Out of this rock; I, standing at the outlet,

Will bar the way, and catch you as you pass.

Chorus.

What are you roaring out, Cyclops?

Cyclops.

I perish!

Chorus.

What did you fall into the fire when drunk?

I wish you were as blind as I am.

Chorus.

Nay,

It cannot be that no one made you blind.

Cyclops.

You jeer me; where, I ask, is Nobody?

Chorus.

Nowhere, O Cyclops!

Cyclops.

It was that stranger ruined me; the wretch
First gave me wine, and then burned out my eye;
For wine is strong, and hard to struggle with.
Have they escaped, or are they still within?

Chorus.

Now they escape you there.

Cyclops.

Not there, although you say so.

Chorus.

Not on that side.

Cyclops.

Where then ?

Chorus.

They creep about you on your left.

Cyclops.

Ah! I am mocked! They jeer me in my ills.

Chorus.

Not there! he is a little there beyond you.

Cyclops.

Detested wretch! where are you?

Ulysses.

Far from you,

I keep with care this body of Ulysses.

Cyclops.

What do you say? you proffer a new name.

Ulysses.

My father named me so, and I have taken
A full revenge for your unnatural feast.

I should have done ill to have burned down Troy,
And not revenged the murder of my comrades.
Cyclops.

Ai, ai! the ancient oracle is accomplished;
It said that I should have my eyesight blinded
By one coming from Troy; yet it foretold
That you should pay the penalty for this,
By wandering long over the homeless sea.

Ulysses.

I bid thee weep; consider what I say,

I go towards the shore to drive my ship
To mine own land, o'er the Sicilian wave.

Cyclops,

Not so, if whelming you with this huge stone
I can crush you and all your men together ;
I will descend upon the shore, though blind,
Groping my way adown the steep ravine.

Chorus.

And we, the shipmates of Ulysses now,
Will serve our Bacchus all our happy lives.

SHELLEY.

EOLUS.

THEE, son of Jove, whose sceptre was confessed
Where fair Æolia springs from Tethys' breast;
Thence on Olympus, 'mid celestials placed,
God of the winds, and Æther's boundless waste,
Thee I invoke! O, puff my bold design,
Prompt the bright thought, and swell the harmo-
nious line.

But while I count thy gifts, be mine to shun
The deprecated prize Ulysses won;

Who, sailing homeward from thy breezy shore,
The prisoned winds in skins of parchment bore.
Speeds the fleet bark, till o'er the billowy green
The azure heights of Ithaca are seen;

But while, with favoring gales, her way she wins,
His curious comrades ope the mystic skins;

When lo! the rescued winds, with boisterous

sweep,

Roar to the clouds, and lash the rocking deep;

Heaves the smote vessel in the howling blast,

Splits the stretched sail, and cracks the tottering

mast.

Launched on a plank the buoyant hero rides
Where ebon Afric stems the sable tides,