Thus to each other spake they; but the hound, as he lay in his weakness,
Pricked up his ears and his head,- poor Argus of patient Ulysses;
Him had his master rear'd, but not sported with; parting beforehand
To the devoted Troy: so, formerly did the young gallants
Hunt him to chase the wild goats, and the timorous hare, and the roebuck.

But,- he had long been cast out, grown old, and his lord being absent,
Lying on heaps of filth, dropped there by the mules and the oxen
Outside his master's door,- from which to the farm of Ulysses
Servants would clear it away for manure, while cruelly leaving
Argus, the fine old dog, full of sores and covered with vermin.

Still, when now, the poor creature behold Ulysses approaching,
He laid back his ears, and fawn'd with his tail in faithful affection,
But rose not, nor nearer could get to his own dear master
All for neglect and age :- and the king, unobserved by the swineherd,
Brushing away his tears at the sight, immediate address'd him.

Surely Eumaeus, 'tis strange, this dog lies here on the dungheap,
He seems to be fine in his form and his breed, yet one thing I know not
If he be fleet,- for starving he lies, a shame to his masters,-
Or if he be a slow hound, such as man often makes his companion
And for his own delight for awhile is accustomed to pamper.

Him then answered straight,- even, thou Eumaeus the swineherd:
Truly, I heed not: the dog is a man's who has died on his travels.
Were he the same but now, in shape, and power, and courage,
As when Ulysses, starting for Ilium, left him behind him,
Quickly, I wot, would you wonder, to see his muscle and fleetness:

For not a beast could escape him, which he but once got a sight of,
All the dark forest through; the hound had the cunning to track them.
Now, misfortune in turn catches him; for the king his old master
Perish'd away from home; and the careless damsels forget him.

For that, servants, whenever a master ceases to govern,
Will not afterwards heed to perform the task of their duty;
And because farseeing Jupiter steals away half a man's virtue
Soon as the baneful morn of servitude darkens upon him.

So saying he went in to the fair and populous mansion,
Straight going up to the hall to seek the illustrious wooers.
But, for poor Argus,- the fate of black death had utterly seiz'd him,
When, in his twentieth year, he saw for a moment Ulysses.