Translation of: The Odyssey of Homer: Book IX

ARGUMENT     Ulysses discovers himself to the Phacians, and begins the history of his adventures. He destroys Ismarus, city of the Ciconians; arrives among the Lotophagi; and afterwards at the land of the Cyclops. He is imprisoned by Polypheme in his cave, who devours six of his companions; intoxicates the monster with wine, blinds him while he sleeps, and escapes from him.             Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise return'd.             Alcinos! King! illustrious above all             Phacia's sons, pleasant it is to hear             A bard like this, sweet as the Gods in song.             The world, in my account, no sight affords             More gratifying than a people blest             With cheerfulness and peace, a palace throng'd             With guests in order ranged, list'ning to sounds             Melodious, and the steaming tables spread             With plenteous viands, while the cups, with wine             From brimming beakers fill'd, pass brisk around.             No lovelier sight know I. But thou, it seems,             Thy thoughts hast turn'd to ask me whence my groans             And tears, that I may sorrow still the more.             What first, what next, what last shall I rehearse,             On whom the Gods have show'r'd such various woes?             Learn first my name, that even in this land             Remote I may be known, and that escaped             From all adversity, I may requite             Hereafter, this your hospitable care             At my own home, however distant hence.             I am Ulysses, fear'd in all the earth             For subtlest wisdom, and renown'd to heaven,             The offspring of Laertes; my abode             Is sun-burnt Ithaca; there waving stands             The mountain Neritus his num'rous boughs,             And it is neighbour'd close by clust'ring isles             All populous; thence Samos is beheld,             Dulichium, and Zacynthus forest-clad.             Flat on the Deep she lies, farthest removed             Toward the West, while, situate apart,             Her sister islands face the rising day;             Rugged she is, but fruitful nurse of sons             Magnanimous; nor shall these eyes behold,             Elsewhere, an object dear and sweet as she.             Calypso, beauteous Goddess, in her grot             Detain'd me, wishing me her own espoused;             an Circe also, skill'd profound             In potent arts, within her palace long             Detain'd me, wishing me her own espoused;             But never could they warp my constant mind.             So much our parents and our native soil             Attract us most, even although our lot             Be fair and plenteous in a foreign land.             But come--my painful voyage, such as Jove             Gave me from Ilium, I will now relate.                 From Troy the winds bore me to Ismarus,             City of the Ciconians; them I slew,             And laid their city waste; whence bringing forth             Much spoil with all their wives, I portion'd it             With equal hand, and each received a share.             Next, I exhorted to immediate flight             My people; but in vain; they madly scorn'd             My sober counsel, and much wine they drank,             And sheep and beeves slew num'rous on the shore.             Meantime, Ciconians to Ciconians call'd,             Their neighbours summoning, a mightier host             And braver, natives of the continent,             Expert, on horses mounted, to maintain             Fierce fight, or if occasion bade, on foot.             Num'rous they came as leaves, or vernal flow'rs             At day-spring. Then, by the decree of Jove,             Misfortune found us. At the ships we stood             Piercing each other with the brazen spear,             And till the morning brighten'd into noon,             Few as we were, we yet withstood them all;             But, when the sun verged westward, then the Greeks             Fell back, and the Ciconian host prevail'd.             Six warlike Greecians from each galley's crew             Perish'd in that dread field; the rest escaped.                 Thus, after loss of many, we pursued             Our course, yet, difficult as was our flight,             Went not till first we had invoked by name             Our friends, whom the Ciconians had destroy'd.             But cloud-assembler Jove assail'd us soon             With a tempestuous North-wind; earth alike             And sea with storms he overhung, and night             Fell fast from heav'n. Their heads deep-plunging oft             Our gallies flew, and rent, and rent again             Our tatter'd sail-cloth crackled in the wind.             We, fearing instant death, within the barks             Our canvas lodg'd, and, toiling strenuous, reach'd             At length the continent. Two nights we lay             Continual there, and two long days, consumed             With toil and grief; but when the beauteous morn             Bright-hair'd, had brought the third day to a close,             (Our masts erected, and white sails unfurl'd)             Again we sat on board; meantime, the winds             Well managed by the steersman, urged us on.             