'I'm one,' says he, 'of poor descent; my name Is Achæmenides, my country Greece; Ulysses' sad compeer, who, whilst he fled The raging Cyclops, left me here behind, Disconsolate, forlorn; within the cave He left me, giant Polypheme's dark cave; A dungeon wide and horrible, the walls On all sides furred with mouldy damps, and hung With clots of ropy gore, and human limbs, His dire repast: himself of mighty size, _70 Hoarse in his voice, and in his visage grim, Intractable, that riots on the flesh Of mortal men, and swills the vital blood. Him did I see snatch up with horrid grasp Two sprawling Greeks, in either hand a man; I saw him when with huge, tempestuous sway He dashed and broke them on the grundsil edge; The pavement swam in blood, the walls around Were spattered o'er with brains. He lapp'd the blood, And chewed the tender flesh still warm with life, _80 That swelled and heaved itself amidst his teeth As sensible of pain. Not less meanwhile Our chief, incensed and studious of revenge, Plots his destruction, which he thus effects. The giant, gorged with flesh, and wine, and blood, Lay stretched at length and snoring in his den, Belching raw gobbets from his maw, o'ercharged With purple wine and cruddled gore confused. We gathered round, and to his single eye, The single eye that in his forehead glared _90 Like a full moon, or a broad burnished shield, A forky staff we dexterously applied, Which, in the spacious socket turning round, Scooped out the big round jelly from its orb. But let me not thus interpose delays; Fly, mortals, fly this cursed, detested race: A hundred of the same stupendous size, A hundred Cyclops live among the hills, Gigantic brotherhood, that stalk along With horrid strides o'er the high mountains' tops, _100 Enormous in their gait; I oft have heard Their voice and tread, oft seen them as they passed, Sculking and cowering down, half dead with fear. Thrice has the moon washed all her orb in light, Thrice travelled o'er, in her obscure sojourn, The realms of night inglorious, since I've lived Amidst these woods, gleaning from thorns and shrubs A wretched sustenance.' As thus he spoke, We saw descending from a neighbouring hill Blind Polypheme; by weary steps and slow _110 The groping giant with a trunk of pine Explored his way; around, his woolly flocks Attended grazing; to the well-known shore He bent his course, and on the margin stood, A hideous monster, terrible, deformed; Full in the midst of his high front there gaped The spacious hollow where his eye-ball rolled, A ghastly orifice: he rinsed the wound, And washed away the strings and clotted blood That caked within; then, stalking through the deep, _120 He fords the ocean, while the topmost wave Scarce reaches up his middle side; we stood Amazed, be sure; a sudden horror chill Ran through each nerve, and thrilled in every vein,