“Thus having said, the goddess straightway sprang Into the billowy ocean, while I sought The galleys, where they rested on the sand, With an uneasy spirit. When I reached The ship and shore we made our evening meal. The hallowed night came down; we lay and slept Upon the sea-beach. When the Morning came, The rosy-fingered daughter of the Dawn, Forth on the border of the mighty main I went, and prayed the immortals fervently.
I led three comrades, whom I trusted most In all adventures. Entering the depths Of the great sea, the goddess brought us thence Four skins of sea-calves newly flayed, that thus We might deceive her father. Then she scooped Beds for us in the sea-sand, and sat down To wait his coming. We were near to her, And there she laid us duly down, and threw A skin o’er each.
Now did our ambush seem Beyond endurance, for the noisome smell Of those sea-nourished creatures sickened us; And who could bear to sleep beside a whale? But she bethought her of an antidote, A sovereign one, and so relieved us all. To each she brought ambrosia, placing it Beneath his nostrils, and the sweets it breathed O’ercame the animal odor. All the morn We waited patiently. The sea-calves came From ocean in a throng, and laid themselves In rows along the margin of the sea.
At noon emerged the aged seer, and found His well-fed sea-calves. Going o’er them all He counted them, ourselves among the rest, With no misgiving of the fraud, and then He laid him down to rest. We rushed with shouts Upon him suddenly, and in our arms Caught him; nor did the aged seer forget His stratagems; and first he took the shape Of a maned lion, of a serpent next, Then of a panther, then of a huge boar, Then turned to flowing water, then became A tall tree full of leaves. With resolute hearts We held him fast, until the aged seer Was wearied out, in spite of all his wiles. And questioned me in speech at last and said:—