is own wool burthen'd, and with myself,
Whom many a fear molested. Polypheme
The giant stroak'd him as he sat, and said,
My darling ram! why latest of the flock
Com'st thou, whom never, heretofore, my sheep
Could leave behind, but stalking at their head, 530
Thou first was wont to crop the tender grass,
First to arrive at the clear stream, and first
With ready will to seek my sheep-cote here
At evening; but, thy practice chang'd, thou com'st,
Now last of all. Feel'st thou regret, my ram!
Of thy poor master's eye, by a vile wretch
Bored out, who overcame me first with wine,
And by a crew of vagabonds accurs'd,
Followers of Outis, whose escape from death
Shall not be made to-day? Ah! that thy heart 540
Were as my own, and that distinct as I
Thou could'st articulate, so should'st thou tell,
Where hidden, he eludes my furious wrath.
Then, dash'd against the floor his spatter'd brain
Should fly, and I should lighter feel my harm
From Outis, wretch base-named and nothing-worth.
So saying, he left him to pursue the flock.
When, thus drawn forth, we had, at length, escaped
Few paces from the cavern and the court,
First, quitting my own ram, I loos'd my friends, 550
Then, turning seaward many a thriven ewe
Sharp-hoof'd, we drove them swiftly to the ship.
Thrice welcome to our faithful friends we came
From death escaped, but much they mourn'd the dead.
I suffer'd not their tears, but silent shook
My brows, by signs commanding them to lift
The sheep on board, and instant plow the main.
They, quick embarking, on the benches sat
Well ranged, and thresh'd with oars the foamy flood;
But distant now such length as a loud voice 560
May reach, I hail'd with taunts the Cyclops' ear.
Cyclops! when thou devouredst in thy cave
With brutal force my followers, thou devour'dst
The followers of no timid Chief, or base,
Vengeance was sure to recompense that deed
Atrocious. Monster! who wast not afraid
To eat the guest shelter'd beneath thy roof!
Therefore the Gods have well requited thee.
I ended; he, exasp'rate, raged the more,
And rending from its hold a mountain-top, 570
Hurl'd it toward us; at our vessel's stern
Down came the mass, nigh sweeping