And all the Gods besought, that held commands In liberal heav’n, to yield some mean to stay Their desp’rate hunger, and set up the way Of our return restrain’d. The Gods, instead Of giving what I pray’d for—pow’r of deed— A deedless sleep did on my lids distill, For mean to work upon my friends their fill. For whiles I slept, there wak’d no mean to curb Their headstrong wants; which he that did disturb My rule in chief at all times, and was chief To all the rest in counsel to their grief, Knew well, and of my present absence took His fit advantage, and their iron strook At highest heat. For, feeling their desire In his own entrails, to allay the fire That Famine blew in them, he thus gave way To that affection: ‘Hear what I shall say, Though words will staunch no hunger, ev’ry death To us poor wretches that draw temporal breath You know is hateful; but, all know, to die The death of Famine is a misery Past all death loathsome. Let us, therefore, take The chief of this fair herd, and off’rings make To all the Deathless that in broad heav’n live, And in particular vow, if we arrive In natural Ithaca, to straight erect A temple to the Haughty-in-aspect, Rich and magnificent, and all within Deck it with relics many and divine. If yet he stands incens’d, since we have slain His high-brow’d herd, and, therefore, will sustain Desire to wrack our ship, he is but one, And all the other Gods that we atone With our divine rites will their suffrage give To our design’d return, and let us live. If not, and all take part, I rather crave To serve with one sole death the yawning wave, Than in a desert island lie and sterve, And with one pin’d life many deaths observe.’ All cried ‘He counsels nobly,’ and all speed Made to their resolute driving; for the feed Of those coal-black, fair, broad-brow’d, sun-lov’d beeves Had place close by our ships. They took the lives Of sence, most eminent; about their fall Stood round, and to the States Celestial Made solemn vows; but other rites their ship Could not afford them, they did, therefore, strip The curl’d-head oak of fresh young leaves, to make Supply of service for their barley-cake. And on the sacredly-enflam’d, for wine, Pour’d purest water, all the parts divine Spitting and roasting; all the rites beside Orderly using. Then did light divide My low and upper lids; when, my repair Made near my ship, I met the delicate air Their roast exhal’d; out instantly I cried, And said: ‘O Jove, and all ye Deified, Ye have oppress’d me with a cruel sleep, While ye conferr’d on me a loss as deep As Death descends to. To themselves alone My rude men left ungovern’d, they have done A deed so impious, I stand well assur’d, That you will not forgive though ye procur’d.’ Then flew Lampetié with the ample robe Up to her father with the golden globe, Ambassadress t’ inform him that my men Had slain his oxen. Heart-incensed then, He cried: ‘Revenge me, Father, and the rest Both ever-living and for ever blest!