waves the Strophades on strand
Now welcome; named by Greekish name Isles of the Sea, they stand 210
Amid the great Ionian folk: Celaeno holds the shores,
And others of the Harpies grim, since shut were Phineus' doors
Against them, and they had to leave the tables they had won.
No monster woefuller than they, and crueller is none
Of all God's plagues and curses dread from Stygian waters sent.
A winged thing with maiden face, whose bellies' excrement
Is utter foul; and hooked hands, and face for ever pale
With hunger that no feeding stints.

Borne thither, into haven come, we see how everywhere
The merry wholesome herds of neat feed down the meadows fair, 220
And all untended goatish flocks amid the herbage bite.
With point and edge we fall on them, and all the Gods invite,
Yea very Jove, to share the spoil, and on the curved strand
We strew the beds, and feast upon rich dainties of the land.
When lo, with sudden dreadful rush from out the mountains hap
The Harpy folk, and all about their clanging wings they flap,
And foul all things with filthy touch as at the food they wrench,
And riseth up their grisly voice amid the evilest stench.

Once more then 'neath a hollow rock at a long valley's head, 229
Where close around the boughs of trees their quavering shadows shed,
We dight the boards, and once again flame on the altars raise.
Again from diverse parts of heaven, from dusky lurking-place,
The shrieking rout with hooked feet about the prey doth fly,
Fouling the feast with mouth: therewith I bid my company
To arms, that with an evil folk the war may come to pass.
They do no less than my commands, and lay along the grass
Their hidden swords, and therewithal their bucklers cover o'er.
Wherefore, when swooping down again, they fill the curved shore
With noise, Misenus blows the call from off a watch-stead high
With hollow brass; our folk fall on and wondrous battle try, 240
Striving that sea-fowl's filthy folk with point and edge to spill.
But nought will bite upon their backs, and from their feathers still
Glanceth the sword, and swift they flee up 'neath the stars of air,
Half-eaten meat and token foul leaving behind them there.
But on a rock exceeding high yet did Celaeeno rest,
Unhappy seer! there breaks withal a voice from out her breast: