Lest, if he land, upon him foreright flies A churlish wave, to crush him ’gainst a cliff, Worse than vain rend’ring all his landing strife. And should I swim to seek a hav’n elsewhere, Or land less way-beat, I may justly fear I shall be taken with a gale again, And cast a huge way off into the main; And there the great Earth-shaker (having seen My so near landing, and again his spleen Forcing me to him) will some whale send out, (Of which a horrid number here about His Amphitrite breeds) to swallow me. I well have prov’d, with what malignity He treads my steps.” While this discourse he held, A curs’d surge ’gainst a cutting rock impell’d His naked body, which it gash’d and tore, And had his bones broke, if but one sea more Had cast him on it. But She prompted him, That never fail’d, and bade him no more swim Still off and on, but boldly force the shore, And hug the rock that him so rudely tore; Which he with both hands sigh’d and clasp’d, till past The billow’s rage was; when ’scap’d, back so fast The rock repuls’d it, that it reft his hold, Sucking him from it, and far back he roll’d And as the polypus that (forc’d from home Amidst the soft sea, and near rough land come For shelter ’gainst the storms that beat on her At open sea, as she abroad doth err) A deal of gravel, and sharp little stones, Needfully gathers in her hollow bones; So he forc’d hither by the sharper ill, Shunning the smoother, where he best hop’d, still The worst succeeded; for the cruel friend, To which he cling’d for succour, off did rend From his broad hands the soaken flesh so sore That off he fell, and could sustain no more. Quite under water fell he; and, past fate, Hapless Ulysses there had lost the state He held in life, if, still the grey-eyed Maid His wisdom prompting, he had not assay’d Another course, and ceas’d t’ attempt that shore, Swimming, and casting round his eye t’ explore Some other shelter. Then the mouth he found Of fair Callicoe’s flood, whose shores were crown’d With most apt succours: rocks so smooth they seem’d Polish’d of purpose; land that quite redeem’d With breathless coverts th’ others’ blasted shores. The flood he knew, and thus in heart implores: “King of this river, hear! Whatever name Makes thee invok’d, to thee I humbly frame My flight from Neptune’s furies. Rev’rend is To all the ever-living Deities What erring man soever seeks their aid. To thy both flood and knees a man dismay’d With varied suff’rance sues. Yield then some rest To him that is thy suppliant profest.” This, though but spoke in thought, the Godhead heard, Her current straight stay’d, and her thick waves clear’d Before him, smooth’d her waters, and, just where He pray’d half-drown’d, entirely sav’d him there. Then forth he came, his both knees falt’ring, both His strong hands hanging down, and all with froth His cheeks and nosthrils flowing, voice and breath Spent to all use, and down he sunk to death. The sea had soak’d his heart through; all his veins