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, each obey’d, and when, the flood
Cleaving, we twice that distance had obtain’d,
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
—Olli certamine summo
Procumbunt. Virgil.
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
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