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Book XIII. To honour me, though from myself derived. It was my purpose, that by many an ill Harass'd, Ulysses should have reach'd his home, Although to intercept him, whose return Thyself had promis'd, ne'er was my intent. But him fast-sleeping swiftly o'er the waves They have conducted, and have set him down In Ithaca, with countless gifts enrich'd, With brass, and tissued raiment, and with gold; Much treasure! more than he had home convey'd Even had he arrived with all his share Allotted to him of the spoils of Troy. To whom the cloud-assembler God replied. What hast thou spoken, Shaker of the shores, Wide-ruling Neptune? Fear not; thee the Gods Will ne'er despise; dangerous were the deed To cast dishonour on a God by birth More ancient, and more potent far than they. But if, profanely rash, a mortal man Should dare to slight thee, to avenge the wrong Some future day is ever in thy pow'r. Accomplish all thy pleasure, thou art free. Him answer'd, then, the Shaker of the shores. Jove cloud-enthroned! that pleasure I would soon Perform, as thou hast said, but that I watch Thy mind continual, fearful to offend. My purpose is, now to destroy amid The dreary Deep yon fair Phæacian bark,