“Lampetia, of the trailing robes, in haste Flew to the Sun, who journeys round the earth, To tell him that my crew had slain his beeves, And thus in anger he bespake the gods:—
“ ‘O Father Jove, and all ye blessed gods Who never die, avenge the wrong I bear Upon the comrades of Laertes’ son, Ulysses, who have foully slain my beeves, In which I took delight whene’er I rose Into the starry heaven, and when again I sank from heaven to earth. If for the wrong They make not large amends, I shall go down To Hades, there to shine among the dead.’
“The cloud-compelling Jupiter replied:— ‘Still shine, O Sun! among the deathless gods And mortal men, upon the nourishing earth. Soon will I cleave, with a white thunderbolt, Their galley in the midst of the black sea.’
“This from Calypso of the radiant hair I heard thereafter; she herself, she said, Had heard it from the herald Mercury.
“When to the ship I came, beside the sea, I sternly chid them all, man after man, Yet could we think of no redress; the beeves Were dead; and now with prodigies the gods Amazed my comrades—the skins moved and crawled, The flesh both raw and roasted on the spits Lowed with the voice of oxen. Six whole days My comrades feasted, taking from the herd The Sun’s best oxen. When Saturnian Jove Brought the seventh day, the tempest ceased; the wind Fell, and we straightway went on board. We set The mast upright, and, spreading the white sails, We ventured on the great wide sea again.
“When we had left the isle, and now appeared No other land, but only sea and sky, The son of Saturn caused a lurid cloud To gather o’er the galley, and to cast Its darkness on the deep. Not long our ship Ran onward, ere the furious west-wind rose And blew a hurricane. A strong blast snapped Both ropes that held the mast; the mast fell back; The