Odysseus, King of Ithaca (Mythological character) -- Juvenile literature
"Long did I think how I and my comrades should best escape. At
last I lighted upon a plan that seemed better than all the rest,
and much I thanked Zeus because this once the giant had driven the
rams with the other sheep into the cave. For, these being great
and strong, I fastened my comrades under the bellies of the
beasts, tying them with willow twigs, of which the giant made his
bed. One ram I took, and fastened a man beneath it, and two others
I set, one on either side. So I did with the six, for but six were
left out of the twelve who had ventured with me from the ship. And
there was one mighty ram, far larger than alt the others, and to
this I clung, grasping the fleece tight with both my hands. So we
all waited for the morning. And when the morning came, the rams
rushed forth to the pasture; but the giant sat in the door and
felt the back of each as it went by, nor thought to try what might
be underneath. Last of all went the great ram. And the Cyclops
knew him as he passed, and said:--
"'How is this, thou who art the leader of the flock? Thou art not
wont thus to lag behind. Thou hast always been the first to run to
the pastures and streams in the morning, and the first to come
back to the fold when evening fell; and now thou art last of all.
Perhaps thou art troubled about thy master's eye, which some
wretch--No Man, they call him--has destroyed. He has not escaped,
and I would that thou couldest speak, and tell me where he is
lurking. Of a truth, I would dash out his brains upon the ground,
and avenge me on this No Man.'
"So speaking, he let the ram pass out of the cave. But when we
were now out of reach of the giant, I loosed my hold of the ram,
and then unbound my comrades. And we hastened to our ship, not
forgetting to drive the sheep before us, and often looking back
till we came to the seashore. Right glad were those that had abode
by the ship to see us. Nor did they lament for those that had
died, though we were fain to do so, for I forbade, fearing lest
the noise of their weeping should betray where we were to the
giant. Then we all climbed into the ship, and sitting well in
order on the benches smote the sea with our oars, laying to right
lustily, that we might the sooner get away from the accursed land.
And when we had rowed a hundred yards or so, so that a man's voice
could yet be heard by one who stood upon the shore, I stood up in
the ship and shouted:--
"'He was no coward, O Cyclops, whose comrades thou didst so foully
slay in thy den. Justly art thou punished, monster, that devourest
thy guests in thy dwelling. May the gods make thee suffer yet
worse things than these!'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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