We struck them, and the Gods gave us much prey. 180 Twelve ships attended me, and ev'ry ship Nine goats received by lot; myself alone Selected ten. All day, till set of sun, We eating sat goat's flesh, and drinking wine Delicious, without stint; for dearth was none Of ruddy wine on board, but much remain'd, With which my people had their jars supplied What time we sack'd Ciconian Ismarus. Thence looking forth toward the neighbour-land Where dwell the Cyclops, rising smoke we saw, 190 And voices heard, their own, and of their flocks. Now sank the sun, and (night o'ershadowing all) We slept along the shore; but when again The rosy-finger'd daughter of the dawn Look'd forth, my crews convened, I thus began. Companions of my course! here rest ye all, Save my own crew, with whom I will explore This people, whether wild, they be, unjust, And to contention giv'n, or well-disposed To strangers, and a race who fear the Gods. 200 So speaking, I embark'd, and bade embark My followers, throwing, quick, the hawsers loose. They, ent'ring at my word, the benches fill'd Well-ranged, and thresh'd with oars the foamy flood. Attaining soon that neighbour-land, we found At its extremity, fast by the sea, A cavern, lofty, and dark-brow'd above With laurels; in that cavern slumb'ring lay Much cattle, sheep and goats, and a broad court Enclosed it, fenced with stones from quarries hewn, 210 With spiry firs, and oaks of ample bough. Here dwelt a giant vast, who far remote His flocks fed solitary, converse none Desiring, sullen, savage, and unjust. Monster, in truth, he was, hideous in form, Resembling less a man by Ceres' gift Sustain'd, than some aspiring mountain-crag Tufted with wood, and standing all alone. Enjoining, then, my people to abide Fast by the ship which they should closely guard, 220 I went, but not without a goat-skin fill'd With sable wine which I had erst received From Maron, offspring of Evanthes, priest Of Phœbus guardian god of Ismarus, Because, through rev'rence of him, we had saved Himself, his wife and children; for he dwelt Amid the grove umbrageous of his God. He gave me, therefore, noble gifts; from him Sev'n talents I received of beaten gold, A beaker, argent all, and after these 230 No fewer than twelve jars with wine replete, Rich, unadult'rate, drink for Gods; nor knew One servant, male or female, of that wine In all his house; none knew it, save himself, His wife, and the intendant of his stores. Oft as they drank that luscious juice, he slaked A single cup with twenty from the stream, And, even then, the beaker breath'd abroad A scent celestial, which whoever smelt,