0.70 out of six boxes filled/completed
assignment is due by tuesday
that is january nineteenth, twenty-twenty-one
Let's go explore!
We have gifts, don't attack us!
"When the young Dawn with finger tips of rose/ came in the east, I called my men together/ and made a speech to them:/ Old shipmates, friends,/ the rest of you stand by; I’ll make the crossing/ in my own ship, with my own company,/ and find out what the mainland natives are/ for they may be wild savages, and lawless,/ or hospitable and god fearing men." (Lines 68-75)
Okay, let's stab his eye out!
"Across the bay from the land of the Cyclopes is a lush, deserted/ island." The "crew land[s] on the island in a dense fog/ and spend[s] days feasting on wine and wild goats and observing the mainland, where the/ Cyclopes live. On the third day, [the]/ company of men set[s] out to learn if the Cyclopes are friends/ or foes." (Among lines 67-70)
"We lit a fire, burnt an offering,/ and took some cheese to eat; then sat in silence/ around the embers, waiting. When he came/ he had a load of dry boughs over his shoulder/ to stoke his fire at suppertime." (Lines 133-137)
Take that, Polyphemus!
"Now I/ chopped out a six foot section of this pole/ and set it down before my men, who scraped it;/ and when they had it smooth, I hewed again/ to make a stake with pointed end. I held this/ in the fires heart and turned it, toughening it,/ then hid it, well back in the cavern, under/ one of the dung piles in profusion there." (Lines 230-237)
"I tied them silently together, twining/ cords of willow from the ogre’s bed;/ then slung a man under each middle one/ to ride there safely, shielded left and right./ So three sheep could convey each man. I took/ the woolliest ram, the choicest of the flock,/ and hung myself under his kinky belly,/ pulled up tight, with fingers twisted deep/ in sheepskin ringlets for an iron grip." (Lines 337-345)
"At this he stretched his hands out in his darkness/ toward the sky of stars, and prayed Poseidon:/ O hear me, lord, blue girdler of the islands,/ if I am thine indeed, and thou art father:/ grant that Odysseus, raider of cities, never/ see his home: Laertes son, I mean,/ who kept his hall on Ithaca. Should destiny/ intend that he shall see his roof again/ among his family in his father land,/ far be that day, and dark the years between./ Let him lose all companions, and return/ under strange sail to bitter days at home." (Lines 441-452)