To cool his fervour in the crystal flood;

Luxuriant on the wave-worn bank he lay,

Stretch’d forth and panting in the sunny ray.

I launch’d my spear, and with a sudden wound

Transpierced his back, and fix’d him to the ground.

He falls, and mourns his fate with human cries:

Through the wide wound the vital spirit flies.

I drew, and casting on the river’s side

The bloody spear, his gather’d feet I tied

With twining osiers which the bank supplied.

An ell in length the pliant wisp I weaved,

And the huge body on my shoulders heaved:

Then leaning on my spear with both my hands,

Upbore my load, and press’d the sinking sands

With weighty steps, till at the ship I threw

The welcome burden, and bespoke my crew:


“‘Cheer up, my friends! it is not yet our fate

To glide with ghosts through Pluto’s gloomy gate.

Food in the desert land, behold! is given!

Live, and enjoy the providence of heaven.’


“The joyful crew survey his mighty size,

And on the future banquet feast their eyes,

As huge in length extended lay the beast;

Then wash their hands, and hasten to the feast.

There, till the setting sun roll’d down the light,

They sate indulging in the genial rite.

When evening rose, and darkness cover’d o’er

The face of things, we slept along the shore.

But when the rosy morning warm’d the east,

My men I summon’d, and these words address’d:

“‘Followers and friends, attend what I propose:

Ye sad companions of Ulysses’ woes!

We know not here what land before us lies,

Or to what quarter now we turn our eyes,

Or where the sun shall set, or where shall rise.

Here let us think (if thinking be not vain)

If any counsel, any hope remain.

Alas! from yonder promontory’s brow

I view’d the coast, a region flat and low;

An isle encircled with the boundless flood;

A length of thickets, and entangled wood.

Some smoke I saw amid the forest rise,

And all around it only seas and skies!’