I ceased; 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 powers of heaven.
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 answered, 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, piecemeal 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
Outstretch'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 incurr'd a death
Tremendous, wanting power 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 ponderous 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 pleased 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 considering 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 covering close
The weapon, hid it under litter'd straw,
For much lay scattered 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 compelled 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 his 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 seized, and to his supper fell.
I then approaching to him, thus address'd
The Cyclops, holding in my hand a cup
Of ivy-wood, well charged 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 wouldst dismiss us home.
Is insupportable! thon cruel one!
Who, thinkest thou, of all mankind, henceforth
Will visit thee, guilty of such excess?"
I ceased. He took and drank, and, hugely pleased
With that delicious beverage, thus inquired:
"Give me again, and spare not.
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 showers from Jove;
But this-oh, 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.
Began to play around the Cyclops' brain,
With show of amity I thus replied:-
"Cyclops! thou hast my noble name inquired,
Which I will tell thee. Give me, in return,
Thy promised boon, some hospitable pledge.
My name is Outis'; 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-conquering 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, twirl'd 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 vapor forth that singed his brow,
And all his eye-roots crackled in the flame.
As when the smith an hatchet or large axe,
Tempering 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 outery fill'd
This is the Greek for "No-man," and by the ingenious device of giving himself this name, Ulysses, as will be seen in the sequel, saved himself and his surviving companions from destruction.
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 every Cyclops dwelling in the caves
Around him, on the wind-swept mountain tops;
They, at his cry flocking from every part,
Circled his den, and of his ail inquired :
"What grievous hurt hath caused thee, Polypheme, Thus yelling to alarm the peaceful ear
Of night, and break our slumbers?
Some mortal man drive off thy flocks? or fear'st
Thyself to die by cunning or by force?"
Them answered then, Polypheme, from his cave:—
"O, friends, I die! and Outis gives the blow."
To whom, with accents wing'd, his friends without:
"If No-man' 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 every shift Inclined, and various counsels framed, as one Who strove for life, conscious of woe at hand. To me, thus meditating, this appeared 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 reserved, far stateliest of them all), Slipp'd underneath his belly, and both hands Enfolding fast in his exuberant fleece, Clung ceaseless to him as I lay supine. We, thus disposed, waited with many a sigh The sacred dawn; but when, at length arisen, Aurora, day-spring's daughter, rosy-palm'd
Again appear'd, the males of all his flocks
Rush'd forth to pasture, and his ewes, the while,
Stood bleating, unrelieved from the distress
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
Conceived 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, strok'd him as he sat, and said :-
"My darling ram! why latest of the flock
Comest 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 changed, thou comest
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 accursed,
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 loosed 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 plough the main.
ULYSSES DISCOVERING HIMSELF TO HIS FATHER.
Within the well-laid orchard all alone
He found his father digging with his spade
Around a plant. He was unseemly clad
In coarse patch'd tunic, and had stitched him boots
Of hides, to fence his legs from tearing thorns;
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