And now, all danger pass'd, I had attain'd             My native shore, but, doubling in my course             Malea, waves and currents and North-winds             Constrain'd me devious to Cythera's isle.             Nine days by cruel storms thence was I borne             Athwart the fishy Deep, but on the tenth             Reach'd the Lotophagi, a race sustain'd             On sweetest fruit alone. There quitting ship,             We landed and drew water, and the crews             Beside the vessels took their ev'ning cheer.             When, hasty, we had thus our strength renew'd,             I order'd forth my people to inquire             (Two I selected from the rest, with whom             I join'd an herald, third) what race of men             Might there inhabit. They, departing, mix'd             With the Lotophagi; nor hostile aught             Or savage the Lotophagi devised             Against our friends, but offer'd to their taste             The lotus; of which fruit what man soe'er             Once tasted, no desire felt he to come             With tidings back, or seek his country more,             But rather wish'd to feed on lotus still             With the Lotophagi, and to renounce             All thoughts of home. Them, therefore, I constrain'd             Weeping on board, and dragging each beneath             The benches, bound him there. Then, all in haste,             I urged my people to ascend again             Their hollow barks, lest others also, fed             With fruit of lotus, should forget their home.             They quick embark'd, and on the benches ranged             In order, thresh'd with oars the foamy flood.                 Thence, o'er the Deep proceeding sad, we reach'd             The land at length, where, giant-sized[32] and free             From all constraint of law, the Cyclops dwell.             They, trusting to the Gods, plant not, or plough,             But earth unsow'd, untill'd, brings forth for them             All fruits, wheat, barley, and the vinous grape             Large cluster'd, nourish'd by the show'rs of Jove.             No councils they convene, no laws contrive,             But in deep caverns dwell, found on the heads             Of lofty mountains, judging each supreme             His wife and children, heedless of the rest.             In front of the Cyclopean haven lies             A level island, not adjoining close             Their land, nor yet remote, woody and rude.             There, wild goats breed numberless, by no foot             Of man molested; never huntsman there,             Inured to winter's cold and hunger, roams             The dreary woods, or mountain-tops sublime;             No fleecy flocks dwell there, nor plough is known,             But the unseeded and unfurrow'd soil,             Year after year a wilderness by man             Untrodden, food for blatant goats supplies.             For no ships crimson-prow'd the Cyclops own,             Nor naval artizan is there, whose toil             Might furnish them with oary barks, by which             Subsists all distant commerce, and which bear             Man o'er the Deep to cities far remote             Who might improve the peopled isle, that seems             Not steril in itself, but apt to yield,             In their due season, fruits of ev'ry kind.             For stretch'd beside the hoary ocean lie             Green meadows moist, where vines would never fail;             Light is the land, and they might yearly reap             The tallest crops, so unctuous is the glebe.             Safe is its haven also, where no need             Of cable is or anchor, or to lash             The hawser fast ashore, but pushing in             His bark, the mariner might there abide             Till rising gales should tempt him forth again.             At bottom of the bay runs a clear stream             Issuing from a cove hemm'd all around             With poplars; down into that bay we steer'd             Amid the darkness of the night, some God             Conducting us; for all unseen it lay,             Such gloom involved the fleet, nor shone the moon             From heav'n to light us, veil'd by pitchy clouds.             Hence, none the isle descried, nor any saw             The lofty surge roll'd on the strand, or ere             Our vessels struck the ground; but when they struck,             Then, low'ring all our sails, we disembark'd,             And on the sea-beach slept till dawn appear'd.             Soon as Aurora, daughter of the dawn,             Look'd rosy forth, we with admiring eyes             The isle survey'd, roaming it wide around.             Meantime, the nymphs, Jove's daughters, roused the goats             Bred on the mountains, to supply with food             The partners of my toils; then, bringing forth             Bows and long-pointed javelins from the ships,             Divided all into three sep'rate bands             We struck them, and the Gods gave us much prey.             Twelve ships attended me, and ev'ry ship             Nine goats received by lot; myself alone             Selected ten. All day, till set of sun,             We eating sat goat's flesh, and drinking wine             Delicious, without stint; for dearth was none             Of ruddy wine on board, but much remain'd,             With which my people had their jars supplied             What time we sack'd Ciconian Ismarus.             