at length she told him, it was to send away Mentor, whom she had direcfted to build it for that purpose: " You, said she, shall be no longer diftrelTed by the aullerity of that severe cenfor, who oppofes your happiness, and would become jealous of your immortality." " To send away Mentor T said Telemachus; if he forfakes me, I am undone: if he forfakes me, whom shall I have left, Eucharis, but thee?" Thus, in the unguarded moment of furprize and love, the secret escaped him in words, which his heart prompted, and of which he did not consider the import: he discovered his indifcretion, the moment it was too late; the whole company were llruck dumb with con^ fufion; Eucharis blufhed, and fixing her eyes upon the ground, flood behind the crowd, not daring to appear: but though shame glowed upon her cheek, yet joy revelled at her heart. Telemachus