'Strangers,' he said, 'who are you? And where from? What brings you here by sea ways - a fair traffic? Or are you wandering rogues, who cast your lives like dice, and ravage other folk by sea?'
'We are Troy, Achaeans, blown off course by shifting gales on the Great South Sea . . . so the will of Zeus would have it.'
When all these chores were done, he poked the fire, heaping on the brushwood. In the glare he saw us.
'You are a ninny, or else you come from the other end of nowhere, telling me, mind the gods! . . . I would not let you go for fear of Zeus-you or your friends-unless I had a whim to.
Three bowls I brought him, and he poured them down.
'Cyclops, try some wine. Here's some liquor to wash down your scraps of men.'
Now by the gods, I drove my big spike deep in the embers . . . I drew it from the coals and my four fellows gave me a hand, lugging it near the Cyclops as more than natural force nerved them; straight forward they sprinted, lifted it, and rammed it deep in his crater eye.
The Cyclops' rams were handsome, fat, with heavy fleeces, a dark violet.
He sent us into the open, then. Close by, I dropped and rolled clear of the ram's belly, going this way and that to untie the men. With glances back, we rounded up his fat, stiff-legged sheep to take aboard, and drove them down to where the good ship lay.
Three abreast 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.
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