"Thus anchor'd safe on reason's peaceful coast, / Tempests of wrath his soul no longer tost; / Restless his body rolls, to rage resign'd: / As one who long with pale-ey'd famine pin'd, / The sav'ry cates on glowing embers cast / Incessant turns, impatient for repast"
— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744), Broome, W. and Fenton, E.
Scenes of lewd loves his wakeful eyes survey.
Whilst to nocturnal joys impure, repair
With wanton glee, the prostituted fair.
His heart with rage this new dishonour stung,
Wav'ring his thoughts in dubious balance hung;
Or, instant should he quench the guilty flame
With their own blood, and intercept the shame;
Or to their lust indulge a last embrace,
And let the Peers consummate the disgrace?
Round his swol'n heart the murm'rous fury rowls;
As o'er her young the mother-mastiff growls,
And bays the stranger groom: so wrath comprest
Recoiling, mutter'd thunder in his breast.
Poor suff'ring heart! he cry'd, support the pain
Of wounded honour, and thy rage restrain.
Not fiercer woes thy fortitude cou'd foil,
When the brave partners of thy ten years toil
Dire Polypheme devour'd: I then was freed
By patient prudence, from the death decreed.
Thus anchor'd safe on reason's peaceful coast,
Tempests of wrath his soul no longer tost;
Restless his body rolls, to rage resign'd:
As one who long with pale-ey'd famine pin'd,
The sav'ry cates on glowing embers cast
Incessant turns, impatient for repast:
Ulysses so, from side to side devolv'd,
In self-debate the Suitors doom resolv'd.
When in the form of mortal nymph array'd,
From heav'n descends the Jove-born martial Maid;
And hov'ring o'er his head in view confess'd,
The Goddess thus her fav'rite care address'd.
The Odyssey of Homer. Translated from the Greek, 5 vols. (London: Printed for Bernard Lintot, 1725-26).