Soon as we came into this craggy place,
Kindling a fire, he cast on the broad hearth
The knotty limbs of an enormous oak,
Three wagon-loads at least, and then he strewed
Upon the ground, beside the red fire-light,
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 four 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 Etnean slaughterings.*
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 caldron, 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,
And put him down to roast. The other's limbs
He chopped into the caldron to be boiled.
And I, with the tears raining from my eyes,
Stood near the Cyclops, ministering to him;
The rest, in the recesses of the cave,
I confess I do not understand this. -Note of the Author.
Clung to the rock like bats, bloodless with fear.
When he was filled with my companions' flesh,
He threw himself upon the ground, and sent
A loathsome exhalation from his maw.
Then a divine thought came to me. I filled
The cup of Maron, and I offered him
To taste, and said:" Child of the Ocean-God,
Behold what drink the vines of Greece produce,
The exultation and the joy of Bacchus."
He, satiated with his unnatural food,
Received it, and at one draught drank it off,
And, taking my hand, praised me." Thou hast
A sweet draught after a sweet meal, dear guest.”
And I, perceiving that it pleased him, filled
Another cup, well knowing that the wine
Would wound him soon and take a sure revenge,
And the charm fascinated him, and I
Plied him cup after cup, until the drink
Had warmed his entrails, and he sang aloud
In concert with my wailing fellow-seamen
A hideous discord-and the cavern rung.
I have stolen out, so that if you will
You may achieve my safety and your own.
But say, do you desire, or not, to fly
This uncompanionable man, and dwell,
As was your wont, among the Grecian nymphs,
Within the fanes of your beloved god?
Your father there within agrees to it,
But he is weak and overcome with wine;
And caught as if with birdlime by the cup,
He claps his wings and crows in doting joy.
You who are young escape with me, and find
Bacchus your ancient friend; unsuited he
To this rude Cyclops.
That I could see that day, and leave for ever The impious Cyclops.
Listen then what a punishment I have
For this fell monster, how secure a flight
From your hard servitude.
Than is the music of an Asian lyre
Would be the news of Polypheme destroyed.
Delighted with the Bacchic drink, he goes
To call his brother Cyclops-who inhabit
A village upon Ætna not far off.
I understand: catching him when alone,
You think by some measure to dispatch him,
Or thrust him from the precipice.
Nothing of that kind; my device is subtle.
How then? I heard of old that thou wert wise.
I will dissuade him from this plan, by saying
It were unwise to give the Cyclopses
This precious drink, which if enjoyed alone
Would make life sweeter for a longer time.
When vanquished by the Bacchic power, he sleeps,
There is a trunk of olive-wood within, [sword,
Whose point, having made sharp with this good
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 auger round,
Fitting the frame-work of a ship with beams,
So will I in the Cyclops' fiery eye
Turn round the brand, and dry the pupil up.
Joy! I am mad with joy at your device.
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
May I, as in libations to a god,
Share in the blinding him with the red brand? I would have some communion in his death.
Doubtless; the brand is a great brand to hold.
O! I would lift a hundred wagon-loads,
If like a wasp's nest I could scoop the eye out
Of the detested Cyclops.
Ye know the close device-and when I call,
Look ye obey the masters of the craft.
I will not save myself and leave behind
My comrades in the cave: I might escape,
Having got clear from that obscure recess,
But 'twere unjust to leave in jeopardy
The dear companions who sailed here with me.
Come! who is first, that with his hand
Will urge down the burning brand
Through the lids, and quench and pierce
The Cyclops' eye so fiery fierce ?
SEMICHORUS I. Song within.
Listen! listen! he is coming,
A most hideour discord humming,
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