We suppliants are; and hospitable Jove Pours wreak on all whom pray’rs want pow’r to move, And with their plagues together will provide That humble guests shall have their wants supplied.’ He cruelly answer’d: ‘O thou fool,’ said he, To come so far, and to importune me With any God’s fear, or observéd love! We Cyclops care not for your goat-fed Jove, Nor other Bless’d ones; we are better far. To Jove himself dare I bid open war, To thee, and all thy fellows, if I please. But tell me, where’s the ship, that by the seas Hath brought thee hither? If far off, or near, Inform me quickly.’ These his temptings were; But I too much knew not to know his mind, And craft with craft paid, telling him the wind (Thrust up from sea by Him that shakes the shore) Had dash’d our ships against his rocks, and tore Her ribs in pieces close upon his coast, And we from high wrack sav’d, the rest were lost. He answer’d nothing, but rush’d in, and took Two of my fellows up from earth, and strook Their brains against it. Like two whelps they flew About his shoulders, and did all embrue The blushing earth. No mountain lion tore Two lambs so sternly, lapp’d up all their gore Gush’d from their torn-up bodies, limb by limb (Trembling with life yet) ravish’d into him. Both flesh and marrow-stufféd bones he eat, And ev’n th’ uncleanséd entrails made his meat. We, weeping, cast our hands to heav’n, to view A sight so horrid. Desperation flew, With all our after lives, to instant death, In our believ’d destruction. But when breath The fury of his appetite had got, Because the gulf his belly reach’d his throat, Man’s flesh, and goat’s milk, laying lay’r on lay’r, Till near chok’d up was all the pass for air, Along his den, among’st his cattle, down He rush’d, and streak’d him. When my mind was grown Desp’rate to step in, draw my sword, and part His bosom where the strings about the heart Circle the liver, and add strength of hand. But that rash thought, more stay’d, did countermand, For there we all had perish’d, since it past Our pow’rs to lift aside a log so vast, As barr’d all outscape; and so sigh’d away The thought all night, expecting active day. Which come, he first of all his fire enflames, Then milks his goats and ewes, then to their dams Lets in their young, and, wondrous orderly, With manly haste dispatch’d his housewif’ry. Then to his breakfast, to which other two Of my poor friends went; which eat, out then go His herds and fat flocks, lightly putting by The churlish bar, and clos’d it instantly; For both those works with ease as much he did, As you would ope and shut your quiver lid. With storms of whistlings then his flock he drave Up to the mountains; and occasion gave For me to use my wits, which to their height I striv’d to screw up, that a vengeance might By some means fall from thence, and Pallas now Afford a full ear to my neediest vow. This then my thoughts preferr’d: A huge club lay Close by his milk-house, which was now in way