Thence looking forth toward the neighbour-land             Where dwell the Cyclops, rising smoke we saw,             And voices heard, their own, and of their flocks.             Now sank the sun, and (night o'ershadowing all)             We slept along the shore; but when again             The rosy-finger'd daughter of the dawn             Look'd forth, my crews convened, I thus began.                 Companions of my course! here rest ye all,             Save my own crew, with whom I will explore             This people, whether wild, they be, unjust,             And to contention giv'n, or well-disposed             To strangers, and a race who fear the Gods.                 So speaking, I embark'd, and bade embark             My followers, throwing, quick, the hawsers loose.             They, ent'ring at my word, the benches fill'd             Well-ranged, and thresh'd with oars the foamy flood.             Attaining soon that neighbour-land, we found             At its extremity, fast by the sea,             A cavern, lofty, and dark-brow'd above             With laurels; in that cavern slumb'ring lay             Much cattle, sheep and goats, and a broad court             Enclosed it, fenced with stones from quarries hewn,             With spiry firs, and oaks of ample bough.             Here dwelt a giant vast, who far remote             His flocks fed solitary, converse none             Desiring, sullen, savage, and unjust.             Monster, in truth, he was, hideous in form,             Resembling less a man by Ceres' gift             Sustain'd, than some aspiring mountain-crag             Tufted with wood, and standing all alone.             Enjoining, then, my people to abide             Fast by the ship which they should closely guard,             I went, but not without a goat-skin fill'd             With sable wine which I had erst received             From Maron, offspring of Evanthes, priest             Of Phoebus guardian god of Ismarus,             Because, through rev'rence of him, we had saved             Himself, his wife and children; for he dwelt             Amid the grove umbrageous of his God.             He gave me, therefore, noble gifts; from him             Sev'n talents I received of beaten gold,             A beaker, argent all, and after these             No fewer than twelve jars with wine replete,             Rich, unadult'rate, drink for Gods; nor knew             One servant, male or female, of that wine             In all his house; none knew it, save himself,             His wife, and the intendant of his stores.             Oft as they drank that luscious juice, he slaked             A single cup with twenty from the stream,             And, even then, the beaker breath'd abroad             A scent celestial, which whoever smelt,             Thenceforth no pleasure found it to abstain.             Charged with an ample goat-skin of this wine             I went, and with a wallet well supplied,             But felt a sudden presage in my soul             That, haply, with terrific force endued,             Some savage would appear, strange to the laws             And privileges of the human race.             Few steps convey'd us to his den, but him             We found not; he his flocks pastur'd abroad.             His cavern ent'ring, we with wonder gazed             Around on all; his strainers hung with cheese             Distended wide; with lambs and kids his penns             Close-throng'd we saw, and folded separate             The various charge; the eldest all apart,             Apart the middle-aged, and the new-yean'd             Also apart. His pails and bowls with whey             Swam all, neat vessels into which he milk'd.             Me then my friends first importuned to take             A portion of his cheeses, then to drive             Forth from the sheep-cotes to the rapid bark             His kids and lambs, and plow the brine again.             But me they moved not, happier had they moved!             I wish'd to see him, and to gain, perchance,             Some pledge of hospitality at his hands,             Whose form was such, as should not much bespeak             When he appear'd, our confidence or love.             Then, kindling fire, we offer'd to the Gods,             And of his cheeses eating, patient sat             Till home he trudged from pasture. Charged he came             With dry wood bundled, an enormous load             Fuel by which to sup. Loud crash'd the thorns             Which down he cast before the cavern's mouth,             To whose interior nooks we trembling flew.             At once he drove into his spacious cave             His batten'd flock, all those which gave him milk,             But all the males, both rams and goats, he left             Abroad, excluded from the cavern-yard.             Upheaving, next, a rocky barrier huge             To his cave's mouth, he thrust it home. That weight             Not all the oxen from its place had moved             Of twenty and two wains; with such a rock             Immense his den he closed. Then down he sat,             And as he milk'd his ewes and bleating goats             All in their turns, her yeanling gave to each;             Coagulating, then, with brisk dispatch,             The half of his new milk, he thrust the curd             Into his wicker sieves, but stored the rest             In pans and bowls--his customary drink.             