billow swept us back And toward the shore. I seized a long-stemmed pike And pushed it from the shore, encouraging The men to bend with vigor to their oars And so escape. With nods I gave the sign. Forward to vigorous strokes the oarsmen leaned Till we were out at sea as far from land As when I spake before, and then again I shouted to the Cyclops, though my crew Strove to prevent it with beseeching words, And one man first and then another said:—
“ ‘O most unwise! why chafe that savage man To fury—him who just has cast his bolt Into the sea, and forced us toward the land Where we had well-nigh perished? Should he hear A cry from us, or even a word of speech, Then would he fling a rock to crush our heads And wreck our ship, so fatal is his cast.’
“He spake, but moved not my courageous heart; And then I spake again, and angrily:— “ ‘Cyclops, if any man of mortal birth Note thine unseemly blindness, and inquire The occasion, tell him that Laertes’ son, Ulysses, the destroyer of walled towns, Whose home is Ithaca, put out thine eye.’