Farewell To Nausikaa Poem by Glen Martin Fitch

My ship is waiting and I have to go.
Yes, this is our farewell. I won't say I'll
Return, sweet Princess. But I won't forget
The fairest of the maids who dropped their veils
And laundry baskets on the shore to chant
And pass the ball in time. I heard your shout
Above the rest. Such snowy arms I saw
And thrashing braids! And how could I forget
Your courage or your kindness when I came
To you with olive branch in hand to hide
My nakedness, rain drenched, brine swollen, scarred.
You stayed while others fled. You gave me food
And drink. And I'll recall your foresight, how
You hid me in the cart you sent to town,
Avoiding scandal. Clever one! You got
Your wisdom from your mother, I suspect,
Who, even though I knelt in fire glow
And she upon her throne was weaving wool,
Still spied the robe you lent me as her work.
And how could I forget how nobles sighed,
'Will she have him? What, none of us will suit
Her? ' or amid the folded linen how
I overheard you whisper to a friend,
'Oh, may my husband be as fine as he.'
Or how the King, who never could deny
A wish of yours, said, even ere he knew
My name or deeds or kingdom, 'Come, my friend,
My daughter's yours, my land, and you my son
If you remain.' Oh, would that I could be
Your husband, rule this country, father sons,
With you grow old. Alas, that cannot be.
I'd be your husband, but I have a wife.
I have a boy who must by now be man.
I love your parents even as I love my own.
And great Phaiaka, a kingdom blessed
With ramparts, orchards, harbors, gardens, squares
All greater than sad Ithaka, my home.

My home. No! Here I cannot die. Just so
I said amid the din and dust of Troy
And so when trapped within the Cyklop's Cave,
Or when the Laestrygonians attacked,
When Scylla and Charydid drowned my crew,
Just so when I was washed up on your shore.
For when I die I die a second death
To wander on the Island of the Dead.
Oh, Princess, this is hard for me to say,
As hard as when I sadly had to tell
My mother's ghost she could not drink the blood
I'd poured until Tiereasias had drunk.
Oh, don't you see, I have rejected death
So many times, when death, oh, would have been
The greatest balm to one who's suffered, as
I have, so long. And yet I choose to live.

Believe me, in my aged eyes you are
The fairest maid that ever lived, save one.
And I have seen them all in Hades's crowd,
Save one, and you. You make me young. Once she
Was young like you. It is the memory
Of her who shared my hearth and plate and bed
That moved my mind and stirs my heart from rest.
Believe me when I say, had I seen her
In Hades, surely she'd have said, 'Return,
Live, fight, rule, love.' And though she's still alive
Were I a crasser man I'd take you home
As mistress. She, I'm sure, would greet you, callYou daughter, take you gladly to her heart.
Ah, dear Penelope, I'd ne'er do that
To you...Oh, sweet and brave maid, don't you see?
The greatest curse the Gods have placed on me
Is not their wrath. It's hope and memory.

Cruel temptress! Do not cry! Please turn away
From me those sad and brimming eyes. Oh Gods!
Not one of the enchantments I have faced,
No, not the lotus of forgetfulness,
Nor Cirke's bed of pleasures, spells and charms,
Not even, dear one, great Claypso's pledge
Of ageless youth, of immortality,
Could tempt me as you do. Your sighs, so sad,
So soft make my heart quake; they rent me more,
They pierce me deeper than the Siren's songs.
Not beauty, youth, foreknowledge, power, wealth
Could tempt me from my quest. But innocence,
A home, real rest, true peace, security,
To one who's traveled, oh, so many miles,
Road worn, nigh hopeless, tempts me. Tempts me still!
Security is certain death to that
In me which none of them could ever touch.
Oh, Ithaca! I do not know if I
Will reach my home or what I'll find there, or
If I will stay. But here I cannot stay.
I leave. Farewell! Please, kiss me, turn and go.