Calypso and Proteus, and whatever else,
And worst of all this ancient beggar-man,
Who hath a tale better than all the tales!
Alas, alas! my son, thou wilt have need
Of much good care. ’Twas ill I did not send
Eumæus with him. Now till he return,
Patience—and when he is returned, again
Patience—’tis so: patience was made for me;
And one by one my deprecative days
Bring nought, but as they flee, still cry to-morrow.