Forgot his caverns, and his woolly care, Assumed the softness of a lover’s air, And comb’d, with teeth of rakes, his rugged hair: Now with a crooked scythe his beard he sleeks, And mows the stubborn stubble of his cheeks; Now in the crystal stream he looks, to try His courteous bows, and rolls his glaring eye. His cruelty and thirst for blood are lost; And ships securely sail along the coast.

“The prophet Telemus (arrived by chance Where Aetna’s summits to the seas advance, Who mark’d the tracks of every bird that flew, And sure presages from their flying drew) Foretold the cyclop that Ulysses hand In his broad eye should thrust a flaming brand. The giant, with a scornful grin, replied, ‘Vain augur, thou hast falsely prophesied; Already love his flaming brand has toss’d, Looking on two fair eyes my sight I lost.’ Thus, warn’d in vain, with stalking pace he strode, And stamp’d the margin of the briny flood With heavy steps, and weary, sought again The cool retirement of his gloomy den.