Around were baskets heaped With cheeses; pens were thronged with lambs and kids, Each in a separate fold; the elder ones, The younger, and the newly yeaned, had each Their place apart. The vessels swam with whey— Pails smoothly wrought, and buckets into which He milked the cattle. My companions then Begged me with many pressing words to take Part of the cheeses, and, returning, drive With speed to our good galley lambs and kids From where they stabled, and set sail again On the salt sea. I granted not their wish; Far better if I had. ’Twas my intent To see the owner of the flocks and prove His hospitality. No pleasant sight Was that to be for those with whom I came.
“And then we lit a fire, and sacrificed, And ate the cheeses, and within the cave Sat waiting, till from pasturing his flocks He came; a heavy load of well-dried wood He bore, to make a blaze at suppertime. Without the den he flung his burden down With such a crash that we in terror slunk Into a corner of the cave. He drove His well-fed flock, all those whose milk he drew, Under that spacious vault of rock, but left The males, both goats and rams, without the court. And then he lifted a huge barrier up, A mighty weight; not two-and-twenty wains, Four-wheeled and strong, could move it from the ground: Such was the enormous rock he raised, and placed Against the entrance. Then he sat and milked The ewes and bleating goats each one in turn, And gave to each its young. Next, half the milk He caused to curdle, and disposed the curd In woven baskets; and the other half He kept in bowls to be his evening drink. His tasks all ended thus, he lit a fire, And saw us where we lurked, and questioned us:—
“ ‘Who are ye, strangers? Tell me whence ye came Across the ocean. Are ye men of trade, Or wanderers at will, like those who roam The sea for plunder, and, with their own lives In peril, carry death to distant shores?’