"'What hurts thee, Polypheme? what strange affright Thus breaks our slumbers, and disturbs the night? Does any mortal, in the unguarded hour Of sleep, oppress thee, or by fraud or power? Or thieves insidious thy fair flock surprise?' Thus they; the Cyclop from his den replies:
"'Friends, Noman kills me; Noman in the hour Of sleep, oppresses me with fraudful power.' 'If no man hurt thee, but the hand divine Inflict disease, it fits thee to resign: To Jove or to thy father Neptune pray.' The brethren cried, and instant strode away. "Joy touch'd my secret soul and conscious heart, Pleased with the effect of conduct and of art. Meantime the Cyclop, raging with his wound, Spreads his wide arms, and searches round and round: At last, the stone removing from the gate, With hands extended in the midst he sate; And search'd each passing sheep, and fell it o'er, Secure to seize us ere we reach'd the door (Such as his shallow wit he deem'd was mine); But secret I revolved the deep design: 'Twas for our lives my labouring bosom wrought; Each scheme I turn'd, and sharpen'd every thought; This way and that I cast to save my friends, Till one resolve my varying counsel ends.
"Strong were the rams, with native purple fair, Well fed, and largest of the fleecy care, These, three and three, with osier bands we tied (The twining bands the Cyclop's bed supplied); The midmost bore a man, the outward two Secured each side: so bound we all the crew, One ram remain'd, the leader of the flock: In his deep fleece my grasping hands I lock, And fast beneath, in wooly curls inwove, There cling implicit, and confide in Jove. When rosy morning glimmer'd o'er the dales, He drove to pasture all the lusty males: The ewes still folded, with distended thighs Unmilk'd lay bleating in distressful cries. But heedless of those cares, with anguish stung, He felt their fleeces as they pass'd along (Fool that he was.) and let them safely go, All unsuspecting of their freight below.
"The master ram at last approach'd the gate, Charged with his wool, and with Ulysses' fate. Him while he pass'd, the monster blind bespoke: 'What makes my ram the lag of all the flock? First thou wert wont to crop the flowery mead, First to the field and river's bank to lead, And first with stately step at evening hour Thy fleecy fellows usher to their bower. Now far the last, with pensive pace and slow Thou movest, as conscious of thy master's woe! Seest thou these lids that now unfold in vain? (The deed of Noman and his wicked train!) Oh! did'st thou feel for thy afflicted lord, And would but Fate the power of speech afford. Soon might'st thou tell me, where in secret here The dastard lurks, all trembling with his fear: Swung round and round, and dash'd from rock to rock, His battered brains should on the pavement smoke No ease, no pleasure my sad heart receives, While such a monster as vile Noman lives.'
"The giant spoke, and through the hollow rock Dismiss'd the ram, the father of the flock. No sooner freed, and through the inclosure pass'd, First I release myself, my fellows last: Fat sheep and goats in throngs we drive before, And reach our vessel on the winding shore. With joy the sailors view their friends return'd, And hail us living whom as dead they mourn'd Big tears of transport stand in every eye: I check their fondness, and command to fly. Aboard in haste they heave the wealthy sheep, And snatch their oars, and rush into the deep. "Now off at sea, and from the shallows clear, As far as human voice could reach the ear, With taunts the distant giant I accost: 'Hear me, O Cyclop! hear, ungracious host! 'Twas on no coward, no ignoble slave, Thou meditatest thy meal in yonder cave; But one, the vengeance fated from above Doom'd to inflict; the instrument of Jove. Thy barbarous breach of hospitable bands, The god, the god revenges by my hands.'
"These words the Cyclop's burning rage provoke; From the tall hill he rends a pointed rock; High o'er the billows flew the massy load, And near the ship came thundering on the flood. It almost brush'd the helm, and fell before: The whole sea shook, and refluent beat the shore, The strong concussion on the heaving tide Roll'd back the vessel to the island's side: Again I shoved her off: our fate to fly, Each nerve we stretch, and every oar we ply. Just 'scaped impending death, when now again We twice as far had furrow'd back the main, Once more I raise my voice; my friends, afraid, With mild entreaties my design dissuade: 'What boots the godless giant to provoke, Whose arm may sink us at a single stroke? Already when the dreadful rock he threw, Old Ocean shook, and back his surges flew. The sounding voice directs his aim again; The rock o'erwhelms us, and we 'scaped in vain.'
"But I, of mind elate, and scorning fear, Thus with new taunts insult the monster's ear: 'Cyclop! if any, pitying thy disgrace. Ask, who disfigured thus that eyeless face? Say 'twas Ulysses: 'twas his deed declare, Laertes' son, of Ithaca the fair; Ulysses, far in fighting fields renown'd, Before whose arm Troy tumbled to the ground.'
"The astonished savage with a roar replies: 'Oh heavens! oh faith of ancient prophecies! This, Telemus Eurymedes foretold (The mighty seer who on these hills grew old; Skill'd the dark fates of mortals to declare, And learn'd in all wing'd omens of the air); Long since he menaced, such was Fate's command; And named Ulysses as the destined hand. I deem'd some godlike giant to behold, Or lofty hero, haughty, brave, and bold; Not this weak pigmy wretch, of mean design, Who, not by strength subdued me, but by wine. But come, accept our gifts, and join to pray Great Neptune's blessing on the watery way; For his I am, and I the lineage own; The immortal father no less boasts the son. His power can heal me, and relight my eye; And only his, of all the gods on high.' "'Oh! could this arm (I thus aloud rejoin'd) From that vast bulk dislodge thy bloody mind, And send thee howling to the realms of night! As sure as Neptune cannot give thee sight.' "Thus I; while raging he repeats his cries, With hands uplifted to the starry skies? 'Hear me, O Neptune; thou whose arms are hurl'd From shore to shore, and gird the solid world; If thine I am, nor thou my birth disown, And if the unhappy Cyclop be thy son, Let not Ulysses breathe his native air, Laertes' son, of Ithaca the fair. If to review his country be his fate, Be it through toils and sufferings long and late; His lost companions let him first deplore; Some vessel, not his own, transport him o'er; And when at home from foreign sufferings freed, More near and deep, domestic woes succeed!' With imprecations thus he fill'd the air, And angry Neptune heard the unrighteous prayer, A larger rock then heaving from the plain, He whirl'd it round: it sung across the main; It fell, and brush'd the stern: the billows roar, Shake at the weight, and refluent beat the shore. With all our force we kept aloof to sea, And gain'd the island where our vessels lay. Our sight the whole collected navy cheer'd. Who, waiting long, by turns had hoped and fear'd. There disembarking on the green sea side, We land our cattle, and the spoil divide; Of these due shares to every sailor fall; The master ram was voted mine by all; And him (the guardian of Ulysses' fate) With pious mind to heaven I consecrate. But the great god, whose thunder rends the skies, Averse, beholds the smoking sacrifice; And sees me wandering still from coast to coast, And all my vessels, all my people, lost! While thoughtless we indulge the genial rite, As plenteous cates and flowing bowls invite; Till evening Phoebus roll'd away the light; Stretch'd on the shore in careless ease we rest, Till ruddy morning purpled o'er the east; Then from their anchors all our ships unbind, And mount the decks, and call the willing wind. Now, ranged in order on our banks we sweep. With hasty strokes the hoarse-resounding deep; Blind to the future, pensive with our fears, Glad for the living, for the dead in tears."