galley were consumed, they roamed The island in their need, and sought for prey, And snared with barbed hooks the fish and birds— Whatever came to hand—till they were gaunt With famine. Meantime I withdrew alone Into the isle, to supplicate the gods, If haply one of them might yet reveal The way of my return. As thus I strayed Into the land, apart from all the rest, I found a sheltered nook where no wind came, And prayed with washen hands to all the gods Who dwell in heaven. At length they bathed my lids In a soft sleep. Meantime, Eurylochus With fatal counsels thus harangued my men:—
“ ‘Hear, my companions, sufferers as ye are, The words that I shall speak. All modes of death Are hateful to the wretched race of men; But this of hunger, thus to meet our fate, Is the most fearful. Let us drive apart The best of all the oxen of the Sun, And sacrifice them to the immortal ones Who dwell in the broad heaven. And if we come To Ithaca, our country, we will there Build to the Sun, whose path is o’er our heads, A sumptuous temple, and endow its shrine With many gifts and rare. But if it be His will, approved by all the other gods, To sink our barque in anger, for the sake Of these his high-horned oxen, I should choose Sooner to gasp my life away amid The billows of the deep, than pine to death By famine in this melancholy isle.’
“So spake Eurylochus; the crew approved. Then from the neighboring herd they drove the best Of all the beeves; for near the dark-prowed ship The fair broad-fronted herd with crooked horns Were feeding. Round the victims stood my crew, And, offering their petitions to the gods, Held tender oak-leaves in their hands, just plucked From a tall tree, for in our good ship’s hold Was no white barley now. When they had prayed, And slain and dressed the beeves, they hewed away The thighs and covered them with double folds Of caul, and laid