No More Learning

Thus yelling to alarm the peaceful ear
Of night, and break our slumbers? Fear'st thou lest
Some mortal man drive off thy flocks? or fear'st
Thyself to die by cunning or by force?
Them answer'd, then, Polypheme from his cave.
Oh, friends! I die! and Outis gives the blow.
To whom with accents wing'd his friends without. 480
If no man[35] harm thee, but thou art alone,
And sickness feel'st, it is the stroke of Jove,
And thou must bear it; yet invoke for aid
Thy father Neptune, Sovereign of the floods.
So saying, they went, and in my heart I laugh'd
That by the fiction only of a name,
Slight stratagem! I had deceived them all.
Then groan'd the Cyclops wrung with pain and grief,
And, fumbling, with stretch'd hands, removed the rock
From his cave's mouth, which done, he sat him down 490
Spreading his arms athwart the pass, to stop
Our egress with his flocks abroad; so dull,
It seems, he held me, and so ill-advised.
I, pondering what means might fittest prove
To save from instant death, (if save I might)
My people and myself, to ev'ry shift
Inclined, and various counsels framed, as one
Who strove for life, conscious of woe at hand.
To me, thus meditating, this appear'd
The likeliest course. The rams well-thriven were, 500
Thick-fleeced, full-sized, with wool of sable hue.
These, silently, with osier twigs on which
The Cyclops, hideous monster, slept, I bound,
Three in one leash; the intermediate rams
Bore each a man, whom the exterior two
Preserved, concealing him on either side.
Thus each was borne by three, and I, at last,
The curl'd back seizing of a ram, (for one
I had reserv'd far stateliest of them all)
Slipp'd underneath his belly, and both hands 510
Enfolding fast in his exub'rant fleece,
Clung ceaseless to him as I lay supine.
We, thus disposed, waited with many a sigh
The sacred dawn; but when, at length, aris'n,
Aurora, day-spring's daughter rosy-palm'd
Again appear'd, the males of all his flocks
Rush'd forth to pasture, and, meantime, unmilk'd,
The wethers bleated, by the load distress'd
Of udders overcharged. Their master, rack'd
With pain intolerable, handled yet 520
The backs of all, inquisitive, as they stood,
But, gross of intellect, suspicion none
Conceiv'd of men beneath their bodies bound.
And now (none left beside) the ram approach'd
With his 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.