But now, his master gone, in foul neglect,
On dung of ox and mule he made his couch;
Fattening manure, heaped at the palace-gate,
Till spread to enrich Odysseus’ wide domain;
Thus stretched, with vermin swarming, Argus lay.
But when he saw Odysseus close approach,
He knew, and wagged his tail, and dropped his ears,
Yet could not rise to fawn upon his lord,
Who paused, and stood, and brushed aside a tear,
Hiding his grief. Then thus with crafty speech: