With all my children quaint in search of you, And fixed the naked mast, and all my boys, Leaning upon their oars, with splash and strain We keep this lawless giant's wandering flocks. My sons indeed, on far declivities, Young things themselves, tend on the youngling sheep, Or sweeping the hard floor, or ministering To the fell Cyclops. I am wearied of it! CHORUS OF SATYRS. STROPHE. Where has he of race divine Here the air is calm and fine Wild, seditious, rambling! An Iacchic melody EPODE.* To the golden Aphrodite In these wretched goat-skins clad, Far from thy delights and thee. The Antistrophe is omitted. Sil. Be silent, sons; command the slaves to drive The gathered flocks into the rock-roofed cave. Chorus. Go But what needs this serious haste, O father? Sil. I see a Greek ship's boat upon the coast, And thence the rowers with some general And water-flasks.-O miserable strangers! Whence come they, that they know not what and who The inhospitable roof of Polypheme, And the Cyclopian jaw-bone, man-destroying ? Be silent, Satyrs, while I ask and hear, Whence coming, they arrive the Etnean hill. Ulys. Friends, can you show me some clear water spring, The remedy of our thirst? Will any one Furnish with food seamen in want of it? Ha! what is this? We seems to be arrived This sportive band of Satyrs near the caves. O Stranger! Tell thy country and thy race. Sil. Oh! I know the man, Wordy and shrewd, the son of Sisyphus. Ulys. I am the same, but do not rail upon me.- Ulys. From Ilion, and from the Trojan toils. Sil. How, touched you not at your paternal shore? Ulys. Where you then driven here by stress of wea Sil. Following the Pirates who had kidnapped Bacchus. Ulys. What land is this, and who inhabit it ? Sil. Etna, the loftiest peak in Sicily. Ulys. And are there walls, and tower-surrounded towns! Ulys. How live they? do they sow the corn of Ceres? Sil. On milk and cheese, and on the flesh of sheep. Ulys. Have they the Bromian drink from the vine's stream? Sil. Ah! no; they live in an ungracious land. Ulys. And are they just to strangers ?-hospitable ? Sil. They think the sweetest thing a stranger brings Is his own flesh. Ulys. What do they eat man's flesh ? Sil. No one comes here who is not eaten up. Ulys. The Cyclops now-Where is he? Not at home? Sil. Absent on Etna, hunting with his dogs. Ulys. Know'st thou what thou must do to aid us hence? Sil. I know not: we will help you all we can. Ulys. Provide us food, of which we are in want. Sil. Here is not any thing, as I said, but meat. Ulys. But meat is a sweet remedy for hunger. Sil. Cow's milk there is, and store of curdled cheese. Ulys. Bring out:-I would see all before I bargain. Sil. But how much gold will you engage to give? Ulys. I bring no gold, but Bacchic juice. Sil. O joy! 'Tis long since these dry lips were wet with wine. Ulys. Maron, the son of the God, gave it me. Sil. Whom I have nursed a baby in my arms. Ulys. The son of Bacchus, for your clearer knowledge. Ulys. Old man, this skin contains it, which yon see. Ulys. Here is the cup, together with the skin. Sil. Papaiapax! what a sweet smell it has ! Ulys. You see it then?— Sil. By Jove, no! but I smell it. Ulys. Taste, that you may not praise it in words only. Sil. Babai! Great Bacchus calls me forth to dance! Joy! joy! Ulys. Did it flow sweetly down your throat? Sil. So that it tingled to my very nails. Sil. Let gold alone! only unlock the cask. Ulys. Bring out some cheeses now, or a goung goat. Sil. That will I do, despising any master. Yes, let me drink one cup, and I will give All that the Cyclops feed upon their mountains. Chorus. Ye have taken Troy, and laid your hands on Helen? Ulys. And utterly destroyed the race of Priam. Sil. * * * * The wanton wretch! She was bewitched to see |