Honor 
The well-aim’d arrow through 
the distant ring,
Shall end the strife, and win the 
imperial dame:
But discord and black death 
await the game!
&
That stubborn horn which brave
Ulysses drew.
I well remember (for I gazed him 
o’er
While yet a child), what majesty 
he bore!
______________
Disguise 
His ragged vest then drawn 
aside disclosed
The sign conspicuous, and the 
scar exposed:
Eager they view’d, with joy they 
stood amazed
With tearful eyes o’er all their 
master gazed:
&
To me, neglected as I am I know
The haughty suitors will deny the 
bow;
But thou, Eumaeus, as ‘tis borne 
away,
Thy master’s weapon to his hand 
convey.