Very few strangers have approached our The town of Troy, the tempests of the Into the neighbourhood of your cave, Of the false Helen, near Scamander's and here This old Silenus gave us in exchange and drank, And all by mutual compact, without force. There is no word of truth in what he says, For slily he was selling all your store. Ulysses. 'Twas the Gods' work-no mortal was in fault. Silenus. I? May you perish, But, O great offspring of the ocean wretch If I speak false ! Ulysses. Silenus. Cyclops, I swear by Neptune who begot thee, By mighty Triton and by Nereus old, Calypso and the glaucous ocean Nymphs, The sacred waves and all the race of fishes Be these the witnesses, my dear sweet master, My darling little Cyclops, that I never Gave any of your stores to these false strangers; king, We pray thee and admonish thee with freedom, That thou dost spare thy friends who visit thee, And place no impious food within thy jaws. For in the depths of Greece we have Temples to thy great father, which are all If I speak false may those whom most I And airy Sunium's silver-veinèd crag, love, My children, perish wretchedly! Chorus. There stop! I saw him giving these things to the strangers. Which divine Pallas keeps unprofaned ever, The Gerastian asylums, and whate'er Within wide Greece our enterprise has kept From Phrygian contumely; and in which As to the rest I care not:-When he You have a common care, for you inhabit pours Rain from above, I have a close pavilion The skirts of Grecian land, under the Under this rock, in which I lie supine, roots Feasting on a roast calf or some wild beast, Of Ætna and its crags, spotted with fire. ously Turn then to converse under human | And drinking pans of milk, and glorilaws, Receive us shipwrecked suppliants, and Emulating the thunder of high heaven. And when the Thracian wind pours down the snow, provide Food, clothes, and fire, and hospitable Nor fixing upon oxen-piercing spits I wrap my body in the skins of beasts, or no, Priam's wide land has widowed Greece Bringing forth grass, fattens my flocks enough; and herds, And weapon-winged murder heaped to- Which, to what other God but to myself gether And this great belly, first of deities, Enough of dead, and wives are husband- Should I be bound to sacrifice? I well less, wail know And ancient women and gray fathers The wise man's only Jupiter is this, the rest, And 'tis a bitter feast that you prepare, Forego the lust of your jaw-bone; those Who complicate with laws the life of man, I freely give them tears for their reward. prefer I will not cheat my soul of its delight, Or hesitate in dining upon you : Many have bought too dear their evil And that I may be quit of all demands, joys. These are my hospitable gifts;-fierce fire And yon ancestral cauldron, which o'er- Shall finely cook your miserable flesh. Ulysses. Ai! ai! I have escaped the Trojan toils, I have escaped the sea, and now I fall man. The sacred rocks whereon he dwells, O Pallas, mistress, Goddess, sprung from Stranger, I laugh to scorn Jove's thunder- Now, now, assist me! Mightier toils I know not that his strength is more Are these;-I totter on the chasms of For your gaping gulph, and your gullet The knotty limbs of an enormous oak, There is boiled meat, and roast meat, and meat from the coal, You may chop it, and tear it, and gnash it for fun, An hairy goat's-skin contains the whole. Let me but escape, and ferry me o'er The stream of your wrath to a safer shore. The Cyclops Etnean is cruel and bold, That sit on his hearth, To rise from the earth. With his cursed teeth, till all be gone. Farewell, foul pavilion: Farewell, rites of dread! With slaughter uncloying, In the flesh of strangers joying! O Jupiter! I saw within the cave Horrible things; deeds to be feigned in words, But not to be believed as being done. Three waggon-loads at least, and then he strewed Upon the ground, beside the red firelight, His couch of pine leaves; and he milked the cows, And pouring forth the white milk, filled a bowl Three cubits wide and four in depth, as much As would contain ten amphora, and bound it With ivy wreaths; then placed upon the fire A brazen pot to boil, and made red hot The points of spits, not sharpened with the sickle, But with a fruit tree bough, and with the jaws Of axes for Ætnean slaughterings.1 And when this God-abandoned cook of hell Had made all ready, he seized two of us And killed them in a kind of measured manner; For he flung one against the brazen rivets Of the huge cauldron, and seized the other By the foot's tendon, and knocked out his brains Upon the sharp edge of the craggy stone: Then peeled his flesh with a great cooking-knife Chorus. What! sawest thou the im- | And pious Polypheme Feasting upon your loved companions now? Ulysses. Selecting two, the plumpest of the crowd, He grasped them in his hands. He put him down to roast. The other's limbs chopped into the cauldron to be boiled. And I, with the tears raining from my eyes, 1 I confess I do not understand this. Stood near the Cyclops, ministering to He claps his wings and crows in doting him; The rest, in the recesses of the cave, with fear. When he was filled with my companions' flesh, He threw himself upon the ground and sent A loathsome exhalation from his maw. filled The cup of Maron, and I offered him Behold what drink the vines of Greece produce, For this fell monster, how secure a flight From your hard servitude. The exultation and the joy of Bacchus." Chorus. O sweeter far He, satiated with his unnatural food, Than is the music of an Asian lyre Received it, and at one draught drank | Would be the news of Polypheme filled To destroyed. Ulysses. Delighted with the Bacchic drink he goes call his brother Cyclops-who inhabit And I perceiving that it pleased him, A village upon Ætna not far off. Another cup, well knowing that the wine Chorus. I understand, catching him when alone Would wound him soon and take a sure You think by some measure to dispatch Or thrust him from the precipice. Chorus. How then? I heard of old this plan, by saying Would make life sweeter for a longer time. When vanquished by the Bacchic power, he sleeps, There is a trunk of olive wood within, Whose point having made sharp with this good sword I will conceal in fire, and when I see It is alight, will fix it, burning yet, Within the socket of the Cyclops' eye And melt it out with fire-as when a man Turns by its handle a great augur round, Fitting the framework of a ship with beams, So will I, in the Cyclops' fiery eye Turn round the brand and dry the pupil up. Chorus. Joy! I am mad with joy at your device. Ulysses. And then with you, my friends, and the old man, We'll load the hollow depth of our black ship, And row with double strokes from this dread shore. Chorus. May I, as in libations to a Share in the blinding him with the red brand? I would have some communion in his death. Ulysses. Doubtless: the brand is a great brand to hold. Chorus. Oh! I would lift an hundred waggon-loads, If like a wasp's nest I could scoop the eye out Of the detested Cyclops. Semichorus I. (Song within.) By all means he must be blinded, Semichorus II Happy those made odorous weep, To the village hastening thus, Seek the vines that soothe to sleep, Ha ha ha! I'm full of wine, To my brothers on the mountains, Bring the cask, O stranger, bring! One with eyes the fairest Cometh from his dwelling Bright beyond my telling. Soon pied flowers, sweet-breathing, Shall thy head be wreathing. Ulysses. Listen, O Cyclops, for I am well skilled |
