Book XII

and I clung to it As clings a bat⁠—for I could neither find A place to plant my feet, nor could I climb, So distant were the roots, so far apart The long huge branches overshadowing Charybdis. Yet I firmly kept my hold Till she should throw the keel and mast again Up from the gulf. They, as I waited long, Came up again, though late⁠—as late as one Who long has sat adjudging strifes between Young suitors pleading in the marketplace Rises and goes to take his evening meal; So late the timbers of my barque returned, Thrown from Charybdis. Then I dropped amid The dashing waves, and came with hands and feet On those long timbers in the midst, that they Might bear my weight. I sat on them and rowed With both my hands. The father of the gods And mortals suffered not that I should look On Scylla’s rock again, else had I not Escaped a cruel death. For nine long days I floated on the waters; on the tenth The gods at nightfall bore me to an isle⁠— Ogygia, where Calypso, amber-haired, A mighty goddess, skilled in song, abides, Who kindly welcomed me, and cherished me. Why should I speak of this? Here in these halls I gave the history yesterday to thee And to thy gracious consort, and I hate To tell again a tale once fully told.”