Humbler, a bow-shot only from the first; 120 On this a wild fig grows broad-leav'd, and here Charybdis dire ingulphs the sable flood. Each day she thrice disgorges, and each day Thrice swallows it. Ah! well forewarn'd, beware What time she swallows, that thou come not nigh, For not himself, Neptune, could snatch thee thence. Close passing Scylla's rock, shoot swift thy bark Beyond it, since the loss of six alone Is better far than shipwreck made of all. So Circe spake, to whom I thus replied. 130 Tell me, O Goddess, next, and tell me true! If, chance, from fell Charybdis I escape, May I not also save from Scylla's force My people; should the monster threaten them? I said, and quick the Goddess in return. Unhappy! can exploits and toils of war Still please thee? yield'st not to the Gods themselves? She is no mortal, but a deathless pest, Impracticable, savage, battle-proof. Defence is vain; flight is thy sole resource. 140 For should'st thou linger putting on thy arms Beside the rock, beware, lest darting forth Her num'rous heads, she seize with ev'ry mouth A Greecian, and with others, even thee. Pass therefore swift, and passing, loud invoke Cratais, mother of this plague of man, Who will forbid her to assail thee more. Thou, next, shalt reach Thrinacia; there, the beeves And fatted flocks graze num'rous of the Sun; Sev'n herds; as many flocks of snowy fleece; 150 Fifty in each; they breed not, neither die, Nor are they kept by less than Goddesses, Lampetia fair, and Phäethusa, both By nymph Neæra to Hyperion borne. Them, soon as she had train'd them to an age Proportion'd to that charge, their mother sent Into Thrinacia, there to dwell and keep Inviolate their father's flocks and herds. If, anxious for a safe return, thou spare Those herds and flocks, though after much endured, 160 Ye may at last your Ithaca regain; But should'st thou violate them, I foretell Destruction of thy ship and of thy crew, And though thyself escape, thou shalt return Late, in ill plight, and all thy friends destroy'd. She ended, and the golden morning dawn'd. Then, all-divine, her graceful steps she turn'd Back through the isle, and, at the beach arrived, I summon'd all my followers to ascend The bark again, and cast the hawsers loose. 170 They, at my voice, embarking, fill'd in ranks The seats, and rowing, thresh'd the hoary flood. And now, melodious Circe, nymph divine, Sent after us a canvas-stretching breeze, Pleasant companion of our course, and we (The decks and benches clear'd) untoiling sat, While managed gales sped swift the bark along. Then, with dejected heart, thus I began.