And lo! upon the prow o’ the hollow ship Like angry gulls, words fly; like screaming birds With hissing flight. The forward-straining ship Was coasting then the high peak of The Crow And the well-circled fount, and one could hear The rooting of the boar-pigs; then a pen Of ample girth appeared, with mighty rocks, Well-builded, walled around, and hedged about With wild-pear and with hawthorn all a-bloom. The godlike herdsman of the boar-pigs, next, Upon the seashore, with sharp-edgèd axe Spoiled of its bitter bark an oakling strong, And cut great stakes to strengthen that fair pen, With harsh and gleaming axe-bites. Fitfully Amid the water’s wash, came o’er the sea The hoarse pant of his strokes—that herdsman good— Faithful Eumæus—But Odysseus’ heart, Sunk deep in slumber, heard them not at all. IV. And now above the ship, from prow to stern, The sailors’ furious words like arrows sped In shuddering flight. The eager-homing ship Abreast the harbour of Phorkyne sailed. Ahead of it stood out the olive tree, Large, goodly-boughed; and near to it a cave, A cave sonorous with much-busied bees As they in wine-bowls and in jars of stone Perform sweet task of honey. One could see The stony street o’ the town; the houses white Climbing the hill; distinguish, ’mid the green Of water-loving alders, the fair fount, The altar white, the high-raised, goodly roof— Odysseus’ high-raised steading. Now, perchance, The shuttle whistled through the warp, and ’neath The weary fingers grew again the web Ample, immortal.—Yet, nor saw, nor heard Odysseus’ mighty heart, quite lost in sleep. V. And in the ship, now entering the port, The worse part won the day. The men untied The leathern bags, and straight the winds out-whistled Furious; the sail flung wide, and flapped as doth A peplum by a woman left outspread To dry i’ the sun upon some airy peak. And lo! the labouring ship hath left the haven— The haven where, upon the shore, there stood A goodly youth propped on a spear bronze-pointed. Under the grey-green olive stood the youth Silent, with dreaming eyes: and a swift hound Around him leaped, waving his plumy tail. Now the dog checketh in his restless play With straining eyes fixed on the infinite sea; And, snuffing up the air o’ the briny tracks, After the flying ship he howls aloud— Argus his dog. Yet still nor heard nor saw Odysseus’ heart, in balmy slumber bathed. VI.