cries of those who perished and the crash Of shattered galleys rose. They speared our friends Like fishes for their horrid feasts, and thus Bore them away. While those within the port Were slaughtered, drawing my good sword I cut The hawsers fastened to my ship’s blue prow, And cheered my men, and bade them fling themselves Upon the oars, that so we might escape Our threatened fate. They heard, and plied their oars Like men who rowed for life. The galley shot Forth from these beetling rocks into the sea Full gladly; all the others perished there.
“Onward we sailed, with sorrow in our hearts For our lost friends, though glad to be reprieved From death. And now we landed at an isle— Aeaea, where the fair-haired Circè dwelt, A goddess high in rank and skilled in song, Own sister of the wise Aeaetes. Both Were children of the source of light, the Sun, And Persè, Ocean’s daughter, brought them forth. We found a haven here, where ships might lie; And guided by some deity we brought Our galley silently against the shore, And disembarked, and gave two days and nights To rest, unmanned with hardship and with grief.