Cyclops! should any mortal man inquire To whom thy shameful loss of sight thou ow'st, Say, to Ulysses, city-waster Chief, Laertes' son, native of Ithaca. I ceas'd, and with a groan thus he replied. Ah me! an antient oracle I feel Accomplish'd. Here abode a prophet erst, 600 A man of noblest form, and in his art Unrivall'd, Telemus Eurymedes. He, prophesying to the Cyclops-race, Grew old among us, and presaged my loss Of sight, in future, by Ulysses' hand. I therefore watch'd for the arrival here, Always, of some great Chief, for stature, bulk And beauty prais'd, and cloath'd with wond'rous might. But now--a dwarf, a thing impalpable, A shadow, overcame me first by wine, 610 Then quench'd my sight. Come hither, O my guest! Return, Ulysses! hospitable cheer Awaits thee, and my pray'rs I will prefer To glorious Neptune for thy prosp'rous course; For I am Neptune's offspring, and the God Is proud to be my Sire; he, if he please, And he alone can heal me; none beside Of Pow'rs immortal, or of men below. He spake, to whom I answer thus return'd. I would that of thy life and soul amerced, 620 I could as sure dismiss thee down to Hell, As none shall heal thine eye--not even He. So I; then pray'd the Cyclops to his Sire With hands uprais'd towards the starry heav'n. Hear, Earth-encircler Neptune, azure-hair'd! If I indeed am thine, and if thou boast Thyself my father, grant that never more Ulysses, leveller of hostile tow'rs, Laertes' son, of Ithaca the fair, Behold his native home! but if his fate 630 Decree him yet to see his friends, his house, His native country, let him deep distress'd Return and late, all his companions lost, Indebted for a ship to foreign aid, And let affliction meet him at his door. He spake, and Ocean's sov'reign heard his pray'r. Then lifting from the shore a stone of size Far more enormous, o'er his head he whirl'd The rock, and his immeasurable force Exerting all, dismiss'd it. Close behind 640 The ship, nor distant from the rudder's head, Down came the mass. The ocean at the plunge Of such a weight, high on its refluent flood Tumultuous, heaved the bark well nigh to land. But when we reach'd the isle where we had left Our num'rous barks, and where my people sat Watching with ceaseless sorrow our return, We thrust our vessel to the sandy shore, Then disembark'd, and of the Cyclops' sheep Gave equal share to all. To me alone 650 My fellow-voyagers the ram consign'd In distribution, my peculiar meed. Him, therefore, to cloud-girt Saturnian Jove I offer'd on the shore, burning his thighs