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 Ægis-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.
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
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