Homer · tr. Bryant, 1871

Book IX · Trapped with the man-eater · Scene 2 of 2

Devoured

Odysseus lies about ship, four devoured

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The text

16“He spoke to tempt me, but I well perceived
His craft, and answered with dissembling words: —

17“ ‘Poseidon, who shakes the shores, has wrecked my barque
On rocks that edge your island, hurling it
Against the headland. From the open sea
The tempest swept it hitherward, and I,
With these, escaped the bitter doom of death.’

18“I spoke; the savage answered not, but sprang,
And, laying hands on my companions, seized
Two, whom he dashed like whelps against the ground.
Their brains flowed out, and weltered where they fell.
He hewed them limb from limb for his repast,
And, like a lion of the mountain wilds,
Devoured them as they were, and left no part —
Entrails nor flesh nor marrowy bones. We wept
To see his cruelties, and raised our hands
To Zeus, and hopeless misery filled our hearts.
And when the Cyclops now had filled himself,
Devouring human flesh, and drinking milk
Unmingled, in his cave he laid him down,
Stretched out amid his flocks. The thought arose
In my courageous heart to go to him,
And draw the trenchant sword upon my thigh,
And where the midriff joins the liver deal
A stroke to pierce his breast. A second thought
Restrained me —that a miserable death
Would overtake us, since we had no power
To move the mighty rock which he had laid
At the high opening. So all night we grieved,
Waiting the holy Eos; and when at length
That rosy-fingered daughter of the dawn
Appeared, the Cyclops lit a fire, and milked
His fair flock one by one, and brought their young
Each to its mother’s side. When he had thus
Performed his household tasks, he seized again
Two of our number for his morning meal.
These he devoured, and then he moved away
With ease the massive rock that closed the cave,
And, driving forth his well-fed flock, he laid
The massive barrier back, as one would fit
The lid upon a quiver. With loud noise
The Cyclops drove that well-fed flock afield,
While I was left to think of many a plan
To do him mischief and avenge our wrongs,
If haply Athena should confer on me
That glory. To my mind, as I revolved
The plans, this seemed the wisest of them all.

Homer, The Odyssey, translated by William Cullen Bryant, 1871. Public domain.