grim Charybdis. All night long I rode The waves, and with the rising sun drew near The rock of Scylla and the terrible Charybdis as her gulf was drawing down The waves of the salt sea.
There as I came I raised myself on high till I could grasp The lofty fig-tree, 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.”