one star was kindled in the sky, Nor could the moon her borrow’d light supply; For misty clouds involv’d the firmament, The stars were muffled, and the moon was pent.
“Scarce had the rising sun the day reveal’d, Scarce had his heat the pearly dews dispell’d, When from the woods there bolts, before our sight, Somewhat betwixt a mortal and a sprite, So thin, so ghastly meager, and so wan, So bare of flesh, he scarce resembled man. This thing, all tatter’d, seem’d from far t’implore Our pious aid, and pointed to the shore. We look behind, then view his shaggy beard; His clothes were tagg’d with thorns, and filth his limbs besmear’d; The rest, in mien, in habit, and in face, Appear’d a Greek, and such indeed he was. He cast on us, from far, a frightful view, Whom soon for Trojans and for foes he knew; Stood still, and paus’d; then all at once began To stretch his limbs, and trembled as he ran. Soon as approach’d, upon his knees he falls, And thus with tears and sighs for pity calls: ‘Now, by the pow’rs above, and what we share From Nature’s common gift, this vital air, O Trojans, take me hence! I beg no more; But bear me far from this unhappy shore. ’Tis true, I am a Greek, and farther own, Among your foes besieg’d th’ imperial town. For such demerits if my death be due, No more for this abandon’d life I sue; This only favour let my tears obtain, To throw me headlong in the rapid main: Since nothing more than death my crime demands, I die content, to die by human hands.’ He said, and on his knees my knees embrac’d: I bade him boldly tell his fortune past, His present state, his lineage, and his name, Th’ occasion of his fears, and whence he came. The good Anchises rais’d him with his hand; Who, thus encourag’d, answer’d our demand: ‘From Ithaca, my native soil, I came To Troy; and Achaemenides my name. Me my poor father with Ulysses sent; (O had I stay’d, with poverty content!) But, fearful for themselves, my countrymen Left me forsaken in the Cyclops’ den. The cave, tho’ large, was dark; the dismal floor Was pav’d with mangled limbs and putrid gore. Our monstrous host, of more than human size, Erects his head, and stares within the skies; Bellowing his voice, and horrid is his hue. Ye gods, remove this plague from mortal view! The joints of slaughter’d wretches are his food; And for his wine he quaffs the streaming blood. These eyes beheld, when with his spacious hand He seiz’d two captives of our Grecian band; Stretch’d on his back, he dash’d against the stones Their broken bodies, and their crackling bones: With spouting blood the purple pavement swims, While the dire glutton grinds the trembling limbs.
“‘Not unreveng’d Ulysses bore their fate, Nor thoughtless of his own unhappy state; For, gorg’d with flesh, and drunk with human wine While fast asleep the giant lay supine, Snoring aloud, and belching from 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 neighb’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 labours, 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 sav’d in vain The prophet, who my future woes reveal’d, Yet this, the greatest and the worst, conceal’d; And dire Celaeno, whose foreboding skill Denounc’d all else, was silent of the ill. This my last labour was. Some friendly god From thence convey’d us to your blest abode.”
Thus, to the list’ning queen, the royal guest His wand’ring course and all his toils express’d; And here concluding, he retir’d to rest.