His labours thus perform'd, he kindled, last,             His fuel, and discerning _us_, enquired,                 Who are ye, strangers? from what distant shore             Roam ye the waters? traffic ye? or bound             To no one port, wander, as pirates use,             At large the Deep, exposing life themselves,             And enemies of all mankind beside?                 He ceased; we, dash'd with terrour, heard the growl             Of his big voice, and view'd his form uncouth,             To whom, though sore appall'd, I thus replied.                 Of Greece are we, and, bound from Ilium home,             Have wander'd wide the expanse of ocean, sport             For ev'ry wind, and driven from our course,             Have here arrived; so stood the will of Jove.             We boast ourselves of Agamemnon's train,             The son of Atreus, at this hour the Chief             Beyond all others under heav'n renown'd,             So great a city he hath sack'd and slain             Such num'rous foes; but since we reach, at last,             Thy knees, we beg such hospitable fare,             Or other gift, as guests are wont to obtain.             Illustrious lord! respect the Gods, and us             Thy suitors; suppliants are the care of Jove             The hospitable; he their wrongs resents             And where the stranger sojourns, there is he.                 I ceas'd, when answer thus he, fierce, return'd.             Friend! either thou art fool, or hast arrived             Indeed from far, who bidd'st me fear the Gods             Lest they be wroth. The Cyclops little heeds             Jove gis-arm'd, or all the Pow'rs of heav'n.             Our race is mightier far; nor shall myself,             Through fear of Jove's hostility, abstain             From thee or thine, unless my choice be such.             But tell me now. Where touch'd thy gallant bark             Our country, on thy first arrival here?             Remote or nigh? for I would learn the truth.                 So spake he, tempting me; but, artful, thus             I answer'd, penetrating his intent.                 My vessel, Neptune, Shaker of the shores,             At yonder utmost promontory dash'd             In pieces, hurling her against the rocks             With winds that blew right thither from the sea,             And I, with these alone, escaped alive.                 So I, to whom, relentless, answer none             He deign'd, but, with his arms extended, sprang             Toward my people, of whom seizing two             At once, like whelps against his cavern-floor             He dash'd them, and their brains spread on the ground.             These, piece-meal hewn, for supper he prepared,             And, like a mountain-lion, neither flesh             Nor entrails left, nor yet their marrowy bones.             We, viewing that tremendous sight, upraised             Our hands to Jove, all hope and courage lost.             When thus the Cyclops had with human flesh             Fill'd his capacious belly, and had quaff'd             Much undiluted milk, among his flocks             Out-stretch'd immense, he press'd his cavern-floor.             Me, then, my courage prompted to approach             The monster with my sword drawn from the sheath,             And to transfix him where the vitals wrap             The liver; but maturer thoughts forbad.             For so, we also had incurred a death             Tremendous, wanting pow'r to thrust aside             The rocky mass that closed his cavern-mouth             By force of hand alone. Thus many a sigh             Heaving, we watch'd the dawn. But when, at length,             Aurora, day-spring's daughter rosy-palm'd             Look'd forth, then, kindling fire, his flocks he milk'd             In order, and her yeanling kid or lamb             Thrust under each. When thus he had perform'd             His wonted task, two seizing, as before,             He slew them for his next obscene regale.             His dinner ended, from the cave he drove             His fatted flocks abroad, moving with ease             That pond'rous barrier, and replacing it             As he had only closed a quiver's lid.             Then, hissing them along, he drove his flocks             Toward the mountain, and me left, the while,             Deep ruminating how I best might take             Vengeance, and by the aid of Pallas win             Deathless renown. This counsel pleas'd me most.             Beside the sheep-cote lay a massy club             Hewn by the Cyclops from an olive stock,             Green, but which dried, should serve him for a staff.             To us consid'ring it, that staff appear'd             Tall as the mast of a huge trading bark,             Impell'd by twenty rowers o'er the Deep.             Such seem'd its length to us, and such its bulk.             Part amputating, (an whole fathom's length)             I gave my men that portion, with command             To shave it smooth. They smooth'd it, and myself,             Shaping its blunt extremity to a point,             Season'd it in the fire; then cov'ring close             The weapon, hid it under litter'd straw,             For much lay scatter'd on the cavern-floor.             