Laertes’ son, of Ithaca the fair,
Behold his native home! but if his fate
Decree him yet to see his friends, his house,
His native country, let him deep distress’d
Return and late, all his companions lost,
Indebted for a ship to foreign aid,
And let affliction meet him at his door.
He spake, and Ocean’s sov’reign heard his pray’r.
Then lifting from the shore a stone of size
Far more enormous, o’er his head he whirl’d
The rock, and his immeasurable force
Exerting all, dismiss’d it. Close behind
The ship, nor distant from the rudder’s head,
Down came the mass. The ocean at the plunge
Of such a weight, high on its refluent flood
Tumultuous, heaved the bark well nigh to land.
But when we reach’d the isle where we had left
Our num’rous barks, and where my people sat
Watching with ceaseless sorrow our return,
We thrust our vessel to the sandy shore,
Then disembark’d, and of the Cyclops’ sheep
Gave equal share to all. To me alone
My fellow-voyagers the ram consign’d
In distribution, my peculiar meed.
Him, therefore, to cloud-girt Saturnian Jove
I offer’d on the shore, burning his thighs
In sacrifice; but Jove my hallow’d rites
Reck’d not, destruction purposing to all
My barks, and all my followers o’er the Deep.
Thus, feasting largely, on the shore we sat
Till even-tide, and quaffing gen’rous wine;
But when day fail’d, and night o’ershadow’d all,
Then, on the shore we slept; and when again
Aurora rosy daughter of the Dawn,
Look’d forth, my people, anxious, I enjoin’d
To climb their barks, and cast the hawsers loose.
They all obedient, took their seats on board
Well- ranged, and thresh’d with oars the foamy flood.
Thus, ’scaping narrowly, we roam’d the Deep
With aching hearts and with diminish’d crews.
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