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.
