With speed we reach’d the cavern; nor discern’d His presence there, his flocks he fed at field. Ent’ring his den, each thing beheld did yield Our admiration; shelves with cheeses heap’d; Sheds stuff’d with lambs and goats, distinctly kept, Distinct the biggest, the more mean distinct, Distinct the youngest. And in their precinct, Proper and placeful, stood the troughs and pails, In which he milk’d; and what was giv’n at meals, Set up a creaming; in the ev’ning still All scouring bright as dew upon the hill. Then were my fellows instant to convey Kids, cheeses, lambs, aship-board, and away Sail the salt billow. I thought best not so, But better otherwise; and first would know, What guest-gifts he would spare me. Little knew My friends on whom they would have prey’d. His view Prov’d after, that his inwards were too rough For such bold usage. We were bold enough In what I suffer’d; which was there to stay, Make fire and feed there, though bear none away. There sat we, till we saw him feeding come, And on his neck a burthen lugging home, Most highly huge, of sere-wood, which the pile That fed his fire supplied all supper-while. Down by his den he threw it, and up rose A tumult with the fall. Afraid, we close Withdrew ourselves, while he into a cave Of huge receipt his high-fed cattle drave, All that he milk’d; the males he left without His lofty roofs, that all bestrow’d about With rams and buck-goats were. And then a rock He lift aloft, that damm’d up to his flock The door they enter’d; ’twas so hard to wield, That two-and-twenty waggons, all four-wheel’d, (Could they be loaded, and have teams that were Proportion’d to them) could not stir it there. Thus making sure, he kneel’d and milk’d his ewes, And braying goats, with all a milker’s dues; Then let in all their young. Then quick did dress His half milk up for cheese, and in a press Of wicker press’d it; put in bowls the rest, To drink and eat, and serve his supping feast. All works dispatch’d thus, he began his fire; Which blown, he saw us, and did thus inquire: ῾Ho! guests! What are ye? Whence sail ye these seas? Traffic, or rove ye, and like thieves oppress Poor strange adventurers, exposing so Your souls to danger, and your lives to woe?’ This utter’d he, when fear from our hearts took The very life, to be so thunder-strook With such a voice, and such a monster see; But thus I answer’d: ‘Erring Grecians, we From Troy were turning homewards, but by force Of adverse winds, in far diverted course, Such unknown ways took, and on rude seas toss’d, As Jove decreed, are cast upon this coast, Of Agamemnon, famous Atreus’ son, We boast ourselves the soldiers; who hath won[7] Renown that reacheth heav’n, to overthrow So great a city, and to ruin so So many nations. Yet at thy knees lie Our prostrate bosoms, forc’d with pray’rs to try If any hospitable right, or boon Of other nature, such as have been won By laws of other houses, thou wilt give. Rev’rence the Gods, thou great’st of all that live.