And now I bade my people cast the lot             Who of us all should take the pointed brand,             And grind it in his eye when next he slept.             The lots were cast, and four were chosen, those             Whom most I wish'd, and I was chosen fifth.             At even-tide he came, his fleecy flocks             Pasturing homeward, and compell'd them all             Into his cavern, leaving none abroad,             Either through some surmise, or so inclined             By influence, haply, of the Gods themselves.             The huge rock pull'd into its place again             At the cave's mouth, he, sitting, milk'd his sheep             And goats in order, and her kid or lamb             Thrust under each; thus, all his work dispatch'd,             Two more he seiz'd, and to his supper fell.             I then, approaching to him, thus address'd             The Cyclops, holding in my hands a cup             Of ivy-wood, well-charg'd with ruddy wine.                 Lo, Cyclops! this is wine. Take this and drink             After thy meal of man's flesh. Taste and learn             What precious liquor our lost vessel bore.             I brought it hither, purposing to make             Libation to thee, if to pity inclined             Thou would'st dismiss us home. But, ah, thy rage             Is insupportable! thou cruel one!             Who, thinkest thou, of all mankind, henceforth             Will visit _thee_, guilty of such excess?                 I ceas'd. He took and drank, and hugely pleas'd[33]             With that delicious bev'rage, thus enquir'd.                 Give me again, and spare not. Tell me, too,             Thy name, incontinent, that I may make             Requital, gratifying also thee             With somewhat to thy taste. We Cyclops own             A bounteous soil, which yields _us_ also wine             From clusters large, nourish'd by show'rs from Jove;             But this--this is from above--a stream             Of nectar and ambrosia, all divine!                 He ended, and received a second draught,             Like measure. Thrice I bore it to his hand,             And, foolish, thrice he drank. But when the fumes             Began to play around the Cyclops' brain,             With show of amity I thus replied.                 Cyclops! thou hast my noble name enquired,             Which I will tell thee. Give me, in return,             The promised boon, some hospitable pledge.             My name is Outis,[34] Outis I am call'd             At home, abroad; wherever I am known.                 So I; to whom he, savage, thus replied.             Outis, when I have eaten all his friends,             Shall be my last regale. Be that thy boon.                 He spake, and, downward sway'd, fell resupine,             With his huge neck aslant. All-conqu'ring sleep             Soon seized him. From his gullet gush'd the wine             With human morsels mingled, many a blast             Sonorous issuing from his glutted maw.             Then, thrusting far the spike of olive-wood             Into the embers glowing on the hearth,             I heated it, and cheer'd my friends, the while,             Lest any should, through fear, shrink from his part.             But when that stake of olive-wood, though green,             Should soon have flamed, for it was glowing hot,             I bore it to his side. Then all my aids             Around me gather'd, and the Gods infused             Heroic fortitude into our hearts.             They, seizing the hot stake rasp'd to a point,             Bored his eye with it, and myself, advanced             To a superior stand, twirled it about.             As when a shipwright with his wimble bores             Tough oaken timber, placed on either side             Below, his fellow-artists strain the thong             Alternate, and the restless iron spins,             So, grasping hard the stake pointed with fire,             We twirl'd it in his eye; the bubbling blood             Boil'd round about the brand; his pupil sent             A scalding vapour forth that sing'd his brow,             And all his eye-roots crackled in the flame.             As when the smith an hatchet or large axe             Temp'ring with skill, plunges the hissing blade             Deep in cold water, (whence the strength of steel)             So hiss'd his eye around the olive-wood.             The howling monster with his outcry fill'd             The hollow rock, and I, with all my aids,             Fled terrified. He, plucking forth the spike             From his burnt socket, mad with anguish, cast             The implement all bloody far away.             Then, bellowing, he sounded forth the name             Of ev'ry Cyclops dwelling in the caves             Around him, on the wind-swept mountain-tops;             They, at his cry flocking from ev'ry part,             Circled his den, and of his ail enquired.                 What grievous hurt hath caused thee, Polypheme!             Thus yelling to alarm the peaceful ear             Of night, and break our slumbers? Fear'st thou lest             Some mortal man drive off thy flocks? or fear'st             Thyself to die by cunning or by force?                 