“While yet I spoke, a sudden sorrow ran
Through every breast, and spread from man to man,
Till wrathful thus Eurylochus began: 

“’O cruel thou! some Fury sure has steel’d
That stubborn soul, by toil untaught to yield! 
From sleep debarr’d, we sink from woes to woes: 
And cruel’ enviest thou a short repose? 
Still must we restless rove, new seas explore,
The sun descending, and so near the shore? 
And lo! the night begins her groomy reign,
And doubles all the terrors of the main: 
Oft in the dead of night loud winds rise,
Lash the wild surge, and bluster in the skies. 
Oh, should the fierce south-west his rage display,
And toss with rising storms the watery way,
Though gods descend from heaven’s aerial plain
To lend us aid, the gods descend in vain. 
Then while the night displays her awful shade,
Sweet time of slumber! be the night obey’
Haste ye to land! and when the morning ray
Sheds her bright beam, pursue the destined way.’ 
A sudden joy in every bosom rose: 
So will’d some demon, minister of woes!

“To whom with grief:  ’O swift to be undone! 
Constrain’d I act what wisdom bids me shun. 
But yonder herbs and yonder flocks forbear;
Attest the heavens, and call the gods to hear: 
Content, an innocent repast display,
By Circe given, and fly the dangerous prey.’

’Thus I:  and while to shore the vessel flies,
With hands uplifted they attest the skies: 
Then, where a fountain’s gurgling waters play,
They rush to land, and end in feasts the day: 
They feed; they quaff; and now (their hunger fled)
Sigh for their friends devour’d, and mourn the dead;
Nor cease the tears’ till each in slumber shares
A sweet forgetfulness of human cares. 
Now far the night advanced her gloomy reign,
And setting stars roll’d down the azure plain: 
When at the voice of Jove wild whirlwinds rise,
And clouds and double darkness veil the skies;
The moon, the stars, the bright ethereal host
Seem as extinct, and all their splendours lost: 
The furious tempest roars with dreadful sound: 
Air thunders, rolls the ocean, groans the ground. 
All night it raged:  when morning rose to land
We haul’d our bark, and moor’d it on the strand,
Where in a beauteous grotto’s cool recess
Dance the green Nerolds of the neighbouring seas.

“There while the wild winds whistled o’er the main,
Thus careful I address’d the listening train: 

“’O friends, be wise! nor dare the flocks destroy
Of these fair pastures:  if ye touch, ye die. 
Warn’d by the high command of Heaven, be awed: 
Holy the flocks, and dreadful is the god! 
That god who spreads the radiant beams of light,
And views wide earth and heaven’s unmeasured height.’