LXXV. "Now rose the Day-star from the East, and cleared The mists, that melted with advancing Morn, When suddenly from out the woods appeared An uncouth form, a creature wan and worn, Scarce like a man, in piteous plight forlorn. Suppliant his hands he stretches to the shore; We turn and look on tatters tagged with thorn, Dire squalor and a length of beard,--what more, A Greek, to Troy erewhile in native arms sent o'er. LXXVI. "He scared to see the Dardan garb once more And Trojan arms, stood faltering with dismay, Then rushed, with prayer and weeping, to the shore. 'O, by the stars, and by the Gods, I pray, And life's pure breath, this light of genial day, Take me, O Teucrians; wheresoe'er ye go, Enough to bear me from this land away. I once was of the Danaan crews, I know, And came to Trojan homes and Ilion as a foe. LXXVII. "'For that, if that be such a crime to you, O strew me forth upon the watery waste, And drown me in the deep. If death be due, 'Twere sweet of death by human hands to taste.' He cried, and, grovelling, our knees embraced, And, clasping, clung to us. We bid him stand And tell his birth and trouble; and in haste Himself the sire Anchises pledged his hand, And he at length took heart, and answered our demand. LXXVIII. "'My name is Achemenides. I come From Ithaca. To Troy I sailed the sea With evil-starred Ulysses, leaving home And father, Adamastus;--poor was he, And O! if such my poverty could be. Me here my thoughtless comrades, hurrying fast To quit the cruel threshold and be free, Leave in the Cyclops' cavern. Dark and vast That house of slaughtered men, and many a foul repast. LXXIX. "'Himself so tall, he strikes the lofty skies (O gods, rid earth of such a monstrous brood!), None dare with speech accost, nor mortal eyes Behold him. Human entrails are his food. Myself have seen him, gorged with brains and blood, Pluck forth two comrades, in his cave bent back, And dash them till the threshold swam with blood, Then crunch the gobbets in his teeth, while black With gore the limbs still quivered, and the bones did crack: LXXX. "'Not unavenged; nor brave Ulysses deigned To brook such outrage. In that hour of tyne True to himself the Ithacan remained. When, gorged with food, and belching gore and wine, With drooping neck, the giant snored supine, Then, closing round him, to the gods we pray, Each at his station, as the lots assign, And where, beneath the frowning forehead, lay, Huge as an Argive shield, or like the lamp of day,