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his maw

      His indigested foam, and morsels raw;

      We pray; we cast the lots, and then surround

      The monstrous body, stretch’d along the ground:

      Each, as he could approach him, lends a hand

      To bore his eyeball with a flaming brand.

      Beneath his frowning forehead lay his eye;

      For only one did the vast frame supply—

      But that a globe so large, his front it fill’d,

      Like the sun’s disk or like a Grecian shield.

      The stroke succeeds; and down the pupil bends:

      This vengeance follow’d for our slaughter’d friends.

      But haste, unhappy wretches, haste to fly!

      Your cables cut, and on your oars rely!

      Such, and so vast as Polypheme appears,

      A hundred more this hated island bears:

      Like him, in caves they shut their woolly sheep;

      Like him, their herds on tops of mountains keep;

      Like him, with mighty strides, they stalk from steep to steep

      And now three moons their sharpen’d horns renew,

      Since thus, in woods and wilds, obscure from view,

      I drag my loathsome days with mortal fright,

      And in deserted caverns lodge by night;

      Oft from the rocks a dreadful prospect see

      Of the huge Cyclops, like a walking tree:

      From far I hear his thund’ring voice resound,

      And trampling feet that shake the solid ground.

      Cornels and salvage berries of the wood,

      And roots and herbs, have been my meager food.

      While all around my longing eyes I cast,

      I saw your happy ships appear at last.

      On those I fix’d my hopes, to these I run;

      ’Tis all I ask, this cruel race to shun;

      What other death you please, yourselves bestow.’

      “Scarce had he said, when on the mountain’s brow

      We saw the giant shepherd stalk before

      His following flock, and leading to the shore:

      A monstrous bulk, deform’d, depriv’d of sight;

      His staff a trunk of pine, to guide his steps aright.

      His pond’rous whistle from his neck descends;

      His woolly care their pensive lord attends:

      This only solace his hard fortune sends.

      Soon as he reach’d the shore and touch’d the waves,

      From his bor’d eye the gutt’ring blood he laves:

      He gnash’d his teeth, and groan’d; thro’ seas he strides,

      And scarce the topmost billows touch’d his sides.

      “Seiz’d with a sudden fear, we run to sea,

      The cables cut, and silent haste away;

      The well-deserving stranger entertain;

      Then, buckling to the work, our oars divide the main.

      The giant harken’d to the dashing sound:

      But, when our vessels out of reach he found,

      He strided onward, and in vain essay’d

      Th’ Ionian deep, and durst no farther wade.

      With that he roar’d aloud: the dreadful cry

      Shakes earth, and air, and seas; the billows fly

      Before the bellowing noise to distant Italy.

      The neigh’ring Aetna trembling all around,

      The winding caverns echo to the sound.

      His brother Cyclops hear the yelling roar,

      And, rushing down the mountains, crowd the shore.

      We saw their stern distorted looks, from far,

      And one-eyed glance, that vainly threaten’d war:

      A dreadful council, with their heads on high;

      (The misty clouds about their foreheads fly;)

      Not yielding to the tow’ring tree of Jove,

      Or tallest cypress of Diana’s grove.

      New pangs of mortal fear our minds assail;

      We tug at ev’ry oar, and hoist up ev’ry sail,

      And take th’ advantage of the friendly gale.

      Forewarn’d by Helenus, we strive to shun

      Charybdis’ gulf, nor dare to Scylla run.

      An equal fate on either side appears:

      We, tacking to the left, are free from fears;

      For, from Pelorus’ point, the North arose,

      And drove us back where swift Pantagias flows.

      His rocky mouth we pass, and make our way

      By Thapsus and Megara’s winding bay.

      This passage Achaemenides had shown,

      Tracing the course which he before had run.

      “Right o’er against Plemmyrium’s wat’ry strand,

      There lies an isle once call’d th’ Ortygian land.

      Alpheus, as old fame reports, has found

      From Greece a secret passage under ground,

      By love to beauteous Arethusa led;

      And, mingling here, they roll in the same sacred bed.

      As Helenus enjoin’d, we next adore

      Diana’s name, protectress of the shore.

      With prosp’rous gales we pass the quiet sounds

      Of still Elorus, and his fruitful bounds.

      Then, doubling Cape Pachynus, we survey

      The rocky shore extended to the sea.

      The town of Camarine from far we see,

      And fenny lake, undrain’d by fate’s decree.

      In sight of the Geloan fields we pass,

      And the large walls, where mighty Gela was;

      Then Agragas, with lofty summits crown’d,

      Long for the race of warlike steeds renown’d.

      We pass’d Selinus, and the palmy land,

      And widely shun the Lilybaean strand,

      Unsafe, for secret rocks and moving sand.

      At length on shore the weary fleet arriv’d,

      Which Drepanum’s unhappy port receiv’d.

      Here, after endless labors, often toss’d

      By raging storms, and driv’n on ev’ry coast,

      My dear, dear father, spent with age, I lost:

      Ease of my cares, and solace of my pain,

      Sav’d thro’ a thousand toils, but

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