Them answer'd, then, Polypheme from his cave.             Oh, friends! I die! and Outis gives the blow.                 To whom with accents wing'd his friends without.             If no man[35] harm thee, but thou art alone,             And sickness feel'st, it is the stroke of Jove,             And thou must bear it; yet invoke for aid             Thy father Neptune, Sovereign of the floods.                 So saying, they went, and in my heart I laugh'd             That by the fiction only of a name,             Slight stratagem! I had deceived them all.                 Then groan'd the Cyclops wrung with pain and grief,             And, fumbling, with stretch'd hands, removed the rock             From his cave's mouth, which done, he sat him down             Spreading his arms athwart the pass, to stop             Our egress with his flocks abroad; so dull,             It seems, he held me, and so ill-advised.             I, pondering what means might fittest prove             To save from instant death, (if save I might)             My people and myself, to ev'ry shift             Inclined, and various counsels framed, as one             Who strove for life, conscious of woe at hand.             To me, thus meditating, this appear'd             The likeliest course. The rams well-thriven were,             Thick-fleeced, full-sized, with wool of sable hue.             These, silently, with osier twigs on which             The Cyclops, hideous monster, slept, I bound,             Three in one leash; the intermediate rams             Bore each a man, whom the exterior two             Preserved, concealing him on either side.             Thus each was borne by three, and I, at last,             The curl'd back seizing of a ram, (for one             I had reserv'd far stateliest of them all)             Slipp'd underneath his belly, and both hands             Enfolding fast in his exub'rant fleece,             Clung ceaseless to him as I lay supine.             We, thus disposed, waited with many a sigh             The sacred dawn; but when, at length, aris'n,             Aurora, day-spring's daughter rosy-palm'd             Again appear'd, the males of all his flocks             Rush'd forth to pasture, and, meantime, unmilk'd,             The wethers bleated, by the load distress'd             Of udders overcharged. Their master, rack'd             With pain intolerable, handled yet             The backs of all, inquisitive, as they stood,             But, gross of intellect, suspicion none             Conceiv'd of men beneath their bodies bound.             And now (none left beside) the ram approach'd             With his own wool burthen'd, and with myself,             Whom many a fear molested. Polypheme             The giant stroak'd him as he sat, and said,                 My darling ram! why latest of the flock             Com'st thou, whom never, heretofore, my sheep             Could leave behind, but stalking at their head,             Thou first was wont to crop the tender grass,             First to arrive at the clear stream, and first             With ready will to seek my sheep-cote here             At evening; but, thy practice chang'd, thou com'st,             Now last of all. Feel'st thou regret, my ram!             Of thy poor master's eye, by a vile wretch             Bored out, who overcame me first with wine,             And by a crew of vagabonds accurs'd,             Followers of Outis, whose escape from death             Shall not be made to-day? Ah! that thy heart             Were as my own, and that distinct as I             Thou could'st articulate, so should'st thou tell,             Where hidden, he eludes my furious wrath.             Then, dash'd against the floor his spatter'd brain             Should fly, and I should lighter feel my harm             From Outis, wretch base-named and nothing-worth.                 So saying, he left him to pursue the flock.             When, thus drawn forth, we had, at length, escaped             Few paces from the cavern and the court,             First, quitting my own ram, I loos'd my friends,             Then, turning seaward many a thriven ewe             Sharp-hoof'd, we drove them swiftly to the ship.             Thrice welcome to our faithful friends we came             From death escaped, but much they mourn'd the dead.             I suffer'd not their tears, but silent shook             My brows, by signs commanding them to lift             The sheep on board, and instant plow the main.             They, quick embarking, on the benches sat             Well ranged, and thresh'd with oars the foamy flood;             But distant now such length as a loud voice             May reach, I hail'd with taunts the Cyclops' ear.                 Cyclops! when thou devouredst in thy cave             With brutal force my followers, thou devour'dst             The followers of no timid Chief, or base,             Vengeance was sure to recompense that deed             Atrocious. Monster! who wast not afraid             To eat the guest shelter'd beneath thy roof!             Therefore the Gods have well requited thee.                 