With early morn the gather'd country swarms,
And all the continent is bright with arms;
Thick as the budding leaves or rising flowers
O'erspread the land, when spring descends in
showers:

All expert soldiers, skill'd on foot to dare,
Or from the bounding courser urge the war.
Now fortune changes (so the Fates ordain),
Our hour was come to taste our share of pain.
Close at the ships the bloody fight began,
Wounded they wound, and man expires on man.
Long as the morning sun increasing bright

O'er heaven's pure azure spread the growing light,
Promiscuous death the form of war confounds,
Each adverse battle gored with equal wounds :
But when his evening wheels o'erhung the main,
Then conquest crown'd the fierce Ciconian train.
Six brave companions from each ship we lost,
The rest escape in haste, and quit the coast.
With sails outspread we fly the' unequal strife,
Sad for their loss, but joyful of our life.
Yet as we fled, our fellows' rites we paid,
And thrice we call'd on each unhappy shade.
'Meanwhile the god, whose hand the thunder
forms,

Drives clouds on clouds, and blackens heaven with storms:

Wide o'er the waste the rage of Boreas sweeps, And night rush'd headlong on the shaded deeps. Now here, now there, the giddy ships are borne, And all the rattling shrouds in fragments torn. We furl'd the sail, we plied the labouring oar, Took down our masts, and row'd our ships to shore. Two tedious days and two long nights we lay, O'erwatch'd and batter'd in the naked bay.

But the third morning when Aurora brings,
We rear the masts, we spread the canvass wings;
Refresh'd, and careless on the deck reclined,
We sit and trust the pilot and the wind.
Then to my native country had I sail'd;
But, the cape doubled, adverse winds prevail'd.
Strong was the tide, which, by the northern blast
Impell'd, our vessels on Cythera cast.

Nine days our fleet the' uncertain tempest bore
Far in wide ocean, and from sight of shore:
The tenth we touch'd, by various errors toss'd,
The land of Lotos, and the flowery coast.
We climb'd the beach, and springs of water found,
Then spread our hasty banquet on the ground.
Three men were sent deputed from the crew
(An herald one), the dubious coast to view,
And learn what habitants possess'd the place,
They went, and found a hospitable race;
Not prone to ill, nor strange to foreign guest,
They eat, they drink, and Nature gives the feast;
The trees around them, all their fruit produce;
Lotos, the name; divine, nectareous juice!
(Thence call'd Lotophagi) which whoso tastes,
Insatiate riots in the sweet repasts,

Nor other home nor other care intends,

But quits his house, his country, and his friends:
The three we sent, from off the' enchanting ground
We dragg'd reluctant, and by force we bound:
The rest in haste forsook the pleasing shore,
Or, the charm tasted, had return'd no more.
Now placed in order on their banks, they sweep
The sea's smooth face, and cleave the hoary deep;
With heavy hearts we labour through the tide,
The coasts unknown, and oceans yet untried,

The land of Cyclops first; a savage kind, Nor tamed by manners, nor by laws confined: Untaught to plant, to turn the glebe and sow; They all their products to free Nature owe. The soil untill'd a ready harvest yields, With wheat and barley wave the golden fields, Spontaneous wines from weighty clusters pour, And Jove descends in each prolific shower. By these no statutes and no rights are known, No council held, no monarch fills the throne; But high on hills or airy cliffs they dwell, Or deep in caves whose entrance leads to hell. Each rules his race, his neighbour not his care, Heedless of others, to his own severe.

Opposed to the Cyclopean coasts, there lay An isle, whose hills their subject fields survey; Its name Lachæa, crown'd with many a grove, Where savage goats through pathless thickets

rove:

No needy mortals here, with hunger bold,
Or wretched hunters, through the wintry cold,
Pursue their flight; but leave them safe to bound
From hill to hill, o'er all the desert ground.
Nor knows the soil to feed the fleecy care,
Or feels the labours of the crooked share;
But uninhabited, untill'd, unsown
It lies, and breeds the bleating goat alone.
For there no vessel with vermilion prore,
Or bark of traffic, glides from shore to shore;
The rugged race of savages, unskill'd
The seas to traverse, or the ships to build,
Gaze on the coast, nor cultivate the soil;
Unlearn'd in all the' industrious arts of toil.
Yet here all products and all plants abound,
Sprung from the fruitful genius of the ground;

Fields waving high with heavy crops are seen, And vines that flourish in eternal green, Refreshing meads along the murmuring main, And fountains streaming down the fruitful plain. A port there is, enclosed on either side, Where ships may rest, unanchor'd and untied, Till the glad mariners incline to sail,

And the sea whitens with the rising gale.
High at its head, from out the cavern'd rock,
In living rills a gushing fountain broke:
Around it, and above, for ever green,

The bushing alders form'd a shady scene.
Hither some favouring god, beyond our thought,
Through all-surrounding shade our navy brought;
For gloomy night descended on the main,
Nor glimmer'd Phoebe in the' etherial plain :
But all unseen the clouded island lay,
And all unseen the surge and rolling sea,
Till safe we anchor'd in the shelter'd bay.
Our sails we gather'd, cast our cables o'er,
And slept secure along the sandy shore.
Soon as again the rosy morning shone,
Reveal'd the landscape and the scene unknown,
With wonder seized we view the pleasing ground,
And walk delighted, and expatiate round.
Roused by the woodland nymphs, at early dawn,
The mountain goats came bounding o'er the lawn:
In haste our fellows to the ships repair,
For arms and weapons of the silvan war;
Straight in three squadrons all our crew we part,
And bend the bow, or wing the missile dart:
The bounteous gods afford a copious prey,
And nine fat goats each vessel bears away;
The royal bark had ten. Our ships complete
We thus supplied (for twelve were all the fleet).

'Here, till the setting sun roll'd down the light, We sat indulging in the genial rite:

Nor wines were wanting; those from ample jars
We drain'd, the prize of our Ciconian wars.
The land of Cyclops lay in prospect near;
The voice of goats and bleating flocks we hear,
And from their mountains rising smokes appear.
Now sunk the sun, and darkness cover'd o'er
The face of things: along the seabeat shore
Satiate we slept: but when the sacred dawn,
Arising, glitter'd o'er the dewy lawn,

I call'd my fellows, and these words address'd-
"My dear associates, here indulge your rest;
While with my single ship, adventurous, I
Go forth, the manners of yon men to try;
Whether a race unjust, of barbarous might,
Rude, and unconscious of a stranger's right:
Or such who harbour pity in their breast,
Revere the gods, and succour the distress'd."
This said, I climb'd my vessel's lofty side;
My train obey'd me, and the ship untied.
In order seated on their banks, they sweep
Neptune's smooth face, and cleave the yielding
deep.

When to the nearest verge of land we drew,
Fast by the sea a lonely cave we view,

High, and with darkening laurels cover'd o'er; Where sheep and goats lay slumbering round the shore.

Near this, a fence of marble from the rock,
Brown with o'erarching pine, and spreading oak.
A giant shepherd here his flock maintains
Far from the rest, and solitary reigns,
In shelter thick of horrid shade reclined;
And gloomy mischiefs labour in his mind.