I ended; he, exasp'rate, raged the more,             And rending from its hold a mountain-top,             Hurl'd it toward us; at our vessel's stern             Down came the mass, nigh sweeping in its fall             The rudder's head. The ocean at the plunge             Of that huge rock, high on its refluent flood             Heav'd, irresistible, the ship to land.             I seizing, quick, our longest pole on board,             Back thrust her from the coast and by a nod             In silence given, bade my companions ply             Strenuous their oars, that so we might escape.             Procumbent,[36] each obey'd, and when, the flood             Cleaving, we twice that distance had obtain'd,[37]             Again I hail'd the Cyclops; but my friends             Earnest dissuaded me on ev'ry side.                 Ah, rash Ulysses! why with taunts provoke             The savage more, who hath this moment hurl'd             A weapon, such as heav'd the ship again             To land, where death seem'd certain to us all?             For had he heard a cry, or but the voice             Of one man speaking, he had all our heads             With some sharp rock, and all our timbers crush'd             Together, such vast force is in his arm.                 So they, but my courageous heart remain'd             Unmoved, and thus again, incensed, I spake.                 Cyclops! should any mortal man inquire             To whom thy shameful loss of sight thou ow'st,             Say, to Ulysses, city-waster Chief,             Laertes' son, native of Ithaca.                 I ceas'd, and with a groan thus he replied.             Ah me! an antient oracle I feel             Accomplish'd. Here abode a prophet erst,             A man of noblest form, and in his art             Unrivall'd, Telemus Eurymedes.             He, prophesying to the Cyclops-race,             Grew old among us, and presaged my loss             Of sight, in future, by Ulysses' hand.             I therefore watch'd for the arrival here,             Always, of some great Chief, for stature, bulk             And beauty prais'd, and cloath'd with wond'rous might.             But now--a dwarf, a thing impalpable,             A shadow, overcame me first by wine,             Then quench'd my sight. Come hither, O my guest!             Return, Ulysses! hospitable cheer             Awaits thee, and my pray'rs I will prefer             To glorious Neptune for thy prosp'rous course;             For I am Neptune's offspring, and the God             Is proud to be my Sire; he, if he please,             And he alone can heal me; none beside             Of Pow'rs immortal, or of men below.                 He spake, to whom I answer thus return'd.             I would that of thy life and soul amerced,             I could as sure dismiss thee down to Hell,             As none shall heal thine eye--not even He.                 So I; then pray'd the Cyclops to his Sire             With hands uprais'd towards the starry heav'n.                 Hear, Earth-encircler Neptune, azure-hair'd!             If I indeed am thine, and if thou boast             Thyself my father, grant that never more             Ulysses, leveller of hostile tow'rs,             Laertes' son, of Ithaca the fair,             Behold his native home! but if his fate             Decree him yet to see his friends, his house,             His native country, let him deep distress'd             Return and late, all his companions lost,             Indebted for a ship to foreign aid,             And let affliction meet him at his door.                 He spake, and Ocean's sov'reign heard his pray'r.             Then lifting from the shore a stone of size             Far more enormous, o'er his head he whirl'd             The rock, and his immeasurable force             Exerting all, dismiss'd it. Close behind             The ship, nor distant from the rudder's head,             Down came the mass. The ocean at the plunge             Of such a weight, high on its refluent flood             Tumultuous, heaved the bark well nigh to land.                 But when we reach'd the isle where we had left             Our num'rous barks, and where my people sat             Watching with ceaseless sorrow our return,             We thrust our vessel to the sandy shore,             Then disembark'd, and of the Cyclops' sheep             Gave equal share to all. To me alone             My fellow-voyagers the ram consign'd             In distribution, my peculiar meed.             Him, therefore, to cloud-girt Saturnian Jove             I offer'd on the shore, burning his thighs             In sacrifice; but Jove my hallow'd rites             Reck'd not, destruction purposing to all             My barks, and all my followers o'er the Deep.             Thus, feasting largely, on the shore we sat             Till even-tide, and quaffing gen'rous wine;             But when day fail'd, and night o'ershadow'd all,             Then, on the shore we slept; and when again             Aurora rosy daughter of the Dawn,             Look'd forth, my people, anxious, I enjoin'd             To climb their barks, and cast the hawsers loose.             They all obedient, took their seats on board             Well-ranged, and thresh'd with oars the foamy flood.             Thus, 'scaping narrowly, we roam'd the Deep             With aching hearts and with diminish'd crews.